Week 5: Tadpoles

Hello! So, it is week five of 52 poems, one poem every week of the year. I wrote a poem about mirror gazing, one invitation for my sister to come to Manchester, one poem about tram travelling, and this week it is a poem about frogs. The instruction was:

Choose an animal. Observe it as closely as possible in the wild or a zoo or aviary. Then become it. See it and live it. Look at it, touch it, smell it, listen to it, turn yourself to it.

You can find the full post here of Jo Bell’s amazing blog, her prompts are consistently intriguing! This week the guest prompter is David Morley and I’m liking the inspirations.

My thoughts on choosing an animal were, let’s write about frogs. Recently visited the Manchester Museum Vivarium, where they have many tiny adorable extremely colourful and rare frogs, you can sponsor a frog! I also thought about Jean Sprackland’s poem The Birkdale Nightingale in her collection, Tilt, and the vulnerability of frogs:

‘Or she’ll spawn in a footprint filled with salt rain
that will dry to a crust in two days.’

Finally, I went swimming and floated in the warm water and tried to think myself frog-like. It worked kind of well in that I stopped thinking about frogs hopping and started thinking about frogs swimming, and how they become somewhat more graceful…

And here is what I wrote…this is the first draft, editless!

The air is boundless, bickering, jostling I wait for the beckon a noise a move then hoist into water weightlessness sudden breathless this world pond scum water skaters elegant skirting flaws flow as I glide all eyes skin legs and tadpoles under the lilypads hiccup in the shadows murk thoughts the darting dark and ceaselessness human hands cursing us hoping for cures sucking poison from sacs to blow each other up big as a river flood downpour these wet times we savour lick and meaty mud

 

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