three flies circling
the frog
two flies circling
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The Frog and the Fly
One day a frog woke up,
To see to his delight,
That the swampy bogs were swarming
With flies beyond his sight.
He snuck up on one surprisingly fat
And crouched down very low,
Then flicked his tongue as the paw of a cat,
But missed and caught his toe!
Now, this was not a normal frog, like those who give up fast.
No, this was a very clever frog, and liked to put it in his past.
So he tried again once more
To get the little flies,
But these black little balls of germs
Have 200 eyes!
Circling Around The Moon
There may come a day when you grow weary
Troubled waters stain the paper cup
From other venues other voices carry
Slipped dreams soaking into thirsty dust
Maybe then and there youll find another
Lover with a blank and empty heart
Filled with breath and old cells to discover
Strenght to push the seas apart
Chorus:
On the day we met
I began to want you
On the day we met
I began to lose you too
Both of us circling around the moon
Both of us circling around the moon
There may come a day when you feel anger
China cracked and glued by clumsy hand
Veins of memory touching only hunger
The heart devours what it cannot understand
Chorus:
On the day we met
I began to want you
On the day we met
I began to lose you too
Both of us circling around the moon
Both of us circling around the moon
Maybe it whas then I saw my future
Saw it as a shadow on the ground
Beneath the earth old nails to discover
Strenght to hold my body down
Chorus:
On the day we met
I began to want you
On the day we met
I began to lose you too
Both of us circling around the moon
Both of us circling around the moon
On the day we met
I began to want you, want you
On the day we met
I began to lose you too
Both of us circling around the moon
Both of us circling around the moon
Both of us circling around the moon
song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Time To Rest For A While
the letters
on the screen glow
like fireflies
my fears come out
like bats from
a cave
there is a sea urchin
on my nape
some flies hover
on the key board
a bee is circling
on my head
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Like A Circling Way
This moment is going on to the dust
Turning around each every must
Reaching its time
That came together and is now going
On to the sideways of their flowing
Reaching its time
Something, like a circling way
Reaching its time
This moment is borrowed from something
That never will come here again
In its time
Billows of oceans never the same
Burning on burning in their flame
In its time
Something, like a circling way
Reaching its time
Something, like a circling way
Reaching its time
In its time, time, time
Ways to the sea are reaching the heart
Oceans of occasion were they did start
Love songs of airways in their rampart
Every dream is giving its stream
Flowing motions that endlessly seem
Reaching its time
In its time
Every time is different from it all
As days comes clear in and fall
Getting away and deliver
Wherever there are moments of call
In its time
Something, like a circling way
Reaching its time
Something, like a circling way
Reaching its time
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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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 Frog and the Lion
A LITTLE FROG WENT OUT ONE DAY
TO HAVE A FROGGIE WALK,
HE SAW A LION ON HIS WAY
AND STOPPED TO HAVE A TALK.
AND THEN THE LION SAID TO HIM,
THERE’S FLIES UPON MY BACK,
AND I AM FEELING PRETTY GRIM
WHILE STANDING IN THIS TRACK.
SO IF YOU CLIMB ABOARD MY FRIEND,
YOU’LL HAVE A LOVELY FEED,
I’LL FLICK MY TAIL SO I CAN SEND
THE FLIES TO FILL YOUR NEED.
SO FROGGIE CLIMED ON LION’S BACK
AND ATE AND ATE AND ATE,
AND LION STOOD UPON THE TRACK
TO WAIT AND WAIT AND WAIT.
ONE DAY LION LOOKED AT FROG
AND SAW HIS EYES WERE DIM,
THEN LET HIM DOWN INTO THE BOG
SO HE COULD HAVE A SWIM.
AND THEN THE FROG CAME BACK AGAIN
THE LION TO ATTEND.
HE CLIMBED BACK IN THE LIONS MANE,
THE LION WAS HIS FRIEND.
AS TIME WENT BY THE FROG GOT FAT.
AND LION WAITED ON.
THEN FROG WAS EATEN BY THAT CAT,
AND SO THE FROG WAS GONE.
THE FROGGIE IN THE LION,
JUST SCHRIVLED RIGHT AWAY.
THE FROG WAS FULL OF POISON.
THE LION DIED THAT DAY.
THE MORAL OF THIS STORY.
IS TWOFOLD, LISTEN ON.
JUST BE VERY CAREFULL,
BEFORE YOUR DAYS ARE GONE.
CHOOSE YOU VERY WISELY
THE FRIENDS WITH WHOM YOU GREET.
AND DON’T BE LIKE THE LION.
BE CAREFULL WHAT YOU EAT
poem by George Savige
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The Golden Frog
Down by the river on a water log
Came jumping a golden frog
He sits on a little lily pad
He catches flies and he's never sad
Then one day a lizard came
He was hot all over and frog was the same
Now frog is happy because he has a friend
And they share a fly shake blend
poem by Sinead HoYJ
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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
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Oh Little Frog
Oh Little Frog, Oh Little Frog
I love you so completely
I love to see you sitting there
On the lily pad so neatly
Your googly eyes spy little flies
That's scrummy in your tummy
You hop around from pad to pad
You really do look funny
Your neon green
Your big long tongue
You are a prince it’s true
I really wish that I could be a frog
Just the same as you
poem by Grant Stevenson
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The Life Lived Of A Belching Frog
Is the life lived of a belching frog,
More important than the one...
Sitting quietly on a lily pad,
Looking at its reflection...
On a mirror smooth pond?
Or is the frog that belches,
Showing more appreciation...
For the flies that are attracted.
And the reason that a belching frog,
Could care less about an image reflected.
But expresses a gratefulness for the feast,
Available to be eaten.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Hail
the gloomy sky
all night cry
why, why, why?
because you died.
your life was
like the flies
flies, flies and dies.
poem by Jankovic Zoran
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Time Flies
Aint much time left in my life
I'm all stressed out time to fly
Im on my way
Im on my way
I cant let go
I cant wake up
Time flies...
Flies...
One more step and im falling off the mountain
One more pill who cares nobodys counting
They told me to sing it to the birds
Sing it to the birds
Noones listening
One more step and im falling off the mountain
The mountain sang to me
Love...
The mountain sang to me
Love...
Sitting up on this little bitty hill
Will i make something out of myself?
Sitting up on this little bitty hill
Will i make something out of myself?
I can't let go
I can't wake up
Time flies...
Time flies...
Yeah
Time flies...
Yeah (dont you know)
Time flies...
Aint much time left in my life
I'm all stressed out time to fly
Im on my way
Im on my way
I cant let go
I cant wake up
Time flies...
(dont you know time flies)
Flies...
Yeah
Time flies...
Yeah
Flies...
Yeah
Time flies...
Yeah
Time flies...
Yeah
Flies...
Yeah
Time flies...
Flies...
Flies...
Flies...
song performed by by Puddle Of Mudd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For Max And Sally
The fly was in the belly yes,
and found therein a frightning mess
the fly was anxious to get out
so he flew wildly all about
the belly of the hungry frog
who sat, still, on that ancient log.
When, wise old owl came passing by
all dressed in suit and green bow tie.
She had the latest Sunday Times
and told the frog to read the rhymes
there, in the section 'Poetry'.
The frog first scratched his bright green knee
and then he told himself 'I need it',
and started chanting 'read it, read it'.
But chanting thus requires bellows
to blow and thus, imprisoned fellows
like flies or other little guys
if they're not dead yet, realise
this happy opportunity
to read the paper and be free.
So, out he went and landed on
the headline of the section Sun
the frog whose eyes at first detected
a movement, (of the just defected)
strained tired eyes and sniffed around
the fly was fearing to be found.
So, quickly he hid under 'S'
the big black letter, that the press
had printed with a lot of ink,
which also still, did have the stink
of chemicals so that the frog
who only lived there near his log
could neither smell nor see the fly
and he forgot, as time went by
all memories of flies for food
since poetry had changed his mood.
Thus you can see the usefulness
of lovely poetry, like this.
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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March Flies
Now comes the time when we douse flies
With various kinds of sprays
The sand flies, and the house flies,
And the flies with furtive ways.
But I keep my hate for the large flies
That come for the tree-lined creek
Those arch flies, the March flies
With a crosscut saw for a beak.
Now, most flies rouse in the autumn
From the summer's drowsy daze,
And they bite as nature taught 'em,
In various styles and ways.
They nip, or they stab or they burrow;
But the fly that knocks me out
Is the March fly, with the dull, dead eye
And a crosscut saw for a snout.
Now the house flies come to the table
Or busily play on the pane;
And our rage and heat they calmly treat
With the uttermost disdain.
And the buzz-flies buzz and blunder,
And the sandflies dig right in;
But my whole soul shrinks when the March fly sinks
His crosscut under my skin.
He's a sneak and an arrant coward,
And the lowest of low-down cows,
By nature ghoulishly dowered
With a weapon no law allows.
And it isn't the pain he gives me
Nor the blood he may chance to draw,
It's the loathsome way that he makes foul play
With his really terrible,
Most unbearable,
Horrible crosscut saw.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Finally The Bee Takes The Nectar Upon Itself
in the end he gives up his identify as the
working bee buzzing in the garden
of his own choosing
circling the flowers that newly bloom
hovering and sitting on them
with his mouth and sting
and sucking all the nectars therein
he takes upon itself
what is prohibited
the caste system
and the queen
today it sets itself free from the rule
and flies freely in the air
the nectar is his
because he works for it
and justifiably so
another kingdom is born
his nectar democracy
his freedom
his own destruction
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Funny How Time Flies
Il me plait d'etre l avec tu.
Je ne sais pas ou ou le temps s'est enfui.
Oh je t'aime mon chri.
Funny how time flies when you're having fun
Ooh baby
Funny how time flies when you're having fun (fun)
Oh baby
I don't know where it all went
Time passed us by
Just when it seemed the fun began
Ooh
Funny how time flies when you're having fun, please stay
Funny how time flies (please stay) when you're having fun, mmm
But time never ends
Let's find the time
To get together once again, someday soon
Funny how time flies when you're having fun, mmm, yeah, hoo
Funny how time flies when you're having fun (fun)
Don't you ever leave
(Funny how time flies when you're having fun)
Don't you ever go
Say you love me so
(Funny how time flies when you're having fun)
Mmm
Funny how time flies when you're having fun
When you're having fun, yeah, hmhmm
Funny how time flies when you're having fun (fun)
Je ne sais pas ou le temps s'est enfui.
Il me plait d'etre l avec tu.
I really don't know where all the time went
I really have to go
Stop, stop
Oh I really have to go
Oh, I really have to go
One more time?
Oh je t'aime mon cheri.
Ohoh, oh
song performed by by Janet Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Like the Flies in Winter
like flies at the end of summer/we all slow down as age advances, as age, time and clocks advance/ the coming ocean of time/like London Bridges, we all fall down
Like flies in winter, near a cold white windowpane, who are slowing like molasses. Cold lonliness on one side/white paint chips on the other
Like flies in winter/flies in autumn, who are swimming throught the air in slow motion.
Not so much the flies of summer
godblessamen
like fireflies flickering in the end/we are here and we are gone,
we eventually burn out.
poem by Samuel Stuart Pennell
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Optimistic
Flies are buzzing around my head
Vultures circling the dead
Picking up every last crumb
The big fish eat the little ones
The big fish eat the little ones
Not my problem give me some
You can try the best you can
If you try the best you can
The best you can is good enough
(x2)
This one's optimistic
This one went to market
This one just came out of the swamp
This one dropped a payload
Fodder for the animals
Living on an animal farm
If you try the best you can
If you try the best you can
The best you can is good enough
(x2)
I'd really like to help you man
I'd really like to help you man.....
Nervous messed up marionette
Floating around on a prison ship
If you try the best you can
If you try the best you can
The best you can is good enough
If you try the best you can
If you try the best you can
Dinosaurs roaming the earth (x3)
song performed by by Radiohead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Inspiration
Inspiration can't be seen.
I mean…you can only feel it.
Your wit won't help a bit
So that to convey the feelings,
To create a real art
That comes straight from the heart,
Like a holy writ recommit
God's gift and revelation.
How do I feel my inspiration?
It's not a certain motivation,
But only my emotions
And certain commotions.
Just the same in other words:
Inspiration is like birds or …
It is something very crazy,
Something very lazy,
Something weepy,
Something very sleepy,
Something very heavy
Or impossibly high.
This something
Becomes suddenly light,
Light as a cloud, and flies,
Flies, flies, flies, flies…
Up to the moment it dies.
©Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)
The 8th of September,2012
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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