Long Hog Poems
Long Hog Poems. Below are the most popular long Hog by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hog poems by poem length and keyword.
I would like a little candy dish on my head please, the sow said.
We filed past, trying to ignore the sweet spectacle on her head.
She is always trying for extra attention hissed old goose Jed.
Maybe she needs a bit more TLC, observed Beau a chowder head.
I am tired of Old Sow getting all of the attention every time!
She is so grouchy and grumpy, not any friend of mine.
Maybe she needs a person to issue friendship and be kind.
Why don’t we invite her to the restaurant to dine?
Would she share that peppermint stick or chocolate mint? Asked Lee.
He is all about being fair, fighting with anyone who dares disagree.
The sow heard them speaking of her and puffed up with pride.
But she did not want to share her candy when they got inside.
To the invisible masters of the universe
Those shadowy investors who controlled the government
The military, the media, culture, and society.
There were many things
That did not make sense anymore
That should be jettisoned.
To make way for the new emerging world
A world in which the new AI overlords
would gradually take over
And humanity will be taken care of
But the human committee would remain in charge.
the committee that did not exist
The new COSMOS Super AI
To rank order things that could be done away with.
Cosmos gave the committee the list
Among them were the quaint custom of Groundhog Day
Groundhog Day just did not make any sense
How could a lowly groundhog
seeing its shadow foretell the weather?
And why did people make such a big deal
Of this poor little creature
Who had to be poked awake
Every February 2nd to make his stupid forecast?
the word went out
Groundhog Day would no longer
Be observed, broadcasted
Or even mentioned anymore.
But the legend of Groundhog Day
Continued underground for centuries
Became symbols of resistance
To the COSMOS AI overlord
And the committee that did not exist.
The phrase long lives the groundhog
Became a rallying point
For the resistance movement.
I’ve nothing
positive to say today
Just different scenarios
In a vacant approach
Calling me to come home
I was left wandering
In the dark alone
The objective
To ease the hurt
Take away a curse
For days that we play
Reach for new heights
In a vulnerable scene
Tip toe on mercy
To avoid
the split in my spleen
In love with a phantom
Hidden behind a spotted face
Out for the souls of grown men
Those who have plotted
Against a broken race
Misplaced pigment cells
Only the pig in men sells
Walking on childhood misery
Adolescent years swayed
Mentally weighed
Prohibited the belief
Of a murdered messiah
Don’t you be so careful
As to let it hypnotize you
He who believes in thee
Can only be a liar
Shall I live
Then death to all rivals
No apologies
Its just the pledge of survival
The Quran
Your mischievous bible
I hold these latter-day saints
Equally liable
And if it gets no better
Love always
As her emotions led her
An old man as spoken for
Casualties of sympathy
Hoping for a cure
One old woman and ten dollars
Spent thanksgiving day
Hoping for a ham and a cabbage
But we savages in this ravaged land
Think nothing of her
But you got to love her
Reach out with your cold arms
And hug her
Rub the hurt
To keep her above the dirt
“Yes we can”
Do what?
Nothing again
I write for life
I write for birth
I write for you
For what it’s worth
I can’t stretch my intelligence enough
To write for peace on earth
When a man said he rode a hog, I thought he was talking about a motorbike.
But he actually rode a real hog and a fool was what he made himself look like.
When it came to transportation, riding that hog was what he chose.
Is he stupid or insane, nobody really knows.
He refused to drive a car, or to take a taxi or a bus.
He only rode that hog and it made him look ridiculous.
His hog ate ten watermelons when he went in the neighbor's watermelon patch.
His neighbor was furious so he threw gas on the hog and then he lit a match.
Because of his hog, his family's patience was already thin and it kept getting thinner.
But that hog is no more because when the neighbor was done, it ended up being dinner.
(This is a fictional poem.)
To the unknown sports car driver
Who caused us so much fright
May the roads be full of traffic
When you attempt to turn right.
May you spend many hours
Constantly being stuck
Behind a series of slow moving
Wide loaded trucks
May all the traffic lights
Be stuck at stop
And no comfort stations
When you need a pit stop.
May there be many road works
On your every single trip
May every pair of your trousers
Develop a jammed fly zip
May your ears fill with wax
May your sinuses explode
Any non lethal condition
That keeps you off the road.
May your testosterone levels
Very quickly plummet and drop
And all your sexual urges
Come to an abrupt stop
The way that you drive
The last thing we need
Is for you to be able
To continue to breed.
I may just be a little biased
Mr Dangerous Road Hog
But i feel you should be
Treated like a rabid dog.
If you live the rest your life
The same way that you drive
It would probably be better
If you really weren’t alive.
hey, everybody, this is old Billy Bob, here
over there in them cute Billy Jeans
well, I just woke up this morning
and looked up towards the sky blue mirror
meanwhile, down the road,
I see an image of old gray-haired Billy goat
just chewing on some maple oats and hay
looked like he was chewing on some cherry tobacco
I got a little bit closer for inspection and
watch Mr. goat spite some cherry tobacco in a tin can
and right about then, I was kicked in the rear end
while some people would say - I was kicked in the tailpipe.
Unfortunately, I was kicked by some crazy jackass
down yonder, from tupelo, county, Mississippi
you know what
I should've never looked
at myself in that damn
crazy ass sky mirror this morning
you know what - chicken butt
hey, I just got hog tied up again
Dag Nabit...shucks!
give everybody a big hug
thank you...very much!
(I got the idea for this poem when I was watching a TV show yesterday.)
Because of a roadhog, my son is dead.
He was only fifteen and now he has no more years ahead.
I was trying to drive my dying son to the hospital on that horrible day.
A man in front of me in an Oldsmobile wouldn't get out of the way.
I honked my horn time after time but he wouldn't let me pass.
I just saw his car at a diner and I'm going to kick his ___.
The doctors said if I had gotten my son there sooner, he wouldn't have died.
I'm going to go in this diner and invite that piece of trash outside.
He'll be in a wheelchair when I'm done.
He should be dead instead of my son.
Most beautiful hog you have ever seen
Made her way to Miss I.O.way Queen
We called her pretty
Man, was she witty!
At I.O-way state fair could that sow preen!
Miss Almost Corn Pone jealous of the hog
Let loose her ugly mutt of a dog
Spectators amused
As the hog abused
Dog who ran to the bottom of the bog
I.O.Way butter cow at the state fair
Heard the commotion and followed them there
The Iowegians
In foreign legions
Heard about its melting without a care
Quilters came running from the 4-H hall
One still carrying her ceramic doll
In time to see
Last lick or three
As hog licked up that butter cow so tall.
The state fair had never seen such folly.
Winner of purple was that sweet dolly.
Miss Almost Corn Pone
Got mad and stomped home
Yes this year things were ever so jolly!
A Kamikaze peddler
Who follows his nose
fluorescent green Lycra
A middle finger he shows
Slower than a snail
As wide as truck
Forget the highway code
He pushes his luck.
Side by side they pedal
Three or four deep
Then they become violent
If you give them a beep
They own the road
and there’s no mistake
Zip through red lights
No prisoners they take
Danger personified
Full speed ahead
And then they wonder
Why motorists see red.
The bike’s abandoned
He washes his hands
Peels off his Lycra
He’s got urgent plans
Jumps in his car
To go somewhere fast
A slight incline
He just can’t pass
In front is a pedlar
And It’s Karma at last.
David Cox 11/05/25
There are so many memories of Hoosier farm life that I remember,
But one in particular I recall occured each cold and drear November.
Dad would proclaim, "The old boar has reached his maximum weight!"
That meant the lumberin' old feller was about to meet his fate!
After Dad had done him in, puttin' an end to his squeals,
He was hoisted by block and tackle and strung up by his heels.
Dad wouldn't abide us kids standin' around unoccupied,
So we were put to work scrapin' the bristles off its hide!
Mom had a tradition we always looked forward to with delight.
She always fixed fresh tenderloins for supper that first night!
Late into the night Dad ground meat to stuff for the sausage,
That he had seasoned liberally with red peppers and pungent sage!
Only Dad handled the curin' of the savory hams and bacon;
He had a knack for smokin' and tenderizin' 'em - expert care was taken!
A concoction called souse was made from leftover scraps of meat.
I don't know which I loathed the most - that or the pickled pigs feet!
I'm told folks don't render their own pork much any more.
Its more convenient to buy it neatly packaged at the local store.
But for my money there ain't no better ham, bacon or sausage to be had,
Than that prepared and cured on the farm by my dear old Dad!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
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