Long Pigsty Poems
Long Pigsty Poems. Below are the most popular long Pigsty by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pigsty poems by poem length and keyword.
They were the don’t dos
And we loved them like family
Only better
We don’t do dishes
We don’t do chores
We don’t do cleaning
We don’t do more
They lived in squalor,
They lived in a mess.
They lived in a pigsty
Their house was casual at best
We don’t dust
We don’t de-bug
We don’t vacuum
Come see our rug!
The don’t dos truly did not do
Their willingness to be so not
Made them neighbors keenly sought
I loved being at their house
Where I could throw down my lunch
Behind a couch, where it’d make a crunch
Casual them, casual me.
It was the best place for
A messy kid to be.
I’ve loved your face, night and days of changing milk rays
Sighs in blue and black, of times gone back; now so slack
Love surely does wane, then mind’s sane…what’s to regain?
And the road, in dirt’s goad climbs winding pigsty mode
New moon midnight, holds tight a dark that can’t relight
Damned are the seeds, as they’ve turned to weeds: What inbreeds!
Mother who never did bother to write further
Only too late, her full fate, was father’s sad state
Oh lies have made me cry, but truth, is fair skies
No more half turns, I have learned, those tides I will spurn.
(7/25/2020 For Funom's keen observation contest; '62 Tradewinds 33; DMS)
As dawn starts to streak across the sky
heralding in the new born day.
Feisty rooster already perched on the wall
giving forth with all his might, he crows.
Sleepy hens, ducks and geese scat for worms.
Low moos emitting from the milking parlour
mingling with the sucking sounds of machines
as they gather the rich creamy milk in containers.
Banging of impatient hooves from the shire horses
hungry for their grain, tossing heads and stamping,
loud neighs and whinnies fill the early dawn.
Soon they will be at work ploughing and farrowing fields.
Farmhouse door opens smell of eggs and bacon wafting,
farmer's wife emerges carrying pails heavy with slops.
As she nears the pigsty the grunts and squeals grow
barging, pushing as they search for tasty scraps.
A caterwaul of noise from the rookery deafening,
as they wheel and spin around the yard thieving.
Slowly as the animals return to the sweet meadows
life settles back to normal, until tomorrows dawn.
written 09/15/2013
contest Nature
A herd of pigs was locked in the walls,
They can't go over to see the outside truth
And can't make a free walk
Did they go to their owner for asking Why?
The owner said: There was real happiness in the pigsty
You think! The owner explained: plenty of food and drinks
Provided to you always with care, when you guys enjoy
A sweet snoring sleep inside
Comparing to the birds flying in the sky
The poor alien species have to make restless fly!
Because they are Not blessed to have such a life
As a pig might, they are the most unfortunate instead
You are the happiest piglets worldwide!
You even don't need any truth, trust me!
Such a life you've had is both happy and luxurious
What you need is to roughly drink and eat
Then stay quietly in your pigsty for a nice sleep
However, one thing you must remember
To Make sure everything is right and proper
And also used to listen to my order! Go! drink and eat!
I will take full responsibility for all the matters
You see! Who can have such happiness in the world?
Only you, you unique pigs!
Christmas Day has arrived; the thought fills me with such dread
For over twenty years they’ve come to me; it's doing in my head!
I get up at the crack of dawn to get the turkey in the oven
Gran moans about my cooking – she belongs in a witches’ coven
I always arrange the festive table last thing on Christmas Eve
I don’t sit next to granny; her table manners make me heave!
My sister is so overweight; you should see the size of her fanny
She belches loudly when she eats, so I’ll sit her next to granny
The taxi arrives at twelve o’clock and I crack open the sherry
When they sit down at the table they are starting to get merry
I slave over a hot stove; no one moves they act too grand
I’ve given up asking for help, they treat me so off-hand
Well this year I’ve rebelled and put laxatives in their soup
I’ll smile secretly when off to the toilet they will all troop
The soup has been devoured and I clear away the plates
When the laxatives take effect they’ll be in dire straits!
The turkey has been carved; all the vegetables are piled high
Uncle Albert grosses out; he needs a trough in a pigsty!
Turkey, and all the trimmings they will quickly devour
Granny moans about the sprouts she said that one was sour
I quietly sit seething whilst they get all get steaming drunk
Uncle Albert farts loudly – he’s worse than a blinking skunk!
Christmas pudding is eaten, followed by juicy mince pies
Sister Annie stuffs her face, as more fat piles on her thighs
Single handily I clear the table, and then we open up the gifts
It costs me an utter fortune; you should have seen their lists
Annie has knitted me the most disgusting baggy jumper
I smile sweetly and thank her, but I really want to thump her!
At four o’clock the taxi comes and they all go off home
I sit by the fire with a cup of tea, I’m so glad to be alone
Next year it’s going to be different; I’m going to go away
Booked a luxury cruise – I’ll be abroad on Christmas Day!
C form contest
Sponsored by Broken Wings
12~30~16
Here before the grace of God go I !
I wasn't born into a pigsty
Or my 1 daily meal did not have to be fetched
Off the back of a charitable relief truck
Or pray the water well had not run dry
So the next time I curse my bad luck
Maybe I should rather think ?
Here before the grace of God go I !
There are far more pressing things over which to cry
Than what I can or can not buy ?
Nothing for me will ever be as despondent or depressing
As the choices my lot in life will never have me make
And seldom have the humility to truly appreciate
Here before the grace of God !
Have I wasted so many golden privileged opportunities
Some other poor unfortunate soul will never know
Because they were born into
A War Zone or worse still a 3rd World Famine Hell Hole
For whom the bell tolls ?
Put no heed in dreams and aspirations
Because they live a life i could not possibly conceive
Praying only for clean water and enough food to go around
And God willing a roof under which to lay there head
While I am sat here wasting money on lottery tickets
Ironically never knowing I have already won
I want for none but yet still feel somehow hard done
The only thing in reality we all have in common
Is come 1 day we are all destined to die
But for these poor souls it will come as a blessing
Because daily life was an uphill struggle
Where as I am bound to finally realize
I squandered my prize
And took for granted my winnings
Time will only tell
If here before the grace of God !
In life Today's winners ?
In death become tomorrows loser's ?
And if this was all just a Test ?
Set to confuse us ?
In order to prove if I was truly worthy ?
Or simply wasted my time self-obsessing
And self-serving ?
That should instead rather have been granted
To some poor soul far more deserving than I
He adored her. His blubbery lips
drooled at the sight of his love.
Her beauty seared his mind
a fiery arousal beat upon
the slopes
of his low, low brow.
He was quite the beast of a man -
a galoot, the likeness of an orangutan
his odor that of a sweaty boot,
yet beneath his exterior
a superior being
perfectly pure and shining bright.
Everyone noticed.
She a beauty for all to see,
a delight for any eye,
but inside her, a pigsty
where a cesspool bubbled and fumed.
Everyone noticed.
In time their odd ying-yang
transpired to wedding bells.
Naturally their twined offspring
were as dull as dishwater,
complete nonentities,
and they were noticed
by no one.
Or
He adored her. His blubbery lips
drooled at the sight of his love.
Her beauty seared his mind
a fiery arousal beat upon
the slopes
of his low, low brow.
He was quite the beast of a man -
a galoot, the likeness of an orangutan
his odor that of a sweaty boot,
yet beneath his exterior
a superior being
perfectly pure and shining bright.
No one noticed.
She a beauty for all to see,
a delight for any eye,
but inside her, a pigsty
where a cesspool bubbled and fumed.
All this went unnoticed.
In time their odd ying-yang
transpired to wedding bells.
Naturally their twined offspring
were as dull as dishwater,
complete nonentities,
and they were both noticed.
I went to drink
coffee at one of those
cute little coffee-drinking
places, and I couldn’t
help but think of
you.
I tried
not to.
But then,
the waiter/
barista/ whatever
you call them had to
come and give me
my drink.
It had a flower in it,
a tulip -
made out of
whipped cream,
with brown sugar
sprinkled at the
top.
I remember now -
the last thing we had talked
about was your job.
You had just quit doing drugs,
and you had just started working
at a coffeeshop.
Hell,
you even managed
to clean out that pigsty
of yours that you called
a bedroom.
Then,
you died.
Just like
that.
You died right as
you were gathering your
thoughts and getting your
life together.
How tragic.
I hope I don’t die
in the middle of my own muck
like you did.
So long.
But
for
now,
I’ve got
an empty coffee cup
and a deep, longing desire
to hear from you
again.
By the way,
the wedding plans
fell through, and I
found somebody
new.
They aren’t with
me anymore either.
So much
for that idea.
Just thought of a
funny joke:
You went from being
a best man to
being a dead
man.
Ha….
nobody but the
gravestones get to
laugh in the end.
Listen up lowlife, I make greatness look trite,
Arrogance so far below me, I’m way out of sight,
The whole world’s something, stuck to my shoe,
Never wear mainstream, only designer brand new.
Could not care less, weather you live or die
Be sure your funeral cortège stops, as I pass by,
Don’t even look at me, gaze upon the ground,
Better not breathe same air, when I’m around.
Completely flawless, no mirror can reflect me,
Chosen by myself, to judge everyone that I see,
When speaking put polished marbles in my mouth,
Step outside our mansion, everything goes south.
Family’s so privileged, only private tutors we seek,
When at the opera, have our own personal suite,
Only best Moët Chandon, passes through my lips,
No matter how good the service, I never give tips.
Yes obnoxiously happy, confident I’ll never die,
So just go and wallow, but find your own pigsty,
I’m a total master class, in unbridled snobbery,
Made my billions, defrauding the IRS in robbery.
By
David Kavanagh
Why oh why asked Old Lady Spry
Do they always die without saying bye?
Her husband Kai let out a loud sigh
Put eggs on high that he was trying to fry
This is a true story, assured my neighbor Vi
Kai’s omelet included warm cheese of brie.
I knew it right away, ‘cause I am sort of a spy.
I can see in their window if I really try.
Their house is a bit of a challenge, a real pigsty.
This is almost the full truth; I rarely tell a lie.
Persnickety Lady Spry winks and always says “hi”.
She gave my husband a Santa Christmas tie.
It was nothing the old hag had to go out and buy.
Repurposed from her deadbeat ex-husband Cy.
Vi then gave us a good-bye, for she had to fly.
Heading to Canada with Ty, her new guy.
He’s super sweet, backwards, and weirdly shy
But I might be in love with this goof-pot said Vi.
She falls in love fast had stated Old Lady Spry.
This is the truth, my friends, for I do not lie.