Best Frogs Poems
Frogs sing in Japan
too bad they croak in Tennessee
it's geography
WHERE DO FROGS GO TO THINK?
Where do frogs go when they need to think?
I've often wondered where.
When they're not feeling quite in the pink
do they hide under the stairs?
Do they feel like they must follow rules
and stick to a Lilly pad?
Or can they hide in a shed full of tools
when they are feeling sad?
What if a frog felt like being alone
away from his froggy friends
Where could he go to be unknown?
Well, I guess that depends.
He couldn't go to the circus or show,
he would never be sold a seat,
he would not like a plateau of cold snow
it would be very tough on his feet.
French restaurants are not the place for him,
and he would not like to see a bait shop
but he might make some friends over at the gym
and he would be a big hit at the hop!
He could go to the library, its quiet in there
maybe catch up on some old books.
Or he could ask the beavers to share their lair,
he tried the geese and got some funny looks.
It needs to be safe, it needs to be quiet,
it needs to be worry free,
he needs to have access to his daily diet
of flies, bugs, worms, and bees.
Maybe under some roots, or the edge of a bog,
some place that might make him glad,
side of a meadow, or an old rotten log,
or even his own lilly pad.
And what would a frog think about,
when they take the time?
Do they think about flies, or avoiding trout?
That is a question for another rhyme.
While cleaning house I over heard the Trolls talking down below.
There was to be a battle in the grove, between a bear and a Troll.
They said this would be the end, to beat all ends, as only one would win.
Well, I’m a mother… so this worried me… on how this would all end.
A Troll and a Bear… fighting…I feared nothing good could come of that.
So, I had to find a way to come between them, to stop them in their tracks.
I talked to the Trolls, who said: this was a thing they… simply… had to do.
In fact, they said they’d all go, and would cheer it on, till it was finally through.
They left when I wasn’t looking, and I had to be there to stop it… so I ran.
The battle would be in the Bear groves where the bully frogs all live.
First I tripped over a root, breaking my shoe, so barefoot… I continued on.
Then I fell into the creek, coming up with mud everywhere, all around.
Brambles caught my shirt tearing my sleeve, but I certainly, wouldn’t give up.
I’ll admit, that Panic does some strange things, as I continued… to… speedup.
Watching where I was going would have been a really good thing, I agree.
But, I ran into the grove, a mad woman, with pepper spray in my grasp, you see.
Low and behold, I’d been wrong! There was a card game quietly going on.
The bears and the Trolls in their best clothes: and all sat there, giving a yawn.
It then dawned; this was a poker game of high stakes, which I had come upon.
The bully frog referees and everyone looked at me, like my mind was totally gone.
Actually, that’s probably right... Maybe, with worry… I truly had… gone mad.
Quietly I sat down, to watch the game… until the bear won it all… how sad.
Embarrassed, I tried to quietly sneak out: very quickly, you can be assured.
Low and behold, I ran straight into a tree… getting their attention, for sure.
Laughing hilariously, one of the Trolls picked me up, and carried me home.
He said, he was afraid for my health, should I be allowed to further roam.
They were right of course, but my mind will be better by tomorrow morn
You’ll see… I’ll prove it… when my next new poem is born…
The night is young
And enticing
Still, a lump weighs heavily on my heart
As I sit by the window
And reflect on the cause of life!
Pray, it would seem that, somehow
People get so engrossed in life
That they forget about its illusory power
Or,
Is it that they simply choose
To pretend to forget about it
And to concentrate on its joys!
Why, life bothers me
It moves me
It pains me
It is like a trap
A wonderful scene painted
Made of a most luscious clear watered pond
But, the moment you approach it
Creatures of darkness jump out
And pull you in,
In their cage where you become
Like laboratory rats spinning on wheels
Going faster and faster
Going nowhere
Yet, having to keep on moving
For such is what is expected!
Pray, the night is still young
Frogs croak tirelessly
Engaged in their own symphony
Leaves rattle by carelessly
Propelled by the winds
Rain drizzles over from the sky
And I can only think of that which life has taken from me
As well as that which I secretly desire
But which I may never get!
Pray, the lump weighing over my heart is growing
Almost as if it were a carnivorous plant
Existing there, in my inner garden
Ready to destroy everything that I treasure
From my memories
To my romantic aspirations!
Why, life is such
Made to be a mere game
Enacted by you and me
But being ruled by the powerful will of Fate
And Death!
Why, on this cold night
I can only sit and reflect
Saddened and burdened!
For Contest:
Sad Free Verse 2017
Sponsored by Laura Loo
Written on 28 July 2017
Frogs are boisterously loud
quacking their throats, they feel male-proud
a stern warning to shoo
will invite crazed cuckoo …
so, no big bug meal was allowed
Upside Down World - Limericks Only
Sponsor: Eve Roper 12/30/2017
COME SWIM WITH ME MY LADYFROG,
UPON A POND SO BLUE,
WE CAN FLOAT ALONG TOGETHER,
UNTIL THE DAY IS THRU.
WHEN DARKNESS FALLS AROUND US,
WITH STARS ABOVE OUR HEADS,
WE HOLD EACH OTHER CLOSELY,
TOGETHER IN OUR BED.
WHEN NIGHT BEGINS TO LIGHTEN,
WITH EARLY MORNING FOG,
WITH YOU STILL BESIDE ME,
IT'S GREAT TO BE A FROG
Twelve tree frogs sing in loud chorus
on this damp, foggy morn
Their vocal would break the sound barrier
By it nature is torn
Fog caresses the valley
Settles loosely on trees
Exaggerates the silhouettes
Moistens all the leaves
The frogs have removed the silence
Their din walks on nerves
They need another residence
Where they won't be heard
Ship them to another planet
Box them up in damp wrap
Let them start a new settlement
Send them, get them trapped
My prayer for rain was answered
This morn is nice and cool
The frogs loved it also, singing
To God their thanks refueled
For a moment I was ungrateful
The constant din distrubed
Now I am accepting of the sound
Let them sing unpreturbed
The tree frogs or rain frogs came out
in wild excitement last night following the rain..
Sponsor: Elly Wouterse
Contest: A Positive Poem
Written: Tuesday, June 24, 2014
Frogs, frogs everywhere
across my path they hop
Big frogs, little frogs
I don’t think they will stop
Brown frogs, green frogs
and colours in between
Now there are so many frogs,
more than I’ve ever seen
Fat frogs, skinny frogs
sit upon the lawn
Happy frogs, silly frogs
they all come out at dawn
Hungry frogs, singing frogs
they frolic to and fro
I have seen so many frogs
and wanted you to know
I cannot believe the amount of frogs I have seen this year. I walked outside this morning and the little creatures were everywhere. I enjoy watching them. Isn't nature fun?
POND
my frog
mementos
cute collectibles
their pond is my bedroom
where they are safer from snakes
"the pond, a frog sanctuary”
April 6, 2023
Sponsor Joseph May
Contest Name Pyramids 3
the "snakes" being grandchildren who like to play
with my over 200 collection of frogs.
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
Maurice the frog was q###r; of this he had no doubt and all the lady frogs just made him yawn.
He sat all day on his lily pad, flicking his tongue at passing flies, with never a thought of ever wanting to spawn.
At night the pond was redolent with the sound of humping frogs, the 'revitting' would turn a young frog mad.
But, alas, poor Maurice's only joy was a male frog's fashion catalogue, bequeathed to him by his late, lamented dad.
And so he spent his idle hours with nary a care or frown, plodding along his solitary road.
Until the day in early spring his life turned upside down, on discovering he was, in fact, a toad.
This news, to him was quite a shock from a passing dragonfly, which alighted on a nearby flower frond.
‘You want to cross the road’, it said, ‘there's loads of toads like you having toady fun in their own toady pond’.
And from under his wing he produced a book, ‘Toads Only’, it said on the cover, Maurice turned to its centre pages eyes agog.
And there in Technicolor for all the world to see was a lady toad, spread-eagled on a log.
He was well and truly smitten as on her picture he did gaze, her bulging eyes as black as Yorkshire coal.
He thought about eating the dragonfly but quickly went off this, who needs fly when you can have toad in the hole.
So Maurice set off straight away, though the going was quite tough, the first leg almost gave him a heart attack.
But on the crest of the rise he could see the road and the toady pond beyond and was greeted by a passing Natterjack.
The uphill struggle behind him now his back legs found new spring, the going was much easier on the flat.
He thought of all the lady toads and the tadpoles they would have, another hop, another leap then - SPLAT!
The moral of this sorry tale is simple, short and sweet; the fairer sex will only make you cry.
Be happy in your own back yard, forget the frog and toad and next time - eat the dragonfly!
The thought of "dwarf tossing" I abhor
But a leaping frog will make me roar
In Calaveras County
They leap to collect bounty
Hillbillies watch as moonshine they pour
To leap the farthest takes stamina
Mixed with a good dose of enema
Hoots and howls from onlookers
As bets are placed with bookers
Entertainment factor enigma
Entry for John Freeman's Limerick contest
Calaveras County really does have a frog jumping contest. See
http://www.beachcalifornia.com/california/jumping-frog-calaveras-county.html
When a Frog knocks at my door
I will always wonder what is in store
They say after the Kiss
A Frog will become a prince
This is just a tale
Frogs cannot kiss
They live in the swamp which is their eternal bliss
A voice that echoes loud and dear
Which will always remind us ladies to stay clear
I have learned my lesson one last time
To keep my heart safe
From the waters slime
This is not a sad tale
But the Reality of a fairytale....
Pond Life: Lillypads and Frogs
lotus flower blooms
showa koi search old pond
pollywogs scatter
pulsing dragonfly
above shadowed frog on pad
unbridled tongue fast
~by deborah burch©
4/27/2012
The neighborhood has been going, to every variety of dogs.
But I simply can’t believe it… We now have Gutter Frogs!
They climb upon my windowsills, and also among the trees.
They climb up my patio screen, is there nothing, they don’t see!
Nightly nestling in my window gutter, where they have safely gone.
My hubby says that he can’t sleep, with so much racket going on!
Shiny, and oh so sleek, unlike any other toad, are these little blokes.
Perhaps I have been hasty. Their voices are only a cricket, not a croak.
Unlike my Hubby’s snores, they are way more soothing, yes, by far!
Perhaps there is no reason, for us, that we must now, declare a war.
But no! I must revise, as the gutters surely do need, to be cleaned.
So up the ladder Hubby did climb, as he now, had a full head of steam.
But, yes, life is never simple, and that seems to be… our very own lot.
They had watched our environmentalist son, as he studies and he plots.
‘Save the Gutter frogs!’ Became their banner song, which truly did evolve!
Alas! What’s worse! They are asking, an environmental study, to be done!
They quoted conservationists, and several even chained themselves to our home.
I’ve heard of save the Whales and trees, but now will it be… the gutter frogs?
This is their habitat! What will be next… a nest of new age lawyer gutter frogs?
Evolution has come quite far, as they mentioned a protest, to visit city hall!
We finally did concede! We could share this house and land, which we do own.
As Hubby descended the ladder… Yes! He was covered in jubilant gutter frogs.
Then to make things right, we made for each, an adorable wattle and stick home.
Attaching them along the top, of the gutters, that they could now, play upon.
The gutter frogs agreed to keep the gutters clean, in return, we will let them be.
The moral is: No matter who is right! We can live together, if we only try, you see!
Written by CSEastman 12-18-2013
In Contest for Honerable Mention