Amphibian Conversation
If to a toad
you spoke
Back to you it
might croak.
A frog in
the pond
Might also
respond.
poem by M.L. Squier
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Song Of The Croaker
An old frog lived in a dismal swamp,
In a dismal kind of way;
And all that he did, whatever befell,
Was to croak the livelong day.
Croak, croak, croak,
When darkness filled the air,
And croak, croak, croak,
When the skies were bright and fair.
'Good Master Frog, a battle is fought,
And the foeman's power is broke.'
But he only turned a greener hue,
And answered with a croak.
Croak, croak, croak,
When the clouds are dark and dun,
And croak, croak, croak,
In the blaze of the noontide sun.
'Good Master Frog, the forces of right
Are driving the hosts of wrong.'
But he gave his head an ominous shake,
And croaked out, 'Nous verrons!'
Croak, croak, croak,
Till the heart is full of gloom,
And croak, croak, croak,
Till the world seems but a tomb.
To poison the cup of life,
By always dreading the worst.
Is to make of the earth a dungeon damp,
And the happiest life accursed.
Croak, croak, croak,
When the noontide sun rides high,
And croak, croak, croak,
Lest the night come by and by.
Farewell to the dismal frog;
Let him croak as loud as he may,
He cannot blot the sun from heaven,
Nor hinder the march of day,
Though he croak, croak, croak,
Till the heart is full of gloom,
And croak, croak, croak,
Till the world seems but a tomb.
poem by Horatio Alger Jr
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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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The Laughng Toad
The smell of lavander
Bees humming rounds its tall soft tips
The water flowing over the rock
Trickles down my eyes
Shallow ripples; koi pond's surafce.
Chlorinated water; unlucky toad's fate
I saved it! I saved it!
Released from pool to pond
Where he shall be
Free to bathe
Laugh as toad's laugh
Returning in pride
I search for him
Make sure he is clean and laughing
All I see is the resident frog
A gluttoned frog
Two protruding legs
Of my laughing toad
Raised upwards to the heavens
Jutting from the fatted
Frogs mouth.
I emancipated; hence enslaved
Intentions dont determine
Outcome.
poem by Vincent Cibelli
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The Frog and The Toad
Come, said the frog to the toad,
let us hop down to the pond,
at the end of the road.
Jump on to a giant lily leaf,
and watch the fish,
as they swim underneath.
Dine on the succulent dragon flies,
see the the world,
as it drifts by.
Then at the end of the day,
we can gaze at the stars,
watch the moon,
as it passes mars.
Come said the frog to the toad.
Tango
poem by Tango Tango
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Uncle Toad Said
Uncle toad sittin by the old south gate
Waitin them boys they bin stayin out late
Uncle toad thinks theyre way out of line
Maybe they think he is past his prime
Uncle toad said better straighten up right
When uncle toad spoke it was not a pretty sight
Uncle toad lived in the wood out back
Lived in the shade of a utility shack
He looked in at the big brick housr
At the girls as quiet as a mouse
Uncle toad said you had best get it right
When uncle toad spoke it was not a pretty sight
Uncle toad tucked in the compost pile
Out by the back door look at him smile
He said kid stop drinkin that brew
Plan while ya can or the jokes on you
Uncle toad said better straighten up right
When uncle toad spoke it was not a pretty sight
Uncle toad sittin by the swimmin pool
Sits in the sun when the weather turns cool
Sits in the sun when the girls walk by
Maybe they think hes a little bit sly
Uncle toad said you had best get it right
When uncle toad spoke it was not a pretty sight
Uncle toad sittin by the cool mill race
All day long with a grin on his face
He said boys you had better not try
Kissin em girls cause I wont stand by
Uncle toad sittin by the wrought iron fence
Lookin at the moon like it dont make sense
We say toad heres lookin at you
Hopin you get your wish too
Sway to the left, sway to the right
When uncle toad spoke it was not a pretty sight
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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A Frog And A Toad
A tiny frog on a lili-pad,
Was so depressed she felt so sad.
She wrung her hands and racked her brain,
And said to herself, I'm going insane.
I'm in love with the toad that lives next door,
When my dad finds out he'll go through the floor.
And I can't imagine what mom will do.
My black and green will be black and blue.
While she pondered on, the snake swam by,
And the little frog uttered a sigh.
She asked hey snake what would you do,
If you were in love with a toad like lou?
The snake replied, I'll tell you what,
You really put me on the spot.
A frog I could love, a toad too fat,
I'd rather be seen with a rat.
But you little frog with your leopard spots,
I think that you could dot my dots.
Come over here and say to me,
That you'll be mine for eternity.
The little frog opened her eyes,
And saw in the snake no truth just lies.
She jumped in the water and swam away,
And found her lou and said o.k.
It's not so bad to be black and blue,
And have your daddy be mad at you.
It's better to be with an ugly toad,
Than inside a snake and growing cold.
4/20/10 29 palms ca.
poem by Juan Olivarez
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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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Frog Or Is It A Toad (Fun Poem 22)
The fairy tale says,
that every time you kiss
a frog or is it a toad,
it turns into a prince or a princess,
depending on which story you have heard.
I thought that I would test the theory.
First on a frog, I tried,
but nothing happened there.
Then I grabbed the biggest toad,
gave it a great big kiss as you know.
All I ended up with was a big wart
on the end of my nose.
So if you are looking for a prince or princess,
do not kiss a frog or toad,
because you might end up like me,
with a big wart on the end of your nose.
poem by David Harris
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Frogs in chorus
The chorus frogs in the big lagoon
Would sing their songs to the silvery moon.
Tenor singers were out of place,
For every frog was a double bass.
But never a human chorus yet
Could beat the accurate time they set.
The solo singer began the joke;
He sang, "As long as I live I'll croak,
Croak, I'll croak,"
And the chorus followed him: "Croak, croak, croak!"
The poet frog, in his plaintive tone,
Sang of a sorrow was all his own;
"How shall I win to my heart's desire?
How shall I feel my spirit's fire?"
And the solo frog in his deepest croak,
"To fire your spirit," he sang, "eat coke,
Coke, eat coke,"
And the chorus followed him: "Coke, coke, coke!"
The green frog sat in a swampy spot
And he sang the song of he knew not what.
"The world is rotten, oh cursed plight,
That I am the frog that must set it right.
How shall I scatter the shades that lurk?"
And the old man bullfrog sang, "Get work,
Work, get work,"
And the chorus followed him: "Work, work, work!"
The soaring spirits that fain would fly
On wings of hope to the starry sky
Must face the snarls of the jealous dogs,
For the world is ruled by its chorus frogs.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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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.
Toad To Toad
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder
Alas! how very true
A toad looks lovely to another toad
And accepts the raspy voice, too
I'd gladly turn into a frog
If you would look my way
But you would probably laugh at me
And calmly go your own way
For you think you're very handsome
A prince among men of strife
You can't believe you're only a frog
In the great big puddle of life
poem by Marian Wheaton
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Born On The Back Of A Toad
What difference would it make,
If someone was born on the back of a toad?
The people that should be examined,
For mental agility and loose bolts...
Are those who have argued in debate,
Attempting to associate that person born...
Not with the toad,
But with a frog seen hopping along...
Minding its own business upon the day of birth!
And that belching frog has now been accused,
To have influenced with 'socialistic' inclinations.
'So...
What are you saying?
People today are nuts? '
Do I really have to say it?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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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
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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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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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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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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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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Frog
Every frog must croak
That is no joke
Agile is the lowly frog
Eating insects, leaving bugs, mosquitoes agog
They live in water, slime, gook
Ugly, ugly face of a spook
Green, gray or brown, they populate the ground
Frog legs are sold and eaten by the pound
Jump, glide around, sit still
Croak often, loud and shrill
Water is the key to their life
They procreate, sleep, avoid danger, strife
Little or big they struggle to survive
Even a frog is happy to be alive
Some become road kill
Or a snake's belly they fill
They have lived, they have died
Some rot, some are fried
Dissected in the lab by a sharp knife
Warts and all, a vital link in the chain of life
poem by Mahfooz Ali
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