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A Pony Named Bubbles

 

A pony named Bubbles

when I was young

would give us rides

he was so much fun

 

he was round and red

with gloss and fat

but his Bubbles name

didn’t come from that

 

nothing to do with

shape or weight

but  it did come about

from what he ate

 

once you were safely

upon his back

he’d set off unbidden

to his favourite snack

 

hidden behind where

gardeners don’t go

between the stables

where thistles grow

 

off you’d trot

when he’d had his fill

across the paddock

and over the hill

 

the thistles would gurgle

inside his tummy

and then the noises

which were really quite funny

 

it was long ago

but I’ve never forgotten

those bubbles from Bubbles

straight out of his bottom

 

 Myra King
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #2

poetry-prompt-2

Poem of the Day

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School holidays

by Myra King

 

Get outside and play you kids,

my mother said one day,

go climb a tree, or fly a kite,

just get outside and play.

 

But the tree is small,

the kite is broke,

it’s been raining here all day.

We have to stay inside today,

it’s far too wet to play.

 

We’ll have a look, the oldest said,

and find a middle ground.

We’ll channel surf the TV now

and see what can be found.

 

A show on rocks and mountain tops,

fresh air, and stuff like that

and here is one of flies in flight

and how to clip a cat.

 

Us younger ones are crying out

how boring are all those!

The oldest one just winks at Mum

and gets out raincoat clothes.

 

Myra says: Thinking about kids on school holidays and Mum wanting some peace and quiet. My sister was 10 years older than me and wise beyond her years.