The transformation poetry bus

This week's task is set by the stern taskmaster, Pure Fiction

We have to come up with a poem about transformation, any sort, person, object, whatever. In return, we get to ride the bus. Yee-hah!

Unfortunately, due to pressure of time, this week, I'm going to cheat and dig out a very old (and sadly, very long) poem wot I wrote about six years ago.

The Frog and the Princess

Through the wood the Princess skipped,
Along the brook she lightly tripped,
When down the grassy slope she slipped,
And landed in the water,
The noble royal daughter.

There she sat, immersed and freezing,
Breathless gasps all choked and wheezing,
Shivering in the river, sneezing,
As the mist descended,
When she was befriended.

“Are you all right?” a deep voice hailed her.
She turned to see who had regaled her,
As she turned, her senses failed her,
A frog with eyes a-bulging,
Though seemingly indulging.

“You seem nonplussed,” the frog imparted,
“When I spoke, you surely started,
And but I know that you’re kind-hearted,
I would not have spoken,
But continued with my croakin’.”

“Pl-please dear frog,” the princess stuttered,
“I scarce believe the words you uttered.
When you spoke my heart just fluttered-
My nerves have gone all tinglish.
How come you speak English?”

The frog replied, “Ah, there’s a story!
Full of evil, full of glory!
Graphic, violent, dark and gory!
You should have no aspersion
To hear the uncut version.

“A prince was I and once upon a
Time, I nearly was a goner,
When tragically, young Princess Donna,
A wicked witch deranged me,
Amphibiously arranged me.

“One hundred years I’ve spent here hopping,
Avoiding every rabbit’s dropping,
Waiting for a princess stopping,
Frightened lest she miss me,
Hoping that she’d kiss me.”

“Dear, dear Frog!” the Princess cried out,
“My whole world’s been turned inside out,
I thought that princes all had died out.
Come, let me caress you,
Earnestly impress you”

The princess climbed out of the river,
Gave a very little shiver,
Where the cold had chilled her liver,
And sat down in the rushes,
Startling two small thrushes.

The eager frog hopped down beside her,
Tasted her sweet lips of cider,
A little thrill ran down inside her,
Her mind was all a-fogging,
When they finished snogging.

The frog remarked, “That was fantastic!
Your lips are like a red elastic,
And no, I am not being sarcastic,
You really are terrific,
Greatly soporific.”

Donna said, “What’s the prognosis
About the erm metamorphosis?
Perhaps we should increase the doses?”
The Frog Prince nodded madly,
And so they set to gladly.

When the kissing ran its course,
The frog remarked in voice so hoarse,
“Love is truly wondrous sauce!
I praise your good intentions,
And all your kind attentions.”

“Hang on a sec!” the Princess gaped.
“You’re still amphibiously shaped!
Was it for nought my body draped
Around your clammy features,
Most miserable of creatures?”

The frog said, “You’ve misunderstood.
Your kisses, though they tasted good
Will not affect my froggyhood.
You see, my little treasure,
I did that just for pleasure.”

The princess screamed and ran off blindly,
Spitting all the while unkindly,
As the Frog Prince shrugged resignedly
Indomitably croaking,
Lying back and smoking.