One Thousand Frogs
One Thousand Frogs
one frog chants a mantra
to the silent moon
two frogs chant a mantra
to the merciful silent moon
ten frogs chant a mantra
to the bright merciful silent moon
one thousand frogs chant a mantra
to the large bright merciful silent moon
- Frog Mantra, Accents Publishing,2012 -
poem by Suchoon Mo_
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Mantra
MANTRA
I went to buy a pen
And asked the sales woman
In a lighter vein
“I’m going to pen
A poem; the best of my writings
Give me that green one
After sanctifying
With a mantra of your religion
Or that of mine”
She replied with a humble mien
“I know Sir, no mantra, no hymn
God, the Almighty will
Take care of all”
I said with a smile
“Thanks! I liked this mantra”
poem by Sathya Narayana
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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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Grenouillage à Trois
Deep in the forest, on two logs
were perched two rather handsome frogs.
The logs were pretty close together
and served as shelters for the weather.
Now, on the smaller of the logs
was sitting, still, the bigger frog.
He looked across and had discovered
that on a tree a third frog hovered,
apparently intent to pounce!
He must have weighed a paltry ounce.
They say that from necessity
all frogs, no matter where they be
will act. So this one did pretend
for competition soon to end
that in the tree the frog was meat,
a moth or insect he would eat.
Thus ends the story of the frogs
on trees and on two fallen logs,
while after all they got together
and sheltered in their log from weather.
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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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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Seeing You Carefully
seeing you carefully is no easy job for me
i do not easily jump into conclusions
lest there be an injustice on the description of who you are
the magnifying glass does not serve any purpose
you are more than the little details scribbled in your skin
something in you slips like a slimy fish, and i am trying to catch it
the fish net is useless, the mesh too large for one as minute as you
you are too small to be caught, too smart for the nylon threads
i try yoga, and in deep meditation i use my mantra, i chant and fall into
a deep sleep, i dream, i go into an astral travel to be with you
and there you are, in the silence of the stars, in the brightness of the moon
your soul, as beautiful as the goddess of secrecy, without flesh, now
as infinite as divine. At the end, i failed to utter your name.,
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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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
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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A Nude Artist
A Nude Artist
he says he is a nude artist
because he is naked when he paints
such nakedness has
nothing to do with being a nude artist
a naked artist who paints a cat or a chicken
is not a nude artist
there is no nude cat
thyere is no nude chicken
just paint a naked woman
and he will be called a nude artist
an artist is not an art
he must know that
- Frog Mantra, Accents Publishing,2012 -
poem by Suchoon Mo_
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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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If I was in the Moon - Pinewood Royal
From an idea by Sophie Mitchell-Dwelly
Before the coming of the night
I see the moon rise all dressed in white
In the crepuscular light
I see the stars come out so bright
As I watch the stars appear
Like diamonds on a velvet blanket
And when the sky is clear
I'm so glad that I am here with you
Oh The Moon she looks so pale
Do you think she's happy in her misty veil?
Oh her light is everywhere
On a beach of pebbles we're standing there
If I was in the moon
I wouldn't want to leave too soon
If I was in the moon
I might just stay for ever
Oh Dancing in the moonlight
Our feet feel so light
Dancing in the moonlight
Oh the stars are so bright
Owls calling through the trees
And the frogs are chirping in the evening breeze
The crickets play their tune
By the light of the magical moon
If I was in the moon
I wouldn't want to leave too soon
If I was in the moon
I might just stay for ever
poem by GuyPaul MitchellDwelly
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Sick Frog
OK, it’s not something I ate
or my youthful wild days
catching up with me;
no – it’s not me taking turns to be
grumpy, and jumpy and mean-looking;
no, it’s not me dissatisfied with
my place in the food chain
or my place in the wild scheme of things;
or just being unhappy about the effects on me
in the wild accidents of evolution
or being a victim of Irrational Creation
or just unhappy in an existential sort of way
asking questions like:
What’s the meaning of it all?
Or
Is there a Heaven for Frogs
or are we just Dinner for the French?
and finding it all a Cruel Joke played on us frogs
by some Celestial Omnipotent Frog Being;
no, nor is it for want of sexual partners -
I mean I do croak-sing well enough
and I mount well enough
and get partners often enough during the mating season;
no, it’s not that at all…
I don’t know…I’m just a frog and it’s the nature of frog existence, I guess…
poem by Raj Arumugam
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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 frogs [Broaştele]
Up in my poplar moon lays down its nest,
And like a raven night begins to fly.
Its wings throw stars, but these don't get to rest,
They're sipped by frogs, which by the ponds do lie.
Because the frogs engulf such bits of night,
Then in the ponds they dive for having fun,
Stirring the water with their bellies white
In which so many stars melt one by one.
poem by Al. O. Teodoreanu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
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Chant
We cant turn back the clock
But we can chant for love
Lets cut the idle talk so we can
Chant for love
We always have the time to quarrel
About such problems as money and war
Lets put it off until tomorrow
Who needs another dose of sorrow?
It dont necessitate an act of faith
To chant for love
What alibi is strong enough to wait
To chant for love
Though we dont hold the reigns of power
Somebody else seems to be in control
We mustnt waste another hour
Well get directly to the soul
If we can
Chant
For a world united
Chant
For a world thats dying for love
The hare krishna plays a drum and bell
When he chants for love
The tribal priest is afraid of hell
So he chants for love
I am not pushing some religion
Dont get me wrong,
I never mess with such things
Just be true to your own vision
This is your personal decision
The dervish spins to a hu hu hu
When he chants for love
Nobody knows what the angels do
When they chant for love
Youre at the bottom of the ladder
Someone may try to tell you where you should start
But the words, they never matter
If you can feel it in your heart
Then you can
Why dont you chant?
You can chant
Chant, chant, chant ...
song performed by by Todd Rundgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Moon Moon
When Moon Moon says
In case of me
To be a quite poet is possible
In addition, I have to be a cool.
When Moon Moon says
The days have to face
Good ways
To begin its first hour
To get its special power.
When Moon Moon says
I cannot hear anybody’s voice
When Moon Moon says
I can realize my age
To do something better
Not caring any matter.
When Moon Moon says
I can guess
She says something special
Those are needed for all.
When Moon Moon says
I have to face
Some case in any case.
When Moon Moon says
Sometimes, no case can be found
Without she says, like
“Hi! How are you
For the few
With your near dear
Are there any tears in your eyes?
When she says…”
Man can be silent
Ocean can be island
He can be brilliant
Even
You can be toys
When Moon Moon says.
When Moon Moon says
All guys are nice
To play with their lives.
When Moon Moon says
Everything seems to us
Like a touch
Of heart,
And
That is a part
Of our life
To survive.
When Moon Moon says
Man pays attention much
Because, what she says, is a touch.
If Moon Moon doesn’t say anything
Then for her not saying
All will be dying.
When she stops saying
Everything seems to me lying.
When she will say
I may
Wait for her
Than other
For sine-dine
Even until I die.
poem by Manir Hossain
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A Frog
There stands upon a leaf,
A tiny frog,
With yellow skin,
And large round eyes,
In search of insects-food!
The little frog can camouflage,
And appear dead,
Or look like flowers,
To escape foes,
And predators that strike.
Like energized spring-box,
The frog can leap;
The frog can fly;
The frog won’t fall,
As they hold on
To weeds and stalks of plants.
Oh, what a queer Amphibian
Are frogs born free!
Some are big too;
Their tongues are long,
And so sticky;
They flick it out and catch their prey.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 3-12-2008
poem by John Celes
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Under The Shining Light Of The Moon
with a guitar on hand
my lady beside me
oh, i wonder why the frogs
are so silent this time?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Moon Is Like You
Moon will my beam cross over?
Moon how too know I am so lonely.
Moon know, why I do sit under you?
Moon You are so bright, I reach up,
into and touch yours is very heavenly.
Moon why do you blink? Moon so pink.
Moon like you, we are to much similar
and have only one way up into moon.
Moon our faces reflect out and within.
Moon they all do, moon when you do.
poem by Is It Poetry
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