Famous Bullfrog Poems by Famous Poets

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• Best Bullfrog Poems by Members
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...l
The fattening dots burst into nimble-
Swimming tadpoles. Miss Walls would tell us how
The daddy frog was called a bullfrog
And how he croaked and how the mammy frog
Laid hundreds of little eggs and this was
Frogspawn. You could tell the weather by frogs too
For they were yellow in the sun and brown
In rain.
 Then one hot day when fields were rank
With cowdung in the grass the angry frogs
Invaded the flax-dam; I ducked through hedges
To a coarse croaking that I h...Read More

...wn to meet us. The rose trees,
Domestic, Asiatic, my father’s favorites.
The bridge, marauding dragonflies, the bullfrog,
Camellias cracked and blackened by the freeze,
Bay tree, mimosa, mountain laurel, apple, 
Monkey pine twenty feet high, banana shrub,
The owls’ tall pine curved like a flattened S.
The pump house Mort and I built block by block,
Smooth concrete floor, roof pale aluminum
Half-covered by a clematis, the pump 
Thirty feet down the mountain’s grani...Read More

...ed 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....Read More

...ys on the collar of his

shirt. Deep water flowed through the lilies that were entwined

about his shoelaces. A bullfrog kept croaking in his watch

pocket and the air was filled with the sweet smell of ripe

blackberry bushes.

 He wore trout fishing in America as a costume to hide

his own appearance from the world while he performed his

deeds of murder in the night.

Who would have expected?

 Nobody !

 Scotland Yard?

 (Pouf !)

 They were always a hundr...Read More

...ou can hear the sovereigns go; 
Or you'll hear him singing "Old Folks at Home", 
In a deep bass voice and slow, 
Like a bullfrog down in the village well 
When the evening sun is low. 

The Australian going "home" for loans 
Looks in at the open door; 
He loves to see the imported plant, 
And to hear the furnace roar, 
And to watch the private firms smash up 
Like chaff on the threshing-floor. 

Toiling, rejoicing, borrowing, 
Onward through life he goes; 
Each mornin...Read More

...eld was fruitful too in rhymes;
Each feather'd minstrel felt the passion,
And every wind breathed inspiration.
Each Bullfrog croak'd in loud bombastic,
Each Monkey chatter'd Hudibrastic;
Each Cur, endued with yelping nature,
Could outbark Churchill's[2] self in satire;
Each Crow in prophecy delighted,
Each Owl, you saw, was second-sighted,
Each Goose a skilful politician,
Each Ass a gifted met'physician,
Could preach in wrath 'gainst laughing rogues,
Write Halfway-covenan...Read More

...h the look
of primeval invulnerability. He turned

the blunt spear point of his jaws,
puffing his undermouth like a bullfrog,
and snapped at your shoe,
vising a beakful of-- thank God--
leather. You had to shake him loose. We left him
to his own devices, talked on the way home

of what must lead him to new marsh
or old home ground. The next day you saw,
one town over, remains of shell
in front of the little liquor store. I argued
it was too far from where ...Read More

...listened a first week in June.
Ditches along prairie roads of Northern Illinois
Filled the arch of night with young bullfrog songs.
Infinite mathematical metronomic croaks rose and spoke,
Rose and sang, rose in a choir of puzzles.
They made his head ache with riddles of music.
They rested his head with beaten cadence.
Jimmy Wimbledon listened....Read More

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