The Forgetful Frog #30: Musings

The Forgetful Frog
By The Forgetful Frog September 20, 2017 12:55

All of my hair has turned gray.
The reason, I can’t really say.
Old age it can’t be
Since I’m just 53
And expiration is decades away.

I could dye it brown, I suppose.
But my vanity that would expose.
A girl shouldn’t care
The color of her hair
Since a rose is a rose, is a rose.

It’s one’s heart that really does matter.
If a woman you are seeking to flatter,
Tell her she’s kind,
I think you will find
That her ticker will go pitter patter.

I’m writing to avoid the debate
But already, it may be too late.
Candidates are sparring,
The earth they are charring,
Difficult our system not to hate.

Why can’t we all get along?
Why always the swan and the song?
Can’t we work together
And as a team weather
The tv show and not get the gong?


In the quiet of my living room, I am musing over the ironies of my life. In particular, at this moment, my lifelong aggravation with repetitive noises. I have never been able to have a windup clock or watch. The ticking simply drove me nuts. Now, inside my chest, 24 hours a day, the audible ticking of a mechanical heart valve. I try to ignore it. When that’s impossible, I try to appreciate its life-saving role. How strange, that such a miraculous human invention, solely responsible for my continued existence, can be so irritating. How small minded this makes me feel.

In some unidentifiable manner, my personal small mindedness seems to reflect my political disappointments. Several frightening unknowns, and mysterious manufactured solutions. Fear on both the personal and world stages. In order to function, I have begun to consciously set aside my fears and disappointments. There is no point in my fretting. Curl up under a fuzzy blanket and crochet…soft, colorful yarn…scarves for kids who don’t have any.


There once was a sad vegetarian
Who wanted to be a grammarian
Prepositional phrases
were among all her crazes
She ate them like vultures eat carrion.

She was sad ’cause she missed pepperoni.
She missed hot dogs, steak, and baloney.
A good sentence could save her,
In fact, make her braver,
And keep her happy with just macaroni.

She decided to face up to her trouble
And not live inside a sad bubble
But when she asked for advice,
People sent rice,
And her sadness, it threatened to double.

Words make grammarians happy.
Be they tragic, boring, or sappy.
A sentence well-written
Can make one become smitten,
And improve a day previously crappy.

To be continued…


Rose Oaks is a foothills resident in her 50s who writes with the help of a computer tablet and speech-recognition software. She hopes that her notes on coping with disability will help others facing difficult challenges know they are not alone. Read more Forgetful Frog blog posts at this link: Readers’ Journal.

The Forgetful Frog
By The Forgetful Frog September 20, 2017 12:55
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