Sunday, January 21, 2018

Hog Poetry!




Here it is readers, the latest Hog Poetry.

Nor do we merely feel these essences
For one short hour; no, even as the hogs
That root round a temple become soon
Dear as the temple's self, so does the moon,
The reticule illuminate, glories infinite,
Haunt us till they become a cheering light
Unto our souls, and bound to us so fast,
That, whether there be swine, or gloom o'ercast;
They always must be with us, and hogs die. 



Carry on,

LSP

6 comments:

LL said...

It's not right to post Hillary's photo (above) in connection with hog poetry. Ok, but it's not necessarily wrong either.

I never knew that there was hog poetry until now.

Jules said...

You philosophical swine!

LSP said...

I do like a good bit of hog poetry, Juliette.

LSP said...

Hog poetry's a lot of fun, LL. Have a go!

Adrienne said...

Without hogs there is no bacon. Be still my beating heart.

LSP said...

Adrienne, I love bacon.