Frogola

[billy]

My first poem here, be brutal please - I want to get together a book of verse and this will be the first of many.

2nd review - thanks to flourescent and Billy for some great input

Frogola

When it rains outside and the night choirs grow:
while the crickets sing high,
the frogs sing low.

But where do they go when they're tucked in their beds? for me this is too ambiguous a suggestion is to make an allusion to frogs above and be literal in this line [ and the croaks are low]
and what are the voices they hear in their heads?
How loud are the screams that echo their dreams,
the sighs and the moans of the life in between?

Who gives them warts on their necks and their hands?
Whose legs do they eat? this is quite clever.
What fate will they meet?
Which prince will they kiss to make him their own,
where do they go when their frogging is done?

If I were you my little friends,
I'd make this vow to make amends,
with the green blood splattered green blood?
on the cold roadside
and the twitching arm
trying to stay alive.

Because from the dark there are eyes that peer,
amphibious ears that long to hear
of a hardened tongue
a wicked stare
crooked hands
that will lay a snare...

For whoever owns that
sorrowless,
merciless,
cruel and incompassionate glare;

will find his end on a gondola,
while the night creatures doom him
to Frogola.

Original
Frogola

When it rains outside
and their choirs grow,
while the crickets sing high,
the frogs sing low.

But where do they go when they're tucked in there beds?
And what are the voices they hear in their heads?
How loud are the screams that echo their dreams?
And the sighs and the moans of the life in between?

Who gives them warts on their necks and and their hands?
Whose legs do they eat?
What fate will they meet?
Which prince will they kiss just to make him their own,
and where do they go when their frogging is done?

If I were you my little friends,
I'd make this vow to make amends,
with the green blood splattered on the cold road side
and the twitching arms trying to stay alive -

Because from the dark there are eyes that peer
and amphibious ears that are longing to hear,
of a hardened tongue and a wicked stare,
and crooked hands that will lay a snare.

For whoever owns that
sorrowless,
merciless,
cruel and in-compassionate glare;
will find his end on a gondola,
while the night creatures doom him
to Frogola.