high fibre snacks

I don’t understand why the humans persist
in constantly putting out more of this –
it’s chewy and dry and awful gritty,
at least add some butter, show some pity.
I’ve now eaten six of the horrible things,
but when I turn my back, one of them brings
another one out and puts it in place.
Honestly, it’s a shocking disgrace,
the things they expect a poor pig to eat.
But I will never admit defeat!
I’ll eat another six and then six more
of these hairy things they put at the door.
I’ve heard that fibre is good for one’s tum,
but I wish they’d consider what it’s like on my bum.

 

I really need to start buying doormats in bulk.   

 

 

 

oinklet (an oinky sparrowlet)

It’s been a while since I’ve written a poem about my pig, so here in oinky sparrowlet for the Thursday dVerse prompt “Poetry form: Sparrowlet“:

 

My piggy-wig, my darling girl,
your tail with such a sweetling curl,
in the garden you snoutly dig,
and roughly little plants you hurl,
then break the birdbath as you swig,
my darling girl, my piggy wig.

He saw the mess, the angry man,
he wonders what on earth we can
do with such an awful pig-pest –
he’s thinking of the frying pan
and how to send you to your rest!
The angry man, he saw the mess!

Oh, run and hide, or bacon be,
He knows the truth, so while you’re free,
gallop, gallop before you’re fried,
and served with toast and egg, crisply
browned, with brown sauce. My piggy, flee,
or bacon be! Oh run and hide!

 

A sparrrowlet has 6-line stanzas, 8 syllables per line, rhyme scheme (as explained by Grace):

RRRA, RRRB
xxxxxxxb
xxxxxxxa
xxxxxxxb
xxxxxxxa
RRRB, RRRA 

with the two halves of the first line repeated but swapped in the last line. 

Thanks Grace! This was a fun form to play with. 

 

 

pork scratchings

It’s wonderful to be a pig,
with snout to dig,
and tail to twitch
at flies that itch

Sun-snoozing here, a human comes
to rub my tum.
My attitude
shows gratitude –

I lift a leg and roll a bit,
Ah, there, that’s it!
Nothing can match
a belly scratch.

Written for the dVerse “minute poem” prompt.

Grace describes a minute poem:
“The Minute Poem is a 60 syllable verse form, one syllable for each second in a minute. The theme should be an event that is over and done completely, as in a minute. Since the dominant line is short the effect is likely humorous, whimsical or semi-serious. It was created by Verna Lee Hinegardner, once poet laureate of Arkansas.

The elements of the Minute Poem are:

1. narrative poetry.
2. a 12 line poem made up of 3 quatrains. (3 of 4-line stanzas)
3. syllabic, 8-4-4-4 8-4-4-4 8-4-4-4 (First line has 8 syllables of each stanza. Remaining lines has 4 syllables in each stanza)
4. rhymed, rhyme scheme of aabb ccdd eeff.
5. description of a finished event (preferably something done is 60 seconds).
6. is best suited to light verse, likely humorous, whimsical or semi-serious.”

Great prompt Grace – what a fun form!

Sonnet agin my pig

For the dVerse prompt MTB: Palinode this is a retraction of my earlier Sonnet for my pig, which was one of my first blog posts. Since I wrote that she has eaten hundreds of dollars of bulbs, two chickens, three doormats…. She has also stolen clothes and sheets from the line to build a nest, and bitten me unexpectedly.

 

My piggy’s eyes are little and evil,
But it’s the use of her snout that does tell,
That she’s the most wickedest of devils,
That has ever risen to Earth from Hell.
She snuffles and wuffles through the garden,
Leaving holes where once were lovely flowers.
I see the mess and feel my heart harden,
But the foolish pig ignores my glowers.
And standing now below the washing line,
As I hang the clothes, my piggy has come,
All quietly sneaking up from behind
and that monster pig has bitten my bum!
Oh piggy, to love you, I really tried,
But you’ll be your best as bacon crisp-fried.

Pigs can be taught to sit. But not to refrain from eating anything left outside, including doormats, tins of paint and garden beds.   

a statement of intent

Kiddies fiddling
with piggy’s hair?

even more Sunday morning ha’ sonnets

There’s a pig at the door

elementals II: sow

Earth bound
and earth coloured
a slow-moving rounded hummock,
head down,
trundling,
rumbling like a tremor,
as she furrows the ground,
stolidly snout-ploughing,
golem-like in obedience
to her internal code.

Sunday morning ha’ sonnets

Sunday morning
peace is shattered,
without warning
ears are battered

a ha’ sonnet for my pig

My naughty pig
with muddy snout,

Brittle gums II

Steadfast,
the stringy-barks
acknowledge no seasons.
But the brittle gums
have sensed summer’s end.
Their silver bark has darkened
and fallen away in curls,
leaving them naked,
smooth and white,
amongst their
rough and dark,
but stalwart,
companions.