The night has a world of heavens
Their discovery widens our sight.
During hedonistic days and nights
Those combine makers? Make hay.
Harvesting - umbrae silence peace
There each pod, each mirrored—
Black-acre holds out a billion…
Marrow-fat peas and here a loin-pig
Sits at the head of a banquet, table.
Pleased its sits, so high, no one!
Can hear an oinking! Or see…
Not even an inch, a whisker of tail.
Mark Heathcote's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Loin-pig by Mark Heathcote )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
- Leap in time, Nassy Fesharaki
- My Soul Is A Traceless Wound, mary douglas
- A Pink Chalk Moon Rising Behind A Blue H.., mary douglas
- GALE'S MEDAL, Terry Collett
- Listen To Me, I am Talking, Ali Faisal
- That There Should Be Flowers There, mary douglas
- Tetracty Dry Grass, Heather Burns
- On The Highway Of Life, Heather Burns
- Angel With Ferns In A Far Landscape, mary douglas
- Theres A Place, Heather Burns