Best Croaky Poems
She squats and points,
her little face is all aglow.
Her smile is wide
She’s grinning ear to ear, you know.
She’s very pleased
at the discovery she’s made.
The little frog
is sitting frozen in the shade.
He knows that she
is his protector and his queen,
but he’s not sure
now that I’m also on the scene.
When did you know, I ask of her,
that frogs could talk and you could hear?
She seems so sure
I find it easy to concur.
I’ve always known,
she says, and most convincingly.
They sit outside
my room at night and sing to me.
I call him Fred;
He has a loud and squeaky croak.
He’s very sad;
his girl was gone when he awoke.
He calls her name
And sings a song about the moon.
I love him so;
I told him she will be home soon.
Why do you think, I ask of her,
That I can’t hear them when they talk.
The frogs told me
That grownup heads are filled with chalk.
When do you think, I ask of her,
That you won’t hear them anymore?
She looks real sad,
When I get big, like maybe four.
You are my frog, I say to her,
for me there never was a choice.
I love you so,
in my best squeaky, croaky voice.
She hugs me hard
And says Big Daddy, never leave.
Where would I go, I say to her,
My little frog, my Genevieve
Stop breathing so loud before I smother you dead.
Please go make coffee ... don't touch my head.
Jose Cuervo last night was my friend
but that relationship now must end.
No more tequila, no more Karaoke.
I can't seem to speak, my voice is all croaky.
Last night was a blast, on the table I danced.
I drank and I flirted and generally romanced
everyone in the bar , they were all friends of mine.
At least that was the consensus until closing time.
I danced my way home on wobbly legs.
Now my poor head it begs and it begs
"Don't do it again, behave and be good.
No more tequila". If only I could
go back once again to last night.
I think I would just have ordered a Sprite.
09/07/2013
for Susan's "Worst Morning After" contest
I once knew a songster from Skokie
Who was thrown in the Sing Sing pokey
They claimed he was off key
And his voice was croaky
So he killed them at karaoke!
In the slushy bog, lived one speckled frog
He loved to have fun and didn’t wish to slog
Croaky Frog was his dear name
To travel and enjoy life was his aim
One day he set out, wearing his hat
On the way he met a furry rat
He asked- “Hey rat, will you come with me
Lovely scenes are there for us to see”
The rat replied- “Yes, I shall come with you
I too like the beautiful sights to view”
Soon they saw a tabby cat on their way
Rat ran in fear and hid behind some hay
Croaky, instantly jumped into a well
Seeing a snake in, he began to yell
“Save me, save me” cried the desperate frog
The evening was veiled with thick fog
Billy goat and friends were grazing around
They heard from the well a desperate sound
In minutes, they arrived and saved the frog
Thanking his friends, the frog fled to his bog
Feb.28. 2023
~ Placed First~
Nursery Rhyme Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Eve Roper
I loved you, that is for sure
I hadn’t met someone quite like you before
Absolutely annoying in probably every way possible—
From your smile, your croaky voice, to the way your hands moved
Like a robot when you constantly chattered
Yeah, I didn’t love you at first sight,
You liked me at least,
But I wasn’t going to even pretend I liked you
I scowled, I TRIED to ignore you,
I turned the other cheek
But you were persistent,
Quirky and resilient—
Qualities I learned to love about you
That moment when you made me laugh
When our hands touched,
And your brown eyes gleamed,
That is when everything changed
That’s when I adored your presence,
I admired your silly ways,
And I even got used to that awful voice
I think it was too late, my friend,
Though I, probably shouldn’t call you a friend anymore
I think it was too late for me
That revenge was sweeter in your eyes
Than our disentangling souls
You were angry,
And I didn’t even know
The more I pushed you away,
The more you tried and tried to shove yourself in
I couldn’t let you in right away
I was just getting used to loving you!
You couldn’t see that!
You couldn’t wait for me!
And then,
I became the annoying one,
You glared at me with icy hatred,
Every time I got up to sing a song,
Every gesture I made,
It was awkward, and wrong…
You didn’t see the care in my eyes,
You wouldn’t wait for the sun to rise
No, I do understand
I was stubborn and stupid
I became the annoying one
You were only trying to be my friend, and more
And I pushed you out, and the more I pushed, the more I came to adore
The one I will never have
I loved you, that’s for sure
You really liked me, at best
I was someone you wanted to figure out,
Someone you could possibly relate to
I was someone who didn’t understand
Your brilliance and beauty at first,
Someone who dodged the invisible bear paw in a rushing river
I still try to ignore you
I still try to impress you
From afar, I try to understand you
But most of all, I try to let you go
But your glares are what hold me in place
1888 the year of terror and fear
throats slitted open from ear to ear
JACK THE RIPPER preying on the road
He 's spooky and wears a black coat
In the evenings his skills paint red lace
so good at his job,he kills as he plays
In Croaky Moors hiding his shadows
roaming in alleys and meadows
Five victims ,Five whores slasshed to death
Breasts thorn apart,their hearts on the bed
a stalker,a cannibal in East End of London
drinking in bars,His hiding a dungeon
The prostitutes tongues pulled out from their roots
sending the killer in the best of his moods
Years passed come and gone,each dusk cover dawn
five ghosts are heard aching in one brutal moan
Jack's name still an echo in the narrow back streets
Soul's blood is still shedding,for justice it pleads
Scothland yard officers were being fooled
from "Hell" and "Dear Boss"letters,Jack ruled
Ruben and i tried to capture this cold blooded guy,
but we'll pass it on to J.R, Investigator with Style
Go for it John...
-------------------------CHARMA
Hello there?!
Hmm! Hmm! Hmm! Can you hear?
I guess my voice is fading
A result of living a few thousand centuries
I'll imagine you can
As far as you're Santa's fan
Now he sent to say
That he's doing well
Oh! Do you even heard he was sick the other day?
Aww! Its a result of the jingling bells
The lovely immortal rang his ears away
Now you ask what he does while on holiday?
He spends days and nights wrapping gifts in every possible different ways
To all "CLAUSTROPHOBICS", Santa's promised to shave his beard
And to all " CLAUSELESS REBELS", Santa's accept to come next time with a certificate of birth
Little kiddie! If you want a bigger gift next year, please come not last but first
First come then first serve, first serve is bigger serve! And he's sorry for croaky jest
And yes! Santa saw a man with more beard than his, warning! Go shave!
For those who complained of seeing no gift, please do come outta ya cave
And to those who discovered that Santa Claus is there uncle, oh! Sorry, no wrong faces next time
Before I forget, he said Santa's clause is going to come next time in white and black that rhyme!
Bye there!
Oh who am I seeing?
Sleeping willow?! Oh dear
Is he awake or still sleeping?
Lemme go check!
CLAUSTROPHOBIC : one who's afraid of Santa
CLAUSELESS REBELS = A REBEL WITHOUT A CLAUSE : meaning a kid who doesn't believe in Santa
SANTA'S CLAUSE = incomplete Christmas sentences
PS: NO OFFENSE MEANT
Hey kids watch out because now I'm here
You know with me you have nothing to fear
I'm the one who makes you laugh
When I get my toe stuck in the bath
I love to cook but I burn the dinner
You kids will just get thinner and thinner
Guess I won't have to drive too far
Because I can't reverse park the car
No matter how hard I try
I can't do simple DIY
You say I can't sing Karaoke
Sounds like a frog I am so croaky
My make up looks really foul
As if I applied it with a trowel
You laugh so loud at the way I dress
And say my new hairstyle is a mess
But when all is said and done
I'm just your wonderful old mum
With me your life ain't never glum
And so I have now become...
BLUNDERWOMANNNNNNNNNN
3rd August 2014
A singer whose name’s Carrie Oakey
Was hoarse, sounding terribly croaky
Carrie burst into tears
When folks covered their ears
She’s thankful her gig was just low key
10-08-17
Crooked like an old olive tree
Heavy from the many years
Years of wisdom gathered onto his back
Knowledge of what life can bring
Age old sadness in those eyes
Weathered by life's demise
Beauty in such a leathery face
World seen by human eyes
Fragile bones balanced on a shaky hand
With fingers like a mangrove tree
A walking stick now his best friend
One that he'll keep to the very end
A croaky voice yet so sweet
Painting picture of youthful days
Feeling now like ancient ways
Will he's life footprints forever keep
Will memories of him fade just like
the sunset life has planned
Hoping his eyes will see another dawn
How feeble life, like a breath of wind
Nalanti Goosen©2012
All rights reserved
Nothing still have changed here in the world
The voice of streaming children in the morn
And the chirps of birds in the morning sun
Nothing still have changed, even after 449 years
That love is being both smile and tears
And darkness bring the greatest fear
Nothing at all changed
Not the fading numbers on the ugly old gage
And not the croaky sound of guises feigned
There is no much little difference
In all of the long existing inference
In all of the recursive existence
Nothing still have changed so much
Little kids still eat the tasty buns
Nothing still have changed the fun
while every memory keeps days gone
And exists still is season when the past is re-born
Nothing still have changed from
From the hundreds of years I have come
Changes had occurred to none
Only growth, growth on the run
I love listening to Bach on late evenings, especially his flowing ‘Ave Maria’,
just as I like tuning in to Schubert’s ‘Ave Maria’, far too many Ave Marias!
Nothing compares to Beethoven’s ‘Moonlight Sonata', it’s simply beautiful;
George Handel had he lived would have found Ludwig’s piece rather cool.
Amadeus Mozart, truly he was a musical genius, that Austrian son-of-a gun,
it’s high there among the classics, the elegant ‘Theme from Elvira Madigan’.
Give me Antonin Dvorak’s ‘New World Symphony’, so serenely majestic,
that, like Tchaikovsky’s ‘Concerto in 1st Movement’, creates instant magic.
Let me tell you a little secret: my days in the cradle had long ago passed by
yet, till this day I drift off to dreamland with a few strains of Brahms’ ‘Lullaby’.
Chopin he tinkers with his piano dreamily, that young romantic Polish chap -
etudes, nocturnes, mazurkas, you name it, though he could not do hip-hop.
I adore the songs of Bobby Dylan, though not necessarily his croaky voice;
honestly, I prefer listening to other minstrels sing his tunes, if given a choice.
Joan Baez, Joni Mitchell and Judy Collins, those gals sounded to me so fine;
I once volunteered to produce them but they said “Are you out of your mind?”
Could not do nothing with the three J’s, so I turn to Lennon & McCartney
who once rocked my childhood with their irresistible “yeah, yeah, yeah”.
Leonard Cohen, does that man ever smile? so moody and stark his music
but I love him anyway, though figuring out his lyrics often makes me sick.
Denver and Donovan’s stuff are sugary for my taste at times I would say
and there are occasions when I crave for songs that sound kinda lonely.
So I often give way to my old buddy from country land, Kristofferson man,
and let his somber ‘Sunday Morning Coming Down’ get me all undone.
Sad songs, joyful songs, all styles, will they ever come in just one package?
so I won’t have to spend much on CDs that is straining my minimum wage.
Given those great musical influences I have painstakingly mentioned above,
it is a sure bet I am off to greatness if I just behave and do what I truly love.
A FROG AND SNAKE TALE
Beneath a mirror pond,
lived a frog, with a magic wand,
sparkling under a starry sky,
watched by the moon, the golden eye,
reflecting the story,
of this frog's crafty glory.
"Croak,croak" from a green slimy cloak,
echoing greetings for the nightly meetings,
hearing a croaky reply "danger nearby!".
Suddenly a surprise, fangs with eyes,
slithering in satin, a repulsive repute
t'was snake in a dinner suit.
Fretting, this frog could feel,
being swallowed as this snake's meal.
Croaked the frog to the snake,
"listen to my deal"
"a snake with senses so sharp and clear",
" am a magical frog and can disappear"
"and can make snake with wings to see all things",
with the frog's plead the snake agreed.
Every creature became hysteric,
seeing snake so angelic,
using fangs for wings,
and a hiss that sings.
Forever this snake lost it's pride,
slithering with wings to eternally hide.
This tale and moral for future far,
always be happy who you are
?
I was down in Westminster the other night
and there I saw a most horrible sight.
I thought I saw a man without a head.
Cromwell? I asked, or a king long dead?
I then saw a dame with a horrid lurid glance,
not quite the sort you'd be asking for a dance.
If not Maggy, then who could it be?
I'm very sorry, mate. It's no use asking me,
Three weird sisters were there discussing Brexit.
One said leave it, and another tried to hex it.
What did I witness? Was this the 'monster mash,'
or just politicians as they made an awful hash?
A lanky hooded figure invited me in
with a croaky voice and a sinister grin.
My entry would be easy; of that I had no doubt,
but the problem would then have been: how to get out.
Was it all that talk of a 'backdrop'
that made me hesitate?
When I got back home eventually,
it was very, very late.
Cool summer breeze hot body can console
But heavy winds can hummer the very soul
Not just the fury of wind but also its role
Not the usual one of spreading the seeds but one reminding us time exacts a toll
Man fears time and time reminds him of that every fall
One day back to earth man will fall
Like going over an edge of a waterfall
Like a black raven after his very last croaky call
But there is wonder in wind that murmurs in poplar canopy
It is like reflection of meaning of life philosophy
And in it is a key
To moving the very spirit in its majesty
In the celerity of understanding continuity and discontinuity
Beyond simpler of questions of evolution end divinity
There lies essence of philosophy
And can grant our soul immortality