Love Songs Of A Bull Frog (part Two)

Love Songs Of A Bull Frog  (part Two) long poem

Photo by c.j.b

Let us go then, you and I… Let us go then…
Tired? Surprisingly, we have been saying this
a hundred years. It haunts. The hallucination
continues. No, it leap-frogs. Eliot was dead before
I was born, before we were born. How is it we can
understand him? How is it that line, those lines
from an imagined Prufrock, a self-laughing,
self-diminishing bull frog, self-muttering semi-bald,
semi-profound verses, can leap-frog the time barrier
or death pond-mirror to mesmerize us. Sink us deep,
deeper into unseen depths… Where are the dimly lit,
ungrammatically lighted rooms, hazy, warped, sex-galloping
in a half-muzzled, semi-timeless way, trying not to remember
that thing called ‘guilt’, extracting confessions from protagonists
kicking inside poems, psycho-analyzing a bull frog and in turn
being psycho-scrutinized. They surrender and release,
almost symbolic like a mini-Big Bang. It implodes the glasses
and nano-mind-mirrors sustaining this world. The ego cracks.
Splinters like magic shows into ribbons of rainbow. The fragrance
of brownish nipples, whitish curves, butterfly loves freezes in mid-air
for seconds. The aroma and closed-eyed glimpses seem to dissipate
in slower and slower seconds, perhaps funnelled into a different kind
of memory. Not sure whether they are real or unreal. Only know
we try to act heroic. Sweats remain. Telling the shaded stories of our hearts,
trying to escape into the lingering perfumes that blend
with our odor, guilt, fears, ecstasies, amid half-speaking concerns
about burning a big hole in hidden pockets …

Soon the mall closes. Everybody is gone. Only a pillow of womanly mists
in our recollection. Soft, refused to be forgotten, trying to yawn without tomorrow.
Now, always now, vanishing over the fleshly mounds
of fair-skinned valleys. Evaporate and return as after-sex dew drops
dripping from the half-smiling, half-angst-shadowed lips of a dream.
Perhaps images of beauty, joy, innocence, masked truths
teasing us when we projected after-images on them.
They hide and keep hiding behind little smiles and huge
laughs behind our backs. We comfort ourselves. We are all haunted
by evanescent skin-deep good looks, afraid of wrinkles, of being semi-bald.
Sooner or later, our bones are placed on that platter.
Glimpse deeper. Another kind release planted by our Creator –
atheists and skeptics laugh. Bluntly said, we treasure this escape Route
when we step across the abyss of fear and find it shallow,
like a weightless cloud under our feet
that hike across high hills, forsaking our earthly
Achilles heels, sweat-stained, sleep-kissing,
angels-caressing when we learn to call ourselves
a bull frog. Hope Eliot doesn’t mind this centennial string
of celebrations – throwing sparkles on some of his immortal
lines. Well, we never get pass that first line…

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (1 votes, average: 3.00 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Profile photo of Merton Lee

Merton Lee

Signup / Login to follow the poet.
Merton Lee is the author of best-selling ebooks (a) One Thousand Gifts (Where Is God When It Hurts?) published free on Smashwords website, and (b) When Bad Things Happen to Good People (God is biting the bullet theodicy) . He is the well-known author of the Christian articles 'Footprints in the sand (New version year 2013) ' and 'Let's do something beautiful for God'. His poem 'The Road Not Taken' is read by thousands of readers.Born in Singapore in 1969, he is a Christian essayist for the past 10 years. He has studied, reflected on and practised the key insights of the perennial wisdom of Christianity and the major religions for 30 years. He works as a senior Accountant and Finance Manager for more than 20 years in the public sector, contributing his best years to public service.He graduated from the National University of Singapore in 1993 with a Bachelor's degree, studying Philosophy, English Literature and Economics. He also obtained Masters degree in Business Administration majoring in Finance from UK (University of Leicester) and another Masters degree in Accountancy from an Australian University with distinguished results, qualifying as an Accountant. He is married for more than 20 years with two children. They live and work in Singapore.
Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

Be the First to Comment & Review poem!

Notify of

A Silence On The Night.

A Silence On The Night. long poem

A silence on the night. The day fluttered quietly in whisper soft resonance, So many colours slowly dying Like confetti in the rain, And echoes touched each other, a reunion of themselves, As though they were astounded At their resonating

What Asylum!

What Asylum! short poem

Come and meet me in chamber of death where the tempest comes every night. I start disrobing the anger to find the eye of the moon. Where do I get that ink that writes an unwritten poem on water of

A Big Idea?

A Big Idea? short poem

The moral dilemma was unlearning. less than truth. Downgrading the- branded witch. Vaccine was spawning new virus. O Buddha, why did you started looking beautiful and began sitting in a living room? Trailing the smoke I was going to find

Upon Thy Inchoate Manifestation…

Upon Thy Inchoate Manifestation... long poem

(as imagined by this lumpenproletariat) When no bigger then innocuous, ho hum, happy go lucky generic black whole sonny and cher full pinhead size zit, thine pluperfect promising mysterious seat of pants whodunnit wordlessly wise wedded waywardness writ partly apportioned,

Addition – Life Through Others

Addition   Life Through Others short poem

Addiction to harmless Is accepted Addiction to harmful Is not advisable Addiction is submission Which involves Imaginations Addition is Pollution Which involves Revolution Addition is attraction Which involves Affection Addition is a fiction Which involves Correction Addition is a caution