F[r]og - Parody Carl Sandburg - Fog
The frog comes
on little toed feet.
Glad on pad soaking
rafts, wafts nenuphar away from city zen smog
mist_story current flows from current woes
in bog, in pond beyond poetic reads
It sits croaking.
Silence? - you’re joking! -
until it croaks.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Related quotes
Frog For a Day
When we croak,
were dead,
on the other hand,
when a frog croaks
he speaks to
nature and is
so cheerful,
When we croak
were silent, and so
still, not cheerful
at all.
Frogs are always
croaking and so
happy,
People are always
croaking and so
sad.
For once it would
be nice to be
a frog for a day.
wrote 4-9-07
The Moon And The Frog
the frog had some regrets
marrying the moon
that forever in its life
as frog
the moon it can never swallow
tonight they will talk
under the shadow
of its majestic light
the frog
croaks about
this final resolve
this separation
for good
let the croaking begin
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Against Current
I like to move against current
I want to play more around
I don’t like to just follow order
I like to place myself against current
I want to challenge how far I could go on
I don’t like to be lead without having any power
I like to be against current
I want to see the faces who passing me by
Even I should turn so far, even I should wait a little more time
I want to be free to do what I want, to follow my heart’s tell
Maybe I’m not always against current
Maybe it’s good and the right one
But I will never know what’s outside the flow
If I only let myself swept by current
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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To The Frog Clan
This shall be the symbol of my clan
The slime of my ancestors
For those whose claim for life and prosperity
Is as prolonged as the length of the list found in the clan’s tree
This frog is your frog
It is part of the multitude
Taking the power of the ten rivers
Its croaking
Is the uproar against the loudest blur of the reigning rains
You are the frog like us
From water to land to grasses to marshes to trenches
Of this earth
We shall remain as the true descendants of the great frog
By our nature
We shall not go hungry
By the power of the longest tongue
By the secret poisons of our skins
By our rounded views
By our slime
By the strong clinging of our ties
We shall all be saved
From the great flood
May our dead ancestors
May the great frogs
Lead us to the most secure pond of our future lives
And may the frog in us
Give us the great leap
The great jump
Taking us to our dream
Our clear cool waters
Teeming with mashing marshes
And there
Dear loving frogs of this clan
Let all our croaking be one.
Let all our croaking be true.
Let our croaking be love.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Coyote and Frog (Native American)
Coyote and his friends walked to a pond
But found Frog and his clan now living there.
“This pond is small for all of us, ” Frog said.
“ Find water of your own. We cannot share.”
“If you will let us drink our fill and bathe,
I’ll get you a warm blanket and a blue stone
That’s bigger than your fist, ” Coyote offered.
When Frog agreed, Coyote went for them alone.
Frog took the gifts and led them to the pond.
Later as they left Frog laughed, “Good trade! ”
In fact, Coyote stole the gifts from Thunderbird,
Now furiously tracking prints the thief had made.
Coyote returned next day to find the Frog clan dead.
He took his people to the pond. “Good trade, ” he said.
poem by Chuck Toll
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The United States as usual has a sizable deficit in the current account of its balance of payments, trade account and other current accounts, current account items.
quote by Robert C. Solomon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Old pond
the brook stream out to the valley that looks
old and clumsy, where the old pond
rooted the crystallized water mixed with
droplets of rain
sweet melody flows with therapeutic chime
echo the silent moment of day; calling the
little Dragonfly to catch the beautiful flower of
Lilies as the jiggle frog spare high notes for
a choral rendition of song to lie
window looks open wide and see the monsoon
rain wait to play, now the moon wind has
just come as swing the twig of the sun down to
jump into the pool and the beautiful frog enjoy
its stay
fall back the roof that leak, the sun has reach the
meadow and say goodbye, leaving the pond
a sweet memory for everyone, the old that
return the new to become the only one pond
as you water the old shadow of the new glory; the
point has yet to flame the beginning of the new
and wonderful cloth of shinning vessel of
crystallize spirit living in you
witness the frog in the old pond; same melody
sang as the water flows into the stream of unending
face of today..........be on your way
poem by Antonio Liao
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A Spotted Frog (The Politician)
There he sits
A spotted frog
He grins from ear to ear
Waterbugs quake across the
Pond's surface
The spotted frog sits
Stone-still on his perch
Silently stalking a humming dragonfly
His eyes shimmer
His mouth waters
His tounge is itching to snap out
And snatch the poor bug's life
His prey draws closer to his
Invisible enemy
All of the sudden
The urge is too strong to contain
His tounge snaps
The dragonfly silently flaps his last
Wingspan, breathes his last breath
The frog has devoured the innocent
Creature
There he sits
A spotted frog
Silently stalking another dragonfly
The urge to hurt and devour
Too strong to subdue
poem by Shannon Hughes
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Bridge, The
I once
as a young boy
stood on a little
wooden country bridge;
tip-toed to look at
the languid moving water
Tomorrow popped up -
the wind that had blown in
tore off a leaf from
a tall standing tree
roots entrenched
by the water's edge
and this leaf
wafted and fluttered
and glided into the
current below
taken bodily
where gravity pulls
and drifted upon the
wavelets lapping
and pushing
its severed self
far, far away into
the distance
I heard the crickets
and the cicadas
droning in the
afternoon sun;
those things could
ruin your ears!
and all the while
I gazed upon the
fallen leaf
hoping to spy on
what the future
promised downstream:
that if I let go
of whatever it was
that kept me there
feet dangling through
the rusted railing;
heart racing
would I wake up
and return to the
bustling world
unable to swim
against the current
rudely torn off
poem by Frederick Kesner
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Pondering Price
Waterbug's sundance 'pon lily pad floor,
twirling like Merlin while gathering spores,
naive to advances, a little green frog,
guilefully leaping o'er rushes and logs.
Then zap! - no more waterbug, snapped by a tongue,
what a woeful mind's startle to wide eyes so young. Upon the same lily the amphibian now sat,
soaking and croaking, quite jolly and fat,
I barely had time to digest and to smile,
when an adder came stealthily slithering in style.
Now swoosh! - no more frog, swallowed whole by the snake,
a cry from awed lips, to protect I forsake. So down from the fields came my dad like a bullet,
shrieking, but peeking, the serpent's stretched gullet,
Then thwack! - no more snake, jerked in half by a scythe,
his red eyes cold, spent, his tail still alive.
"Now who will slay us?" came my voice from beyond.
Thirty years hence I still sit by the pond.
poem by Wayne G. Palmer
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The Croaking Toad And The Leopard Frog
The croaking toad and the leopard frog,
Were drinking beer on a hollow log.
And the croaking toad said, you're my best bud,
Man you can really hold your suds.
And the leopard frog replied in kind,
Another friend like you, I couldn't find.
You're my best friend when skies are grey,
You're by my side come what may.
I'd rather drink my beer with you,
Than catch blue bottles the whole day through.
Let's drink one more to the breaking dawn,
While we listen quietly to the crickets song.
But the croaking toad said I must go,
I'm very sleepy and the cock just crowed.
I'll see you tonight for a cold one or two,
I really love this black swamp brew.
And the leopard frog said I'll be here,
With my styrofoam ice chest sitting near.
Just bring some peanuts when you come round,
With beer they taste so good going down.
6/8/11 Alton Texas
poem by Juan Olivarez
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The Current
These fish have no eyes
these silver fish that come to me in dreams,
scattering their roe and milt
in the pockets of my brain.
But there's one that comes-
heavy, scarred, silent like the rest,
that simply holds against the current,
closing its dark mouth against
the current, closing and opening
as it holds to the current.
poem by Raymond Clevie Carver
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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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L. A.
In a matter of time,
Therell be a friend of mine
Gonna come to the coast,
Youre gonna see him
Up close for a minute or two
While the ground cracks under you.
By the look in your eyes
Youd think that it was a surprise
But you seem to forget
Something somebody said
About the bubbles in the sea
And an ocean full of trees.
And you now, l.a.
Uptight, city in the smog, city in the smog.
Dont you wish that you could be here too?
Dont you wish that you could be here too?
Dont you wish that you could be here too?
Well, its hard to believe
So you get up to leave
And you laugh at the door
That you heard it all before
Oh its so good to know
That its all just a show for you.
But when the suppers are planned
And the freeways are crammed
And the mountains erupt
And the valley is sucked
Into cracks in the earth
Will I finally be heard by you.
L.a.
Uptight, city in the smog, city in the smog.
Dont you wish that you could be here too?
Dont you wish that you could be here too?
Dont you wish that you could be here too?
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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But human experience is usually paradoxical, that means incongruous with the phrases of current talk or even current philosophy.
quote by George Eliot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Poison Frog
The poison frog looks at sky
He croaks in joyous sound;
The storm gathers
The rain gathers
The typhoon adds additional
Clouds at brim
The poison frog looks at sky
He laughs and asks;
Where will amphibians
With no houses
And many toads
Go for shelter?
I, the poison frog, the rough,
The hairy and the stingy
Shall the toad of anyone
Touch me in my house
I shall poison it, it, it, it
It, it..............................
......the poison frog sings
poem by David Aoloch Bion
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I Will Escape
I will escape from the built-up city
To the countryside,
Where all around is so pretty
And the fields are green and wide.
I will escape from the traffics and smog
To the nature’s lyrics and a croaking frog.
I will escape from concrete and power lines
To the breathtaking lights and signs,
To the place where field bells ring
And free birds merrily sing;
To the forest where trees are attractive
And are not a city’s captive.
I will listen to the voice of nature
And my life will be a great adventure.
I will walk barefoot to feel the land,
I will touch a stream with my hand.
My joy will have no measures,
Knowing that the world is full of treasures.
I will escape from the bustle of the city
To the wildflowers which look so friendly,
Where the sky is so bright and clean
And I feel myself like in a dream.
And when the night comes,
The starry sky has so much charms,
An internal balance will feel my heart
As our Earth’s nature is really smart.
©Larisa Rzhepishevska
9th of May,2011
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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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
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The Old Apple-Woman
A Broadway Lyric
SHE sits by the side of a turbulent stream
That rushes and rolls forever
Up and down like a weary dream
In the trance of a burning fever.
Up and down through the long Broadway
It flows with its tiresome paces —
Down and up through the noisy day,
A river of feet and of faces.
Seldom a drop of that river's spray
Touches her withered features;
Yet still she sits there day by day
In the throng of her fellow-creatures.
Apples and cakes and candy to sell,
Daily before her lying.
The ragged newsboys know her well —
The rich never think of buying.
Year in, year out, in her dingy shawl
The wind and the rain she weathers,
Patient and mute at her little stall;
But few are the coppers she gathers.
Still eddies the crowd intent on gain.
Each for himself is striving
With selfish heart and seething brain —
An endless hurry and driving.
The loud carts rattle in thunder and dust;
Gay Fashion sweeps by in its coaches.
With a vacant stare she mumbles her crust,
She is past complaints and reproaches.
Still new faces and still new feet —
The same yet changing forever;
They jostle along through the weary street,
The waves of the human river.
Withered and dry like a leafless bush
That clings to the bank of a torrent,
Year in, year out, in the whirl and the rush,
She sits, of the city's current.
The shrubs of the garden will blossom again
Though far from the flowing river;
But the spring returns to her in vain —
Its bloom has nothing to give her.
Yet in her heart there buds the hope
Of a Father's love and pity;
For her the clouded skies shall ope,
And the gates of a heavenly city.
poem by Christopher Pearse Cranch
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Upon The Frog
The frog by nature is both damp and cold,
Her mouth is large, her belly much will hold;
She sits somewhat ascending, loves to be
Croaking in gardens, though unpleasantly.
Comparison.
The hypocrite is like unto this frog,
As like as is the puppy to the dog.
He is of nature cold, his mouth is wide
To prate, and at true goodness to deride.
He mounts his head as if he was above
The world, when yet 'tis that which has his love.
And though he seeks in churches for to croak,
He neither loveth Jesus nor his yoke.
poem by John Bunyan
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