Best Tadpole Poems
Little tadpole
wanting to run and leap too early,
how does it feel
trying to breathe
when your lungs ain’t there yet .
Fable of Tadpole and Lily
lily bed pillowed
wading time on the pond's breath
tucked in pole's warm pool
utopia kiss unwrap
a frog soon took his flower
connie pachecho
6/22/17
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.
in the slow river
pressed flat against the bank
tadpole flirts
4/6/3
That was December!
One tadpole swimming alone
In the blue spa.
The frogs have laid their spawn.
Those little jelly blobs looking very good to eat,
like caviar or canape, extravagant, a treat.
They lie close by the waterfall damped by its spits and spots,
those hundred little jelly blobs, those black eye'd jelly dots.
The frogs had gone for years until the pond was built again.
Now with filtered flowing waters mixing oxygen to rain ,
and weedy bits and pieces helping fish to hide from cats,
and lillies in their basket with their shady floating caps.
I sit here on this sunny day and listen to the tune
that water's babble plays to cool a heated afternoon.
Will those tadpole birthing blobs inside their dome cocoons
coincide our breaking out from home's confining rooms?
Please may that be, oh may that be, and may that be quite soon.
Tadpoles swimming,
so freely on
this cool breezy
morning.
So many of you,
I see, wondering,
how many of you,
will survive,
growing into toads,
or frogs will really
bring life to
this pond so grand.
What speed you
have as you
swim around
tadpole city.
wrote 9-27-07 at Lowell ponds
The Tadpole,
That Never Became a Frog
Written: By Tom Wright
2006
I have tried putting myself in another man’s shoes,
To experience the pain about their love for brews.
The primary thing of which I always think,
Is the time of day I’ll take my next drink.
I’ve forsaken my children and siblings too,
For a dimly lit place to sit and drink my brew.
I hide like a tadpole in a stagnant pond,
My family is the drunks with whom I bond.
I’ve hidden from life one drink at a time,
And for each brief period life seemed sublime.
A decorated soldier once standing proud and tall,
But the ensuing years have rendered me small.
It’s easy for me to hide in a bottle you know,
I just pop the cap and let my thoughts go.
A drink from any bottle and my soul I’ll bare,
Not realizing I’ve loved one’s who honestly care.
So I hide in a bottle and then sleep like a log,
Because of the “Booze” I’ll never grow to a frog.
He has great expectations and dreams
They are to be accomplished
Blockades and obstacles are to be dispersed
He is smarter than his wisdom and effort
He forces his way through
Pushing down, kicking and stepping
He is a man, a frog that cannot jump
But used to walk
But tries to jump like a frog
He always changes his party and loyalty
Anyway he is better than a toad
Which just likes to croak
But he is better than a tadpole
Which is still young with little experience
And no chance to jump
However I am hestitate to vote
And don't know what symbol
To choose, to cross and to be loyal to
I'm just an old folk
So ignorant and innocent to politics all this time
And used to believe that
Only frog can jump vigorously
lying on lilies
lazy and luxurious
feed my senses curious
listen to my pond
drips and drops a harmony
rain on tadpole colony
Tabitha Tadpole can't seem to get it right
She has been a tad slow for her entire life
While all her friends are out playing leap frog
Tabitha has yet to see her tail fall off
All the ribbits that she hears makes it very clear
Tab can't seem get herself out of first gear
With all her friends time being spent growing shiny teeth
Tongues that slurp, lungs that burp, legs to help them leap
Tabitha finds she can only swim about
How to morph into a frog, she's yet to find that out
Though she's never lonely in her dark green slimy pond
There's thousands more tadpoles like her where Tabitha comes from
While all the friends that she makes one day hop away
As all tadpoles turn into frogs when natures call they all obey
All except for Tabitha who may never know
The taste of fly's when they tickle the sides as they slide down the throat
Poor Tabitha may never figure it all out
And until then she'll continue to swim chasing her own tail
Jane told me of the exchange they had with Derek, earlier that day--guess who showed up that night--hehe.
I told you guys, Jane's a talker, and that's how Clint got smarter.
Along with other fellow workers, that night there were two guys plus me, my opened hatchback doubled for Jane and her sister.
Three guys on a rolled-out garage floor, all having 100-proof shots of Tequila with no alcohol in sight, other than two yakety bartending sisters with three prisoners desperately seeking Ali to sting us like a bee.
The two guys had a particular interest be they of the single variety but poor boys should eat such an appropriate sandwich because young sister dearest hast stolen thy fullest moon and hast made it ecliptic to wallow over two foolish hearts a horizon's descend.
The two chose to stay knowing I was on the way to Carmel for that arranged night for tomorrow.
I had spoken with them earlier when they asked if they could hitch a ride back to San Francisco with me and Jane.
They both knew the guy who they caught a ride to get to Carmel and have a luncheon with Clint, had to make a quick return because he had to work that evening.
The other two guys wanted more of a timeout with Clint, hence, the three of us had full knowledge that our sleeping bags were needed in that makeshift garage slash--if one would call it that--and one of our wardens had pigtails.
I was told,
To meet a tadpole,
Who slept on the slop,
Near the north pole.
Done! I said
And went ahead,
Marching in the freezing dead.
I walked, I hopped
And I stopped,
realized,
My mind's plot.
A dream's fantasy
But comforting in reality,
A solo journey
Travelled in sleep.
there was a young toad named Joad
who began life as a mere tadpole
one day it is said
he ended up dead
the protein in a Blue Heron’s casserole