In The Rain
in the rain my friend
you have been croaking with the frogs
and what i hear
is the symphony of crooks
still waddling
in the muddy creek of corruption
if you invite me
i could have sang so well....
(hmmm)
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A toad
why cry all alone?
get out and meet somebody
the frogs are croaking
for companion, why arent you?
get out, and get to know somebody
anybody is better than nobody
even a toad waddling in the pond
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Otter Creek
Past meadows, beyond trees, down muddy banks flows otter creek.
King fisher in branches, perched, poised.
Skydiver, bullet from above, silent splash, into otter creek.
Muscles plucked from their beds, shells discarded, gathered for fun, pass up not one.
Trout fry swim swiftly, cray fish beneath rocks avoid seeking hands, pincers poised, threatening stance.
Kids crossing fallen logs, catching frogs, skipping rocks, swimming in otter creek.
Mud wars rage, picnic blanket laid on the green glade near otter creek.
We follow paw prints, beneath willow tree roots, den site dug deep into muddy banks of otter creek.
Within the town of Franklinville, hot summers day, sister, niece, and I, our dad's.
Never saw the otters of the creek, only paw prints, left proof of an existence.
In memories I venture, hoping, just a glimpse.
To sit once again, past meadows, beyond trees, down muddy banks, there it flows, otter creek.
poem by Gary Kedron
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On Corruption
If corruption be mammoth tree,
Whose seed got planted by many,
But nurture it, most of us do-
Uproot it early, we ought to.
If corruption be cancerous,
And made by man and not inborn,
That we can give to all others-
The cure is within us, brothers.
If corruption is our pet beast,
But wild in nature, pampered free,
Some day, we’ll end up as its feast-
So, shackled in cage, let it be!
The destiny of nations all
Are threatened by corruption’s cloud;
The rain is worse than nuclear pall-
Let mankind not invite this shroud!
poem by John Celes
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Its Croaking Shows Its Presence! !
The croaking echoes through the neighborhood,
the blasting croaking echoes as braying,
sometimes as barking, another time as whistling,
the sounds of croaking may crack our heads,
in the tropical region where it rains,
every other day and musical begins,
with the mono syllabic cricket,
house lizards join them occasionally,
The frogs repeats one day and one night,
as the Native American folklore says,
brother sun agreed and the bear hibernated,
the frogs repeat one day and one night,
it may not be alive the next day,
unnecessary croaking,
is being heard by something,
that slithers and hungry,
its croaking showed its presence,
right to the mouth of that reptile.
In the middle of the meetings,
some of us croak to show our presence,
Croak the wrong information,
out of our peanut brains,
sometimes we croak in the viva verse,
mostly something the invigilators unaware,
fail us then and there,
keeping quiet, sometimes good,
people assume that we know many things,
Politicians croak,
clergies croak,
our teachers croak,
our parents croak,
our children croak,
you and I croak,
our nature make us to croak,
most of the times we get caught,
because we croak a lot.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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I Love This Bar
We got winners,
We got losers,
Chain-smokers and boozers,
We got yuppies,
We got bikers,
We got thirsty hitch-hikers,
And the girls next store dress-up like movie stars.
Hmmm, Hmmm, Hmmm, Hmmm, Hmmm, I love this bar.
We got cowboys,
We got truckers,
Broken-hearted fools and suckers,
And we got hustlers,
We got fighters,
Early-birds and all-nighters,
And the veterans talk about their battle scars.
Hmmm, Hmmm, Hmmm, Hmmm, Hmmm, I love this bar.
I love this bar,
It's my kind of place,
Just walkin through the front door,
Puts a big smile on my face,
It ain't too far,
Come as your are.
Hmmm, Hmmm, Hmmm, Hmmm, Hmmm, I love this bar.
I've seen short skirts,
We've got high-techs,
Blue-collared boys and rednecks,
And we got lovers,
Lots of lookers,
I've even seen dancing girls and hookers.
And we like to drink our beer from a mason jar.
Hmmm, Hmmm, Hmmm, Hmmm, Hmmm, I love this bar. (Yes I do)
Toby: I like my truck.
Crowd: I like my truck.
Toby: And I like my girlfriend.
Crowd: I like my girlfriend.
Toby: I like to take her out to dinner, I like a movie now and then.
But I love this bar,
It's my kind of place,
Just toein around the dance floor,
Puts a big smile on my face,
No cover charge,
Come as you are.
Hmmm, Hmmm, Hmmm, Hmmm, Hmmm, I love this bar.
Hmmm, Hmmm, Hmmm, Hmmm, Hmmm, I just love this old bar.
song performed by by Toby Keith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Tinker Of Words The Imagist At Work
early dawns
are stressed frogs
they cannot sing
their croaking throats
there is simply
no rain here
they change themselves
into poets
to demean you and
what you do
they swim in the
air (as there is no water
here yet
as there is no rain
and that is
logical enough
to understand)
and the birds
laugh
their tongues are as small
as a punctuation mark
of their
poems
that croak like a frog
as i watch all these
from the hammock
that mocks
i fall into a deep sleep
like Alice
into the big hole
of my
indignant indifference
pure imagination
seeking the support of logic
yet hollow still
because there is really
no one there
nothing human
like a friend.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Do Not Give Poetry A Bad Name
The frogs should not have croaked a lot
when everyone is fast asleep
Aristophanes after all is right
These frogs should not live like the Clouds.
On the other hand
THe Philosophers should cling to being
Philosophers
Stay with the embrace of Reason and Not
Embrace the Strong Arms of Emotions
For Emotions belong to nothing but the
Realm of Poetry
aH! Lysistrata shall now wage her own
War against the Men
Claiming as she does
Her sole right to Eroticism
Honestly, i still love to hear the frogs croaking
In the Pond
I for the meantime loves to Keep
The Philosophers dwell in their Own
Cloud Point of view.
If Lysistrata obliges
One night with Her would be enough
After which, I shall work hard to
Give Poetry its Own Right Name.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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In Priaise Of Idleness...
i sit on the stair
to see the world
to follow the flight of a bird
and appreciate the beauty of its song
in my imagination
i listen to the rain
observe its heavy downpour
i am passive
i do not run away
to chase a bird
i do not go out the house
and bathe under the rain
i do not destroy the
placement of the grasses on the lawn
i do not cut the stalk of the daisy
and bring it home
i hear the frogs croaking
excited to their games
jumping and swimming
on that greenish pool
i stay on the porch
lean upon a wall
i listen to the wind
i let the hours pass
i do nothing...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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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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I Wonder
Is it a phase that we all go through
Or does it affect just one or two?
That we see- yet we are blind
That we hear- yet we do not listen
That we touch-yet we do not feel
Hmmm- I wonder
That we love- yet do not show that emotion
That we cry- yet not shed a tear
That we laugh-yet pain inside
Hmmm- I wonder
That we live- yet we are dying
That we fill our stomachs-yet empty inside
That we walk or run-yet stand still
Hmmm- I wonder
That our minds are open-yet it’s closed
That all of this makes sense to you
Hmmm- I wonder
poem by Louis Rams
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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
For Mama
i never believe them
about the story. about the clinic and the
handsome doctor.
it was a remote possibility
that i could have been
born there
because i have always loved
the mountain and the sea
and i have always the feeling
that the dove
still hovers in my heart
how can a scalpel
be the source of my name
when i am but a seed
of the rice thrown
in the muddy fields?
they have destroyed your
face and your eyes bleed
some tears.the damage cannot
be repaired. when the coffee
spilt its hot liquid on the carpet
the aroma has escaped
our senses.
the stain hides on the dark
blue colors of its thickness.
there are new flowers
that i have planted in your
old garden. the rocks are kept.
and the pebbles. and the
little pond and the tadpoles
swim to be croaking frogs
this coming rainy season
for you mama. and i have
began to learn to love the
songs of the rain.to dance
under them. and be all wet.
i don't mind anymore.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Ohio
Crickets are chirping
To the awakening mother Earth
Frogs are croaking again,
I am walking on the land
That I have walked long ago
As I am walking back, to Ohio.
Ohio I have missed you
My long gone friend
How good it is to be back home,
I am sorry that I left you
But now I am home again
Back to my home, of Ohio,
Ohio don't you leave me
Like I had left you
Trying to find myself a better home,
I have searched and I had prayed
But now I am home again
Back to my home of, Ohio.
Crickets are chirping
To the awakening mother Earth
Frogs are croaking once again,
Now I am walking with them
As I walk down the wooded path
Back to my home, of Ohio.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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I am less concerned about them than about the croaking frogs in the marsh.
Law And Poetry
black and white like the point of view of
the cat is the law
hard to deal with
hair splitting and building
fences and trenches
keeping some enemies out
and friends in
keeping the nets catch the smaller one
but letting the sharks go
that is the first law
poetry: it is the hues of rainbow after the rain
flowers that bloom without much explanation
the sounds of her steps wading in the water
kisses without the penalties
making love without the risks of getting inside
some prison walls
the one that makes us so light as clouds and feathers
makes our hearts dance the ballet and do the triple twists and turns
in mid air
the music to our soul
the liberation of our bound spirits
the singing birds and cicadas in symphony
the frogs croaking
celebrating the first long rainy night ahead of me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Rainy Day
It’s raining cats and dogs,
Frogs are croaking
Here and there.
poem by Asif Andalib
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The Crickets and Frogs
Now it is raining
Many crickets are chirping
And frogs are croaking
poem by Asif Andalib
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The Yellow Frogs
On this rainy day
The yellow frogs are croaking
To find their playmates.
poem by Asif Andalib
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Cripple Creek
1: well I married a wife in the month of june,
Married her up by the light of the moon.
We live down on cripple creek.
Weve been there about a week.
Chorus: Im a-goin down to cripple creek, Im goin on a run.
Goin down to cripple creek to have some fun.
Goin down to cripple creek, Im goin on a run.
Goin down to cripple creek to have some fun.
2: now cripple creek girls about half-grown,
Jump on a man like a dog on a bone.
Roll my pants up to my knees,
Cross on cripple creek a-when I please.
Chorus: Im a-goin down to cripple creek, Im goin on a run,
Goin down to cripple creek to have some fun.
Goin down to cripple creek, Im goin on a run.
Goin down to cripple creek to have some fun.
3: well Im goin to cripple creek, Im goin on a run.
Im a-goin to cripple creek to have some fun.
Chorus: Im a-goin to cripple creek, Im goin on a run,
Goin to cripple creek to have some fun.
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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