Matchmaker
Behind my house there is a quaint little pond
And every time it rains a little green frog responds
I know that he is lonely and cries into the night
He is longing to find a mate to be complete and all right
The heat is sweltering and he swims on afternoons
Longing for the rain during the night to voice his tunes
Sometimes he is resting on a moist mossy green rock
Looking around aware of his biological clock
On the other side there is a creek behind the pool
There is a small green frog all alone and it's cruel
So I went and captured the one by my pond
And brought it over to the creek to make a bond
Now my nights are filled with silence and peace
And one would think my good night's rest would increase
But instead I was wondering if the frogs getting along
Because if not - then what I did was totally wrong
This morning my neighbor that lives by the creek
Came over to complain about the noise at night's peak
She said that there is a whole family of green frog's right there
She will never know how happy I am about that - I swear
© 2011
poem by Kristina Louisa Carr
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Related quotes
Frog Sees Tara
A small and green but drunken frog
sat in the evening on his log.
He contemplated there on life
and wished he had a green frog wife.
He'd interviewd a thousand frogs,
kept diaries and detailed logs.
But never did he find the one
who'd rest all day out in the sun
and dream with him at night in bed
so this green frog was never wed.
One day he saw, down near the trees
a British subject. What a tease!
She was a trifle big but, well,
we cannot all live in a shell.
She chatted with the folks and then
there was a silence among men.
They looked at her, so did the frog
he sat, quite drunken, on his log.
He dreamed that if he ever were...
this was the girl. If frogs could purr! ! !
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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Oh! Wonderful Frog
oh little Frog, why you have always see
the sky and shade tears for the rain to come,
look your feet ready to swim and your
tongue seems happy to sing
oh wonderful Frog, you shatter the night
with your fantastic chord, orchestrated by the
different voices where everybody laugh to
sing for the whole day, the nightingale of the
rain
oh come my dear valued Frog my heart find
its wisdom of the rain to come, you’ll the
driven power in every changing world; the
calmness of the silent night awake of your
songs, the turmoil river smoothly gone to the
sea and the flowers go asleep as you form
the kaleidoscopic tune of melody
oh Frog, the dawning forest lives as you
command, come and let me sing the sweet
stay with thee, take the funny lullaby that
makes every child swims happily as you sang,
and you’re the early song that window of
each child love to jump in the pond
beautiful Frog lends my hands ……
poem by Antonio Liao
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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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A Frog's Fate
Contemptuous of his home beyond
The village and the village-pond,
A large-souled Frog who spurned each byway
Hopped along the imperial highway.
Nor grunting pig nor barking dog
Could disconcert so great a Frog.
The morning dew was lingering yet,
His sides to cool, his tongue to wet:
The night-dew, when the night should come,
A travelled Frog would send him home.
Not so, alas! The wayside grass
Sees him no more: not so, alas!
A broad-wheeled waggon unawares
Ran him down, his joys, his cares.
From dying choke one feeble croak
The Frog's perpetual silence broke: -
‘Ye buoyant Frogs, ye great and small,
Even I am mortal after all!
My road to fame turns out a wry way;
I perish on the hideous highway;
Oh for my old familiar byway!’
The choking Frog sobbed and was gone;
The Waggoner strode whistling on.
Unconscious of the carnage done,
Whistling that Waggoner strode on -
Whistling (it may have happened so)
‘A froggy would a-wooing go.’
A hypothetic frog trolled he,
Obtuse to a reality.
O rich and poor, O great and small,
Such oversights beset us all.
The mangled Frog abides incog,
The uninteresting actual frog:
The hypothetic frog alone
Is the one frog we dwell upon.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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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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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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Fate
There once lived an olive green frog
in the back of a half-rotten log.
He was killed in his sleep
well, the log wasn't deep
and the killer was simply a hog.
As for truffles the hog searched in vain
it was clearer than glass and quite plain,
in his terrible mood
he came wholly unglued
but he later was hit by a train.
Thus the hog and the frog bought the farm,
it was sad that there was no alarm,
though the frog owned a clock
which went tick and then tock
'till the sun was well past the yardarm.
But one night there was Ezel the lizard,
he was known in the woods as a wizard.
Called to fix for the frog
his small clock in the log
a small spring disappeared in his gizzard.
Since no parts were on hand for the clock
they marked North and then South on a rock.
It would show them the time
(the idea was sublime)
'till the clock parts again were in stock.
But, the sun let them down and slept in.
(It is said she is partial to Gin) ,
thus two critters lost big
through no fault of the pig
but the lizard's huge overbite chin.
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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Frog In The Log
There once was a handsome green frog
who resided inside an old log.
He had cut two small vents
in the log for defense
but the stork used, as cover, the fog.
And he swallowed the frog in the buff
though just one frog was never enough
for a frog in a log
who can't see in the fog
daily life can be utterly tough.
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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Frog Prince
look at the frog so small and cute
top to tail in his green suite
never dry not always wet
every child wants one for a pet
only the newt for a friend
swim in the pond from end to end
deep under water breath held tight
look at him swim such a delight
hear him call all through the night
a prince in waiting a king by right
leaping high jumping long
for his size he is so strong
from lilly pads he loves to hop
as he hits the water plip plip plop
see him catch the fly swallow swallow
with a blink of his eyes gobble gobble
look at the frog so small and cute
top to tail in his green suite
poem by John Mc Cudden
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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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Apple for a prince
Nice apples can be red and often green
and sometimes something in between
Frogs are nearly always green
Soon you'll see what I mean
I took a bite and now the worse
as this apple had a curse
Im now a frog with little chance
of finding my desired romance
Sunlight came and sunlight go
Poor frog doesnt know
To lift the curse he needs a kiss
Can a princess take a risk
Ill try and reach her from the ground
Maybe she'll hear my croaking sound
Please be kind to frogs you see
As the one you spot may be me
poem by Alan Draper
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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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Frog Logic
Tell me is it fun to go to the beach
When the sky is all sunny and blue
Or go for a ride on a bicycle
Like millions of people do
And what is more fun on a warm sunny day
Then a friendly romp with a dog
Well I really don't know cause all i've been told
Is, its jolly to be a frog
Well they tell me that fun is the color of red
And that dreams are all gold and blue
And of all the hours there are in a day
Each one is a different hue
But wherever I go or wherever i've been
It's always the same old scene
Cause being a frog makes it different you know
It's always the same old green
But with all of your worries and all of your cares
You keep running round in a fog
So, i'll stay in this pond and i'll tell the whole world
It's jolly to be frog!
How Bird and Frog Finish Up
All was fine in the forest.
Sun beams glistening
through the trees
Stillness all around,
everything as it should be.
Lonely in his pond frog had
resigned to never being loved.
He saw the deers
going about in pairs
Even raccoons had families,
females by the scores
But nair a frogess anywhere
would respond
to the most practiced ribbit.
I guess as frogs go
he was much a horny toad.
So he sat alone
in his tepid mossy pond.
On an average morn
in the glistening beams
of forest floor,
with his eyes practically
atop his head,
he spotted a beautiful creature
he knew he must wed!
Graceful, swift, slim,
with the song of a crane,
she gave him the hops
something fierce!
He began to croak
knowing usually this led
to nothing more than a joke
on his bestead.
But he sang his gullet out
to gain the attention of
his intended wife.
Swooping down he feared
with a peck and one gulp,
she would turn him down by
making breakfast of him.
Stead she chirped a reply
to his shocking glee,
he understood her
he could not deny
was an astounding
“I really dig you”
With you slick green skin,
bumpy tattoos,
pretty song you sing for me.
I swoon until the noon,
None of the other birds
do it for me like you do,
Hence I have been single
without an egg to roost
and never a feather plucked
by a green hot bird”
Then beak to gullet
he laid it on her
No dumb frog
he wasn’t letting
a sexy bird get away!
A kiss that the forest
could not understand.
But the beginning
of a great romance.
The mossy curtain
was pulled.
Not long after a shingle
was pecked, hung
Mr. and Mrs. Frogbird’s pond
“If it be a splashin‘,
no camera flashin‘,
and don’t be trashin’
our strange love.'
For many years to come
frog and bird
will get it done.
poem by Sandra Dodd
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Being Green
(joe raposo)
One day, as I was walking through my garden, I saw a little frog lying on the ground. and I thought he was sick. so I picked him up and he wasnt sick at all. he was very sad, and he was crying.
I said: whats a matter with you, little frog? and he looked up at me with a lump in his throat, and he said: wribbit!
It aint easy being green
Having to spend each day the color of the leaves
When I think, I think it would be nicer being red
Or yellow or gold
You see, it aint easy being green
It seems to blend in with so many other ordinary things
And then, sometimes, sometimes people pass over you
Because youre not standing out like sparkles on the water
Or like the stars in the sky
But did you know that green is the color of spring
And green can be big like an ocean
And important like a mountain
And cool and friendly-like
Or tall and skinny like a tree
And me
But when green is all there is to be
It kind of makes you wonder why
Why wonder, wonder why?
Hey, Im green and I think itll do fine
cause green is just what I wanna be
cause green is beautiful, baby
Right on green
And anyway, moneys green
Wribbit
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Tortoise's World!
Story of a tortoise who hid in his shell
Under the rock in the well
That is where it would dwell
Until one day a frog chased by a snake, did fell
Both, tortoise and frog were friends since they met
They had so much to talk, a lot of fun, you bet
Frog wanted to go home, leave a new friend, not to forget
Frog left, promised, soon it shall return and bring friends to get
Days passed and tortoise was sad and lonely
It rained and rained, and then came the day lovely
Frog came and came Frogs, croaking and singing jolly
Also were there tortoises, fishes and snails, Joy filled the world wholly!
poem by Manjeshwari P MYSORE
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Proud to be a frog
I am proud to be a frog, though I know not why.
The green of my skin, so utterly devine;
as to what others say, (to which I am blind)
'You are proud to be a frog, though we do not know why'.
To look at the toad or turtle, they are a shame.
They are slow and weak, their legs poorly shaped.
If you dare to look closely at the great frog race;
we are quick and spry, objects of envious hate.
To the toad that is brown or the newt that is orange.
Their ugliness is a disgrace, no more than a sore;
and as to what I say, (to frogs it is right)
'We are proud to be frogs, all apart must die! '
poem by Shirow Walker
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The Sound Of The Rain
do not mislead me with the
point-of-view of the frog
you croak and you say this
is how something beautiful
sounds, how ugliness feigns
i tell you i like the rain and
the frog likes it too, i am
one of those frogs bathing
and jumping on the pond,
but do not mislead me with
your sound, it does not sound
like the hush of the wind,
it has no color of the moon,
i am one of the frogs of this
pond, but i do not wish to
sound like you: i am in love
with the sound of the rain,
and this is the one that makes
me stay. It is not you, your
sound is not gentle, it is
rough like the skin of the
teething toad. I love the
rain, the way it sounds,
and that is enough
for my suffering.
Dripping.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Goldenrod Suite
In a field of
grasshopper heat
of
the pride
the prone
of
the all that
is forever gone
of
crow hops-hops-hops
down a bug
of
a bridge I built
across the creek
of
frogs that
take a peek
of
overhead
an eagle soars
of
a mouse
fast in the grass
of
cattails
around the pond
of
a snake, branched
hanging on
of
upon seeing me
falls and is gone
of
a sea golden
and green
of
sadly seeing
yesterday's dream
poem by Midnights Voice
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Hello …..hello....! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ...
HELLO …..HELLO....
frog is away from falling bridge
lest it may suffer creases of fall
as it jumps over the fall by mirth
cry of falling rebounds the frog
we laugh loud by our own dwarf shadows
lest shadow may enroll us in livid grime
light still burns shadow even in eclipse
semblance swaddles across dwarfism
grace eclectic rumbles by grimace
as thought elastic ambles in green
ocean stoops over blue being deep
frog still resounds grin beneath green
tear saddles faster by sorrow
night breaths deep in apprehension
beauty of love entices upon blue
I or you call me always hello, hello.....! ! !
poem by Dr subhendu kar
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