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Poems On / About FROG  8/1/2014 6:49:03 AM
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Finch & Frog

The finch trills in the apple tree
His: Tiriliree!
A frog climbs slowly up to him,
Up to the treetop's leafy rim
And puffs right up and croaks: "Hallooo,
Ol' chum: see, I c'n do it too!"

And as the bird his song of spring
So sweetly to the world doth sing,
The frog chimes in with sassy tones
And interjects his bassy drones.

The finch exclaims: "O Joy, hurray!
I'll fly away!"
And springs into the azure sky.

"Hah!" cries the frog, "Well so kin I!"
He makes a most ungainly bound
And splats onto the bare hard ground.
He's pancake flat, and that's no joke:
He's croaked his very final croak.

If someone climbs laboriously
Into the branches of a tree
And thinks himself a bird to be:
Wrong is he.
Wilhelm Busch

Read more poems from Wilhelm Busch >>>
Read more: frog poems, tree poems, spring poems, song poems, joy poems, sky poems, world poems



The Old pond

the brook stream out to the valley that looks
old and clumsy, where the old pond
rooted the crystallized water mixed with
droplets of rain

sweet melody flows with therapeutic chime
echo the silent moment of day; calling the
little Dragonfly to catch the beautiful flower of
Lilies as the jiggle frog spare high notes for
a choral rendition of song to lie

window looks open wide and see the monsoon
rain wait to play, now the moon wind has
just come as swing the twig of the sun down to
jump into the pool and the beautiful frog enjoy
its stay

fall back the roof that leak, the sun has reach the
meadow and say goodbye, leaving the pond
a sweet memory for everyone, the old that
return the new to become the only one pond

as you water the old shadow of the new glory; the
point has yet to flame the beginning of the new
and wonderful cloth of shinning vessel of
crystallize spirit living in you

witness the frog in the old pond; same melody
sang as the water flows into the stream of unending
face of today..........be on your way
Antonio Liao

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The Frog and the Fly

One day a frog woke up,
To see to his delight,
That the swampy bogs were swarming
With flies beyond his sight.
He snuck up on one surprisingly fat
And crouched down very low,
Then flicked his tongue as the paw of a cat,
But missed and caught his toe!
Now, this was not a normal frog, like those who give up fast.
No, this was a very clever frog, and liked to put it in his past.
So he tried again once more
To get the little flies,
But these black little balls of germs
Have 200 eyes!
Ry Weeks

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La Rana (The Frog)

I sit on a boulder in the Trinity River and make peace with my fear
of the bear. I will leave it here with the tadpoles around my ankles,
speckled stones, tall grass and the frog’s eyes just above the surface.

I will try to sit in stillness like that frog and watch water rush over fallen firs,
duck my head to avoid a swallowtail flying into me. One eye
is on a garter snake swimming S’s and the other on a lizard

beneath the coolness of a redwood shadow. There are greater
fears out there, a parent’s death, a terrorist’s threat. The river deafens
all sounds save the truth of rapids, the croak of a frog, the splash of a foot.

Maria Garcia Teutsch
Maria Garcia Teutsch

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Poems On / About FROG