PROMPT: Write a poem about a species of frog.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Green lungs and long tongues,
we bathed under a thousand suns.
Our skin breathes, our skin stuns,
slick wet and dressed in neon fun–
Run!
Run from the burnt son.
Beware the weight of his thumb,
listen for the beat of his drums.
BA DUM!
BA DUM!
BA DUM!
Our heart beats, we choke on fumes.
Give up the poison we consumed,
to coat sharp tips, aid in his hunt,
so that his triumphs might be sung–
Run!
Run from the pale son.
Beware the weight of his thumb,
listen for the crack of his guns.
BOOM!
BOOM!
BOOM!
Green rots where red blooms,
ash settles where gold once loomed.
No tears left for a barren womb,
our nest is gone, a tomb for none–
Run!
Run from the blind son.
Beware the weight of his thumb,
listen to the click of his phone.
SNAP!
SNAP!
SNAP!
Green lungs and long tongues,
I bathe under his fake sun.
My skin breathes, but it doesn't stun,
slick wet and stressed, but nowhere to run.
I mourn, not for my home,
but because what once was O N E
is now
a l o n e
YOU ARE READING
The Other Side of the Mirror: An Anthology
Поэзия❝ Let us dive in deep, past our smiling reflections. ❞ A collection of my occasional forays into poetry, mostly revolving around themes of identity and connection (to others or ourselves). A lot of these pieces were written for prompts, which will b...
