Portrait of a Pig by Jamie Wyeth

 Well, it's not quite Poetry Friday, but I'm going to write this up early (Wednesday) and schedule it to post on Friday. I'm headed down to Eugene, Oregon, for a few days - who knows whether I'll have time to post it later.  My daughter and her husband are going to run there in the Dirty Dash (mud at the home stretch) and my seven-year-old grandson is running in the Piglet Plunge. A muddy time is guaranteed for all, photos are sure to follow. In honor of all things piggy - and hoggish -  I offer up this original poem for your reading pleasure.

SONG OF THE HOG

It’s true, I grunt. I’m low. I lurk.

I roll in mud. I muck about. 

When dinner comes, no matter what,

I scarf it up and soil my snout

and gulp with such abandon that

my cousin pigsters get left out.

Ferocious Me!  That’s who I am –

I nip the runts and make them shout,

“O, Rotund One! O, Royal Swine!

You are the barnyard’s Master Lout.

We’re curly-tailed and pink and squealy,

but you are the Porcine King, no doubt! “

Quite right! Quite right!  I understand

what being a Hog is all about! 

I think Jamie Wyeth, whose "Portrait of a Pig" heads up this post, painted the swiney guy I was thinking of. Here's a bit of trivia: The real-life subject of this painting ate seventeen tubes of the artist's paint while no one was looking. O, Rotund One!