Farmers are our armors against hunger,

People who collect veggies and fruits, Not people who are posh or dress in suits.

We use them to our advantage And don't consider their heritage.

Farmers are our singers of nature, People who are underpaid, They are the people who should have a parade.

They pick our every grain, With dedication, sweat, and pain.

Farmers, we picture them as...

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"Fattening up time" the wall calendar read

which meant only one  thing to old farmer Ted.

Christmas was coming and there's money to be made

you see the bigger the bird the more he'd be paid.

He'd saved up all year and bought high quality feed

to ensure that his flock was the best he could breed.

So this year Ted's turkeys would be the tastiest in town

and the best biggest...

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My poem Farmer, which was published in Fire - Issue 26, is available to read at the online poetry library:

http://www.poetrymagazines.org.uk/magazine/record.asp?id=16585

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