Frog English

"As random as Milkdud soup."

Our group would like to emulate formless, limitless and boundless poetry. At the same time we would like to present works that inspire us. From week to week will we feature a prominent modern poet and also present some of our group's original poems. Stay tuned for the classic madness.

Featured Poet:

Galway Kinnell

"Poetry is the singing of what it is to be on our planet."

First Song

Then it was dusk in Illinois, the small boy
After an afternoon of carting dung
Hung on the rail fence, a sapped thing
Weary to crying. Dark was growing tall
And he began to hear the pond frogs all
Calling on his ear with what seemed their joy.

Soon their sound was pleasant for a boy
Listening in the smoky dusk and the nightfall
Of Illinois, and from the fields two small
Boys came bearing cornstalk violins
And they rubbed the cornstalk bows with resins
And the three sat there scraping of their joy.

It was now fine music the frogs and the boys
Did in the towering Illinois twilight make
And into dark in spite of a shoulder's ache
A boy's hunched body loved out of a stalk
The first song of his happiness, and the song woke
His heart to the darkness and into the sadness of joy.

Original work:

Sunday, 3:30 p.m.

1.
(After Garden Work)

I'm buried flat in the dark
garden inside my head.
My eyes squinch behind
heavy, pollinated lids,
beneath a rag of warmed water
wrung out.

It will soon be Spring
and I will rise into the light
of Spring.

2.
(Personal Consumption)

For only 30 cents you can refill any size drink.
Meatballs and sauce fill my stomach.
Ronnie's cussin' a storm
and the rain pours into the streets.
Another bite and a sip,
another dash of red pepper will make this sandwich right.
The little kid runs across my jacket that the rain just soaked wet
and if I had to make a bet I would that I could
eat this entire sandwich.

3.

4.

This experimental poem was written by our group's four different poets capturing four different moments in time – all on Sunday, April 5 at 3:30 p.m.