All Those Years of Having 9th Grade Parents Spell Onomatopoeia for Extra Credit Paid Off with Yesterday's #VerseLove26 Poetic Prompt

I know my mom hates April when the blog is poetry and not more narration, but I think this one  she'll like as it is a classic from our childhood (and her childhood). She has even more of her mother's wit (my grandmother). The prompt was to take an animal and write a poem using onomatopoeia. Well, this was a no-brainer as I grew up hearing the ways my grandmother would describe the frogs singing at the lake. Her stories were central to a joyful childhood, and in craft the frame around her singing frogs, I remembered the big hats (and now I can smell the room and see her face-painted styrofoam wig heads, too). And I'm sneezing because of, well, dust, and Mr. Nu. 

I also started to think about Grannie Annie in her chair, feet up, in the same way my mom does it today. I just wish my mom had the lake to look out to from her recliner. 

Yesterday was a long day on campus and today I am thinking I need to pin myself in my own chair for grading. There's a million things piling up and I want to get the overwhelmed feeling to a medium whelmed. Also celebrate Dr. Betsy Bowen's Father Von Arc award for community engagement. Such an honor to applaud a shining star on campus, especially as she retires. 

Meanwhile, the frogs.   

When We Were Pollywogs

b.r. crandall 

raised 

on a lake 

with horny

frogs

I’m in the mood

I’m in the mood

I’m in the mood

lying

under her 

giant brimmed

hats with 

purple & pink

laces.

Not tonight!

Not tonight!

Not tonight!

listening.

wondering.

hearing

the night’s

naughtiness

within a 

red cabin.

Bosoms! 

Bosoms!

Bosoms!

 

croaking up

with the

poetic way

she knew

her world.

Shut up, Kids. 

Shut up, Kids.

Shut up, Kids

until we did…

…falling asleep

into our dreams.