Best Pollywogs Poems
I took umbrage over a comment in a current blog, in part stating that poetry, "... is a battlefield..." No. There should be no gauntlets thrown, no darts hurled, and no negative words hurled as if Poetry Soup is a battlefield. I was motivated to write...
Over and over again, blogs become a wallowing hole
where ugliness brews contempt and always takes a toll
on those who are trying to make a simple observation.
Someone takes offense and that provokes confrontation
by a tadpole who'll be a frog and not Prince Charming.
Ya know... the narcissistic type who think it's alarming
that they're ideas are not accepted by others on the site.
Then, it's "Katie, bar the door" and get ready for a fight!
Pollywogs keep swimming in rippling waters of the Soup,
where they take a dump, but don't think of it as 'Poop.'
Blogs are sandboxes where nasty words become litter.
Catty remarks are made by the arrogant and the bitter.
Not surprising, the same ones cut up with their mocking.
It's the same MO they use when they come a knocking...
knocking on new blog doors and causing a ruckus inside.
That's crossing a line that no one should ever take in stride.
Some abuse blogs, as if they're churches or synagogues.
If any part of Poetry Soup should go, it should be the Blogs.
Not as some redundantly claim, should be poetry contests...
Objected to by rallying sponsors and poets in fervid protests.
Blogs serve as playgrounds but break all schoolyard rules
when some can't stop themselves from acting like fools.
There's fighting and tugs of war... never for a good cause.
Gettin' tough over trivial stuff puts a pinch in their drawers.
For gosh sake, act like adults instead of flakes and nuts.
There's never and excuse for acting like a rattlepated putz.
Categories:
pollywogs, community, conflict,
Form:
Rhyme
Egrets wade a pool
Lazy summer pollywogs
Wriggle to get free
6/8/2017
Categories:
pollywogs, spring,
Form:
Haiku
Sun-drenched days and showers are coming. Flowers sprout,
Pretty petals blooming, and pollywogs in ponds shall appear.
Rabbits in green fields will be scampering about.
Ice and snow will melt; our hearts will fill with cheer.
Newborn creatures, birds in nests; everywhere we’ll see
Growth and earth’s rejuvenation. Winter’s chill will flee!
Incredible is the season. Hear the robin sing!
Soon, so very soon, we’ll be seeing spring.
Crisp, clean and cool are the water and the air.
Opalescent are the rainbows as they gleam above.
Mountains changing colors; valleys oh so fair,
Inspiring us, who seeing them, feel our Father’s love.
Never-failing, spring will come as sure as sky is blue.
Giving us such gratitude as life begins anew.
Sparkling like the morning dew, comes this sweetest time
Of the year from March to June, all of it sublime.
On my trees today purple blossoms did appear.
Not just SOON is spring coming. Spring right now is HERE!
Written on the day my trees actually blossomed, March 21, 2017
For Laura Loo's Spring Is Coming Soon Acrostic Contest
Categories:
pollywogs, nature, spring,
Form:
Acrostic
Okay, I'm unserious today, no...in all seriousity I was daydreaming about bullschitt and wondered if it was 'produced' by bulls or bull frogs or even bull sharks and realized that it was magnificently manufactured in my own daydreams which are (everyone's a victim, even me) the result of all the human bullschitt I've been exposed to of late...OF LATE...no, even B4 all of this crap (synonym?) was dumped (another uncomfortable thought) upon my struggling soul...where was I...OH! So here's an unserious poem to lighten the load (no pun) sic...
Freddie the Frog (sorry, the bull frogs only have a supporting role)
Freddie the frog with the lopsided hop
would travel in circles 'til he tired and stopped,
then jumped into the pond with a giant kerplop
as the bullfrogs laughed and croaked 'til they dropped.
It mattered not where Freddie was bound,
even when swimming he went round and round -
amongst all the pollywogs he was renowned
for going and going and not gaining ground.
Poor Freddie had no trouble just staying busy
but circling and circling made him so dizzy;
he lived in a pond he never could cross
but one thing's for sure, he never got lost.
So no matter your problems, or where you start,
you'll always get home if you just trust your heart!
A nod to Theodor Geisel
Categories:
pollywogs, funny, life,
Form:
Quatorzain
I’m feeling blue, but that’s OK
For I was there to start the day
But carried forth with steadfast calm
Still searching for a healing balm
I’ve found it but a time or two
And known relief, but far too few
Like pollywogs or canyon wren
It slipped my fingers, . . . gone again!
This balm won’t fit within a jar
Elusive as a fallen star
It only comes when I can say
“I’ve done my very best today!”
‘Tis then I feel that peaceful touch
That I have searched and longed for much
‘Tis then I use this balm so smooth
To heal my heart, my soul to sooth.
Categories:
pollywogs, blue, hope,
Form:
Couplet
I caress the blooms of the lilac bush and breathe their sweet fragrant breath. Here in my garden where spring has risen from the melting heart of winter’s death. And when a gentle breeze kisses my face, I am simply blown away, to that magical place, where you wait for me, along the Fundy Bay.
Bare foot, I skip down a Granite paved road, flanked with ditches where morning glories grow, as I move through a mist of ocean brine, streaked with rainbows that melt in the morning sunshine and drip from the blooms of a every Sea Salt rose.
The house - its asphalt shingles, sparkling in many shades of grey - stands firmly on its hardwood pillars buried deep down in the clay, the same clay I mold into a tiny earthen vase, that joins the jars of pollywogs and dandelion garlands, all lined up on the old root- cellar doors, where I play.
And in a cloud of purple perfusion, again, I breathe the breath from the lilac bush that grows there, beside the brook, as those white lace curtains flutter out the kitchen window, and beat against the window frame - fanning the heat from those fresh baked apple pies - as another tear falls from my eye.
Then, from a distant pine, I hear the white throated sparrow singing, her melancholy tune and the clap of the screen door as I step into that room, a child again breathing the breath from a lilac bloom.
“Mom….. ……………. I’m home!”
Categories:
pollywogs, childhood, nostalgia,
Form:
Prose Poetry
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
Categories:
pollywogs, life, nature, philosophy,
Form:
Haiku
Loose Magic
Pee-a-boo, I see you...
Got your nose,
and not your toes.
Skipping rocks,
and bubbles in the park.
Eye contact from across the room,
notes passed in study hall...
hearts that have wings,
and bells that ring.
Puppy dogs, with wet licks,
kitty cats, and purrs...,
no ticks.
Learning to swim,
hunting for frogs...
playing with pollywogs.
Picnics, and fireworks,
a first kiss
a second chance,
a wedding dance.
Babies being born,
grandmothers cooking cookies,
grandpas riding tractors in the fields.
Life is good when we let it be,
all the mysteries left free.
Categories:
pollywogs, angel, anniversary, beauty, bible,
Form:
Free verse
CROSSING OF THE POLLYWOGS HAIKU
Blazing sun above
makes the sky so blue it's white,
burned from so much light;
raising from the sea
waves of heat's pulsating rays
in the distant haze
from a cresting wave
schools of fish take to the wing
make a fluttering;
Crossing of the line
equators not meant to see.
It's a sailor's tale.
Pollywogs prepare
for that moment, harsh and crude
Zero latitude.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet.
Categories:
pollywogs, adventure, sea, voyage, world,
Form:
Haiku
transformation
pollywogs paddle
about her five year old toes
frogs in the making
summer kissed her cheek
awesome faces peer from leaves
freckles blooming now
at the waters edge
bullfrogs baroom a mating call
dusk whispers secrets
pie shop sells lemon
apple and boysenberry
poison berry to us
blankets on cool nights
hudson bay soft wooly warm
loons serenade child
Categories:
pollywogs, giggle, girl,
Form:
Haiku
Gander your gazes not afar mountain
like a fool that searches the distinct
Youth that have uncovered a fountain
pen poetry and prose not succinct
When you blue drip only foam oceans
You’ll dismiss the pollywogs in ponds
No fancy hocus pocus nor potions
rather a palm tree for its fronds
Those who seek but a fraction of whole
dig tiny granules that unearth the real
The wise view not a saddened soul
rather each impurity that made it feel
Responsibility is cradled in unbottled ink
Smattering small pieces that make one think
Categories:
pollywogs, imagination,
Form:
Sonnet
Ten tiny pollywogs
Happy as can be
Along came an alligator
Ate up three.
Seven skittish pollywogs
Beneath a lily pad
Up swam a rainbow trout
They all died sad.
Categories:
pollywogs, animal, death, fish, happiness,
Form:
Lyric
O, the old toad talks
To the equinox,
But he sings to the harvest moon.
Cuz his little pollywogs
All swam off in the bog,
And they’re getting gobbled up by a loon.
The chance is remote
For an antidote,
And they’ll all be gone by noon.
See, the moon was on the lake,
but he wasn't quite awake,
and Old Toady really needed a boon.
O, moon, don’t shine so bright,
Or I will lose my kids tonight!
Please, moon, a fingernail,
So that old loon will not impale.
Dear moon, no wax, just wane,
Or I will likely go insane!
O, the old toad croaked,
And he cried till he choked,
But the moon didn’t hear a thing.
So he found a hollow log
In the middle of the bog,
And he brought all the game that he could bring.
O, moon, o please, o please,
I’m begging you down on my knees.
O, moon, I’m begging you,
I have no other kids than these.
Well, he roared so loud
That the noise shook up a cloud
From the pollen that was on the trees.
And it echoed off the lake,
Such a racket did it make,
That it rattled the old moon’s cheese.
Well, the moon just sighed,
Shook the cheddar from his eyes,
Bellowed, who is disturbing me now?
Then the toad stood his ground,
Said, the dog is not around,
And I don’t know how to find the cow.
But the loon is on the prowl,
And he’s acting pretty foul,
And he’s gobbling up the kids as we speak.
And if you don’t kill the light,
Pretty quick tonight,
Then their chances are looking rather bleak.
While they talked, came a breeze,
Blew the pollen from the trees,
And it landed in the old moon’s eye.
Well it made him wheeze,
And he started to sneeze,
And he thought he was going to die.
Then his nose began to squirt,
And his head began to hurt
And he said he had to go lie down.
So he headed off to bed,
Put a cover on his head,
And there wasn’t any light around.
Then the loon had a fit,
But she had to quit;
She speared herself because she couldn’t see.
Old toady got excited,
Got so tickled and delighted,
That he threw back his head with glee.
O moon, my dear friend moon,
Please get well, but not too soon.
O moon, I thank you so,
Now I can watch my children grow!
Categories:
pollywogs, nursery rhyme,
Form:
Ballad
In Spring, a plethora of colorful wildflowers begin to bloom in the country. The soil has a rich, earthy smell, for April showers have washed the pungent cow manure deep into the ground to nourish the crops. The songbirds are brooding their clutch of eggs; and in a few days, I'll hear their hatchling chicks squabbling over a meal of caterpillars and worms. Soon, their flight feathers will fill in, and they will flex their wings, preparing for fledgling and the miracle of flight. Before long, they'll soar into the heavens, touch the face of God, and achieve the impossible. Summer's heat is on its way, and the hearts of young children are beating wildly in anticipation of a fun summer, enjoying a well-deserved vacation from schoolwork.
the sun shines brightly
pollywogs morph into frogs...
the fish are biting
Categories:
pollywogs, 12th grade, bird, image,
Form:
Haibun
When Lady Gaga's French bulldogs
Stoked half-a-million squealing hogs
The canine corps
Knocked on her door
With countless tails like pollywogs . . . .
Categories:
pollywogs, dog,
Form:
Limerick