Long Piggy Poems

Long Piggy Poems. Below are the most popular long Piggy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Piggy poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Big Bad Wolf in The Three Piggy Opera

I think a modern version of Bertolt Brecht's 'The Threepenny Opera,' would better suit today's version if it were called, 'The Three Piggy Opera.' It's a biting satire about a criminal and capitalism.  Sound familiar yet?  It also includes moral ambiguities, which are not so ambiguous in politicians these days. Little Red Riding Hood was on to the wolf's guile from the beginning.  Clever girl!

there's a big bad wolf
who huffs and puffs his vile threats
piggies are not safe

In homes of straw, one little piggy seeks refuge, but ICE breaks down its door, Immigrant or legal, they don't care when the big bad wolf says, "Bash it in, by the hair on my orange tanned skin." Then, a house of sticks they kick in. The big bad wolf can't do it because of his swollen ankles...err I mean cankles.  Brick houses don't stop him from giving the command, "To make America great again, we have to take a stand."

chump, Trump wants a crown
he's ruined what used to be great
suffering country

A stand against who, or what? He's done nothing that could be mistaken as having made the US a better place to live.  And now, he's started a war that he will never feel the effects of except in his further fall in the polls. America was fine the way it was until the wolf decided he was hungry for power, drooling for more and is never sated. It's rough these days, when Democracy is threatened by a wolf who doesn't even try to disguise himself in sheep's clothing.  He howls at the moon with the lunacy of his drivel. What loathing for his actions we Americans are feeling and witnessing. No one is safe behind their own closed doors.  Houses of straw, sticks and bricks... our rights taken away. The cost is too much to pay.

Lil Red Riding Hood
was always misunderstood
she saw right through him
© Lin Lane  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Haibun


Heart-Shaped Pillow

a villanelle


Who has fallen in love with the couch?
Who remembers the days of sweet romance?
Maybe Miss Piggy and Oscar the Grouch.

Hub spends much time napping, as I can vouch, 
more than with me.  A date night?  fat chance.
Who has fallen in love with the couch?

I think he loves me;  if I ask, it’s ouch - 
he cannot believe I’d ask in askance.
Yes, I’m Miss Piggy; he’s Oscar the Grouch.

I spend much time nagging him not to slouch.
In public, we smile, hold hands, and dance,
but he’s fallen in love with the couch.

There’s a secret valentine at our house
this February; I know in advance.
Gift for Miss Piggy "from" Oscar the Grouch.

A heart-shaped pillow, a kind of a pouch
to hold my dreams as he snores in a trance.
Now who has fallen in love with the couch?
Miss Piggy who loves her Oscar the Grouch. 


written 5 February 2016

Premium Member The Little Red Fire Truck Ride

Jingle, jingle... jingle 
As we emptied our piggy-banks 
Hoping we saved up twenty five cents 
Every Saturday afternoon, we would excitedly wait
Twelve O'clock sharp the bells would ring 
Screen doors flew open when we heard them
The kids in the neighborhood...
Immediately stopped doing whatever they were doing 
Whether the boys were flipping baseball cards or shooting marbles 
Or the girls were playing Hop-Scotch or dressing Barbie dolls
We all ran to the corner of Craig street at noon
"All Aboard" yelled the fire chief 
"Drop your quarters in the box and have a seat 
Don't worry folks, this old jalopy runs well" 
He was referring to the little red fire truck
It was rebuilt and custom made just for children to ride in 
We cruised the back streets with our hands held high; screaming 
'round every bend...we laughed
Tails wagged as dog's chased behind 
Putt, putt... putt 
"Ride over children, exist to the rear... 
See you next weekend" the fire chief yelled


The Old Jalopy Poetry Contest 
Sponsor: Craig Cornish 
7-22-2019
Form: Verse

Premium Member Piggy Named Bright

Bright the piggy was having a difficult night.
His parents were arguing in a full-blown fight.
He rolled over and over, but could not get it right.
Jennifer from big house came and got him that night.

You are okay, she told him, wrapping him up tight.
He knew he looked weird in a blanket this white.
I am taking you to big house and rocking you right.
Bright the piggy had never had such a wonderful night.

I wish I could stay with Jennifer forever, it feels right.
Jennifer felt the same way, and cuddled him tight.
His parents stopped fighting, fearing for their son that night.
So as you see, things turned out ever so right.
Form: Monorhyme

Premium Member Slang Footle Male Names: Part 4:

It’s Sure not Miss Daisy

Drivin’
Ivan

The Over-Achiever

Be more
Igor

Big Eater Guy

Piggy
Iggy

The Straw Man
Flaxen
Jackson

Street Smart

Joseph
Knows stuff

Serial killer?

Gory
Jory

Would Love to hear from One

Call a 
Jonah

The Extra Cautious

Wary
Jerry

So Burdened

Laden
Jayden

Get Him Deoderant

Smelly
Kelly

Being Cloned Thrice

Tripling
Kipling

This Guy Will Do

Any
Kenny

Who Needs To Weight Lift?

Scrawny
Lonny

Who DOES weigh lift?

Brawyn 
Johnny

Halloween Lover

Scary
Larry

He’s got Tons of Them

Logan’s
Slogans

The Substitute

Stand-in
Landen

You’ve Got To

See my 
Levi

So gross

Lucus
Mucus

More than Enough

Plenty
Lenny

Below Zero

Minus
linus
Form: Footle


My Boy

You are the love of my life.
The sweetest little pea.
Where would I be without you?
I just wouldn’t be me!

You brighten every moment,
Of every single day.
I can’t imagine life without you.
Here’s what I have to say,

You are my sunshine,
You are my rain,
You bring me happiness,
You bring me pain.

You make me smile,
You make me cry,
You make me happy,
You make me high.

You bring me peace,
You bring me joy,
You make proud
That you’re my boy!

Sometimes when I look at you 
I can’t help it but to cry,
You make my heart just melt inside
I feel like I could die!

I love to hold you in my arms
And kiss that little nose
I love to kiss those soft soft cheeks
And play piggy with your toes.

I prayed for you to come to me.
God knew I needed you so.
I promise to keep you safe
And never let you go!

You are my sunshine,
You are my rain,
You bring me happiness,
You bring me pain.

You make me smile,
You make me cry,
You make me happy,
You make me high.

You bring me peace,
You bring me joy,
You make proud
That you’re my boy!

I will always keep you protected.
I’ll never let you see,
Just how evil people are.
I’ll teach you how to be.

I’ll teach you how to be happy,
To be respectful and be kind.
By the time I am finished with you,
You’ll be one of a kind.
Form: Ballad

Just Whistle

A whistling toad is an abomination to the soul and a barking dog is enough to start the brawl; the wind cannot keep still because it is draining energy from the flour mill, the yellow jacket wasp is flying around and it is looking for something to confound. It suddenly landed on my hand but I squeeze out sting before it sinks in.  

I love to whistle in the morning, in the evening and at noon. With trees standing behind me and dreams running before. I love to watch the butterfly, gallivanting in the sky sucking nectar from the flowers and converging in the cellar, while the ambitious ant on the glorious mission, walking up and down the street pointing a revolver at the people it meets. It has no cruel intention; it only wants to scare them. If it confronts you just whistle and smile with the breeze. 

I have an appointment to meet you today so come and see me without delay. Take your suitcase with you and wear a brand-new pair of shoes, kiss it goodbye on the side of its chin and do a little shimmy before the hot weather chime in. Walk with it to the gate and examine its nose, ears and eyebrow, lips and finger tips and when you get the code just whistle and walk right through the door. 

The heat is raging in the East and fire is burning underneath my feet. The clue to find the Holy Grail is mapped out in various patterns on the concrete floor and the diamond on my ring finger is disrupting my heartbeat and beckoning you to come to the shore. Water is springing up in my face but I am confident that I will win the final race. 

I want to take off to the sky but my piggy bank is crying someone broke off its nose and took all my coins out. There is neither penny nor dime to get to my new destination on time, so if you can hear me today just whistle and I will listen to what you have to say.  

Once your head gets through the hole your body will ask for more and if you cannot swim get on the boat before the next wind. Someone will come and see you and whistle before the day is through and when you get to your destination someone will take care of you. When you don’t know what to do, just whistle and it will come to you.

Piggy Banks

I think that if you asked today,
Have piggy banks become passe,
The answer, if I had to guess,
Would be a most resounding Yes!

For coins are just no longer used
And kids might even be confused
Or maybe slightly take offense
If teeth were swapped for fifty cents.

Yet in my home, four banks still sit,
Each one with varied coins in it,
Plunked one by one into the slot
Which, back in childhood, meant a lot.

Today I dumped them out, then stacked
The coins in piles, using tact,
So neither grandkid throws a fit
Because I made an equal split.

I chose two banks and loaded in
Half dollar coins that once had been
Their father’s long-forgotten stash,
Now hardly recognized as cash.
Form: Rhyme

Turning Pages

Every once in a while, 
I slow down.
I don't think I even mean to,
but you do something to make me pause.

For a moment,
I tune out the hustle and bustle,
the beautiful chaos that lives in our house.
I mute the torrent of thoughts.
(What should I make for dinner?
I need to fill out that permission slip.
I should really fold that load of laundry.) 

You're curled up with a book - 
the one you found yesterday at the second-hand store.
You whooped for joy when you saw it on the shelf, 
begging me to buy it
(but also willing to raid your piggy bank if need be).

I watch you turn the page, 
your eyes moving eagerly from word to word, 
your mind playing the story in its own unique way.
The sun is coming through the window so perfectly,
casting your shadow on the wall,
reminding me of Peter Pan.
You smile, brown eyes sparkling,
and I wonder what funny line you just read.
You're lost in imagination, the most beautiful place.
I hope you go there often.

My phone buzzes, and I sigh.
I think (as I do every time) -
I need to slow down more often.
I need to frame these ordinary moments
and hang them up in my mind for a little while.

But the hustle and bustle unpauses.
The beautiful chaos sucks me back in.
The torrent of thoughts unmute.
What should I make for dinner?
I need to fill out that permission slip.
I should really fold that load of laundry.

Premium Member Once Upon a Christmas 1954 Part 2

.          We worked it out on paper and realized if we saved our ten cents a week allowance, 
it would take years to pay for them, so we decided we needed to get a job.  So began our 
first enterprise ‘Hal and Elaine’s snow Removal.’

	Each day after school we would go door to door offering to shovel the snow from 
sidewalks and driveways for a fee of twenty- five cents.  Each day we would return home 
with our frozen hands clutching a quarter and our minds clutching the visions of those 
bicycles as we prayed for snow once again.

	Mom had taken a job working from home.  Each night she would soak piles of 
leather pieces to soften and stretch over balls of twine to stitch together the next day 
making a baseball.  She was paid five cents for each one that met their standards.  Mom 
stitched hour after hour, day after day until her fingers bled.

	Dad would come home from Camp Borden after many hours of hard labor and 
army maneuvers to have supper and make us giggle and laugh with his outrageous stories of 
the day’s events.  After supper he would leave again returning much later with red and blue 
paint stains on his hands and a tired smile on his face.

	The days flew by in a blur as we shoveled up and down the streets dreaming of 
those bicycles that grew more solid with every quarter we put in our piggy banks.  I would go 
to sleep each night and ride through towns and cities and over hills and through valleys until 
I heard the sound of buoy bells ringing in the harbor.

	I would pedal faster and faster, knowing I was almost there.  I could see my old 
home just down the road.  As the bells got louder, I would slowly awake to the truth as the 
alarm clock wound down on the night stand.  Once again I would head off for school and 
stand daydreaming, peering at that gleaming bicycle in the window of the bicycle shop.

	Suddenly – Christmas was almost upon us and we needed to buy mom and dad a 
present, so we pulled the plug on the piggy bank and tool our loot, a total of four dollars each 
to Woolworth’s

                                               continued in part 3.....
Form: Narrative

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