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
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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!