Array ( [sid] => 184014 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => The Regretful Frog [time] => 2017-03-18 22:26:11 [hometext] => A wise Frog is never less alone than when he is alone [bodytext] =>

The only frog in a pond I chose for solitude

has granted me

the largest, softest lily pad,

the heartiest bugs,

so abundant they graciously (for me) fight

to gain proximity

when hunger finds my tongue in need

of a crunchy, tasty bite.

Indeed, I rest when effort calls,

why test this perfect life at all?

I hop from pad to pad at will.

Moon or sun could rise or fall,

it would seem, (is this a dream?)

in all things I have my fill.


But there is another pond,

the noisy boisterous one I left;

a tad to many there for me;

(another failed test?).

Across moonlit fronds between our ponds sounds float,

of late, now softened bickering and croaking

(I believe) from them to me,

upon the wind, nightly without rest.


And now, with all I have,

I look upon this lonely pond;

So much….so little!

do I have, can it really be?

Now I know why this is so;

Alone, alone,

I never let another frog know me.



[comments] => 2 [counter] => 102 [topic] => 61 [informant] => invierno [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => selfstruggles ) Your Poetry Dot Com - The Regretful Frog


The Regretful Frog
Date: Saturday, 18th March 2017 @ 10:26:11 PM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: invierno


The only frog in a pond I chose for solitude

has granted me

the largest, softest lily pad,

the heartiest bugs,

so abundant they graciously (for me) fight

to gain proximity

when hunger finds my tongue in need

of a crunchy, tasty bite.

Indeed, I rest when effort calls,

why test this perfect life at all?

I hop from pad to pad at will.

Moon or sun could rise or fall,

it would seem, (is this a dream?)

in all things I have my fill.


But there is another pond,

the noisy boisterous one I left;

a tad to many there for me;

(another failed test?).

Across moonlit fronds between our ponds sounds float,

of late, now softened bickering and croaking

(I believe) from them to me,

upon the wind, nightly without rest.


And now, with all I have,

I look upon this lonely pond;

So much….so little!

do I have, can it really be?

Now I know why this is so;

Alone, alone,

I never let another frog know me.





This poem is Copyright © invierno


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