"trillin" poems
Sitting down by the pond the other evening,
Taking in the sunset and listening to how nature puts her children to bed,
I happened to notice my amphibian friends.
Now, I love sounds, loud ones, soft ones, booming, and whispers.
Got a right fetish for listening to nature.
As I sat there entranced, my ears started picking out different frog calls.
You know, them boy frogs trying to sound all handsome and friendly to get a wink from their girlfriends.
And not just the frogs either, ya know, there's some toads out there too.
I was hearing big ole Bullfrogs, boomin' louder than a drum in a parade.
Tiny spring peepers, with their loud high pitched sharp peeps.
There was Fowler's Toads out there too, sounding like ole Henry stuck a knife in his wife's chest, and she screamed for her life.
Them there grey tree frogs, well they are somethin'.
Chatterin' like a monkey missin' his bananas.
And don't get me started on those green frogs, boy howdy, they can twang with the best of em.
Right funny if you don't mind me saying.
But, that trilling those American toads do, out shining those short trillin' Western Chorus frogs evra time, is somethin' else.
Why they can hold a note pert near a full three minutes.
Never can tell how rich wild life is around ya til ya sit a spell and take a listen.
You may not see 'em out there, but shore nuf, life's a going on.
Oct 1, 2010
Oct 1, 2010 at 3:58 PM UTC
You’re Beautiful stirred my cockles
Made me blush
Although much more thrillin’ than Calvin Trillin
Your vers libre’ is so jaded mon cheri
You crave more
You deserve more
Like the snowflakes in the park
So why waste your virtue on knaves?
Let your fingers do the walking
Try groping the grotto
Nulling the void
Close your eyes and enjoy the moment
At least it’s *** with someone you love
Then enjoy the simpler pleasures of life
Write-on
Dec 29, 2010
Dec 29, 2010 at 2:16 AM UTC