Bri's First (Of Two?) February 2022 ' Showcases ' Of Poems I've Enjoyed On Poemhunter...[ Smile As You Read It ] Poem by Bri Edwards

In my heart/mind are fond memories of snakes and frogs,
which I might find at pond edges, in grass, or on top of logs.
In my youth I was no real fan of either household dogs or cats.
I'd prefer wild animals to catch, or just view, perhaps even big rats.

The chosen poems are mostly gathered from Poem Hunter's collection
... of poems listed under 'frog' (topic) poems, but I experienced no detection
... of 'frogs' at all, at least as far as I read, in some 'frog' poems. For goodness sake!
I hope YOU will read at least MY 'frog' poem. It's not as long as my one 'bout a rat, Jake.


(January 30th,2022)

Bri Edwards aka Brian Whitaker

;)

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Here are the Poems (thanks to me and other poets, living and dead, represented on this site) .
I believe there ARE a few typos (aka typographical errors) in at least one of these five poems, but EVEN I, Bri Edwards, make typos; ...........REALLY, but RARELY! :


1 -


' King Bri! ' He Croaked.....[ Humor/Humour; 'Love'/Sex; Inter-Species Relationship; Fairly-a-Tale; Medium; Inspired By A 'Friend' ]



NO lowly frog ‘prince' am I, my dear,
but a KING! Have I made that clear! ?
AND I'm not so lonely as you may think,
as little female frogs lead me to the brink …
of sexual ecstasy each and every night,
AND please don't tell me I'm not right!

You are a human gal, and I've not had one,
but together in my Bog kingdom we'll have fun.
Solitude is not good for you, oh no, SO ….
come visit me at the bog. I'll start slow.
I'll clasp you good with my suction cup feet,
and my long frog tongue will be your treat.

My croaking may have caused you ire,
but once we've started, you'll never tire …
of my froggy friendliness. I'll be your sire,
and satisfy your ever-wished-for desire.

I've made room for you on my lily pad;
it ain't the Ritz, but it ain't so darn bad.
You nearly guessed my secret, my dear,
but I'm NOT a ‘prince'. Let's both be clear …
on that subject!

You've promised me a kiss and I'll submit,
as long as, when you kiss, you swap NO spit.
We'll rule the bog, together hand-in-hand,
and create frumans to fill all the Bog land.

For certain, as you think I was a cute tadpole,
I'll let you in on a secret which gave me the role …
of KING around this glorious, though muggy, bog,
and made me the Big Daddy of each new frog.

Perhaps, my dear, you learned in biology class …
that tadpoles start with a tail …..near their ass,
and as they grow the tail fades away somehow,
but with ME it just moved a bit and grew like WOW!
[Unlike the other male frogs in this here bog,
I've got a friendly froggy-cock, near as big as a log.]

So, come my dear, enter my Kingdom; don't be shy.
Tonight we'll dine on worms and for dessert: FLY!

Bri Edwards Monday, August 17,2015

Topic(s) of this poem: love


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2 -

The Frog And The Crow


The frog sat by the peaceful pond
and marveled at the frilly frond
but said nothing.

That silly frog just didn't know -
approaching was a sneaky crow
that was hungry.

The crow swooped down and grabbed his head -
oh, fateful moment of pure dread
for the frog!

It happened on a cloudy day.
The frog had nothing much to say;
he just croaked.


Cowboy Ron Williams

Friday, January 21,2022

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3 -

The Frog


Be kind and tender to the Frog,
And do not call him names,
As 'Slimy skin, ' or 'Polly-wog, '
Or likewise 'Ugly James, '
Or 'Gap-a-grin, ' or 'Toad-gone-wrong, '
Or 'Bill Bandy-knees':
The Frog is justly sensitive
To epithets like these.

No animal will more repay
A treatment kind and fair;
At least so lonely people say
Who keep a frog (and, by the way,
They are extremely rare) .


Hilaire Belloc

Tuesday, December 31,2002

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4 -

The Frog And The Nightingale


Once upon a time a frog
Croaked away in Bingle Bog
Every night from dusk to dawn
He croaked awn and awn and awn
Other creatures loathed his voice,
But, alas, they had no choice,
And the crass cacophony
Blared out from the sumac tree
At whose foot the frog each night
Minstrelled on till morning night

Neither stones nor prayers nor sticks.
Insults or complaints or bricks
Stilled the frogs determination
To display his heart's elation.
But one night a nightingale
In the moonlight cold and pale
Perched upon the sumac tree
Casting forth her melody
Dumbstruck sat the gaping frog
And the whole admiring bog
Stared towards the sumac, rapt,

And, when she had ended, clapped,
Ducks had swum and herons waded
To her as she serenaded
And a solitary loon
Wept, beneath the summer moon.
Toads and teals and tiddlers, captured
By her voice, cheered on, enraptured:
'Bravo! ' 'Too divine! ' 'Encore! '
So the nightingale once more,
Quite unused to such applause,
Sang till dawn without a pause.

Next night when the Nightingale
Shook her head and twitched her tail,
Closed an eye and fluffed a wing
And had cleared her throat to sing
She was startled by a croak.
'Sorry - was that you who spoke? '
She enquired when the frog
Hopped towards her from the bog.
'Yes, ' the frog replied. 'You see,
I'm the frog who owns this tree
In this bog I've long been known
For my splendid baritone
And, of course, I wield my pen
For Bog Trumpet now and then'

'Did you… did you like my song? '
'Not too bad - but far too long.
The technique was fine of course,
But it lacked a certain force'.
'Oh! ' the nightingale confessed.
Greatly flattered and impressed
That a critic of such note
Had discussed her art and throat:
'I don't think the song's divine.
But - oh, well - at least it's mine'.

'That's not much to boast about'.
Said the heartless frog. 'Without
Proper training such as I
- And few others can supply.
You'll remain a mere beginner.
But with me you'll be a winner'
'Dearest frog', the nightingale
Breathed: 'This is a fairy tale -
And you are Mozart in disguise
Come to earth before my eyes'.

'Well I charge a modest fee.'
'Oh! ' 'But it won't hurt, you'll see'
Now the nightingale inspired,
Flushed with confidence, and fired
With both art and adoration,
Sang - and was a huge sensation.
Animals for miles around
Flocked towards the magic sound,
And the frog with great precision
Counted heads and charged admission.

Though next morning it was raining,
He began her vocal training.
'But I can't sing in this weather'
'Come my dear - we'll sing together.
Just put on your scarf and sash,
Koo-oh-ah! ko-ash! ko-ash! '
So the frog and nightingale
Journeyed up and down the scale
For six hours, till she was shivering
and her voice was hoarse and quivering.

Though subdued and sleep deprived,
In the night her throat revived,
And the sumac tree was bowed,
With a breathless, titled crowd:
Owl of Sandwich, Duck of Kent,
Mallard and Milady Trent,
Martin Cardinal Mephisto,
And the Coot of Monte Cristo,
Ladies with tiaras glittering
In the interval sat twittering -
And the frog observed them glitter
With a joy both sweet and bitter.

Every day the frog who'd sold her
Songs for silver tried to scold her:
'You must practice even longer
Till your voice, like mine grows stronger.
In the second song last night
You got nervous in mid-flight.
And, my dear, lay on more trills:
Audiences enjoy such frills.
You must make your public happier:
Give them something sharper snappier.
We must aim for better billings.
You still owe me sixty shillings.'

Day by day the nightingale
Grew more sorrowful and pale.
Night on night her tired song
Zipped and trilled and bounced along,
Till the birds and beasts grew tired
At a voice so uninspired
And the ticket office gross
Crashed, and she grew more morose -
For her ears were now addicted
To applause quite unrestricted,
And to sing into the night
All alone gave no delight.

Now the frog puffed up with rage.
'Brainless bird - you're on the stage -
Use your wits and follow fashion.
Puff your lungs out with your passion.'
Trembling, terrified to fail,
Blind with tears, the nightingale
Heard him out in silence, tried,
Puffed up, burst a vein, and died.

Said the frog: 'I tried to teach her,
But she was a stupid creature -
Far too nervous, far too tense.
Far too prone to influence.
Well, poor bird - she should have known
That your song must be your own.
That's why I sing with panache:
'Koo-oh-ah! ko-ash! ko-ash! '
And the foghorn of the frog
Blared unrivalled through the bog.


Vikram Seth

Wednesday, March 14,2012

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5 -

! The Frog Prince


As I was walking through the wood
One warm and sunny summer day,
I chanced upon a lovely sight
A swirl of butterflies in flight;

Urged on by curiosity,
I followed down the path they flew
And tumbled through a hidden door
Beneath the leafy woodland floor;

A wondrous sight did then appear
As if by magic to my eyes,
And there within a hollow log
I spied a very princely frog;

Nestled deep within that place
Of musty darkness shone a light,
And there I saw as I did look
A princely frog with poem book;

Lounging in his comfy space
With spectacles perched on his nose,
The frog prince reading unaware
Of being watched as I stood there;

So engrossed within his book,
He did not notice as I sneaked
Behind his chair on velvet feet -
Then all at once our eyes did meet

He dropped the book into his lap,
Complete surprise upon his face -
I turned to run and he did follow
Leaping from his hidden hollow

Swift I ran around the tree
And hiding, waited patiently
And soon he lept upon a rock
And then this frog began to talk;

'My dear, within your book I've read,
Your songs of love and gratitude,
Your tales of woe, of joy and such
I must admit, I like it much! '

But there is one thing I would ask
If I may only be so bold,
Now would you please consider this,
And place upon my lips a kiss?

Well, I believe in fairytales
For heaven knows I've read a few,
And if my memory serves me well,
A little kiss might break the spell;

So, pucker up you ugly frog
Let's get this done while in the mood,
I closed my eyes and then did place
A kiss upon his slimey face;

It wasn't bad, he tasted sweet!
I can't believe I kissed a frog!
My eyes did open then and see
A handsome prince smile back at me!

The prince of poets had been freed,
No longer bound beneath the spell -
And in his freedom I did find
A gentle prince, sincere and kind;

He offered then to mentor me
As poet prince, no longer frog -
And I of course said 'yes' and more...............
That day beneath the woodland floor.


Linda Ori

Tuesday, July 3,2007

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