My one and only foe,
A solemn day of woe,
I look back like a black, perched,
Crow.
A huge and green frog.
Perplexed by much fog.
All it sees is the land of Rog.
The need for celestial grog.
A soldier sees ahead.
Nothing but a still dread.
One man looks yonder.
Fake is the one of which
he is fonder.
He is in despair,
to find the huge
the green
the one perplexed by fog.
The frog brings hope.
The frog brings life.
The frog bring what the soldier is in scope,
for.
One of these frog’s mighty blows
Could summon that of which he woes.
A freedom few can tell,
A tale of totalitarian swell.
Nothing to dwell,
Simply a faint smell.
The soldier sees ahead.
Nothing but a still dread.
He looks yonder. Fake,
is one of which is no longer fonder
of.
The fog rests,
No one’s zest.
A heavy weight is finally
lifted off of his chest.
It is done.
This poem is very interesting and it really expands upon a fairytale ideal. "The frog bring what the soldier is in scope,
ReplyDeletefor." is astrong line and it just completes your poem.
I like your use of rhyme to make the poem flow better and have a natural rhythm.
ReplyDelete1. I like your usage of line breaks to split up ideas.
ReplyDelete2. I like the line "He is in despair,
to find the huge
the green
the one perplexed by fog."
3. I like the very mystic tone of the poem.