Prompt #7 Heroes

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Good Morning,

We have many heroes in our community helping others through this health crisis.

Please choose one and write a poem about the work they are doing.

I am presently scheduling poems ahead.

Please send in other poems that are uplifting/humorous then I can mix things up a bit as well.

 

Send in poems this week to

poemoftheday.jaxton@gmail.com

Thankyou and Keep Safe

Jeanie

“Year of the Pig” by Jan Darling

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THE YEAR OF THE PIG  2019

 

I’m a Pig! I’m a Pig! I am patient and kind

I’m not the smartest but I don’t mind.

I’m trustworthy, indulgent, with a big sense of humour

If they say I’m lazy, it’s only a rumour.

 

Pigs born at morning are moody but reckless

They leap before looking, sometimes they’re feckless.

Pigs born in the noon, now they fight with heart

As long as they’re helped a bit at the start.

 

Pigs born at night, they’re full of fight

They alone know how to do everything right.

But these traits can be varied according to age

They’re only true at a certain stage.

 

Boy Pigs for instance are low-key and trusting

Easily fooled, they may just take a dusting.

Girl pigs are gentle and mostly seek peace

They’re given to kindness and not to caprice.

 

Luck and good fortune may bless the Pig

With honest sincerity showing up big

Understanding and giving, never spiteful or mean

The Pig is a really fine Human Bein’!

“Little Hands” by Toni Newell

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Little Hands

 

Little hands,

Go everywhere,

From patting dogs,

To combing hair.

They draw and paint,

Or play with dolls,

Or little cars,

Or basket balls.

They hold ice-cream,

And lots of fruit,

Touch door knobs,

And soil to boot.

So little hands,

Need lots of care,

Plenty of washing,

So bad things aren’t shared

“A Friendship Clock” by Celia Berrell

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“Got to stop. Got to stop

and blow the dandelion clock.”

That’s what my best friend used to say.

And then we’d blow that clock away.

 

She’s moved-on to another town.

I’m left alone and feeling down.

I still think of the fun we had.

Our friendship made me very glad.

 

The dandelion’s flower-head

all golden-yellow, sunshine-fed

is made of many small florets

arranged all neatly in a set.

 

When fertilised by bugs and bees

each little flower forms a seed.

They all hold hands with hairy arms.

As though they make a friendship charm.

 

And so I play this little game.

Remembering my best friend’s name.

“Got to stop. Got to stop

and blow the dandelion clock.”