The Greenie
A frog, dark green, sat in the gutter
and waited for the frightened flutter
of insects native to these parts.
He heard, that evening, just farts.
He had been raised by his grandmother
together with a younger brother.
His mom had died when she was two
inside the cistern of a loo.
The plumber had installed within
and fastened by a stainless pin
a reservoir that would dispense
blue liquid here to recompense
for odours, stains and other matters
like flying pieces, even splatters.
Yet no one had observed the critter
who spent her days inside the shitter.
Her skin was green, she was depressed
although with man and children blessed.
Postpartum blues had been the rumour,
her neighbour whispered the word tumour.
She was in somewhat of a trance
and took the first and final chance
drank Mrs. Stewart's liquid blue
and found her private Waterloo.
But I digress, back to emissions
they sound in insects like small fissions,
though frogs can never ascertain
if creatures on the windowpane
are moving, ready to be guzzled
or if their rectum is unmuzzled.
The flutter is what Nature chose
it is a way to diagnose.
A thunderbolt now shook the city
what follows really was a pity.
A huge white bird with bright red feet
reached up and grabbed, to taste and eat
the frog, our hero who had not
hatched from his mother's rooftop cot.
Still mourning noisily her death,
he took a long and final breath.
The stork, who had no true compassion
raised up his beak in normal fashion.
But when he opened up his gizzard
the frog became a panicked wizard.
He grabbed and held with sweaty hands
the neck below the spittle glands,
and squeezed the red and straining tube
which had been filled with mucoid lube
to properly facilitate
the frog into an altered state.
Now picture this, and bear with me
can you imagine, do you see
the stork, who was the cruel brute,
was thus deprived of his own shute!
They struggled on right until Dawn
until the insects all had gone.
The frog, like all our living souls
had dreams and principles and goals.
His body though was only free
to breathe and live with ATP.
Now ATP is what each cell
consumes, if not it goes to Hell.
There is, in humans and in frogs
a limit, meaning strength then bogs
and falters badly for a while
perhaps for just another mile.
Then comes the end and you will die.
And this now faced the dark green guy.
He prayed in silence as he knew
that there was nothing else to do.
But, he might hold that iron grip
until he would abandon ship.
That moment saw a flying moth
which looked a bit like Bilroth cloth,
raise lazily from in the gutter
and stretch its double wings to flutter.
They all could see this insect had
slept in or else it was quite mad.
It flew straight in the stork's white face
a Northern Kamikaze ace!
But, hold your horses, reader dear,
big bird had never been in fear
until this unexpected thing
with hair and gristle, double wing,
came out of nowhere as he tried
to get that bloomin' frog inside.
He jumped, propelled by spindly legs
and dropped enroute two dozen eggs.
He also dropped the little one
who quickly landed, then to run
and hide behind the house of Rover
still panting, happy it was over.
This woke big Rover who'd been sleeping
he heard the frog's hysteric weeping
and, being kind, he said hey Greenie,
come here I'm friendly, not a meanie,
so frog went over and was seated
and told the dog he was depleted
and that the incident had been
a miracle. He'd saved his skin.
The dog began to scratch and fuss
and they spent hours to discuss
how to avoid a new disaster.
Then Rover said, 'I am the master,
I do propose you change your diet,
I also think it quite a riot
how anyone can eat those things
with spider legs and see through wings! '
'If you reform your dangerous ways
it is unlikely that the gaze
of any bird will ever see
you as a victim. Stay with me! '
They did get on like long lost lovers
and Rover shared his velvet covers,
so both stayed warm during the night
and in the morning, at first light
the Master of the house would bring
some dog chow plus a chicken wing,
and gravy made from marrow bones
dessert was two small ice cream cones.
There was enough for both of course,
and Master said 'well you old horse,
you found a friend, perhaps for life,
let me go in and tell the wife.'
They all were happy and contented,
the stork though walked around demented.****
He never did recover fully
or act as terrorist and bully.
So, I for one am gratified
that Rover took the button-eyed
and down and out and almost dead
green frog as mate into his bed.
As friendship is becoming rare
we need to cuddle and to share.
Some day there may not be a friend
to share our doghouse, in the end.
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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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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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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My Frog
As I was walking by a pungent lake
Just outside of Meigs,
I stopped and did a double-take,
A frog with four hind legs! ! ! ! !
He was a rather normal frog,
From his head down to his waist,
And even with his excess limbs,
He had a certain grace.
So I picked him up and took him home
And there he would be today,
If that Molly girl hadn't come along
And stolen my frog away.
She snuck into my house, that thief,
And took him from his bed,
Then later had the gall to say:
'I had to bury him cause he was dead! '
Well one day Molly came to school
And said something about her frog
And when I questioned mine's whereabouts
She said she'd found hers on a log.
She went on to say that yesterday
Her little frog had died;
She sat there a while, just sat and sat
And cried, cried, cried, cried, cried.
I went to her frog's funeral,
Just to ease my suspicious mind,
And there lay a frog with four hind legs
Which looked a lot like mine!
Once again I questioned her
About her frog's strange state
And then she told the strange tale
Which I will now relate.
As she walked through my house
She heard a small voice say,
'I will gwant you any wish
If you'll take me away.
'Fow I'm not an owdinary fwog,
And with some love and cawe,
I will be bown again with golden wings
And Heavenly will be my share.'
So she took him away with her,
Thinking surely to love and care,
For a frog who'd someday have golden rings
And wealth beyond compare.
Well she loved him and loved him with all of her heart,
Then one day he ended up dead;
She'd squeezed him and squeezed him with all of her love,
Until puss oozed out of his head.
It turned out that he'd said golden wings,
And that he'd wanted to die,
Because he'd rather fly away,
Than live his life inside.
Her selfishness he'd seen plenty of,
And my trust, he'd seen it too.
He'd known more than we two combined
Or I'm a Moldy Shoe! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
poem by Lydia Thacker
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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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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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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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A Little Frog
A little Frog could well be
A beating Frog in camouflage
A jumping Frog cold, scary
A poisoning Frog breathing through the skin
An Underwater Frog flooding…
A Drowned heart in love with...
The little Frog.
poem by Florida Angel
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A Dire Emergency
It was a dire emergency,
something no frog appreciates.
A stork, his home a fancy nest
on top of the red-tiled roof,
had stabbed his hungry beak
into the gutter for a bit of green.
Frantically, since there was work to do
a veritable mountainrange of leaves
and unmentionable things
were stuck inside the downpipe
at the junction.
It was the hardest ever job he'd done,
the largest meal that could be eaten
and the happiest of all the days
a frog could even visualize.
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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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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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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Plum's Destiny
A little plum dropped from the tree
and struck a frog upon his knee.
The frog did hurt and cried a lot
the plum said Oops, I plum forgot.
Which wasn't altogether true
you see a plum is always blue
a frog however must be green
thus he can easily be seen.
So, folks, it truly stands to reason
that in the Fall, the ripening season
a bit of care would be advised
that way a frog is not surprised.
In any case, the knee did swell
the plum just stayed right where it fell,
so in an effort now to heal
the frog fell for the plum appeal.
He grabbed the plum and opened wide
the plum prepared for its last ride.
And said before it was too late
a plum is to be eaten, mate.
So, you can see that those that fall
from trees or buildings, big and tall
will usually just fail to see
the maker of their destiny.
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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Hop Frog
Well they call me a juicy hop-frog
you can see me in any wood bog
don't you know that they call me the hop-frog
hopping frog
I'm a hop-frog
a hop-frog
they call me the hop-frog
hop, hop-frog
They call me the hop-frog
see me in any wood bog
don't you know that call me a hop-frog
hop-frog
They call me the hop-frog
see me in a wood bog
they're calling me a hop-frog
hop-frog
You can see me in a ballroom
you can see me in a bedroom
you can see me in the woods
hop, hop-frog
They call me the hop-frog
they call you the hop-frog
well they call you the hop-frog
hop, hop-frog
Frog
song performed by by Lou Reed
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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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
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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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 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!
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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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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