Frog's Life
Once upon a lily pad,
There sat a mother frog
Hungry for some food,
She hopped from log to log
Eating flies and skeeters,
All throughout the day
Worms weren’t quite as good,
But she ate them anyway
She found a comfy spot,
And laid a bunch of eggs
Then hopped away from the nest,
With a push from her back legs
The eggs turned into tadpoles,
That swam around the pond
They started growing legs,
And turned into tiny frogs
poem by Chris Marion
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The Hen and the Wren
The lovely, laying hen said to the itsy-bitsy wren.
'Good morning. It's nice to see you now and then.'
The itsy-bitsy wren said, 'Thank you Mrs. Hen.
I haven't seen you for awhile and don't remember when.'
The laying hen said to the itsy-bitsy wren, 'If you recall,
The last time we were together was a bit before last fall.'
The wren smiled and said, 'Oh yes I should have guessed.
It's spring again so I'm back to build another nest.'
The hen said, 'Soon we both will be sitting on our eggs.
Not long after that there'll be babies ‘neath our legs.'
The itsy-bitsy wren said, 'I wish my eggs weren't so small.
Your eggs are so large that your babies will be tall.'
Well the lovely laying hen said, 'Your eggs are just right.
And that song you sing brings everyone delight.'
From spring to fall wherever hens and wrens reside,
There'll be nests, eggs and babies chirping far and wide.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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30 (Vivekananda) The Rock at Cape Comorin
Swamiji had arrived
At the India’s tail end,
Cape Comorin by name,
Kanyakumari, by other name
In the sea shore temple there,
He prayed to Divine Mother.
From the shore he had a look,
And saw, at a distance, a big rock.
In the shark infested waters,
He courageously swam across,
And sat on the rock in meditation,
Keeping aside his emotion.
Across the roaring sea,
From the rock he could see
The places he had visited,
Wherever he had travelled.
A monk was dedicated to God.
In every soul there was God.
So, he was keen to look after
God the wicked, God the poor.
He took a bold decision
To serve God in man.
But how to get resources
For India to stand on its legs?
He saw America as a country
That can free India’s poverty,
Thro’ exchange of knowledge
On science and technology.
With this idea, from the rock,
He got up and swam back.
His journey started again
Towards northern region.
To eat, when nothing he had
Someone gave him food.
As if directed by God
To share the donor’s food.
Not willing to be a burden
On any of those poor men,
Better to starve, he decided
When there was no food.
He went to the forest
To sit and meditate,
And there came a tiger
With its own hunger.
Swamiji said, “Oh tiger,
We both sit here in hunger.
Let my body be your food
If you find this good.”
God’s will was otherwise.
The hungry tiger, in silence,
Turned back and went away,
Sparing his precious life that day.
poem by Rajaram Ramachandran
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Hen laid eggs
Hen laid an eggs, between legs two,
No small, no big but not in zoo,
Ran after those who made slight dig,
Dog, cat and crow planned very big,
Hen laid eggs……
Hen becomes heroin when find egg,
With big noise run after with one leg,
Even scare pig and allow near no body,
How to protect eggs that is only worry?
Hen laid eggs……
Make no fun when she may have kitten,
Beautiful scene seen when run in garden,
Children love to see and catch with fun,
Prefer little kitten and make gentle run,
Hen laid eggs……
Small kids ask, what will be her task?
How to protect them, by putting a mask?
Often they look at them and draw on page,
night take them all to stay in simple cage,
hen laid eggs……
Papa and mummy, where from kittens came?
Who laid an eggs and how she played game?
Simply they observe and ask funny questions
Why kitten become cock and not small hen?
Hen laid eggs....
What a lovely fun? I couldn’t answer one?
It was more confusing than work undone?
Answered few more questions but not in full,
Avoided by telling you may get it from school
Hen laid eggs.....
How to answer questions? When faced many?
Simple they may look but nature seems funny,
better not answer question any more,
It may not be ending but more and feel bore,
Hen laid eggs......
It is not the hen but cock steals show,
People get irritation when shouts crow,
Kittens and children happy and steadily grow,
Cock serve as alarm when mighty voice blow
Hen laid eggs......
Cocks find preference and first depart,
When runs after hen even looks smart,
Hen not resist when cock’s teasing start,
But end days near when both ways part,
Hen laid eggs......
Story may be funny and more amusing,
Cock and hen story more interest arousing,
Their fight may be limited only for refusing,
Alas! We could learn more and stop abusing,
Hen laid eggs......
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Standing Bear Café
It was a fascinating little restaurant
Called Standing Bear Café
The décor was fun to look at
I would recommend it any day
Lots of choices on the menu
They even serve frog legs
Or perhaps you are hungry, sir
For hashbrowns, ham and eggs
And if you go in often, my friend
They’ll give you a special chair
Why, they’ll put your name right on it
It’ll be your spot while you’re there
Out in front is a huge bear statue
That will beckon you to stay
So stop in soon and visit
The Standing Bear Café!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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On Friday Night
Drunk, hungry eyes
Walking on the alleyways
Monstrous mouths,
devouring testy meat
The lights are foggy mirrors
of those pretty girls.
The stroke of their hair and legs
A proud walking man to...
Crawling tired legs,
like worms on cold mud
Laments of an intoxicated child,
that cannot sleep.
Reddish flames behind frames,
returning from laughter of horror
Eggs shells, boiling bowls of yolk,
in the people heads.
poem by Luca Menin
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Balbus
I'll tell you the story of Balbus,
You know, him as builded a wall;
I'll tell you the reason he built it,
And the place where it happened an' all.
This 'ere Balbus, though only a Tackler,
Were the most enterprising of men;
He'd heard Chicken Farms were lucrative,
So he went out and purchased a hen.
'Twere a White Wyandot he called Mabel,
At laying she turned out a peach,
And her eggs being all double-yoked ones
He reckoned they'd fetch twopence each.
When he took them along to the market
And found that the eggs that sold best
Were them as came over from China
He were vexed, but in no ways depressed.
For Balbus, though only a Tackler,
In business were far from a dunce,
So he packed Mabel up in a basket
And started for China at once.
When he got there he took a small holding,
And selecting the sunniest part,
He lifted the lid of the basket
And said "Come on, lass... make a start!"
The 'en needed no second biddin',
She sat down and started to lay;
She'd been saving up all the way over
And laid sixteen eggs, straight away.
When the Chinamen heard what had happened
Their cheeks went the colour of mud,
They said it were sheer mass production
As had to be nipped in the bud.
They formed themselves in a committee
And tried to arrive at some course
Whereby they could limit the output
Without doing harm to the source.
At the finish they came to t' conclusion
That the easiest road they could take
Were to fill the 'en's nest up wi' scrap-iron
So as fast as she laid eggs they'd break.
When Balbus went out the next morning
To fetch the eggs Mabel had laid
He found nowt but shells and albumen
He were hipped, but in no ways dismayed.
For Balbus, though only a Tackler,
He'd a brain that were fertile and quick
He bought all the scrap-iron in t' district
To stop them repeating the trick.
But next day, to his great consternation
He were met with another reverse,
For instead of old iron they'd used clinker
And the eggs looked the same, or worse.
'Twere a bit of a set-back for Balbus,
But he wasn't downhearted at all,
And when t' Chinamen came round next evening
They found he were building a wall.
"That won't keep us out of your 'en 'ouse"
Said one, with a smug kind of grin;
It's not for that purpose," said Balbus,
"When it's done, it will keep you lot in."
The Chinamen all burst out laffing,
They thowt as he'd gone proper daft
But Balbus got on wi' his building
And said "He laffed last who last laffed."
Day by day Balbus stuck to his building,
And his efforts he never did cease
Till he'd builded the Great Wall of China
So as Mabel could lay eggs in peace.
poem by Marriott Edgar
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Tourniquet
Shes made of hair and bone and little teeth
And things I cannot speak
She comes on like a crippled plaything
Spine is just a string
I wrapped our love in all this foil
Silver-tight like spider legs
I never wanted it to ever spoil
But flies will always lay their eggs
Take your hatred out on me
Make your victim my head
You never ever believed in me
I am your tourniquet
Prosthetic synthesis with butterfly
Sealed up with virgin stitch
If it hurts, just tell me
Preserve the innocence
I never wanted it to end this way
But flies will lay their eggs
song performed by by Marilyn Manson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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With Me Now Just A Memory
With me now just a memory but memories with us remain
In the heavy rains of late Winter the female frog lay in the drain
Her eggs like crystal lumps of jelly from which her tadpoles hatched out
And all around their watery home they wriggled all about.
For to grow into adult frogs not many would survive
For many tadpoles had to die for one predator to stay alive
To the taste buds of a grey heron a plump tadpole tasted sweet
As one of the favourite water dwelling things that a heron loves to eat.
But a few avoided the sharp beak of the lanky bird of prey
For to grow into adult frogs for that is Nature's way
Of insuring species survival in such Nature a huge part does play
Survival of the fittest as some are known to say.
With me now just a memory of times that are long gone
And though the past it is behind us the memories live on
And I retain the memory of the croaking of the frog
On their breeding time in late Winter in the drain beside the bog.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Eggxample
What came first chickens or eggs?
Chickens of course!
Chickens have legs!
Chickens have feathers,
Eggs have a shell,
How would you like your eggs, done well?
This may be a 'yolk',
But consider it folk!
poem by Ernestine Northover
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I Kissed A Frog
i lost my glass slipper
well really a shoe
but a prince didnt find it
so whats a girl to do
i kissed a frog
but it hopped away
no prince for me
no not today
fairytales are simply tales
and frogs are not for kissing
but without a little romance
something would be missing
so kiss the frog
lose the shoe
okay to be a romantic fool
and if your prince turns into a frog
just leave him sitting on a log
poem by Lori Hopkins
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Travails of a Lab Attendant
I view
the homing Indian bull-frog
with pink thighs,
lying flat on the dissection table;
a flag pinned on it’s webbed hind foot,
says “Hoplobatrachus tigerinus”
the viscera looks
everything like the mangled cosmic whore
from the ancient gully I co-habited long ago.
I scoop the un-laid cluster of her eggs
and carefully mount
on the compound microscope
empowered with condenser lens,
the stage is prepared but
it takes time to focus a genuine specimen.
olive of color like a military strategist in uniform,
the frog missed her cue last evening
and fell into my ravenous net,
it’s the same frog, the consort’d escaped
by shrewdness of the sound of leaves
I trampled on;
I don’t study frogs
or animals for that matter
but animal psychology fascinates,
if not for the perverts of the curriculum
the pair would have had a long desirous night
which is what I keep thinking about,
I don’t do dirty things
like dissecting a frog
or check for the nuptial pads in their legs,
my occupation is to catch these obese models,
feed them for the night
and bring them to the lab,
today the lab is vacant, I capture
the mannerisms of the Prof,
it makes me feel good because he tips me well,
after twenty two minutes of screwing
the knob and the pipe up and down
I pull my eyes off in wetness,
the images of the eggs
stay in my vision
and throw up rapid flashes
of pictures of other female organs
hidden from the scrutiny of science
throbbing in silence.
Saranyan BV © Aug 2011
poem by Saranyan Bee
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Fe fi fo fum, beware here I come! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Fe, fi fo fum.
Beware, nani here I come
She jumped like a monkey
And wrapped her legs around me.
Gave me a tight hug and a kiss
You are really a darling miss.
Then we wriggled our bums
And laughed like hoodlums.
You watched it on TV
Yes, she nodded acting sheepish.
I saw it on IPL
Cheer leaders dance and yell.
My, you have grown big.
In July I just turned six.
Now I am going on seven.
You? Forgot, good heavens.
You have got a nice tan.
Yes, I know she hopped and ran.
Went to Sri Lanka for a holiday.
Had so much fun crooned away.
Come tell me what you’ll eat.
Can we start with dessert?
We sat with an ice cream tub.
Forgot all about food and grub.
She asked me riddles and told jokes.
We laughed as we sipped our cokes.
She left late at night.
Now the house is very quiet.
But in my mind
Her childish prattle alive.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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The Good, The Bad and The Ugly
The bird of paradise to the vulture has said
I wonder what you do to find yourself a mate
You're the symbol of filth, rotting flesh you cherish
Your bare head, crooked beak embodies ugliness
You do not feed your young with 'freshly processed milk'
But do with foul substance that you regurgitate
Rotten, so obnoxious for a baby not fit
On your legs you defecate, so ill-mannered you are
Hurling your foul vomit is so abhorable
And the Cuckoo agreed, yes it is true my friend
You're but the epitome of ugliness and filth
Nobody wants to care for you, nobody really does
I will not marry you if I'm your kind and size
Well you have said it all, everything for my kind
But before you speak, you should first understand
That for anything I do there is logic behind
On our legs we defecate to kill the bacteria
That cling to our feet from our dining area
The juice just cools our feet when the weather is hot
Not only that, my friend, it's anticeptic wash
And the vomit I hurl, it serves a purpose well
A projectile we use, enemies to repel
You spoke so fast my friend, you did not ask before
who between you and me has the misdeeds the more
between the two of us, it's you I'm very sure
You listen well, my friend, to you I'll say them all
You are a lazy brat, own nest you do not make
Nor hatch your eggs, just find a mother surrogate
In the nest of others there you just dropp your egg
And then leave everything to your demonic ways
The surrogate mother doesn't seem to realize
That one egg in her clutch is a stranger and fake
The egg you laid on the usurped, coveted nest
Of the other eggs therein, hatches way much ahead
Your chick having been born to harm and to destroy
Shoves up the rightful eggs, off the nest jettisons
A sure untimely death when it touches the floor
And if the lawful eggs are the first ones to pip
The chicks will surely die when your evil chick emerges
Very fast it will grow, the right ones overtake
without pity mauls them all with a hooked beak
Bleeding bodies fall to earth, sure and gory death
After the crime the hook fall from the nasty beak
Beak of a bird so young but knows the art of death
In this community, of sanitation we're in charge
Disposal of the dead is our daily job
What happens if carrions are to rot everywhere
Disease and death spreads, you won't be spared my friend
More than I, you're the one guilty of felony
If I were you, scram, and lost I better be
And you, Beautiful Bird to Paradise back you go
To the forest where you belong, enjoy your fashion show
poem by Pacific Hernandez
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The Blue Tit's Nest
Some childhood memories with us seem to linger
And I recall when I was nine or so
Of seeing blue tit fly from hole in standing tree stump
One April day more than forty years ago.
I stood on tip toes and tried to look inside the tree stump
But all seemed dark in there I needed light
I hurried back home for to fetch a flash lamp
And what I saw a memorable sight.
A little nest of moss and hay and lined with feathers
And nine pale eggs with freckles brown to red
Laid by the little bird with yellow unders
Blue wings and tail and tiny blue cap on head.
I marvelled at this wondrous sight of Nature
How one small bird so many eggs could lay
The memory all those years has remained with me
And I still can picture what I see today.
I still can picture forty five years later
Nine speckled eggs in nest of moss and hay
Some things from childhood always remain with us
And from the memory never fade away.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Robins Call
As the Robins cherps in the early morning light,
the female comes into nets to relieved her mate,
the male goes of to find some food to eat,
as then the the female begins to tweet,
"the egg is cold you lazy baster,
I should peck your dairy after,
I will have to sit here way to long,
as your lazy ass is gone,
she chirps I need to eat,
and repeats I need to eat, "
The male comes back into the nest,
a chance for him to rest,
to keep all the eggs warm,
he sounds out a alarm,
"I see Cat, I see Cat,
may it get go away,
unit another day,
it leaves, then nest is safe,
as he calls to his mate,
you slut, you slut these eggs are not mine,
all of this is a waste of my time,
come back to keep these eggs warm,
you slut, you bitch, I will sound the alarm."
this is the fruit of life,
bare it but think twice,
poem by Walter C. Edwards
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My Day as a Frog
(to the tune of up on the rooftop)
Frog on a lily pad,
Hop, hop, hop
Into the water,
Belly-flop
Dive down deep,
And swim around
Kick back up,
To solid ground
I’m so hungry,
I will eat
Spiders, snails,
Worms and bees
My sticky tongue,
Flicks in and out
It brings the food,
Back to my mouth
I am full,
So off I go
Hop and swim,
Back to my home
poem by Chris Marion
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Danny's Birthday
A frog hopped by and said to me,
'Heard you married a dude so neat'.
Said the frog as he caught a fly,
‘Heard his birthday is coming by! ’
I said, ‘Yes, how did you know? ’
Said the frog clapping his hands,
‘Cos we play in the same jazz band! ’
I said, ‘Will you come and help celebrate? ’
‘You betcha! ’ said the frog with glee,
I will be there..
‘cos, you see..
mmm…
I am he! !
poem by Naheed Brown
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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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The Eggs Of The Blue Bird On The Nest
the blue bird
takes care of its nest
all the white eggs
warm beneath its feathers
all those nights
and even cold days
and then when the eggs hatch
the fledgelings
prematurely spread their wings
fall off from the branch
where the nest hangs
on the following morning
you see the ants feasting on their flesh
ah! the blue bird sings again
readies itself for the rain
it escapes away from its sorrows
and flies away...far, far away
far, far away....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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