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Open Poetry #34

Listening to the Frogs

Honeybunch
Member Rara Avis

since 2001-12-29

Posts 7115
South Africa

0 posted 2004-12-12 02:02 AM

At the edge I stand and listen
but I hear only the pain
of innocence confined
in the middle of turmoil.

In a summer evening’s cool
loud voices split the atoms
of my peace of mind
but only frogs; who really cares
they cry not knowing why
restricted they are now
to a man-made pond.

Too my steps curtailed
by the over run of progress
on the goodness of my soul
and of my own choosing
confinement over flight.

But choice is always made
thinking goodness will prevail
amidst evolution’s rumble
and the blood of my cut wings.

Chin deep I soon will drown
unless I plot a course
back to innocence,
the open door to more
and a stitch in time
for my broken wings.

In innocence I welcome you,
in innocence I love,
for if it were not so …
listen, look – that frog is me
confined forever groaning
in a man-created pond
of atoms split asunder
by the onset of progress.

But when I knock
the door stays locked
for the whispers of my soul
too soft and gentle to be heard
over the part that groans …
and croaks like a bullfrog
in a summer evening’s cool!

Huan Yi
Member Ascendant

since 2004-10-12

Posts 6688
Waukegan

1 posted 2004-12-12 02:10 AM

The old pond—
a frog jumps in

sound of water

Basho

passing shadows
Member Empyrean

since 1999-08-26

Posts 45577
displaced

2 posted 2004-12-12 04:20 AM

never really saw you as a frog...
love the concept

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