Best Pig In A Poke Poems
I'm thinning out some things of mine
I do not want or need
Some for sale some for trade
Most of it is free
My poisonous relationships
They gave me fits and rashes
All the bridges that I burned
Well, there's the can of ashes
Wishes are a dime a dozen
Believe me there are plenty
You can have my broken dreams
And thoughts are just a penny
This box of nickels is dirt cheap
They're all made of wood
A pack of lies that I bought
Some are pretty good
There used to be some happiness
It seems to be misplaced
I lost some time that I was given
But most just went to waste
These mirrors with smoke, a pig in a poke
A hook, line, and sinker
All came free with my insurance
From unscrupulous hood-winkers
My policy is "No returns"
I hope you'll understand
If you're like me then you'll agree
This junk's still in demand
national poetry competition entry under my pen name "poemdog"
Although gay women are attractive,
Can their love be counted on,
A chemistry that’s non-reactive,
Oligarchs of Amazon?
They face perhaps same traps that we do
Think of men as only drone,
An inverse baby kind of voodoo
Makes weak labeled sex to groan.
Where all good jobs are matriarchal
Confident they know what’s best,
A standing joke the patriarchal,
Litmus test for world unrest.
The thought’s out there this might be right on
Most know men have lost the race
Is ‘Women Better’ just a long con,
Bankrupt hyssop’s sexist’s face?
Misogynistic choices kill love
‘Death to men’ no better prayer,
While teamwork puts the hand in glove,
Seems to matter both are there.
Are women victim’s of man’s error?
Most men raised by woman’s side?
Small boys ignoring all their terror,
Little men, their country’s pride.
Men seem to rule, but die in battle
Block what festers deep inside
Then led to slaughter just like cattle
‘Free’ state purchased with their hide.
A girl I loved once had obsession
Wanted more to be like man
A mom at war with her depression,
Made this seem a better plan.
I can’t report she had much luck though
One girlfriend would beat her up
A flower dressed in man’s tuxedo
Life remained a half-filled cup.
But is it nature, is it nurture
Leads us to our confused art?
Heed dying gasp of cloaked John Bircher
Even Bible plays its part!
If life for others is what you choose
This can’t guarantee you’ll win
For life in faith means you could still lose
Doing good can still be sin!
A pig, a poke, that’s all you get,
Some joy, calamity, and yet
If God is dead, get real, get hip,
There’s sure release in death’s strong grip
As poet, I see humor in
This tale I spin, the life of men
God’s presence in man’s history
And Grace that spices mystery
For human love I know exists,
In spite of pain, it still resists
The certain coming of death’s call,
Though life be short, it is your all!
Brian Johnston
February 5, 2015
A Pig in a Poke--Cheese & Whine
A pretty girl named Mary Crary
And her sweetheart wanted to marry.
Her daddy said, “Take her
But do not forsake her
When you find that Mary’s contrary”.
Next Republican Clown
Trump with his tricks tries to make us curious
All his methods did was to made us furious
Being just like presumptuous pig in a poke
With same color hair looking like big joke.
Thinks he is amusing while us he is abusing
Things together we should now start fusing
He's become part of audition as an actor
Impossible for us to be a moral benefactor.
With all his humor is hailing all of the hardy
Who are foremost fools in Republican Party
Have new weird name for the collective noun
I can see clearly now is Republican clown.
James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
Play this while reading my poem.
https://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=i+can+see+clearly+now+on+youtube&view=detail&mid=2F9D0E3FCD3AD812566D2F9D0E3FCD3AD812566D&FORM=VIRE3
Funny talk... "diddly squat"
Means basically nothing to me!
Where do these words come from?
Do they grow these things on trees?
What a joke... "a pig in a poke"
Fooled unsuspecting buyers!
Instead of a piggy inside the bag
Twas a kitty cat for the fryer!
But of course... "hay's for horses"
Here's another reason to spend?
Some stuffing for your Jockeys
To give you a fuller front end!
Just my luck... "I'm a dead duck"
She caught me with this lady!
Not to worry, it all turned out
Twas Mom so nothing shady!
Whadya think... "Take forty winks"
Causes trouble with wifey poo!
Of course if you wink at a filly
And the filly winks back at you!
It's really absurd... these silly words
They upset our daily routine!
They've been known to turn sunny days
To the ugliest days ever seen!
© Jack Ellison 2013
Sam bought a yellow pig in a poke
He was a chip of a good old bloke
The Yellow broke Sam's peace
Sold at a dime a piece
Sam had to put on a mourning cloak
© RAJAT KANTI CHAKRABARTY
December 02, 2014
Here is a story that’s hard to forget
A beauty skin product from an old barnyard pet
He calls it Heal Fast and it’s made from pig lard
From the fat little pigs that he kept in his yard
It heals anything from acne to burns
And of jars that he’s sold, he has had no returns
You rub it on wounds or places you chafe
No proof that it works or that it’s even safe
And in spite of the fact it’s not tested so far
He’ll bottle it up and send you a jar
Sure, he’s working with doctors who’ll call FDA
And give them their findings about any day
But until that day (and this isn’t a joke)
You’re buying what’s known as a Pig in a Poke
Another true story from your old Uncle Mike
Marmite, was somebody having a joke
And hot vindaloo is a pig in a poke
And serve me up soup that is runny and thin
It’s soup down the sink and the tin in the bin
I kinda like eggs gathered when newly laid
They're great in an omelette if properly made
But then there’s Welsh Rarebit, a dish sure to please
And these both explain the existence of cheese
But how did the tale of cheese ever unfold
Someone thought milk would taste good turned to mould
So they sat back and let the milk get warm and old
And presto, we’ve got ourselves food that is gold
There’s cheese that is mild and cheese that is strong
And cheese that will near knock you out with its pong
It’s devoured with gusto from Hull to Hong Kong
And seventeen trillion mice can’t be wrong
Lycra clad folk say you’ll get fat and ill
As they struggle to cycle their bikes up the hill
But cock a deaf ear as they preach their dislike
There’s more mice than people and none ride a bike
17 November 2018
Seven layers of fodder litter my desk
some of it golden
but mostly just mess
A flashlight -
should darkness suddenly fall
as I sleep at the switch
in case you don’t call
Three AA batteries when I really need four
to fire up the vacuum and suck up the gore
Two pretty flat rocks I can’t bear to discard
I may chew them tonight should I find myself charred
There’s a wee house from Ireland
my friend sent from afar
a condolence for leaving . . .
my front door ajar
An adding machine to calculate my losses
the numbers fly backwards, like aging,
but reverses
A roll of paper towels, a bottle of Windexes
as I tinker and fiddle and deny and digresses
I came in this room to clean up my messes
from 2005 I hope to start freshes
Here’s a blast from the past, a flash in the pan
a pig in a poke, a tickle and a smoke
It’s so worth the effort and a waste of my time
to blow up the past and change up the rhyme
so tell me you love me and I could care if it’s true
cuz ‘06 is here in its wiliness right on cue
It better be damned good, 'cause last year sucked the big one
. . . in days of auld lang syne
Messianic Zeal Of This Good Humored Punster...
Without making a
twit tarring buffoon, sans unshackle
irrepressible bone a fide
funny reaction, or appearing
the foolish spectacle
of myself, trying to tackle
a mal hip apropos
prism mirth wells up
inducing me to cackle,
neither explaining any rhyme,
nor giving reason, then busting
out in laughter obliquely
analogous to ramshackle
structure, resultant outcome
from some slapstick
Vaudevillian farcical debacle,
perhaps regarding the heady
beer burr of Seville scene thru
black and white daguerreotype mackle
more or less hazy, gauzy,
or fuzzy warm
feeling in actuality
thinly disguised as
dog gone hackle,
which vicious canine attacks ready
to tear limb bough to limb mitt,
thus luckily handily repair
with accessible spackle
ye kept on yar person, which caper
doth captcha an instantaneous titter
easily confused for
mating call of grackle
giving rise to a raft of songbirds
that incessantly crackle
snap, and pop with...witch sounds
indeed oven eerily
bloody suck'n vampire
bat out of hell cackle.
Other creatures in
the animal kingdom
cane be barley able
to communicate wheat seems
oat rage juice lee wry,
no matter how
much horse sense,
a smart species doth
porpoise lee try
though porcine not
remiss to wallow
in mud as seen high
atop a bridge
abutment over the River Kwai
ah look...a pig in a poke
unable to pry
loose caked mud blocking snout
prematurely ejaculating, an outcry
for help even fishing for small fry
doubling up as
potential best buds
with Englishman such as Dry
den, and/or dear reader
hood doth lamentably cry
claiming this badinage i.e. my
trademark gobbledygook didst render
momentary lapse of
reasonable judgement alibi.
Laughter ensues from the tricks being played
undue is the pain as nerves shredded frayed
disorder the purpose dysfunction effect,
poorly presented jokingly direct
from a pig in a poke with a funnybone joke,
not even funny are the thrills being broke
but then....hitting the funnybone is no joke......
Pain and pleasure is an individualized ideal,
as our world of perception becomes obviously real.....
Lion 'bout grabbing tiger by tail
Holy mole lee
watch out fowl, balladeer
look out... i.e. donkey kong
primate doth share
footloose slothful writing,
essentially swiftly tailored hare
reed styled mountebank
gets made by mice elf,
an imperfect triangulated square,
while "fake" charioteer
looses neigh scent horsesense
glomming "fake" papier
mâché piñata across animal planet
rhyme without reason,
nonetheless who doth dare
dovish and/or hawkish
elk quint lee otter vamoose
double, triple, quadruple... dare
to caw meow ta
as silence rings loud and clear
ja hiss don't miss snake
pig in a poke hogtied
sow owl only tell ya beware
me dogged holy cow
cuckoo bird harebrained
effort won't impair
corpus collosum, where
seat of thinker housed
fortunately ye ant near
my neck of the woods here
Schwenksville cuz after
innocuous, impetuous, illustrious...
brainstorming deluge... glare
til hearts content
with nostrils that flare
lemming just be reel
regarding rocky mission
opossum bull, I swear
dogged bonafide effort
thanks ocelot to bear
with beetle browed toadying
off fish hill who accidently
didst entrap and snare
courtesy hook line and sinker
masterly baited metaphorical
Earthworm dangling cyber air
coon sitter me batty
Ass sin nine, I admittedly duck lear,
but don't badger me, Noah
ark confess with prayer
yak see no porpoise here.
Someone tell me something
give it me
a direction please
I’ll buy it on the internet
if there’s any free release
Shiny,shiny glitter me
tell me something please
tell me what must I be necessity
this silence is blinding me
and reprint me the receipt
Send me fusion flicker screen
and all those other more important things
my life can be wrapped in cellophane
if delivery is certain
make it within the next couple of days
And if there is a quick fix
to stop me from from ever getting ill
don’t worry I will take it
I’ll swallow down that quiet little pill
never read the label
so long as my meds keep me, keep me stable
Please drag me further from this crazy world
kicking a scream with all the hate I’ve heard
tell me something, anything better
I only want to feel, just a little bit healthier
send me a balm
please prescribe me something
which will keep me calm
don’t worry I’ll swallow any caustic pill
so long as it stops me
from ever getting ill
So someone tell me something please
some miracle from the factories
something predisposed to zombie-hood
something I would know if I could
something
anything
to stop this nagging doubt
Do you have a poetic licence
to park your pitiful purple prose
(alliteratively he wrote)
it even puts my poor feet to sleep
and gives me painful coma toes
(literally did he quote)
And have you paid your syn tax
to persist in paltry poetry
(a non sequitur perhaps)
as dabbling in sad scribbling
is how your paean 'ppears to me
(no storied scripts mere scraps)
Before paper and pen you pick up
or possibly parchment and quill
(pheasant not porcupine)
please procrastinate perchance to ponder
prior to putting out pig in a poke swill
(pearls of wisdom before swine)
Having counted wooly sheep
was woken from a deep delta sleep
in the middle of the night
thought I'd heard a pig snort
but no that can't be right
tho' kicked out of bed
and landing on my head
knew where I stood
for delegated to the floor
then relegated to the room next door
when in no uncertain terms she said,
'You're sawing wood, you snore!'
Not as such a silk purse,
but a sow's ear would be worse.
Not so much a pig in a poke
(jiggery-pokery),
more a poke at a pig in a joke
(piggery-jokery).
All in all,
Sy-hokery!