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Hello Bacon Nation:

We are pleased to announce the winner of the 2014 Bacon Poetry Contest.  Congratulations to Angela Allan.  Her piece Bringin’ the Bacon Home has been selected as winner by the BFC Literary Panel.  We’re pleased to award her with two tickets to Baconfest Chicago on April 25 or 26.  A big thank you to all those who entered the contest.  We received so many great entries.  Judging poetry is very subjective and in our eyes, you are all winners.  But as they say in Highlander “there can only be one” – and for 2014, her name is Angela Allan.  Enjoy her poem below.

Thanks Bacon Nation for your enthusiasm for this contest.  Baconfest Chicago begins a week from Friday!!  We are E-X-C-I-T-E-D.

Andre, Michael and Seth

Winner of the 2014 Bacon Poetry Contest:

Bringin’ the Bacon Home

©  by Angela Allan

A piece of bacon took a pen
To write a little poem
About the way it feels to be
Accepted, loved, at home.
At first he wrote: “I am at home
When I am on a pig.
Within its belly, near the mud
It’s quite a pleasant gig.”
The bacon paused, then crossed this out
It sounded like a lie
To act as if he felt at home
Inside a dirty sty.
And so he wrote: “There is one place
That makes me feel fantastic
It’s when I’m in a person’s fridge
Tucked into shrink-wrapped plastic.”
The bacon paused, then crossed this out
And said, “That just won’t do.
For though it rhymes quite nicely
I don’t think it’s strictly true.”
And so he wrote: “I am at home
When I am in a pan.
Sizzling hot and spitting fat
I feel like I’m the man.”
The bacon paused, then crossed this out
It didn’t sound correct.
“Who knew,” he thought, “that poems
Would be so tiresome to perfect?”
And so he wrote: “I am at home
When I am on a tongue.
Within a human mouth, I feel
Invigorated, young!
For though I die as I am chewed
I know, deep down, I should
Because I sacrifice myself
To reach a greater good.
Indeed, I am a martyr
And when eaten, I dispel
All worry, fear and tragedy
All agony and hell.
I give, for just a moment,
The experience of bliss
I am the springtime robin’s song,
The long-lost lover’s kiss.
And to those who condemn me
And declare I’m not nutritious
I say, “What’s home? More vitamins?
Nay. Home is what’s delicious.”
The bacon dropped his pen; he smiled
And said, “Now that’s a poem!”
And moments later, he was cooked
And gently taken home.

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