WHAT AM I?

A dozen Royals gathered round,

Entertained by two who clowned.

    Each King there had servants ten,

    But you'd hardly think of them as men.

 

The lowest servant sometimes might,

Defeat the King in a fair fight.

    A weapon stout, a priceless jewel,

    The beat of life, a farmer's tool.

 

Copyright on all my poems

 

(Playing cards, of course)

Our Language

JOSIE'S POEMS

By Josie Whitehead

CHILDREN'S POETIC RIDDLES

By Josie Whitehead