Scene from Hamlet, Pig of Denmark

The Revenge of the Pigs

On 10 March 1999, Peter Just posted a note (below) about a drowning on the Westfield River. Blake Werner, knowing that Richard Frank and his fabled Pigs lived near there, inquired whether any pig prints were found near the recently-deceased. That was all it took, it was after all wintertime.

From: Peter Just
Subject: calling all wayward souls

Yesterday the body of a drowned man was recovered from the Westfield River, a pretty good trout stream in central Mass. On the tv news report the reporter described the area where the dead man had fallen in as a place frequented by "fishermen, the homeless, and other wayward souls." Too bad about the drowned man, but I had to chuckle.


From: Richard Frank

pigs cover their tracks
calling down the snows of March
heinous crimes concealed

From: Blake Werner

ides of march songfest
under the cover of night
pigs protect their stream

From: Richard Frank

sanguineous pigs
stuffing Peta sausages
the river cries out

From: jim woolacott

light glints off cold steel
pig squeals and dances no more
bacon frying, yum

From: Fred Smith

cries swallowed by winter's gray
wayward soul meets icy fate
pigs are on the prowl

From: Bill Schudlich

Wayward intruder
Two legs are better than four
The pigs have their way

Damn, I said I wouldn't get sucked into this.

From: Matt Jorgensen

Can't resist:

A scream and a splash
A shadow retreats upstream
A single cry, "Oink!"

From: Richard Frank

down with bait slingers
FF liberation pigs
catch but no release

From: Chris Knight

Bill wrote:

>Damn, I said I wouldn't get sucked into this.

I didn't. 8^)

chorus grunts omen
patrolling the waterfront

wayward soul got the
subaquatic homesick blues
hey, that smells like pork

From: rob tucker

'nother wayward soul, checking in.

Pickled pigs feet
are farts waiting to happen
methane kinetic

From: Blake Werner

lord, what have we done
to unleash the rath of swine
is the West Branch next?

From: Jim Tefft

neither West nor East be saved
from the sweard that lay upon the bank
of the hallowed fishers trek

From: Michael Dell

what is all this stuff
about pigs? I thought we were
talking 'bout fishing?

From: Neal Gilchrist

Porcine ninjas go
Like shadows into the night
What mystery has happened?

From: Richard Frank

at the river edge
boar bristles beneath dead nails
a baffling clue

From: Agust Kr. Gudmundsson

smelling of bacon
a body washes ashore
cloven avenger

From: Richard Tardy

More bad 'ku.....

Trotters of porcine ilk
scowering the murky depths
curiously sublime

Searching for soulful pleasure
Finding it in small measure
cheating death

From: Dave Murphy

iggypay, iggypay been you?
four legs bad, two hind legs meaty
Hickory, smoke, enjoy the rub

Am I close?

pigs in blanket, catsup on top
fried rind of pig, appetizer
trout almondine, turf n riffle

From: Rich Swartz

I'm not sure if 'ku
sign of impending doom or
cabin fever dregs.

From: Agust Kr. Gudmundsson

aware of danger
five swine scream out in unison
run for the river

From: Dave Lewis

bleached naked corpses
swolen wurstlike visages
fixed stare cast styward

Can't believe I took 20 minutes out of a too busy day to do that. (VBG)

From: Rob Tucker

LASmithers wrote:

>There are souls and there are souls and it often hard to tell the
>souls from the aresouls. there are also wayward arseholes stop being
> wayward arseholes

Sounds like pig squealin'
Uncle Bud got a purty mouth
deliverance nigh

From: Bob Perry

posturing begins
all seats sold try pay per view
coot vs the pigs

old bird or new pork
lets get ready to rumble
title on the line

From: Jim Woolacott

or porcine, no difference
all fair game for 'ku

From: George Jacox

wayward souls sleep on
while fiendish swine are snacking:
pigs in a blanket

From: Robert Morger

porcine squeal upon lips
devilish twist of tales turn
stomach runs amok

canadian bacon
old coot squeals wayward aresouls
cloven hooves retreat

et tu brute

From: Mark McMillan

homeless wayward soul
Spied by porcine avenger
Swine hath no mercy

From: Claude Freaner

Pigs wading ashore
Wiggling tails with flies attached
Guard the fish poorly

River's edge mud shows
Cloven hooves, empty 12 gauge...
Serious guard pigs


ok, I've been trying for the past two days to not respond (or contribute) to this...but you finally wore me down...

Enough with the bad pig haiku:
As a thread, it just will not do!
It's not about fish
As many here wish;
Egad, I'm now involved, too!

When guarding your stream from affront,
Sit on the bank, not in a punt.
Be not alarmed,
Your life is charmed:
Your guardian angel can grunt!

From: Richard Frank

Robert Morger wrote:

> Listen did you here that?
> Yes the sound of countless pigs rolling over in their graves.
> Very interesting thread here folks.

You are right about those pigs, robert. They are not used to being treated in such a contemptible manner. With haiku! They remember when the great bard himself almost staged "Edward's Third Pig" Here's the opening.

Act 1, Scene 1

A stye behind King Edward's manor house

Enter PORCINI (the King's third pig), solus


Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sum of pork;
And all the lard that lour'd upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Now are our bowels filled with victorious slop;
Our bruised hams hung up for admiration;
Our stern squels changed to merry meatings,
Our dreadful cries to delightful sausage.
Grim-visaged war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front;
And now, instead of mounting barded steeds
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,
He fishes nimbly at the water's edge
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.
But I, am not shaped for sportive tricks,
Nor made well to cast a slender wooded pole .
Nay, I am rudely stamp'd, CHOICE, and wait his majesty
To claim my hocks and cheeks for his own pleasures;
I, that am curtail'd of fair proportion,
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
Deformed, and unfish'd, sent before my time
To the slaughter house, scarce half made up,
And that so lamely and unfashionable
That dogs bark at me as I halt by them;
Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace,
Have no delight to pass away the time,
Unless to drop my bottom in the mud
And descant on mine own enormity:
And therefore, since I cannot prove a clever fisher,
To entertain these fair well-spoken days,
I am determined to prove a swine
And hate the idle pleasures of these ways.
Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous,
By drunken prophecies, libels and dreams,
To set my brothers Clarence and Clarence upon the king
In deadly hate at the river's edge:
And if the wayward king be as true and just
As I am subtle, false and treacherous,
This day should Clarence and Clarence closely be mew'd up,
About a prophecy, which says that 'G'
Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be.
Dive, thoughts, down to my soul: here
Come my brothers.

Of course it's not clear whether this play was written shortly before or after Hamlet, Pig of Denmark. Some scholars question whether the immortal bard wrote either of these plays. Of course, the pigs are indifferent to the debates of scholars. They know full well that these plays provide an opportunity for them to unleash the full measure of their thespian skill and vigor. Haiku indeed!


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Material reprinted with the expressed consent and misgivings of the original authors.