Long Croaky Poems
Long Croaky Poems. Below are the most popular long Croaky by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Croaky poems by poem length and keyword.
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
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
Her silky hairs were shiny gold
The graceful face innocently glow
Half closed eyes, celestial and soft
The half parted lips twinkle a smile.
Face mirroring images of the mind
Swimming in her own dreamy world
Sweet images of angels and friends
Dancing and clapping their little hands.
Heaven showers petals, snowy, red-
Pink, rose, blue, violet and yellow.
A deer and a calf brisk on the lawn
Love birds chirping to their steps.
A peacock dances with feathers spread
Parrots in flocks tune their tongues
While playful rabbits flapping their ears
A frog croaks short croaky croaks.
The angels touch their tiny hands
With each touch two wings were grown
Each wings shine, jewels and gems
And the angels take them to the stars.
The glittering stars in glee hug the kids
Gifting aplenty shiny jewels to each
Kissing their dimpled cheeks so sweet
As the moon showers its snowy rays.
With lots of joy this fleet flew around
As the birds flew to join their songs
A sweet fragrance of milk and honey
The air so cool and flowers all around.
As the rooster blew its alarm so loud
The little kid’s lids flickered to a wake
And wondering where the angels gone
She back to slumber clinging to her mom
Out of a hole near a pond so small,
A baby frog gives a croaky call.
But mama frog is nowhere around—
A snake lies waiting; dangers abound.
The baby frog peeks out of the hole—
It knows its fate—no frog would console.
With fear, it leaps out into the pond;
From there, it finds a way to abscond.
It doesn't know snakes crave a bigger meal;
That hole is all the snake came to steal.
Who knows—a big frog might soon hop by.
Such juicy meal no snake would deny.
It's the next morn the baby frog knows
In a nearby snake, mama's soul goes.
Only luck will shield him from their jaws
Even if he hops without a pause.
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
?
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.
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
...Can you stop my
tears?
Can you take away my
fears?...
Everyday I cry
Everyday I try
To make a sense of it all
And see the height
above the wall,
Yet I see nothing there
So I resume my crying
here!...
Life is so unjust
To me it has given dust
To others it gave gold
So much that I need not
to be told.
Am I suffering for a
crime
Which my fathers had
done before time?
Or is it my little sins
That is giving me these
in milk tins?...
Help is the greatest of
my needs
Cos every second my
heart bleeds
From the agony of my
situations
Which has been for
generations!...
So out of my teary eyes
Bringing out streams of
waters cold as ice!
I look up to heaven
Which they say
numbers seven
And cry aloud
As much as my croaky
voice allowed...
...Can you stop my
tears?
Can you take away my
fears?...
In a land of troubadours and song,
A young man dreamed he would belong,
With heart afire and passions strong,
He set out to join the throng.
He practiced every single day,
Learning scales and melodies to play,
And practiced singing in every way,
Hoping his talents would soon sway.
But when he joined the troubadour's guild,
He found his hopes and dreams were killed,
His voice was croaky, his songs were shrill,
And his rhymes would make your ears feel ill.
The other troubadours mocked his skill,
And called him "wannabe" with a thrill,
But he refused to let their words still,
For he knew he had a different thrill.
He turned to comedy and satire,
And found his voice began to inspire,
With humor and wit, he set the fire,
And his listeners soon began to admire.
So he may not be a troubadour,
But his poetry still has allure,
With comic lines and laughter pure,
He knows his calling is to endure.