Last Viewed Fable Poems (74)

Is there a God... What happens after we die... Why are we here?
questions with answers mans smartest Stephen Hawking can't make clear
Most humans share a 'Faith' promising paradise after this life's through
they too worship an "Immortal Being" without definitive proof it's true

The subject of religion gets people riled unlike anything in our history
I'd surmise our existence would be less worrisome if void of mystery
"IF" a deity created humans he wantonly damned us I respectfully argue
He commands his greatest creation not commit the sins he wired us too

"You'll be healed If you believe with all your heart when you pray"...
a real 'Father' would assure 'his children didn't suffer in any way
I can't recall ANY love or mercy coming from the recluse invisible man
Once again I proclaim I own as much hope as one possibly can

Whether you do or don't believe must be the individuals choice
some lash out with vitriol to those who don't share their voice
With my heart and soul I still try believing theirs something to the myth
"FACT"... if I can't speak definitive truth about whatever I plead the fifth

NOTHING has shown it's worthy of blind faith so my amount is none
to appease and deter future contempt concerning this subject, I'm done!

Dreams linger in the mist of memories leaving hopes of love to always last. Rcurrence of moments never to be, as sadness becomes past. Buried wounds look for the suns new day,for happiness rides on its rays and glisten in waters ripples of time.Listen to the nights lonly cries as the moon behind clouds hide, and joy of stars sweet glare.

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 !

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!

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.

I come around
Only after dark
When the streets are empty
And the snow gently falls
Past a glowing neon light
When the noise of the city
Quiets the %$& on down
I sneak through the crack
By the bottom of the old door
Meets the concrete floor
Anxious to get away
From the mean streets
A few empty crates
Stacked near the back
An old coat losing its stuff
Fabric ripped and torn
Castaway years ago
Countless like other souls
That have been here before
Like me in this tin shed
Have watched and waited

Spaghetti: "I'm the one that wiggles into the salads. When they
eat me, they really feel full.

Tomato " Spaghetti, I may be chubby, but I do shine here with
my friend lettuce, giving a lot of coloring to a delicious
salad".

Carrot "I really catch up on the orange color, but celery
adds some extra flavors when we join together".

Lettuce " My designed leaves add beauty to salads with all the
decorations".

Onions " I'm not favored in many salads, but along with a red
pepper we can really spice them up."

Celery "Many like to chop me up and dip me in a creamy sauce."

Pasta "My body has so many forms, curls, cylinders, oval faces in
between. When I enter the beauty salon, they soften me up
and then I can fill up a banquet..."

Potatoes "Well I make a match with most anything, yet when I
get mashed, I can really comfort hard eggs all together"

Eggs "After they boil me they can cut me into slices or ground
me down to fill in several salads".

Strawberry "I am usually the top of the iceberg, giving that
ultimate finishing".

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poem ed
ed poem
poem ed
This is my poem and stuff

Ch3 part 1
Voice whisper in the darkest of hours
Taking there time leaving feelings so sour,
Plotting and planning no knowing she hears it ,
Planning a way to break the free spirit,
Steps grow closer the floor a sharp crackle,
Trying to move the free spirit is shackled,
Tied down pinned down upon an altar of black,
Starring at the ceiling also crumbled and cracked,
Not sure it's be is upside down or down side right,
Or Left side down the thought brought her much fright,
feeling the glow leave from her crown,
The perfect hem stone torn from her gown,
Then the Lady of black speaks in much reverence,
Let not take pride or wealth but take the innocence,
A sharp pain then felt in her side,
The feelings of euphoria began to subside,
A feeling of horror plague her minds gate,
It's the horrible feeling of not knowing her fate,
Two sets of strong hands the voices from before,
Grasp tightly each arm and pick her from the floor,
Now remove this vail I have cast upon open eyes,
Oh mystic black arts of the wicked and wise,
Look upon me now and see as you will,
a reflection of a future that time will soon fill,
And as it was its so shall be be,
The image before her she could not believe,
It was her doing. in jealousy and wrath,
Who put her down this evil path,
To late now to atone for to much,
You cannot see or smell
nor run talk or touch,
Why and how run thru her mind,
Tell me what brings us her to this mirage of rewind,
One you were the one who shone brighter then the rest,
The brilliance of you light was seen all evil at best,
They committed there time to turning you black,
Saw a sliver of me through the temporal crack,
brought me forth through means they knew nothing of,
And finally had there all black dove,
But I knew that more than one cannot survive,
on any plane of existence two of the same soul won't thrive,
As I began to fade I agreed to turn you black in shame
In return my return to the plane whence I came,
Kidnapping him caging you were merely chores,
Falling victim to my power because it was yours,
Did you think it odd that he came so easy,
His bowing to me obeying my orders it makes you queasy.
And when he save you again it will be me this time,
You forced to watch as I commit this crime,
But enough of this now give her more,
Two more needles full of this darkness began to bore,
Deep in her skin her veins turn black as night,
The feeling of more become her new blight,
The lady in black leaves saying this,
Keep her mind active her body choose what you wish, to be continued......

a famous master known for his impertinence
visited master oshima's dojo,
well determined to bring the contradition.
after zazen,he asked master oshiba,a question:
honourable master,if I you practice zazen,
with the smile of buddah do you become the buddah ?
master oshiba retorted :
does the bird putting its droppings on the stony buddah's head,
will prevent him smilling ?