I wrote this poem from the perspective of the frog/prince. It was super fun to write!
(To be read in a high-brow English accent if possible).
Last night was some night, bro.
Prince of the gin, I was—
the least you could have done was
pull me back into the yacht.
Or better yet, next time, perhaps you could
save me from the gimlet fairies and their spells.
Oh, but you were too busy with your dear Meg,
weren’t you, Harry?
Well, let me fill you in on the adventures
which occurred after I tripped
over my new flippers and toppled
You can imagine my relief
shortly after the plunge
discovering I could breathe in water—
a fine thing particularly
as fifteen solid minutes
of croaking was not sufficient
to signal your assistance.
Finally I said to myself, William,
swim toward the lights of civilization.
At shore I followed a drainpipe.
Harry, you would not believe the stench
the bourgeoisie produce!
Nevertheless, a moving sight it was
to see that HoJo sign through a sewer grate.
Crisis certainly changes a man’s perspective.
I navigated my way underground
knowing the hotel would be full
of hard-working common ladies primed
for the promise of a royal life
and let me tell you,
little suction cups on the fingertips
are mighty handy inside a copper pipe.
I turned left toward a light
at the end of the tunnel, as the saying goes,
and never have I been more enraptured
than to come face to face with
a sparkling white porcelain bowl
and a charming maid with “Hazel” on her
gold lapel pin.
As it turns out,
the little suction cups are not
so effective in a whirlpool
and I exhausted myself
swimming hard anti-clockwise while
explaining her opportunity.
I did not go down easy.
In fact, it took three flushes
and a lively swing of the sponge
to shoot me through our kingdom’s fine
municipal water system
and back to shore
where you found me this foggy afternoon
dreaming of turning a Hazel
into a princess.