Here is a list of Last Viewed Fable Poems written by members. Read poetry, post your own poems or comments. Poems on these pages are copyrighted © by the authors who entered them. Click here to post a poem.
CONSTANCE
AT FIRST SIGHT I NOTICED THAT IN HER EYES -SHE HAS A LIGHT THAT HAS SEEN MORE THAN HER SHARE OF LIES - SHE IS SUBTLE & SWEET BUT WILL NOT SETTLE FOR A BACK SEAT FOR HER HEART FELT NEEDS ARE TO BE KEPT QUIET & NEAT - SHE QUIETLY BRINGS ONE TO THEY*RE KNEES & IS SHOCKED THAT HERE IS ONE WHO IS AIMED TO PLEASE - APPROPRIATE HESITATION SHE PONDERS HOW COULD THIS ONE BE SOO "CREED" TO WANT TO BE WITH HER TO LOVE & PLEASE HER & TRUELY NEED HER & JUST WANT HER FOR "WHO" SHE REALLY "IS" - IN THE LIGHT OF THIS RATHER SILENT LOVER HIS CREED IS JUST TO LOVE HER & TO SATISFY HER EVERY WIM & NEED - LIFE IS FULL OF MIS-FORTUNE & YET THERE IS FORTUNE IN LOVEING SOMEONE TO THE POINT OF BEING FREE - SO I SAY TO YOU "CONSTANCE" WITHOUT ANY DECIET -MY LOVE LOVE FOR YOU IS BEYOND ANYTHING I*VE EVER BEFORE PERCIEVED & IF I COULD HAVE ONE MORE WISH -IT WOULD BE TO BECOME SOMEONE ELSE TO COME IN LIKE AN ANGEL & GIVE WINGS TO FLY WITH ME & LEAVE THIS WORLD OF MISERY & TAKE YOU SOMEWHERE THAT "OTHERS" WONT MESS WITH OUR WANTS OR UNDYING NEEDS - JUST WANTED OUR LOVE TO BE FREE WITHOUT PRECONDITIONING -I*M SORRY -BUT I JUST WANTED IT TO BE YOU & ME WITH NO ONE ELSE SETTING US UP TO IN THE END -BE DECIEVED - I LOVE YOU CONSTANCE THELEMICKALY Z-93
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Aug 2016
About this poem:
MY LIFE IS TOO PHUCKED IN THIS WORLD OF COWARDLY DECIET TO THE POINT OF NO-END OF THIS DISCUSTING BULLSHIT WERE OTHER PEOPLE ARE JEALOUS OF THE TRUE HEART THAT HAS DONE NOTHING IN LIFE EXCEPT HELP OUT - SO YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE I*M CALLING YOU OUT - TO ONCE IN FOR ALL STRAIGHTN YOU PHUCKN FAGGOTS OUT & PHUCK YOU - I WON THIS 39 YEARS AGO - WHAT - ? YOU DID*NT GET THE "MEMMO" !!!!!!!!!!!!! I*M SORRY "CONSTANCE"
The Feast
The devil sets the table every day
A huge feast of the best foods you can imagine
Steak and lobster
Chicken breasts and French fries covered in cheese and bacon
Pizza with sausage, pepperoni, green olives and mushrooms
Cheese burgers and tacos
Chinese food and barbeque ribs
All of this and more
More than anyone could eat
Only
You have to use a four foot long fork
Only this utensil can be used to eat
The devil laughs at the people
He laughs at them starving in front of all the food they could ever want
In heaven the same feast is prepared every day
The same rule applies
You have to use a four foot long fork
Everyone gets plenty to eat
Because they have learned to feed each other
Just like they did when they were alive
The people in hell only helped themselves when they were alive
It would never dawn on them to feed each other
That is their curse
And that is why they are in hell
A huge feast of the best foods you can imagine
Steak and lobster
Chicken breasts and French fries covered in cheese and bacon
Pizza with sausage, pepperoni, green olives and mushrooms
Cheese burgers and tacos
Chinese food and barbeque ribs
All of this and more
More than anyone could eat
Only
You have to use a four foot long fork
Only this utensil can be used to eat
The devil laughs at the people
He laughs at them starving in front of all the food they could ever want
In heaven the same feast is prepared every day
The same rule applies
You have to use a four foot long fork
Everyone gets plenty to eat
Because they have learned to feed each other
Just like they did when they were alive
The people in hell only helped themselves when they were alive
It would never dawn on them to feed each other
That is their curse
And that is why they are in hell
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Dec 2016
About this poem:
I was watching Ms. Scrooge and heard this story told by a preacher. It is a retelling of A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens. My favorite retelling of this story is Bill Murray's Scrooge.
the perfection(master oshiba's lesson)
at night in the dojo,some monks had a chat about perfection.
the first said: be like an ocean of compassion!
the second said:have detachment to acquire a clear vision !
and the third:practice a perfect zazen to reach the knowledge!
no,no,no..replied master oshiba:
compassion is the worst form of selfishness if you're only able
to kiss the sandals of the first bagger on your path..
detachment,is the worst form of illusion:your wisdom will light up the dojo,but once at the market you'll be unable to compare two melons!
knowledge is the worst form of contempt,be a wiseman not a master,
practice zazen like unbereable little monkeys and you will be able
to compare melons !
the first said: be like an ocean of compassion!
the second said:have detachment to acquire a clear vision !
and the third:practice a perfect zazen to reach the knowledge!
no,no,no..replied master oshiba:
compassion is the worst form of selfishness if you're only able
to kiss the sandals of the first bagger on your path..
detachment,is the worst form of illusion:your wisdom will light up the dojo,but once at the market you'll be unable to compare two melons!
knowledge is the worst form of contempt,be a wiseman not a master,
practice zazen like unbereable little monkeys and you will be able
to compare melons !
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Aug 2011
About this poem:
you think its easy to compare melons ?..ha ha !desicions made otherwise
There was a small village.
Where happy people lived.
But when the vikings came, causing pain.
ransacked a town left burning but condemned by rain.
A youngster came along.
saw that all happiness was gone.
buildings blackburned and hidden zombies.
not able seeing the salvation of survival in their eyes.
in fact there has been no war.
everybody refused to help, or were to trembled by fear.
The war will never be won.
All the time after the disaster.
the young fellah, is still smilling.
unto the bitter angry chief of the village.
whinning: why are you laughing?
Oh I don't mean it that bad dear lad.
would I yearn for a time we once met?
could I not build it better than last time.
Why don't you consider time.
it's falling of your sleeve.
but ever since you are the killjoy.
and harbringer of happiness, you are your own thief.
but what could I possibly do?
well you could get the other mourners together.
bury corpses, making a bigger city.
building better strongholds.
So you might take a chance next time these savages appear.
enjoy life, it's short, but a mourning second never crawls back in.
it's lost for a lifetime.
Where happy people lived.
But when the vikings came, causing pain.
ransacked a town left burning but condemned by rain.
A youngster came along.
saw that all happiness was gone.
buildings blackburned and hidden zombies.
not able seeing the salvation of survival in their eyes.
in fact there has been no war.
everybody refused to help, or were to trembled by fear.
The war will never be won.
All the time after the disaster.
the young fellah, is still smilling.
unto the bitter angry chief of the village.
whinning: why are you laughing?
Oh I don't mean it that bad dear lad.
would I yearn for a time we once met?
could I not build it better than last time.
Why don't you consider time.
it's falling of your sleeve.
but ever since you are the killjoy.
and harbringer of happiness, you are your own thief.
but what could I possibly do?
well you could get the other mourners together.
bury corpses, making a bigger city.
building better strongholds.
So you might take a chance next time these savages appear.
enjoy life, it's short, but a mourning second never crawls back in.
it's lost for a lifetime.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: May 2010
Post Comment
Just another.
Silver threads of moonlight fallen,
Shadows echo shades of nights farewell.
Spiders eye a life now broken.
Sheathed in silence, ancient sounds now wake
Seems a promise, a tradition unbeknownst wont wait.
Brilliant fossil blind by faith, worn by fate.
Brings us love , brings us hate.
Brings us nothing. bring us bait.
Shadows echo shades of nights farewell.
Spiders eye a life now broken.
Sheathed in silence, ancient sounds now wake
Seems a promise, a tradition unbeknownst wont wait.
Brilliant fossil blind by faith, worn by fate.
Brings us love , brings us hate.
Brings us nothing. bring us bait.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Nov 2019
About this poem:
Started it along time ago. finished just now on here. wanted to put it to rest in my mind.a zen story
a famous warrior wanted to make a fun of master oshiba,
he asked:
honourable master,give me a good reason to spare your life !
master oshiba replied :
have you the power to keep your mind still,just a second ?
the warrior took his sword and killed himself.
he asked:
honourable master,give me a good reason to spare your life !
master oshiba replied :
have you the power to keep your mind still,just a second ?
the warrior took his sword and killed himself.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Aug 2011
About this poem:
thanx for your visit master oshiba...The Witch’s Secret
Sunken stones in an ancient wood
mark the foundations where a dwelling stood.
Within a ring of giant oaks
once stood that abode where darkness cloaks
the ground on which only toadstools grow,
and the forest creatures will not go.
They say an artful witch lived there,
who hid a formula somewhere
among the ruins of that site.
That place where even day is night.
I heard the story of that place
and went in search to find a trace
of that old secret that was hidden.
To the eyes of mortal man forbidden.
I fought through thicket, thorn and bush,
forever onward did I push.
Driven by my blind ambition
to find the witch’s weird prescription.
Suddenly my way was barred
by a ring of oaks, all standing guard,
and within my breast my heart did race
from fear of that infernal place.
Yet, on I went into the clearing,
forcing back my dread and fearing
of the punishment those trees might wreak
on that forbidden game of hide-and-seek.
Then heaving out a desperate groan
from heaving up a massive stone;
heart thumping wildly in my breast,
I beheld the object of my quest.
A wooden casket half rotted away,
yet still protecting from decay,
a parchment furled and rolled up tight,
there, before my wide eyed sight.
That precious scroll, worth more than gold,
by trembling hands was soon unrolled.
And in my grasp, before my eye:
a recipe for acorn pie.
As I knelt there on that cold, dank ground,
from the circle of oaks there came a sound.
A murmur spread from tree to tree,
those accursed oaks were laughing at me.
mark the foundations where a dwelling stood.
Within a ring of giant oaks
once stood that abode where darkness cloaks
the ground on which only toadstools grow,
and the forest creatures will not go.
They say an artful witch lived there,
who hid a formula somewhere
among the ruins of that site.
That place where even day is night.
I heard the story of that place
and went in search to find a trace
of that old secret that was hidden.
To the eyes of mortal man forbidden.
I fought through thicket, thorn and bush,
forever onward did I push.
Driven by my blind ambition
to find the witch’s weird prescription.
Suddenly my way was barred
by a ring of oaks, all standing guard,
and within my breast my heart did race
from fear of that infernal place.
Yet, on I went into the clearing,
forcing back my dread and fearing
of the punishment those trees might wreak
on that forbidden game of hide-and-seek.
Then heaving out a desperate groan
from heaving up a massive stone;
heart thumping wildly in my breast,
I beheld the object of my quest.
A wooden casket half rotted away,
yet still protecting from decay,
a parchment furled and rolled up tight,
there, before my wide eyed sight.
That precious scroll, worth more than gold,
by trembling hands was soon unrolled.
And in my grasp, before my eye:
a recipe for acorn pie.
As I knelt there on that cold, dank ground,
from the circle of oaks there came a sound.
A murmur spread from tree to tree,
those accursed oaks were laughing at me.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Apr 2019
About this poem:
The story of one of the quests of my youth.
Three Wise Monkeys
Many years ago when I was a child, I remember my
Brother going to the Easter Sow and bringing back
a show bag, it contained mainly sweets and
confectionary and also a small model of three
monkeys sitting next to each other the strange thing
was they all had their hands covering a different
part of the head, I found out later they were the
three wise monkeys who symbolised the three deadly
sins, see no evil, hear no evil and speak no evil, by
following these rules, people would lead the perfect
life. Even now I still remember back to that time
the three monkeys have since disappeared but
their memories and their message will live forever.
Brother going to the Easter Sow and bringing back
a show bag, it contained mainly sweets and
confectionary and also a small model of three
monkeys sitting next to each other the strange thing
was they all had their hands covering a different
part of the head, I found out later they were the
three wise monkeys who symbolised the three deadly
sins, see no evil, hear no evil and speak no evil, by
following these rules, people would lead the perfect
life. Even now I still remember back to that time
the three monkeys have since disappeared but
their memories and their message will live forever.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jan 2014
About this poem:
This poem is based on a real life experience, the legend of the three wise monkeys is true to my knowledge, and has great significance in our lives, it may be a Buddah statue I am not sure of it's actual origin. please enjoy this tale.Written: 18th January 2014
Title ed
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~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: May 2015
About this poem:
about ed fdslkjf dkslajfd slkjfdsklj fadksljaf dskljfadsk ljafdskafj fdslkjf dkslajfd slkjfdsklj fadksljaf dskljfadsk ljafdskafj fdslkjf dkslajfd slkjfdsklj fadksljaf dskljfadsk ljafdskafj fdslkjf dkslajfd slkjfdsklj fadksljaf dskljfadsk ljafdskafj fdslkjf dkslajfd slkjfdsklj fadksljaf dskljfadsk ljafdskafj fdslkjf dkslajfd slkjfdsklj fadksljaf dskljfadsk ljafdskafj fdslkjf dkslajfd slkjfdsklj fadksljaf dskljfadsk ljafdskafj fdslkjf dkslajfd slkjfdsklj fadksljaf dskljfadsk ljafdskafj fdslkjf dkslajfd slkjfdsklj fadksljaf dskljfadsk ljafdskafj
Be strong
No one can make you sad,
If you've at some point been the saddest!
No one can make you break down,
If you've already been broken!
It's just up to you,
To make yourself be bold
In the winds of change....
For you cannot be anything less
If you've been through all these!
If you've at some point been the saddest!
No one can make you break down,
If you've already been broken!
It's just up to you,
To make yourself be bold
In the winds of change....
For you cannot be anything less
If you've been through all these!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Nov 2014
About this poem:
It was written to a friend sometime back...just thought of sharing.Poems entered on these pages are copyrighted by the authors who entered them. They cannot be reproduced without the author's written consent. © Copyright 2001-2024. All rights reserved.
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