Short Sty Poems

A
sty
on the
axis eye-
gold cannot cure it....

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if you feed it, then
it will continue to grow --
litter on the ground....

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sty sty off my eye
muttered backing from fowl house
grandpa plows the mule...

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Muddy, dirty, badly, smelly
Gym locker socks, muddy dirty sty
sneaking, cheating badly smelly lie...

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Tonight i will wri....wri...write
in the sty.....sty...style
Of the Sta...Sta....Starman
For a whi...whi...while...

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I live on a farm in the sky;
we milk all the pigs as they fly;
at harvest we reap
the eggs from the sheep, 
and shear woolly cows in a sty....

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There was a dumb pig from Kauai
Who had a huge stye in his eye
While using a hatchet 
He started to scratch it
Now the swine has an eye in his sty!...

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One would be flabbergasted by
All the stink that is in the sty
The pigs sure don’t care
The smell in the air
It’s a paradise for a fly

Russell Sivey...

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We have this guy who’s a covert spy.
This sneaky little runt is named Cy.
Like a fly on the wall,
this Cy can hear it all.
He knows all that goes on in this sty....

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He Cannot Deny

There are things that he cannot deny;
Did take advantage of and profit by,
What others did;
Some have hid,
Is headache and sty in another's eye.

About Matt Lauer

Jim Horn...

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The promptness of his
Forgiveness
Is a magi sty to me
The prospect of his love
Is magic you see
And
The lineage of his love
Which has echoed
Threw the year's
For those who Seth
His hope
There shall be no more
Tears'

GF...

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Kermit and Ms. Piggy rendezvous 

Kermit hopped his way to Miss piggy's sty
in need of comfort, he wanted to do the sly
they shot the bull
and petted the wool
when time to fete, Kermit was short of pork pie

connie pachecho

4/16/17...

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Citron yellow-
                  prussian blue
brings day and night 
                 into view.
Two sides of a coin
      - a shadowless wheat field
      - a brush-stroked sky
Eye-impressions do not lie

WHEATFIELDS with Cypresses /STARRY night- Van Gogh...

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Oh, the piggy loves you
The piggy loves me
The piggy is homeless, 
yessiree. 

Give the pig a cookie
Give the pig a bed
Or maybe a sarcophagus, 
in case the piggy's dead.

Punch'm in the snout
Poke'm in the eye
Take the piggy home 
and dump'm in the sty...

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Cooking is all I do
That is why I am blue
I think that I'll skip a day

Run away from mankind
There's no contract I signed
Disappear and today play

Jump on a cloud up high
Float far above the sty
Of  life's big problems; hooray!

In honor of Dr.Ram
Contest: Balassi Stanza...

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The gooseberry bush, a thing of beauty,
bow to my lady, bow to my lord

The homely hearth and sty for stock,
Bread for my bairns, fat for their chins

The cottage loom, silks for my lady,
Breeches  for my lord

Work and sweat for those without land,
Bow to my lady, bow to my lord....

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Pink
asleep
on her side
feeding piglets 
hungry at her breasts
motherly love in sty
on a bed of large hay,
amidst the farm hens,
in peace she feeds
gives life to
would be
ham

Written 15/08/2021
NA
Merse poetry contest
Malabika Ray Choudhury sponsored
new format 1 to 6 and 6 to 1 syllables...

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what breach of faith
has time wrought?
like cannonballs
through ramparts and walls
each day bores on,
unflinchingly through page after page
of sickening drivel.

the sun contentedly wallowing
in its yellow sty turns over
without a snort.

at day's end it seeks other fields
to root and hog.

(undated 1979)...

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On the  twelfth  day of Christmas
 St. Nicholas  gave to meeee

Twelve pizza pies
Eleven pigs in a sty...

Ten hooting  owls
Nine golden fowls

Eight barking dogs
Seven leaping frogs

Six poets dancing
Five reindeer prancing

Four bottles of rum...
Three sets of drums 

Two stinging bees....
And a unicorn   just for PD

Joseph May...

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Short deciding what to write
To think another way begins
 Red alert to stop the madness
Ringing in the seasons sins

Falling empty promise weighs
Landfill groans from holidays
Wake of refuse piling high
Overloads a different sty

Decades after dinner done
Still the remnants linger on
Stop a moment find a way
Recycle well this holiday...

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Sty all your bodied waters
And libelous pretensions.
Hang leather headed juries
Beside some tethered eddies.

Drown me down
In new baptismal rivers.
Spread eagle me upon
Some granite black outcroppings.

And let my liver ribbon 
From beaks of shadowed ravens.
Let my thigh bones 
Fossil on the rocks.

Should I be buried under
When cliffs calf shuddered thunders,
No words of prayer be spoken
Just leave and let me be....

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A dog and his bone was on the roam,
Where can I find this bone a home?
Will I bury it next to the tree?
No, too easy for others to see.

What about next to the garden shed?
Maybe in the middle of the garden bed,
Behind the sty where the pigs all are,
What about somewhere right away far.

I think I know what I will do,
I'll just sit down and have a chew,
Tomorrow will be another new day,
I'll find a spot then for the bone to stay....

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I is as dirty as dirty can be
Cause I is just a pig you see
I wallow around in my lovely sty
Your cleanliness rules just don’t apply
I love the mud, that gooey stuff
And as to the odor, I can’t get enough
The stuff they feed me, you call it slop
Well, I think it’s great, really tip- top
I have no worries, no not a one
But the dog just said ,”Go on, have fun-
For if I’m not mistaken,
                   You soon will be bacon..”
 

2/18/16...

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There was once a young man from New York.
Who had often pigged out on roast pork.
'Til a pig said, "I yam
Such a  proud hunk of ham.
I refuse to end up on his fork."

11/20/14

da da dum da da dum da da dum
da da dum da da dum da da dum
da da dum da da dum
da da dum da da dum
da da dum da da dum da da dum

syllables 9, 9, 6, 6, 9

This is a new limerick written for contest
following required meter and with aabba rhyme
Hope this is what you want....

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At the center of a soggy bar.
She wore a polka dot smile.
A tornado of graceful magnificence.
Like a spray of funeral flowers
Against a leather studded sty.

Inside my head, I drunkenly prayed.
"Angel flee into yesterday-immediately. 
Before we dip you in our bile and drink.
Don't become like the rest of us!"

She won't listen (they never do).
She'll become Suzy shot glass. 
Sporting a smoker's cough.
Spit out -split in half.
A powdery little midnight moth....

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