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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
She is a murderer....
She is a murderer
A merciless killer
She has 10 to her count
How cruel her account
Drug them with chloroform
To devil she now transform
Pinned them with nail
Like prisoner without bail
A pith and they paralyze
Now she starts to analyze
With knife chest torn apart
Closely she examined his heart
Blood flowing from the vein
He struggled all in vain
The poor frog accepts its fate
Cruel this deed I hate
I wished this frog was human
Why no experiments on man
To study why we kill animals
This deed made us all animals
See how many frogs we sacrifice
To make human a superior race
For knowledge why kill a frog
How tragic the fate of the frog
poem by Jibin Joseph
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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.
Jump wear...!
snake catch
eat frog...
with frog sound...
waer is frog jump...?
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Snail Goes To Heaven (A One-Act Tragicomedy)
Bare stage. A square neon sign on extreme right which reads: “This way to Heaven”.
Prolonged silence. Enter Snail, moving very slowly throughout the play.
Snail:
I’m a dead snail.
I’m going to Heaven.
I’ve lived for 15 years.
That’s a ripe old age.
I’ve been blessed.
Had a marvellous sex life, you know.
Well, if you know snails
we attract a mate with our slime.
Oh, slime turns me on, baby.
(Snail moves slowly, and then stops.)
Well, maybe I should focus on holy thoughts.
Purity...refined thoughts...you know...
Snail God does not like sex.
Copulation is not exactly what
Snail God meant when Snail God declared:
'Go forth and slime the world;
be ye together...'
Snail God demands purity
so let me be so...
after all, I’m going to Heaven...
a dead snail and moving on to Heaven...
(Snail moves slowly, and then stops.)
Had a precarious life,
you know,
all these 15 years...
A farmer saw me in the grass.
I heard him curse
and he raised his foot to crush me.
Well, unfortunately for him
he stepped on a snake
and the last I heard of the man
was an expletive
and the last I heard of the snake was a hiss.
Yes, I’ve had a long life
a risky life - but it’s all worth it
for an eternal life in Heaven
is my reward
(Snail moves slowly, and then stops.)
(Enter Frog, jumping. Snail looks at Frog in amazement. And Frog stops and looks at Snail in amazement.)
Frog: What are you doing?
Snail: That’s what I was about to ask of you.
Frog: I’m a dead Frog and I’m jumping on my way to Heaven.
Snail: I’m a dead Snail and I’m moving on to Heaven.
Frog: This is ridiculous.
Snail: Indeed. It is ridiculous.
A Frog going to Heaven?
No, for it is truly declared by Snail God:
'None but Snails shall enter Heaven.'
Frog: And in the words of the Frog God:
'I shall confound all other creatures.
Only Frogs shall enter Heaven.'
And so it has come to pass
Snails think they can go to Heaven.
Unless the Frog God
in Its Infinite Wisdom
has arranged for a Dish of Snails
when all Pure Frogs are at Its side in Paradise.
Well, Snail...you’re toast when I see you in Heaven.
(Frog jumps on to near stage right, screaming: “Heaven - here I come! ” and then disappears.)
(Long silence.)
Snail (facing audience) : Well, what next? - The snake to Heaven?
The Farmer to Heaven? His dog to Paradise?
Donkeys to Heaven?
(Snail moves on, in its slow way, to nothing but Heaven...)
poem by Raj Arumugam
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
It was life
Frog dance
On water...
With the legs...
Dance the frog...
Bee cool
Feel free
Catch the frog
Eat to dance
For the snake...!
Yes...
It was life...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Frog Named Jo
It must be nice, being a frog on the side of the road.
At least you are more appealing than a toad.
You sit in the grass that matches your jade scales
It seems as though flies fly to you, compelled
To be your delicacy, to be eaten.
And the flies appear gladly beaten.
And all seems in this natural scene
So peaceful and so serene,
And in our cruel world, that is what we see,
‘How Happy ore' others some can be'
But the point that we miss in all of this beauty,
Is that the world is not just for ‘me'
I may have my hard times, and so will you
But somewhere else in the world, someone is suffering too.
Now, as we leave this simple frog to its seeming life of bliss,
We don't ever look back, for it is not something to miss.
This frog had no connection to you
So why should you care what next it will do?
From this place, the frog could be snatched up by a bat
It will feed the bat family, and that will be that.
For some object of little acknowledgement from you
Is now something permanently lost from view.
But that frog could have had a family of its own;
A life, friends, a job, a home.
It seems foolish to think of these characteristics of a frog on the street,
But is it just as foolish as thinking of the people you meet?
All day long, many lives collide,
But we make sure to stand to the side.
In life, we never know what will come next,
All we can do is give every moment our best.
poem by Heidi Fiore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!