I ... entered the poem of life, whose purpose is ... simply to witness the beauties of the world, to discover the many forms that love can take. (Barabara Blackman in 'Glass After Glass')

These poems are works in progress and may be updated without notice. Nevertheless copyright applies to all writings here and all photos (which are either my own or used with permission). Thank you for your comments. I read and appreciate them all, and reply here to specific points that seem to need it — or as I have the leisure. Otherwise I reciprocate by reading and commenting on your blog posts as much as possible.

2 June 2015

Celebration of the Green Tree-Frog

The small frog squats at night
in the track of the sliding door,
hunched below the level of the glass.
Lamplight turns him brown;
his eyes are amber beads.
He is carved stone
watching the moths.
They flutter above him,
little brown leaves
falling against the flywire
and twirling off.

In daylight the frog is green,
sticky and shiny with big webbed feet,
transparent as a leaf.
On top of the water tank
in the gap between pipe and filter,
just where the rain spills in,
he rests and celebrates.
When storms lash and the pipe gushes,
we hear from his tiny throat
a pulsing, continuous drum-beat
heavy and huge and deep.
19/2/96 - 21/8/00

Resurrecting this old poem because I had occasion to post this photo in a facebook group today. This pottery frog was given to me by a friend in Texas in 2006, after he heard me recite the poem. (It looks more blue than green in the photo, but that's a trick of the camera.)

Of course, the Aussie ones look more like this

Sharing at Tuesday Platform, 'imaginary garden with real toads'.


  1. This is such an exquisite poem.. you have captured the characteristics quite beautifully.. :D
    Loved the picture! :D It must be such a memorable souvenir!

    Lots of love,

  2. I love this green froggy poem so much! I can almost hear the pulsing beat, "heavy and huge and deep".