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,



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.