Bubble sucking lungs
Dual life wet wigglers
Teapot hiding spot ?
lying on lilies
lazy and luxurious
feed my senses curious
listen to my pond
drips and drops a harmony
rain on tadpole colony
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
That was December!
One tadpole swimming alone
In the blue spa.
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
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.
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.
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.
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.
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
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
in the slow river
pressed flat against the bank
tadpole flirts
4/6/3
Little tadpole
wanting to run and leap too early,
how does it feel
trying to breathe
when your lungs ain’t there yet .
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
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.