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David Furlong Poem
A funny frog called Mr Snog,
once lived beside a slimy bog,
he was a most peculiar fellow,
his hat was red, his boots were yellow,
his waistcoat was an olive green,
the strangest sight you’ve ever seen,
no matter where you’ve lived or been.
This self-same frog, called Mr Snog
had woes of every catalogue.
To move forward he hopped backward,
making life extremely awkward.
His funny face with fretful frown
made him such a comic clown,
for his whole world was upside down.
Now once the frog, named Mr Snog,
who lived beside the slimy bog,
had been a very different fellow,
his boots then red, his hat was yellow.
A handsome prince of some renown,
upon his head a golden crown,
and nothing then was upside down.
For then his name, was not the same,
around his realm they would proclaim;
‘He is the bold, the great Prince Gons,
whose fame is sung in many songs.’
In everything he did excel,
gallant, witty, brave as well,
until misfortune him befell.
Alas to say, in early May,
a witch had happened by his way.
She really was a hideous hag,
and nasty things were in her bag.
An eye of newt, a puppy’s tail,
six slimy slugs and half a snail,
some grizzly bits to make you quail.
Prince Gons had rode from his abode,
to find this witch had blocked his road,
‘Out of my way you wretched bag,
out of my way you ugly hag.
I am the bold, the great Prince Gons,
whose fame is sung in many songs,
to whom this land around belongs.’
With such disdain he did proclaim,
the exalted nature of his name!
He stared, he glared, he leered and peered,
upon that witch that looked so weird,
‘Out of my way, or you’ll pay dear.’
Yet not one word did cause her fear,
for being deaf, she could not hear.
But from his look she umbrage took,
and so that witch resolved to cook,
within her pot a fiendish brew,
to teach that prince a thing or two.
And setting out to cast a spell,
by calling demons out of hell,
she brewed a stew - with ghastly smell.
This stew she threw – it didn’t miss! –
all over Gons. Then with a kiss,
upon his face - oh what a joke -
she vanished in a puff of smoke!
Gons then had a nasty feeling,
round and round the sky was wheeling,
sending all his senses reeling.
When he awoke, this self-same bloke,
could only make a feeble croak.
And to his horror he now found,
that everything had turned around,
shrunk to a frog, whose name was Snog,
who sat bemused within a bog,
with woes of every catalogue.
Within this bog, there was a log,
and on this log, sat Mr Snog,
gazing mournfully at the sky,
eyeing all that passed him by.
From time to time he’d try to speak,
with feeble croak, so sad, so weak,
his life just then was really bleak.
When meaning ‘Yes’ - as you might guess -
was not the word he did express.
Instead of ‘Yes’, he would croak ‘No!’
All were confused and all said so,
but if, perhaps, you knew him better,
you could substitute each letter,
and then it really wouldn’t matter.
Moving backward, never forward,
made his life extremely awkward.
Now who could help him, who could tell
him, how to break that witch's spell?
He flopped around within the mire,
never growing one inch higher,
until a meeting did transpire.
One sunny day in early May,
a princess chanced to pass that way,
her hair was gold, her figure neat,
she walked upon such dainty feet.
that now squelched in the murky mire,
nearly ruining her attire,
her situation was quite dire.
Just for a laugh, she'd left the path,
to cut her journey quite in half,
she was sure it would be quicker,
she was sure that she was slicker,
than her nasty little brother,
who’d said, ‘Race you home to mother.’
- How they hated one another!
While she was stuck within the muck,
bemoaning all her rotten luck,
She then perceived this curious fellow,
whose hat was red and boots were yellow,
it was our hero Mr Snog,
every inch a funny frog,
sitting gormless on a log.
‘Help, help,’ she cried . ‘I'm terrified
I’m really lost, I need a guide,
to take me from this murky mire,
that's totally ruined my attire.
Please help me now. I'm sure you know,
how from this place, the way to go.’
But Snog, when meaning ‘Yes’, croaked ‘No!’.
She was confused, she was bemused,
that this odd creature had refused,
to help her in her hour of need.
'What can I say, how shall I plead?'
She pondered so, then filled with woe,
wept, ‘Won’t you show the way to go?’
But Snog, whilst thinking ‘Yes’, croaked ‘No!’
‘I implore you, I'll adore you,
something, anything I’ll do for you.
just name your price, I know the king,
he’ll give you almost everything.
Oh please don't leave me in distress,
oh please don't leave me in this mess.’
Alas, our hero just croaked, ‘Yes!’
First she shivered, then she quivered,
then finally, she grew quite livid.
She screamed at this outrageous fellow,
whose hat was red and boots were yellow,
‘You are the most obnoxious frog,
to leave me helpless in this bog,
to wander aimless in the fog.’
Then on a whim, she grabbed a limb,
with all her strength she hurtled him,
high into the silvery sky,
wondering if this frog might fly.
But as she flipped him, her foot tripped,
upon her back our princess tipped,
into the slimy mire she slipped.
Our hero, Snog, was quite agog,
for being airborne, for a frog,
was a most extraordinary feeling,
sending all his senses reeling.
The sky and earth became a blur;
falling now he did not miss her,
landing on her open kisser!
Now, as she fell, she’d given a yell,
which helped to break that witch's spell.
For when she kissed the hapless Snog,
it changed him back from being a frog,
and to a prince he now returned,
who sat there looking unconcerned.
whilst in the slimy mire she squirmed.
Copyright © David Furlong | Year Posted 2015
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Details |
David Furlong Poem
She was agog, that from the bog,
a prince emerged from being a frog.
Who now proceeded to proclaim
the exalted nature of his name,
‘I am the bold, the great Prince Gons,
whose fame is sung in many songs,
to whom this land around belongs.’
Heart a-flutter, she did mutter,
in a voice that had slight stutter,
‘Please kind sir, will you will assist me,
ever grateful to you I‘ll be.’
As they sat within the mire,
she awakened his desire,
setting both their hearts afire.
‘I implore you, I’ll adore you.
Something, anything I’ll do for you.
Just name your price, I know the king,
he’ll give you almost everything,
if you will take me back to him.’
Then Gons, in bliss, could not resist,
from giving her another kiss.
But sad to say, the curse still lay,
in changing things about that day,
now, to his horror, Prince Gons found,
that everything just turned around.
he stood transfixed with mouth agape
and watched his loved as she changed shape,
from being a princess to an ape!
How to escape from being an ape,
restore her to her heavenly shape,
was all the prince could think about,
and wondering what he might try out,
he felt he must again persist,
in giving her a further kiss,
upon her facial orifice.
But sad to say it was still May,
and when things turned about that day.
they could not then turn back again,
so kissing her was quite in vain.
But being by her beauty blessed,
its swift return became Gons quest,
to search, to seek with ne’er a rest.
Whilst holding hands in foreign lands,
Prince Gons oft called those angel bands,
to tell him how he might restore,
his princess back to him once more,
and all this time she did abide,
beside his side and could not hide,
her longing looks to be his bride.
Far, far and wide they both did roam,
no place on earth they could call home.
for no one knew how to dispel,
the curse of that black witch’s spell,
until at last the good Prince Gons,
came to acknowledge all his wrongs,
to be more loving he now longs.
Hope seemed quite lost when Prince Gons found
a hidden cave far underground
a wise one told him straight and true,
‘Timing will break this spell for you.
Choose the right month, choose the right time
and everything will work out fine.
A bright full moon will make her thine.’
To end neatly, to end sweetly,
finishing now this tale completely,
Prince Gons at length he did regain,
his princess back to him again,
first kissing her when it was noon,
then in the light of the full bright moon,
not in the month of May, but June.
Copyright © David Furlong | Year Posted 2015
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Details |
David Furlong Poem
Can we awake from the madness,
that divides this world in two,
can we set free our ‘rightness’
to a different point of view?
Free-will as a gift has been given
as a sacred God-given right,
to all of life’s diverse species
that we might grow to the Light.
Yet that which contains no shadows
remains forever unknown,
for contrast gives depth and meaning
through light and shade and tone.
This gift we all have been given,
is a wondrous two-edged sword,
for we can explore the darkness,
where hatred and fear are stored.
Can the light exist without darkness,
or the day be complete without night?
for opposites balance the fulcrum,
in all that is wrong or right.
If a fool persists in his folly,
eventually he will be wise
to the pattern of God’s creation,
where awareness has to arise.
For the pain we inflict on others,
will certainly haunt us again,
as part of the path to perfection,
where all is held as the same.
If I only accept my light side,
who carries my fear and shame?
if I only walk on my ‘right’ side
I must for certain be lame.
If I see myself as a ‘good’ guy,
Who then do I see as the ‘bad?’
If I hold to one thought or system,
then someone will see me as mad.
Our thoughts and our words condemn us
In all that we say or we do,
Whenever I make a statement,
the opposite also is true.
Can we find the way to redemption,
in this world with its shade and hue?
for tyrant sits within us,
if we but only knew.
My fanatic sits within me,
waving his rifle and sword,
my dictator stands beside him,
condemning my every word.
And how do I deal with these monsters,
that generate hatred and fear,
can I learn to love and accept them
as a part of all I hold dear?
When I love my inner traitor,
my terrorist and my thief,
I can find a place for us to live,
in harmony and in peace.
When we come to know that opposites
in all of us have to dwell,
we can find a place of balance,
in the space ‘tween heaven and hell.
When we stop projecting our shadow
onto those we know must be wrong,
we will find the path to redemption,
where all of us can belong.
Can we awake from the madness
that tears this world in two,
by pitting us against ourselves
with different points of view.
Light sits within the darkness
and there’s darkness in the light
by dancing with these opposites
we move from wrong and right.
We can awake from the madness
that splits this world in two,
by walking in the shoes of those
with different points of view.
Copyright © David Furlong | Year Posted 2015
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