Beware the Frogman

I had a request to re-blog an older post I had made a few months ago…  enjoy!


Thanks to Devious Bloggery  for inspiring this bit of silliness with his blog today- Field Guides and Frogmen.

I love creepy urban legend tales of the unexplained!


Here’s your story on the misadventures of Missy Barton Devious Bloggery! You have most certainly given me the giggles! I hope you find it ribbiting! (heehee!)

Beware the Frogman

Erstwhile upon an epoch…


Squeaky Miss Missy Barton, was not use to living a life so strictly spartan,

She decided to go a jumping into reedy Isabella Lake, wearing her only plaid Tartan.


She was a few days older than just sixteen ,and maybe a smidgen and a speck, or just a bit naive?

Not to mention wide-eyed, innocent and sore gospel aggrieved.


Oh how she fancied those fairy-tales so exquisitely penned,  living so brazen with pinks and in purple sin.

But she wickedly dreamed nightly, of castle knights who would touch her rosy chagrin.


Whilst exploring the lake on a hiking odyssey, she heard the provocative ribbit cacophony.

Humming it’s pleasure to the strings of her young high pitched heart’s frail modesty.


Sitting prestigious there on a sun warmed rock, she found him washing out his colorful socks.

This Frogman, bare web was sitting there looking dashing and all dapper in his tight fitting frock.


Turning her direction and catching her glance, he flipped out his tongue to flash with a lewd jiggy dance.

Delight escaping by contagious giggles, they could only adore fate for this rare happenstance.


Then jumping up close to spring up beside her, he burped a hello hoping for love, and to inspire.

Puckering his wet lips like in her fairy stories told, and cajoling a tease for a gentle reminder.


What could it hurt just this one simple kiss?

If there is magic afoot, he could then be her charmed prince!

Leisurely leaning into a painted slime smile,

and giving it her darnedest to make it worthwhile!

The longing and loving tongues tried to played,

but Missy has never kissed a prince or frog since to this day!


The jesters and bards try to tell it all in song,

of the day Missy from Isabella Lake got it terribly wrong.

Of course the Frogman took his wet sloppy kiss,

but now Missy must live with the memory and regretfully reminisce.


When one meets the Frogman and with him you cavort,

the only magic that happens is you end up with warts!








Alternate Reality


In a rush to things nocturnal

To meet you there forever eternal

I leave behind what no longer serves

In fantasy there is a swerve

Upwards curve of smiling cheeks

Happy eyes doth thou leak

A orbital parallel dream universe

A conscience awakened, no longer immersed

If only in dream to feel you near

Is my temporary consolation, for you my dear







Sing Little Cricket

Tiny dancing cricket

Will you sing for me

Seek alphabet rain

To set me free

From the worldly cares

That are troubling me


Sing little cricket

Please, for me

My heart is broken

My love may never be

I need your song

It may hold the key

To skip time back

When I lived carefree


Sing little cricket

Sing just for me

Mend my heart

With heavy hearted melody


Sing little cricket








Lonely Love

How do you banish a lonely memory from seasoned mind?

The one that keeps you locked away, with me continuing to pine?

How do you escape from a loud sadness that threatens to echo eternal?

The quietness of dispair, its hush so loudly verbal?

How do you evade insanity’s escape of alluring intoxication?

The mad drunken carousel, spinning me crooked into scale damnation?

How do you hold on to sagacious faith, that you will one day return?

Finding beautiful ruin of sanctuary, it’s walls possessed of knowledge unlearned?

How do you not hear my leaden prayers arid with their smudgy tears?

Crying in need of your safety, ready for you to appear.




Butterfly Fancy



A creature of secrets,

One that never reveals

Believing nomadic life

Is one that is ideal


Abandon peculiar curiosity

Spurning all those who judge

Stalking, arms distance

Before pretty warblers begrudge


Cares of shabby shrubbery

Are scintilating delight

Kissing children’s noses

Their imagination takes flight











Painting Cake

Bake me a breath

That paints my skin

Delicate of brush stroke

Blushing gourmet flavors

Leaving you wanting

Withered wanton

For taste of more


Your delectable

Famed artistry

Turns my old bones

Liquid in passion

More than they were

In giggled youth

Knowing that you

Crave my recipe




Paper-Heart Chains



Or so we are taught

The heart to obscure

From expressive wrought


Fashioned by words

Scissor a paper heart chain

Delicately crafted

Interwoven twain


Clever romance

Each heart crafted unique

Finds our inner beauty

Jeweled mystique


But when we lose

Where we shield

A broken heart

Sometimes never heals









The Creek



Through ancestral woods exploring, I found a creek today

It was well hidden, but I was led to it by soft mossy pathway

Unable to resist the temptation to feel it’s wetness on my skin

I stepped into its shallows and I felt the magic begin

Cool clear water delights my toes

As it’s eddied memories slowly past me flow

Remembered knowledge of my brief youth

Startle me with its echoing truth

I’ve grown so ignorant in my advancing age

Or perhaps, gone numb with each years turning page

I’ve ignored the genius of my young innocence

Instead I’ve adopted a burnt char of exhausted brittleness

I’ve been looking so long, at all the wrong solutions

While muddying my name with a society’s pollutions

Now feeling the water carry away the dark energy toxins

Moisturizing my center, I can now see my options

If I could only stay here and in the water play

Let it hydrate me clean, and wear weary troubles away

I might be able to touch the little child, that’s inside me hid

Let her teach me my old ways, the ones before that I had forbid

And then with rapid clarity, and a sure certainty of truth

I realized this is the secret, I had in fact discovered the fountain of youth

It’s not a actual potion, or a hidden wishing well

It’s a feeling you capture inside, a remembrance, that’s the magic spell

We stay young through our heart, not though someone else’s eyes

But it’s with a unguarded child’s grace, that we are immortalized