Pollywogs Poems | Examples

Govern Or Ness

New York pollywogs are all wet
Each of them need to see a vet
Now Ida has gone
They're stuck on the lawn
And no one wants a slimy pet

Loose Magic

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.

Cry Key

When Lady Gaga's French bulldogs
Stoked half-a-million squealing hogs
The canine corps
Knocked on her door
With countless tails like pollywogs . . . .

Frog Prince Chooses

He is so dapper and dashing! The ugliest dames said.
One of them on board now, as her husband was dead.
One old toad gave her the cold eye and a shove to her head.
These toads in waiting had learned at court, ‘twas how to get ahead. 

The pollywogs were listening, and they began to titter.
The tadpoles being born were swimming fast in their bowl litter.
A mature frog had just swallowed a moldy fly that was bitter.
Her counterpart smirked, for she had almost grabbed up that critter.

The frog prince walked down the aisle and looked at the throng.
To select a young froglet would be lecherous and probably long.
There were hard looking women singing a preening fine song.
He stood in front of one who was not hideous and said “come along.”

The prince has chosen! The Royal Court said, with a murmur.
It was Prissy Per Persnickety Frog Puzzle from east of Bermer.
He married her quickly and rapidly whisked her away.
In a sleigh fashioned from cattails; it was his last lovely day.

She Is My River I Am Her Guardian

I stand by the river watching her happiness
Her frogs, and tadpoles, pollywogs too
Minnows gather around my roots, tickling me.

My days are filled with pure happiness 
Sun rises at my back, warming my neck 
The river feels her too, and we smile at each other.

Catfish, bass, and blue gill swim around
In the shadows of her deep waters, 
Tiny snakes slither around on her surface

Sometimes they slither up my hill
And touch my toes, showing me a tickle.
I love that; it makes me feel closer to her.

She is my river, and I am her guardian.
I love being here, close to her, watching her.
I guard her while I sleep, listening to her gurgles.

There is an occasional splash, usually a catfish.
I am her willow tree, she is my river.  We are content.
I cannot imagine nirvana could be any more peaceful.

They Will Sing

tiny pollywogs 
unique metamorphosis 
chirping night chorus

A Balm So Smooth

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.

The Pond

early morning pond
young boy wide-eyed-
pollywogs and frogs.

Pollywogs

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.

Go On Back

Go on Back....

Sit among the dandelions
listen to the bees
thank the broken pavement
for the scars upon my knees

walk along three decker canyons
in a sticky August haze
hop within the hopscotch chalk
a dance form to amaze

hit some rocks with a long flat stick
raise hands shouting “Going, going gone”
throw some rocks at a lily pad
in a muddy road side pond

catch a frog, chase butterflies
play fetch with a mongrel dog
use your fingers as a net
and chase the pollywogs

run a stick along a picket fence
hear a train in the slow “click-clack”
pull the cord, blow the whistle
“All aboard” we’re going back…..


John G. Lawless
©7/23/2018

The Fish Are Biting

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

Notice the Pieces

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

Crossing the Equator Haiku - Every Sailors Tale

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.

Transformation

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

Summer

Egrets wade a pool
Lazy summer pollywogs
Wriggle to get free


6/8/2017

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