I went into a French restaraunt and asked the waiter, 'Have you got frog's legs?' He said, 'Yes,' so I said, 'Well hop into the kitchen and get me a cheese sandwich.'
quote by Tommy Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Phileas the Frog
Phileas the frog was awfully large -
To see the muscle in his thighs -
A sight bedazzling to your eyes!
With plenty there to feed a town -
If you would dare to take him down!
Phileas the frog could tow a barge.
One hefty bound could clear a tree -
A scary sight I'll guarantee!
And something else to make me dread:
Were he to land upon my head!
Phileas the frog was known as 'Sarge -'
Accounted by that massive chest.
No other frog would care to jest
That tidy Phileas!
So if you've sense and know your place -
And hold some value to your face,
Then don't get supercilious
With Phileas!
Copyright © Mark Raymond Slaughter 2009
All rights reserved.
Frog frog frog frog frog frog frog frog
Frog frog frog frog frog frog frog frog
Frog frog frog frog frog frog frog frog
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Frog
France and China feed from your demise,
Restaurateurs are not exactly chums,
Oh how they rave about your tender thighs!
Gourmand orders - another frog succumbs…
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
frog
frog frog
frog frog
frog frog
frog frog
Frog frog
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Call me All-American, but I love Ham and Cheese sandwiches. And not just any old ham and cheese sandwich... My mother's is the best. I've tried many times to make these sandwiches on my own, but it's never the same.
quote by Andy Roddick
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cruising
I was sailing the Pacific Ocean
on the cruise ship Sea Princess.
I searched for a peanut butter sandwich,
but settled for cheese and cress.
I was approached by a Polynesian beauty
who asked me for the time,
I told her it was time to get acquainted,
so I ordered white rums and lime.
Throughout the day we drank cocktails
and nibbled on ears and necks.
We moved down to her stateroom,
which was on the lowest deck.
She explained the Polynesian customs
of friendship, love, and sex.
In the morning we went for breakfast
and ate fruit, cheese, and cress.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Breasts On a Plate
She needed to feel more desirable.
So she placed her breasts on a plate.
She asked our waiter what he thought!
The waiter looked at me and apologized
For not being more prompt with the check!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Frog Like Me
Ribbit ribbit I am a frog
As pretty as a frog can be
I love to jump from log to log
Come with me and you'll see
Eating bugs is what I do
My legs are kinda short
I promise not to hug or kiss you
Cause that will give you warts
My skin is really bumpy
Not as smooth as yours
Like when your head gets lumpy
From walking into a door
Being a frog can be fun
When swimming with mom and dad
Jump on in and get some sun
Out here on my lilly pad
I never swear or even fight
Thats not the way to be
So now you know what it's like
To be a frog like me
poem by Kevin Seales
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Gullible, The Bear
A Dachshund who was long of hair
met in the forest an old bear.
The bear was sitting on a log
and held in his huge paws a frog.
The hound adored all frogs and toads
and always scanned the fields and roads
for something green that blended in,
it gave him a contented grin.
'What did you have in mind, Big Bear? '
Hound asked, his voice now full of flair.
'Frog legs', the bear said, 'are for me,
my snack to have with the green tea.'
'How could you eat the spark of life? !
He may have children and a wife!
Do you not know, you big bad mug
that I could make from you a rug? '
He spoke, as Dachshunds are so prone
as if the subject were a bone,
then showed his teeth, let out a growl
which then alerted Mrs. Owl.
'Oh, yes', said Mrs.Owl, 'it's true,
a hound can really finish you.
So let the frog go home I say,
that way, your hide will be okay! '
The bear looked at the frog and then
down to the dog and counted ten.
He did not need a bad surprise
and knew that owls are very wise.
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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Ode To Cheese
☺ .
Ode To Cheese,
Which Makes Us Smile,
When Camera's go Clack.
Ode To Cheese,
Which make us taste,
The greatest of flavors, the wackiest of whack.
Ode To Cheese,
Blue, Gorgonzola,
American and Cheddar.
Ode To Cheese,
Beja and Feta,
In all types of weather.
Ode To Cheese,
For those on a diet,
or trying to get fatter.
Ode To Cheese,
with crackers and wine,
with grapes can flatter.
Ode To Cheese,
when you're sad and happy,
Cheese just fits.
Ode To Cheese,
Mountains and Mountains,
or bits and bits.
Ode to the Cheese,
To appreciate,
eat,
and take pictures.
It was life
Frog dance
On water...
With the legs...
Dance the frog...
Bee cool
Feel free
Catch the frog
Eat to dance
For the snake...!
Yes...
It was life...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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A Little Frog
A little Frog could well be
A beating Frog in camouflage
A jumping Frog cold, scary
A poisoning Frog breathing through the skin
An Underwater Frog flooding…
A Drowned heart in love with...
The little Frog.
poem by Florida Angel
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Mr. Baggot
Mr. Baggot is a very successful man
Stocked and bonded, nouveau Richelieu
Belongs to the club, leisurely suited
To playing golf and drinking iced
Tea with just a hint of lemon.
His conversation, properly edified by a prestigious
Eastern school, revolves around the
Pressing issues of the day:
Why, for example, must a grilled cheese
Sandwich be outrageously priced at
Three dollars and ninety-five cents
When a slice of cheese costs only a nickel?
Summoning the waiter with a demanding
'Hey you! ' nameless, faceless lad
Who nods submissively to the
Punishing invective, assures Mr. B
He will not be charged, offering
Profuse apologies for slandering the
Integrity of his wallet.
Satisfied, the Baggot snorts through
His nose, relishing the spoils of
Another three dollars and more
Out-classing the opposition with the sheer
Force of a dominant will.
'Heh, heh, ' he chuckles
Laying down his napkin
Leaving a quarter as a generous
Tip.
(Previously published in CER*BER*US, XXXIXL, July 2000)
poem by Laurence Overmire
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Hop Frog
Well they call me a juicy hop-frog
you can see me in any wood bog
don't you know that they call me the hop-frog
hopping frog
I'm a hop-frog
a hop-frog
they call me the hop-frog
hop, hop-frog
They call me the hop-frog
see me in any wood bog
don't you know that call me a hop-frog
hop-frog
They call me the hop-frog
see me in a wood bog
they're calling me a hop-frog
hop-frog
You can see me in a ballroom
you can see me in a bedroom
you can see me in the woods
hop, hop-frog
They call me the hop-frog
they call you the hop-frog
well they call you the hop-frog
hop, hop-frog
Frog
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When Not To Gaze.
Have you read any Kierkegaard?
She asked her blues eyes searching
Yours almost reaching right in and
Making a grab for your soul. No
You replied wondering how many
Guys had spied her breasts tucked
Up neat and tight like some birthday
Gift and not been tempted to reach
And touch. Well you should she said
Better than that Nietzsche or Sartre
And she sat down in the chair by the
Window waving a hand for the waiter
And crossing one leg over the other.
No lady crosses her legs and sits like
That said Mother in your head some
Memory stirred. She ordered for you
Both in her best French and studied
You with silent stare and you trying
Hard not to gaze at her unclothed thighs
Breathed out deep and closed your eyes.
poem by Terry Collett
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Lost in translation
At My favorite Chinese restaurant
The other day, I somehow got to thinking
about ethnicity
I wondered if there were Chinese Jews
So I asked my waiter
Explicitly:
“Do you have Chinese Jews? ”
I innocently asked
my Chinese waiter
“I don’t think so, I really don’t know,
But I’ll ask the manager and
Let you know later”
He returned in a while
And said with a smile
“no…No have Chinese Jews.”
I couldn’t believe it: a bazzillion people
No “Morrys“…“No Sheckys? ”
What astounding news! !
I queried him again
“could you check
Once more my friend? ”
He denied and replied,
“I regret to admit ItAnd don’t want
To offend
But what you ask for
Has us completely
Confused”
“So sorry to say… that for today
We have only: Grape..Orange…Tomato
and Prune Jews.”
poem by David Whalen
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Walking The Frog
I have a pet frog
We go frog walking every day at 6pm
He is fine until he sees another frog
He sniffs & then tries to jump
I pull him away
Last week we had a problem
My frog stopped to do his business
A passer bye said stop your frog fouling
I cleared up after him but it left a slimy mark
The other man slipped on it
My frog likes water
Especially ponds
He likes jumping on lilies
The local gardener is mad
Control your frog he shouts
Well now Im in trouble
Despite the sign
Beware of the FROG
He bit a policeman
A fine guard frog
My frog is now banned
From walks anywhere
Poor froggy is in a cell
Eating flies & drinking water
Its a frogs life
poem by Alan Draper
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A Virtuous Frog Is No More.
Once upon a time in a land far away,
in the great vast wilderness I wander,
with full assurance a beautiful princess,
she was dressed in scarlet velvet fine.
Dwelling on the shores a pondering,
The skylarks on the wing were singing,
the gay warbling sounds of the brook,
happened upon a frog as she there sat.
A verdant flowing meadow near her castle,
the sunshine cascading of her yellow hair,
into the princess's lap the frog did bound,
Hi! I was once a handsome young prince.
Until an evil witch cast a spell upon me,
One kiss from you, will my youth restore,
and I will turn back into a young prince,
then oh! my sweetest, I can marry thee.
With my old mother in your castle stay,
where you can prepare all my meals,
launder my clothes, bear my children,
feel forever grateful and happy doing so.
Later That night, as the princess dined,
sumptuously on lightly sauteed frog legs,
A white wine pepper and onion cream sauce,
Finished with the best Camembert cheese.
She had a chuckle and thought to herself,
Rather have mushrooms than toadstools,
giggling loudly I don't hardly think so frog,
The witch I thee drink a wee dram or two.
poem by Anthony Fry
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The Frog Poem(duh Duh Duhhhhhhhhh)
Leap frog,
Jump frog,
Everywhere you go frog,
Smile frog,
Croak frog,
Everywhere you go frog,
stomp, stomp, stomp
SQUASH! ! !
Bye, bye frog.
A Parable
a frog, always the frog
has always been a frog
servant to the fog, but
one frog one day decides
to be a bull to the dismay
of the frogs in that little pond
to the ridicule of the bulls
nearby but the frog learns
to be a bull and bully has
he become until one day
he gains the respect of the
other bulls to the pleasure
of the sun to the disdain
of the fog on the hills
nothing is impossible
to the power of the mind
this the frog follows
through and through
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Frog
As I was walking by a pungent lake
Just outside of Meigs,
I stopped and did a double-take,
A frog with four hind legs! ! ! ! !
He was a rather normal frog,
From his head down to his waist,
And even with his excess limbs,
He had a certain grace.
So I picked him up and took him home
And there he would be today,
If that Molly girl hadn't come along
And stolen my frog away.
She snuck into my house, that thief,
And took him from his bed,
Then later had the gall to say:
'I had to bury him cause he was dead! '
Well one day Molly came to school
And said something about her frog
And when I questioned mine's whereabouts
She said she'd found hers on a log.
She went on to say that yesterday
Her little frog had died;
She sat there a while, just sat and sat
And cried, cried, cried, cried, cried.
I went to her frog's funeral,
Just to ease my suspicious mind,
And there lay a frog with four hind legs
Which looked a lot like mine!
Once again I questioned her
About her frog's strange state
And then she told the strange tale
Which I will now relate.
As she walked through my house
She heard a small voice say,
'I will gwant you any wish
If you'll take me away.
'Fow I'm not an owdinary fwog,
And with some love and cawe,
I will be bown again with golden wings
And Heavenly will be my share.'
So she took him away with her,
Thinking surely to love and care,
For a frog who'd someday have golden rings
And wealth beyond compare.
Well she loved him and loved him with all of her heart,
Then one day he ended up dead;
She'd squeezed him and squeezed him with all of her love,
Until puss oozed out of his head.
It turned out that he'd said golden wings,
And that he'd wanted to die,
Because he'd rather fly away,
Than live his life inside.
Her selfishness he'd seen plenty of,
And my trust, he'd seen it too.
He'd known more than we two combined
Or I'm a Moldy Shoe! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
poem by Lydia Thacker
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Writing In A Way
writing in a way is like
taking a spoon of mayonnaise
and you brush it on one side
of a sandwich
and you take another
clean sandwich and you
join them together
into one edible sandwich
to fill your empty stomach
and then you
regret having done such
a meaningless routine
when you could have
talked instead to a friend
waiting for you at the
porch of your house
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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