The Pig

The kids are coming 

The kids are coming, that's what Grandpa said.

Grandpa had been uptight, climbing the walls.

But Grandma was tearing up, really sad.

Grandpa hadn't noticed, counting his balls.   

Grandpa hadn't liked this new holiday.

Never before was a day, freedom lost,

honor White Pigs Day. The president made

mandatory celebration, dang laws.  

Honor the pig? Really a day off work.

Well, the kids all came, the grandchildren too.

Yes, there had been a pig, white spotted York.

Saved the nation from Coffee Party new.  

Those mad men and ladies he slew, no few.

The ones who didn't die went underground.

Soon to be gassed they were, Presidents do.

Honor The Pig, accolades all around.  

Grandpa pretended his day to enjoy.

He'd rather playing golf, losing more balls,

than give homage to The Pig, mangy boy.

The President? The Pig? Coffee Man galls? 

Spring Garden; Lonely Little 
Texas Bluebonnet, © 2020
- - - - - -
Originally posted March 20, 2014

Photo and Poem Copyright, © Photo 2008, Poem 2014, Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved

I'm linked today with Izzy at the Real Toads, The Challenge--Out of Standard 

Now. March 28, 2020,I have linked again, to Sanaa Rizvi in the Writer's Pantry at
 https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/2020/03/writers-pantry-13-april-here-we-come.html?m=1 

Izzy's Challenge:
Invoke your reign over the calendar and write a poem which takes place on a holiday you invented.  It can be to canonized your personal hero who does not have a holiday already, or celebrate an event that you feel deserves it’s own time in the limelight. Or just make up some crazy nonsense, like the Day of the Seventh Head of Matilda.  You know, shake hands with your imagination.

I have one rule and one rule only for this prompt--your poem must take place on your holiday, not simply be about your holiday.  This means you will need to invoke a narrator and some sort of setting!

A Poem for Weekly Scribles.

  http://clipart-library.com/clipart/gTeoGR6Rc.htm

Ultimatum?
She was warned.
She was given an explanation.
Nevertheless, she persisted.

Rebuttal?
She was warned  "Horde no more" 
To which she promptly said
You are being a boar
It's shampoo for my head  

I'm getting no younger 
Live my life like I wish 
You'd kill me from hunger 
Mere spinach in my dish 

Bonkers!  She was given 
an explanation, but 
Still no avail, bidden 
to her own muddy rut 

(Hope they don't find my keys) 
I may wish to travel 
While I still have some cheese 
Sometimes hungry as Hell 

You'd best behave yourself 
But nevertheless, she 
persisted, like dour elf 
(I'll hang on to my key) 

(Pills, under my covers ) 
Toasted raisin bread, jam  
and cream cheese like mothers 
(Too rough my life can end) 

My Choices
Unspoken
(Travel with hidden keys
or
Die orchestrated death)
(Do all have an escape)
_ _ _ 

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2020, All Rights Reserved
 - Photo courtesy of free to blogs, "Bryan Cave Benefits and Executive Compensation Blog - Clip Art Library",
 -I am linked with Magaly Guerrero in Weekly Scribbles at  https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/2020/03/weekly-scribblings-12-nevertheless-she.html?m=1 .  Magaly wanted us to write a poem using the three lines this first started with.  Together or dispersed within the poem, I chose the latter.

A Poem for Sunday Writers

Him 

He's shaved she squealed  
Him I like that way 

He showered and shaved 

How could you tell that  
His beard's always messed 

He smells like a ...(duck) 

Have his mess to clean 
He smells real good though 

 _ _ _ 

 - Poem  and Photo Copyright, Jimmiehov 2020, All Rights Reserved 

 - I am linked to Rommy in the Writer's Pantry at https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/2020/03/writers-pantry-12-you-gotta-know-when.html?m=1 

It also works in tribute of our Houstons Kenny Rigers but the selfie is of me in the mirror dodging my beard's shavings.  His beard was much thicker than mine, darker too.