A pig kissing contest? Absurd!
of such disgrace?
I will not try to kiss his face.
Forget the dough.
I will not go
to kiss a Poland China mug.
I am too smug.
Oh, dear! Oh, me!
It is beneath my dignity
to do a jig
and kiss a pig.
Today, February 10, 2013 is the first anniversary of this blog, My True Sentence. Sharing my writing here has been a rewarding experience. WordPress is a great place to blog. Yesterday I received a note from them wishing me a happy day.
At the start, the few followers I had were friends and family. Now, I have 349 followers. Not to brag, but I am amazed at how blogging works. The views on this blog total more than 7,700 and they are from many parts of the world. My first post was a poem that received 93 views, my highest number to date.
I’m reposting that poem today to celebrate the anniversary of this blog..
An Arkansas Pig Tale
When Sadie Lee and Thomas moved to Creek,
they brought along three pigs, a mule and dog.
The dog, a Lab, Old Bounder was his name,
was big and shy and clung to tom like lint.
The mule was called Moe Henry; he was strong.
He plowed the fields and garden every spring.
The pigs were Razor, Stringy Hair and Beaut.
When Razor’s snout up-rooted Tom’s green plants,
then Thomas said to Sadie, “That’s enough!
He has to go to forage on his own.”
And so he put old razor out to range,
But Sadie cried because he was her pet.
Cold winters came and Sadie worried so
for Razor. Tom then had to butcher Beaut
that first cold winter. Sadie cried again.
She cried once more because Hair had to go;
she turned against pork chops and bacon, too.
“Oh, Tom, why did you send my pig away?”
cried Sadie. Tom replied, “To save my crops!
Now Sadie, I DON’T WANT that Razor back!”