Long Frogs Poems
Long Frogs Poems. Below are the most popular long Frogs by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Frogs poems by poem length and keyword.
The Beauty of Nature
Greener fields I saw from today
Birds flying in the sky with happiness
Trees are dancing with the soft winds
Words are not enough to express my gratitude
Because of the beauty I saw in front of me
Cricket’s sounds I heard within
Frogs jumping from a distance
Grass scattered everywhere
It’s truly the beauty of nature
That God created for us to care
Mountains looks so calm in sight
Moon and stars so bright at night
Clouds so white we see during the day
I appreciate God's gift and I'm so happy
my 5th poem on PS :)
For PD's "Any Poem #5" Contest
3RD PLACE WINNER
any poem # 11 Poet Destroyer A
my 5th poem on PS :)
For SKAT - OZ "5th poem, you have post on the soup" Contest
When eight years old we went to Africa
we spent a couple of weeks in Dar-es salaam
then we moved to Dodoma for two years
It was a magical place for me and my sister
we were right on the edge of this small town.
There were leopards living under two miles away
nightly our bins were raided by these big cats.
We did not often go out after dark for fear of them
in daylight it was a different story we roamed freely.
Our parents sometimes took us to the local dam
where when low it was a small cracked mud pool.
underneath the cracks were hibernating fish
along with frogs and lots of wringing things.
Our dog Kim used to visit the neighbour
carrying back totally unhurt chicks and ducklings
she just wanted to show them to us
the neighbours used to panic at first.
Until they realised big as she was she meant no harm
they would sit in her mouth cheeping quite happily
It was the best place to grow up and we were sad
to leave it but Dad got promoted back to Dar
which was the capitol in the early fifty's
we lived in Oyster bay very near the ocean
Most days we played in the beautiful Bay
at low tide we searched the reefs
finding all matters of things like squid
I often wish I could turn back time to then
Empress Ladybird lived in Moss Wood, in a huge, hollow of an oak tree;
In domestic comfort, with all her dear children, beyond the entry, leafy.
Empress and her mate had parted, when they'd resolved to move on;
However, she would live to love again, like spring when winter's gone.
Empress was all things that a ruler should be, like Queen Anne's lace-
Always fair and kind to subjects, in the green, forest kingdom of grace.
Fireflies and frogs made up the forest family, and visited at olive even,
When black pearl, shadows at last had flourished, silver stars increasin'.
They lived in the house of butterfly moon, when all earth grew drowsy;
In deep stillness, broken solely by whispers-very typical of the country.
The path by their pretty door held primroses, in golden, songbird days;
And yellow poppies were present as well, underneath pink, cloud sprays.
Native, nimble deer and nightingales were neighbors, sighted at noon,
In the middle of daytime's narration, steps ahead of full, scarlet moon.
Hedgehog cacti resembled the prickly namesakes, in summers of swelter,
And burgundy pansy dressed up in frills, enchanting they who beheld her.
Red butterfly wing plants formed dense swarms, upon a bustling breeze;
As starfish cacti lit up sable nights, with red, cream and beige tendencies.
Lucky Empress had numerous children; and youngest of all was little Ann.
The siblings kept house, when Mother went out, and Ann also lent a hand.
On a Monday, Empress was at the Council of Cherries, in sweet summer;
When a subject screamed, 'Ladybird, ladybird fly away home!' Bummer!
'Your house is on fire and your children are gone! All except one, and her
Name is Ann, and she hid under the baking pan.' she said. Day gone sour!
Empress still reigns in Moss Wood, for her subjects were able to rebuild,
After a fire, fueled by lightning. Her older kids got married, on Berry Hill.
Empress misses her children, but accepts that it is the way of the world;
And she takes comfort in sweet little Ann, like evening's moonlight pearl.
Unfettered mind in the deepest night,
files on batwings to immense new heights.
While nestled dreamers immersed in sleep,
meet with night things in dreamtime’s keep.
Crickets and frogs will lull them to sleep,
shadows playing about pulls minds into the keep.
Therein they will find eyes glowing bright,
owls and bats, cats with nocturnal sight.
The cadence of the unseen rings loud and clear;
twisting and entwining all through the ears.
disguised faces, places will play in obscurity;
twisted scenarios, reel in caliginosity.
In murky compendium stories will swarm,
riding dark horses and onyx unicorns.
A curious note, these night things can teach;
then enter one’s dreams and attach like a leash.
Archetypal patterns, sound, smell and sight,
gather together and may give one a fright
but, there’s always a message, quite loud and clear;
pay attention to dreams, never show any fear.
For guidance is given all dreamers alike,
don’t wait until life fails you with a rigid strike.
Learn to discern the esoteric meanings
and apply it securely for life’s new beginnings.
Uncle Pete agrees to take his great grand-nephew fishing to Lake Mare.
I don’t have a pole, Larry says. No prob, says Pete. We can share.
I’ll make my own rod, the nine-year-old says, and grabs a twig of a stick.
Uncle Pete is decked out in expensive duds; his fishing tackle box is thick.
Look! I caught one! Larry yells! Flinging a giant bass out of the lake.
This startles Pete who thinks “this must have been a little mistake.
But Larry keeps flinging catfish, walleye and groupie out of the water.
His plain inexpensive fishing rod just gets hotter and hotter.
Uncle Pete is sitting on a rock, staring at frogs on rocks.
Thinking he should have worn his lucky crocks!
Larry offers to trade places, so Uncle Pete will have a chance.
But Pete didn’t have luck there either and did the “poor me” dance.
If I say I love you, what does it mean?
Is it just something physical, a sexual thing?
Is it just what I feel when I feel my blood surge,
When you reach out to touch me, a physical urge?
That can't be love, it's just chemistry.
It cannot be based on biology.
For sure we all know that's the way it begins;
But if that's all there is then it will soon end.
When the newness wears off and things become old,
Then boredom sets in and the lamb leaves the fold,
In search of new pastures and new, sweeter grass;
So listen and learn be ye lad or a lass.
Love is a deep and emotional thing,
That grows over time, not just a short fling.
It's something so precious, something so rare,
Most find it but once so shop with great care.
You'll kiss many frogs 'fore you find a prince.
It's an old saying, yes, but it makes lots of sense.
Don't jump at the first one that may come along.
They'll woo you and lose you with an old but sweet song.
Set your sights higher for it's a sure bet,
One values the most what is hardest to get.
Rain drips as windchimes sway
Fog penetrates porch and all
Today no chance of outside play
Only on the porch while raindrops fall
Roosters desperately
Try to bring up the sun
As tree frogs croak sadly
Soft rain pitter patters doesn't run
In the distance, train whistles
It exclaims dinosaur remnants
Railway doesn't play a big part
Train only lingers in one's heart
Yesterday one could ride the rail
Maintain a lifestyle of freedom
On the open trail
Sway with the click-t-clack
As one road the train's strong back
Acquaintances once came fast
Decay set in now thing of past
Things change; life goes on only on God's track
It's April and stately trees are slowly
changing from white to green;
skies above look down cheerfully,
into the small lake tiny frogs plop
as balloons float over a tree top:
" Happy Birthday, Little Queen! "
If spring is the annual rebirth of Nature
and human spirit, all must sing one tune...
incited by the bright red butterflies that lure:
they dance forming the big ring of Neptune!
April is more than showers
and lovely dew-dripping flowers,
grin is forgotten, laughter reappears
on everybody's wind-brushed cheeks;
one happy passerby greets
another with revered courtesy:
each soul, each heart pours
out a sweetness of amicability!
If a talented young musician played
the Mozart's piano sonata in D major,
each butterfly would begin to dance
with the liveliness of a skilled ballerina!
If the heartthrob maestro exuded
thrill he'd be tempted to raise an octava higher:
a curious crowd would quickly gather,
then all butterflies would swirl around Angelina!
Kids are funny poets in disguise
Needing, wanting, blessing every day
From Sticks and stones
To climbing trees
Everywhere I go kids are running
Leaping out, playing hopscotch
Using high voltage of imagination
From bubble gum
To singing songs
Chasing frogs, children are so much fun
Bouncing balls and jump rope
Having the time of life every day.
From short box of sand,
To hand shadows on the wall,
Painting and decorating-
-an everlasting moment
A gleeful smile on every face
Kids are funny poets in disguise
Touching, feeling, sharing every day
From dreaming of candy
To wanting hugs
Playing outside in the rain,
Jumping in puddles of mud
Easy to satisfy with love
From merry go rounds
To down the slide
A born poet in disguise
Navigating the world,
through the best form of imaginary
From rough and tough
To - sharp and sweet
Dirty little fingers
Imaginary friend
Flying kites and frisbees
Kids are funny poets in disguise
Feeling, crying, yelling their hearts out
From chickenpox
To having the flu
Scared, on their first day of school
Scraping knees - kisses, please
Sometimes kids feel more than grown ups do
Kids are funny poets in disguise
Giving life the perfect meaning
~10-25-15~
The twilight brings a gentle breeze
that rustles the leaves above me
where I sit on a hill overlooking a vast meadow
of purple asters and flowering orange butterfly weeds
I'll wait here to watch the sky change
from light blue gray to red and orange
as the sun slowly falls
behind a thin red-threaded horizon
where the first glimmer of a star appears
and the sound of crickets start their melody
shades and shadows dance through the meadow
as the setting sun begins to fade away
and a quarter moon rises in the northern sky
as the sky blackens stars become more visible
and the meadow has darkened
while fireflies start their nightly lamp-lighting
and the sound of frogs are heard in the distance
telling me it's time to leave