Flash challenge - froggy!
- Thread starter Liar
- Start date
Liar
now with 17% more class
- Joined
- Dec 4, 2003
- Posts
- 43,715
2 more hours before I close the....well...the official flash challenge. Or something. 
Of course, what you do with this thread after then is out of my hands. I might decide to do more of those thingys, and collect the results somewhere, possibly on the website I'm procratinating on building. Then I'll let you know that replying equals consent to take whatever I found here and run with it.
But since I didn'ty say that this time I'd need your "HELL YEAH!" do to so with this lot though.
#L
Of course, what you do with this thread after then is out of my hands. I might decide to do more of those thingys, and collect the results somewhere, possibly on the website I'm procratinating on building. Then I'll let you know that replying equals consent to take whatever I found here and run with it.
But since I didn'ty say that this time I'd need your "HELL YEAH!" do to so with this lot though.
#L
Angeline
Poet Chick
- Joined
- Mar 11, 2002
- Posts
- 27,173
This is very serious
Froglet
To croak or not to croak: that is the question.
Whether it is nobler in my tiny green mind
to suffer a more outrageous fortune than this,
or take arms against a field of petals
and by opposing them, slip the fuck off.
To die: to lull amid the pond no more,
and by such lull to say I end the pattering ache,
the untold natural shocks my flesh might take:
I could be falling off the rocks or lily pads.
Is this floral consummation devoutly to be wished?
To die, to close my eyes; lulled to amphibian sleep:
Aye there’s a grub I’ve yet to eat and in my night
what dreams may come? Another bog? A flower
not so tall? When I have shuffled off this soggy soil
will you pause? Where’s respect that makes calamity
of my tenuous green life? I bear these stems and thorns
of time, of your disgust, all law’s delayed for frogs,
you are unjust, advance no patient merit to my unworthy takes,
and I mostly in quietus make this soft croaking heard
with a bare bodkin. (Or maybe fardels, I’m not sure,)
But even the smallest creature grunts and sweats
under a weary life. Still, that dread of bloom
beyond the bud, that undiscovered brackish gloom
from which no frog returns, puzzles my will
and makes me think that maybe I would rather
bear the ill of one sore arm than leap to the unknown.
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
and thus the verdant hue of resolution
is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of fear,
and if I could I’d hop away from here, but I’ve
been turned awry and lost the name of action.
Froglet
To croak or not to croak: that is the question.
Whether it is nobler in my tiny green mind
to suffer a more outrageous fortune than this,
or take arms against a field of petals
and by opposing them, slip the fuck off.
To die: to lull amid the pond no more,
and by such lull to say I end the pattering ache,
the untold natural shocks my flesh might take:
I could be falling off the rocks or lily pads.
Is this floral consummation devoutly to be wished?
To die, to close my eyes; lulled to amphibian sleep:
Aye there’s a grub I’ve yet to eat and in my night
what dreams may come? Another bog? A flower
not so tall? When I have shuffled off this soggy soil
will you pause? Where’s respect that makes calamity
of my tenuous green life? I bear these stems and thorns
of time, of your disgust, all law’s delayed for frogs,
you are unjust, advance no patient merit to my unworthy takes,
and I mostly in quietus make this soft croaking heard
with a bare bodkin. (Or maybe fardels, I’m not sure,)
But even the smallest creature grunts and sweats
under a weary life. Still, that dread of bloom
beyond the bud, that undiscovered brackish gloom
from which no frog returns, puzzles my will
and makes me think that maybe I would rather
bear the ill of one sore arm than leap to the unknown.
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
and thus the verdant hue of resolution
is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of fear,
and if I could I’d hop away from here, but I’ve
been turned awry and lost the name of action.
Virtual_Burlesque
Former Ecdysiast
- Joined
- Mar 31, 2004
- Posts
- 4,083
A poem incomplete without its illustration.
By the suckers on my toes
and the fate I presuppose
Lest I slip into the woes
which the waters don’t expose
Hanging safe above my foes
that the lily pond bestows
For so long I hold this pose
then the conflict onward flows
Life and death I’m in its throes
by the suckers on my toes
Edited to Add: Illustrated Version.
By the suckers on my toes
and the fate I presuppose
Lest I slip into the woes
which the waters don’t expose
Hanging safe above my foes
that the lily pond bestows
For so long I hold this pose
then the conflict onward flows
Life and death I’m in its throes
by the suckers on my toes
Edited to Add: Illustrated Version.
Last edited:
