Frogola

[zeichnicht]

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?
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?
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
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.

[fluorescent.43]

When it rains outside
and their choirs grow, whose choirs?
while the crickets sing high,
the frogs sing low. this stanza doesn't contain great imagery, but it's got potential. watch the run-on sentence-- i'd add in a periodd after L2 and cut the "and".

But where do they go when they're tucked in there beds? "But" isn't necessary, i think. typo: their beds.
And what are the voices they hear in their heads? these first two lines don't quite make sense (but i know what you're trying to say). where do they go when they're in their beds? well, they're in their beds. what are the voices in their heads?-- they're voices, that's what they are. don't think that's what you want to say.
How loud are the screams that echo their dreams? do you mean "echo in their dreams"? i like this line. evocative.
And the sighs and the moans of the life in between? i'd cut the articles except for "the sighs" to stream-line it a bit.

Who gives them warts on their necks and and their hands? that would make them toads, right?
Whose legs do they eat? whaaaat?
What fate will they meet?  last two stanzas have too much questioning in them. mix the structure up a bit, and you'll be rewarded with a more interesting poem.
Which prince will they kiss just to make him their own, isn't it the princess?
and where do they go when their frogging is done? i'm starting to scratch my head at the direction this poem is going in. is this meant to be serious?-- even the title is messing me up.

If I were you my little friends, i don't think "my little friends" is necessary.
I'd make this vow to make amends, "this" should be replaced with "a", i think. unless you're talking about a very specific vow.
with the green blood splattered on the cold road side roadside.
and the twitching arms trying to stay alive - "the" isn't necessary. i like this stanza, but still not sure where you're going with... everything...

Because from the dark there are eyes that peer i'd clean this up to be something like "from the dark there are peering eyes".
and amphibious ears that are longing to hear, "that are" clogs it up a bit-- what's it trying to hear?
of a hardened tongue and a wicked stare,
and crooked hands that will lay a snare.

For whoever owns that
sorrowless,
merciless, don't think you need the commas.
cruel and in-compassionate glare; i do think it's uncompassionate. but this is a nitpick.
will find his end on a gondola, why the gondola? are we in Venice?
while the night creatures doom him
to Frogola. is this whole poem a fantasy? i feel like i've been led on a wild goose chase. why introduce "Frogola" in the last line? leaves me hanging.

.~*~.
i enjoyed reading this poem. it just... confused me to high hell. as the author, you're not obligated to tell me your intentions, but after reading this several times, i'm quite convinced this is about a depressed frog. is it a metaphor? make it a bit clearer. the poem could use some basic cleaning up of a few wordy parts, and the rhyming scheme doesn't feel too forced but is erratic. good luck if you intend to assemble your poetry!

43.

[zeichnicht]

Thanks flourescent, some really good feedback. The poem is supposed to be fantasy and quite tongue in cheek, the clue is in the title. Frogola does not exits, it is a mythical place I invented. It's basic black comedy for kids

Will be doing a review based on your suggestions.

[fluorescent.43]

oh. well, that explains a lot. i feel horrible now for having treated it as a serious, metaphorical poem. oops. sorry! now it makes more sense.

[zeichnicht]

No worries, some great input -busy editing it now. http://www.pigpenpoetry.com/images/smili...mbs_up.gif Some lines I cannot remove as it messes with the rhythm of the poem to not have them there - I will try to find a better way of fitting them in though that they count. It should be more evident from the word go what it is about, trying to remedy that somehow.

---

OK finished editing, I tried to make it more meaningful in the way it is structured. Some edits I could not make without comprimising the rhythm of the poem - for example "little friends". Thanks so much for the input - looks cleaner already. Checked incompassionate - it is in the Merriman dictionary and does not need a dash my spell checker reads it as an error though :/
American vs UK English I think?

[billy]

the first half is prtty okay the latter half feels the worse for the mishmashed meter. it has a nursery rhyme feel to it that works well wit the content.

i mention something about the format of the 1st verse, here's an example.

Where do they go when they're tucked in their beds?
and just what are the voices
they hear heard in their heads?

just an example; the meter can be laid down in many ways but i do like how you did it in the first verse. the main thing is the meter, it needs to be as perfect as you can make it.

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

you asked for it; it's fucking shite, please leave...just kidding i haven't read it yet ><

1sr review - thanks to flourescent for some great input

Frogola

When it rains outside and the night choirs grow:
while the crickets sing high,
the frogs sing low. this would be a good format for most of the verse you have.

Just where do they go when they're tucked in their beds? no need for just, it screws with the meter. who are they?
What are the voices they hear in their heads?
How loud are the screams that echo in their dreams, no need for their, again it cocks up the meter
and the sighs and the moans of the life in between? same with [and] it's shags the meter

Who gives them warts on their necks and and their hands? two ands in this instance are not better than one
Whose legs do they eat?
What fate will they meet?
Which prince will they kiss just to make him their own, no need for just; same reason maybe a period and delete the [and] on the next line
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 roadside
and twitching arms trying to stay alive - the meter here as gone to cock. [you were doing pretty well with it till this point]

Because from the dark there are eyes that peer
and amphibious ears that are longing 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.

[zeichnicht]

Legend! I will make a vow to make amends!

---

the first half is prtty okay the latter half feels the worse for the mishmashed meter. it has a nursery rhyme feel to it that works well wit the content.

i mention something about the format of the 1st verse, here's an example.

Where do they go when they're tucked in their beds?
and just what are the voices
they hear heard in their heads?

just an example; the meter can be laid down in many ways but i do like how you did it in the first verse. the main thing is the meter, it needs to be as perfect as you can make it.

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

you asked for it; it's fucking shite, please leave...just kidding i haven't read it yet ><

1sr review - thanks to flourescent for some great input

Frogola

When it rains outside and the night choirs grow:
while the crickets sing high,
the frogs sing low. this would be a good format for most of the verse you have.

Just where do they go when they're tucked in their beds? no need for just, it screws with the meter. who are they?
What are the voices they hear in their heads?
How loud are the screams that echo in their dreams, no need for their, again it cocks up the meter
and the sighs and the moans of the life in between? same with [and] it's shags the meter

Who gives them warts on their necks and and their hands? two ands in this instance are not better than one
Whose legs do they eat?
What fate will they meet?
Which prince will they kiss just to make him their own, no need for just; same reason maybe a period and delete the [and] on the next line
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 roadside
and twitching arms trying to stay alive - the meter here as gone to cock. [you were doing pretty well with it till this point]

Because from the dark there are eyes that peer
and amphibious ears that are longing 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.

Thanks for the comment seems I cocked up the meter when I tried to fix my first edit. I have done an edit trying to fix it. So I need help with the following, in the second stanza "their" refers to the frogs, I thought I had made this clear by using the clue in the title and also differentiating in the first stanza between the frogs and the crickets. I added "But" to give the reader a clue as well - is this enough - I don't want to repeat the word frog again. I will work on the meter in the poem some more, but it is 3am and I need to get some sleep before I write another slutty poem

[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.

[tectak]

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
Hello ziec,
I deliberately avoided the words of the wise and have not read what lead up to this edit...it's just because I am partial to frog fantasies (http://www.pigpenpoetry.com/thread-14865...gs+confide) that I decided to wade in to this pond. My first unabridged crit would, though, be on the indecisive structure which swings about like the load on a cantilevered crane; always in danger of toppling (the thing is too long) and never sure where to settle. Is it a nursery rhyme? Is it a major metaphorical piece? Is it  prose, free-verse (whatever that is), blank verse or just plain incompetent? I cannot decide..In text may tell you why.

Frogola It is a fun fantasy.It could not be otherwise with this title. Oh goody

When it rains outside and the night choirs grow:
while the crickets sing high, No need for the second affirmation of simultaneity. "when" and "while" are equal in intent but by this duplication you over-beg a question. While and when what?
the frogs sing low.

But where do they go when they're tucked in their beds?
and what are the voices they hear in their heads? Dangerously close to an overused cliche...otherwise known as a pop song. Where do you go to my lovely, when you're alone in your bed? Won't you tell me the thoughts that surround you...I wan't to look inside your head. Hmmm.
How loud are the screams that echo their dreams,
the sighs and the moans of the life in between? Sounds good. Rhymes intermittently enough to be serendipidously selected. Do you want this to read easily or is the irritation of one question after another serving some higher intelektuil purpose...if so, It is beyond me

Who gives them warts on their necks and their hands?
Whose legs do they eat?
What fate will they meet?
Which prince will they kiss to make him their own,
where do they go when their frogging is done? I don't know, I don't know, I don't know...you can give me a posset of pentathol but still I DON'T KNOW. Frankly, the "whose legs eat/fate will meet" seems forced when so resoundingly unnecessary.

If I were you my little friends,
I'd make this vow to make amends,
with the green blood splattered
on the cold roadside
and the twitching arm
trying to stay alive. Wha! Wh? Huh?Where did this come from? What point is now  being made? About now, this poem should end.

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... This is now padding on the road to nowhere...see, I can mix metaphors. Why begin with "because"? Who asked you anything? And you have not finished yet. If you could pull this in to a tight knot you could perhaps secure a tidy ending...as it is you seem to flailing about pointlessly. I really do believe that the poem ended a stanza ago. Sometimes less is more. Continually trying to get rhyme rewards is unbecoming but worse, it is addictive in us all. You need to take a view. Try reading this WHOLE piece out loud to a Vogon...here's a tissue

For whoever owns that
sorrowless,
merciless,
cruel and incompassionate glare; Impassive maybe. Why the semicolon?

will find his end on a gondola, All your own fault for calling the piece "Frogola" . Saved from the rhyming menace by a boatman born in Venice. Harrumpphh.
while the night creatures doom him
to Frogola. Phew. Was it worth it?

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.

][/b]

[zeichnicht]

This is why I love and need this site so much Thanks for the effort reading this through! Think this may be beyond salvation, I may give it one last winning effort sometime because I can see what is going on with it in my head and I love the poem, obviously did not communicate it well. Will rest my poor squashed frog for now.