Here is a list of Most Commented 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.
online now!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.
The Postman
“Is there anybody there?” said the postman,
knocking on the cat scratched door,
and he peered through a filthy window
and was disgusted by what he saw.
On the kitchen floor he could just make out,
through the grimy, obscured pane,
signs that a large dog lived there that could not
be arsed to go out in the rain.
He thumped the door again, a second time;
“is there anybody in?” he said,
and over an upstairs leaf fringed sill
appeared a recently awoken head.
A red, bloated face framed by greasy hair
stared down with dull, yellowed eyes
into those of the startled postman’s,
which stared back in surprise.
“I have brought you a parcel,” said the postman,
as he stood there, stared upon,
I know not what is in the package,
but it comes from Amazon.
Presently the door was opened wide
by a man, sweaty and unclean,
pyjama slit wide open showing things
the postman wished he had not seen.
And the air that escaped from that foul house
was not meant to be breathed by man
and the sight of the squalor that dwelt inside
made a pigsty look spick and span.
“Where is my parcel”, said a toothless mouth
beneath a nose exuding snot.
“it’s here”, said the postman, thrusting it forth,
then turning, off he shot.
Later, the postman passed a homeless man
begging, downcast on the street.
He stopped and reached in his bag and pulled out
a sandwich he could no longer eat.
knocking on the cat scratched door,
and he peered through a filthy window
and was disgusted by what he saw.
On the kitchen floor he could just make out,
through the grimy, obscured pane,
signs that a large dog lived there that could not
be arsed to go out in the rain.
He thumped the door again, a second time;
“is there anybody in?” he said,
and over an upstairs leaf fringed sill
appeared a recently awoken head.
A red, bloated face framed by greasy hair
stared down with dull, yellowed eyes
into those of the startled postman’s,
which stared back in surprise.
“I have brought you a parcel,” said the postman,
as he stood there, stared upon,
I know not what is in the package,
but it comes from Amazon.
Presently the door was opened wide
by a man, sweaty and unclean,
pyjama slit wide open showing things
the postman wished he had not seen.
And the air that escaped from that foul house
was not meant to be breathed by man
and the sight of the squalor that dwelt inside
made a pigsty look spick and span.
“Where is my parcel”, said a toothless mouth
beneath a nose exuding snot.
“it’s here”, said the postman, thrusting it forth,
then turning, off he shot.
Later, the postman passed a homeless man
begging, downcast on the street.
He stopped and reached in his bag and pulled out
a sandwich he could no longer eat.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jun 2019
About this poem:
I have quite heavily borrowed from another poem for the style of this one, although not quite so much in content. I am not a postman but I have been in situations that allow me to identify with this one.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
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 !
Edge of the Sea
Into harsh waters and bright foreign mist,
we sailed through the fog and into abyss.
The shoreline wall, out of nowhere it came,
surviving my brethren and screaming in vain.
Washed up on shore, beneath a near distant sun.
I trek farther and farther, yet feel I never begun.
The walking, tiresome and endless it seems,
but what's atop those hills that I see,
a silhouette in the glare of the sun's awful beams?
As I walk closer, I tremble in fear,
perhaps it's a witch, a siren, demon or seer.
My fears go unfounded as I'm awed in a trance,
I can't look away from her soft graceful dance.
Naked beneath a lonely pale tree,
she looks in my eyes as she descends to me.
Her hands are so smooth and ever so fair as
she runs her fingers through my wet filthy hair.
My mind filled with hope, encumbered with glee,
I only now ask, just how this could be?
How could this have happened to me?
My head bitten off at the edge of the sea.
we sailed through the fog and into abyss.
The shoreline wall, out of nowhere it came,
surviving my brethren and screaming in vain.
Washed up on shore, beneath a near distant sun.
I trek farther and farther, yet feel I never begun.
The walking, tiresome and endless it seems,
but what's atop those hills that I see,
a silhouette in the glare of the sun's awful beams?
As I walk closer, I tremble in fear,
perhaps it's a witch, a siren, demon or seer.
My fears go unfounded as I'm awed in a trance,
I can't look away from her soft graceful dance.
Naked beneath a lonely pale tree,
she looks in my eyes as she descends to me.
Her hands are so smooth and ever so fair as
she runs her fingers through my wet filthy hair.
My mind filled with hope, encumbered with glee,
I only now ask, just how this could be?
How could this have happened to me?
My head bitten off at the edge of the sea.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Oct 2016
Post Comment
No One Knows
A first blush of pink now heralds new dawn,
With strings of thin white clouds which burn away;
And as refulgent light hints at your form,
Four horses drag hot Sun into the day.*
First blush of pink, and that blush all too brief,
Now night has left upon a whim of blue,
Sky which lights now into stark relief;
And time, it seems, can hold no other hue.
The rising Sun a burning crown of glory,
I see his yellow disk now orb the sky;*
Another day dawns on our human story,
And still there's none who know exactly why.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
With strings of thin white clouds which burn away;
And as refulgent light hints at your form,
Four horses drag hot Sun into the day.*
First blush of pink, and that blush all too brief,
Now night has left upon a whim of blue,
Sky which lights now into stark relief;
And time, it seems, can hold no other hue.
The rising Sun a burning crown of glory,
I see his yellow disk now orb the sky;*
Another day dawns on our human story,
And still there's none who know exactly why.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: May 2019
About this poem:
* As per the Greek myth of Helios.~~~U will have to forget about flirting!~~~
U will have to forget about flirting!
Come and see the path of loving!
You will not laugh on my suffering!
Jus fall in luv and experience the burning!
Near ur lips dare comes a smile!
It’s a matter of heart and not promiscuity sikes!
Hurt after hurt u live, drink ur own blood n squint!
Don’t u dare complain abt the pain, its luv and not flirt my friend!
Fall in luv once!
Then u will know, luv is not flirt!
Luv is not a game!
Don’t mistake it to be water this is fire, this is fire my friend!
This luv is going to make u cry blooded tears!
This luv will consume all ur fears!
This luv is not that easy just think it that way!
It’s a river of fire and u will have to dive in it day after day!
Don’t expect any truthfulness!
But du examine it once!
I have accepted the word!
Why don’t u accept me and jump!
For gods sake unhide urself!
For gods sake come out from ur dress!
I don’t understand what ur eyes say!
Sometimes veil, sometimes sight!
What is this drama, mate?!?!
I can't see this dilemma!
Today we r not strangers!
Remove the cloth from ur face!
I have been tortured day after day!
U have seen me from ur dirty eyes!
What u wanted was just to play with my heart, yikes!
What du u think this is?
Trying to hit me n just piss?!
U blackmailed me!
U threatened me!
U played with my emotions!
U just flirted with me!
I was extra nice to u!
U took tht for granted, true!
I had to let u go!
Coz u were treating me like a hoe!
U will have to 4get about flirting!
Come and see the path of luving!
You will not laugh on my suffering!
Jus fall in luv and experience the burning!
Come and see the path of loving!
You will not laugh on my suffering!
Jus fall in luv and experience the burning!
Near ur lips dare comes a smile!
It’s a matter of heart and not promiscuity sikes!
Hurt after hurt u live, drink ur own blood n squint!
Don’t u dare complain abt the pain, its luv and not flirt my friend!
Fall in luv once!
Then u will know, luv is not flirt!
Luv is not a game!
Don’t mistake it to be water this is fire, this is fire my friend!
This luv is going to make u cry blooded tears!
This luv will consume all ur fears!
This luv is not that easy just think it that way!
It’s a river of fire and u will have to dive in it day after day!
Don’t expect any truthfulness!
But du examine it once!
I have accepted the word!
Why don’t u accept me and jump!
For gods sake unhide urself!
For gods sake come out from ur dress!
I don’t understand what ur eyes say!
Sometimes veil, sometimes sight!
What is this drama, mate?!?!
I can't see this dilemma!
Today we r not strangers!
Remove the cloth from ur face!
I have been tortured day after day!
U have seen me from ur dirty eyes!
What u wanted was just to play with my heart, yikes!
What du u think this is?
Trying to hit me n just piss?!
U blackmailed me!
U threatened me!
U played with my emotions!
U just flirted with me!
I was extra nice to u!
U took tht for granted, true!
I had to let u go!
Coz u were treating me like a hoe!
U will have to 4get about flirting!
Come and see the path of luving!
You will not laugh on my suffering!
Jus fall in luv and experience the burning!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Mar 2012
About this poem:
For All the ones that have experienced Love but, were not successful in accomplishing its conclusion i.e. by staying together, getting married nd bla bla yada yada dada dadaaspergus moon
I'm born,aspergus in my soul..
I wasn't..
presaging my refusal of conventions,
my refuse of disposal..
I'm born,aspergus in my heart,
I wasn't..
declining the politness of shades..
to be double of your virtual..
beware poetock nock !
I explode your word's neutrino !
I'm born,aspergus in my guts
I wasn't..
silently walking in the loony diagonal..
brave fisher makes me master,
black friar is my brother.
I'm born,aspergus in my soul..
I wasn't..
I'am a theory of sentiments,
bonzaied are mes words,
warped my brain..
you don't see me,gentle egotics,
you dont listen me,jolly mile runners,
I'm the spirit of crowd,
i'm a reflect of your fears,
the presence of your absence..
tonight,coming home,
bewitching on your comp',
I will be there..
I master aspergus your faithfull companion.
I wasn't..
presaging my refusal of conventions,
my refuse of disposal..
I'm born,aspergus in my heart,
I wasn't..
declining the politness of shades..
to be double of your virtual..
beware poetock nock !
I explode your word's neutrino !
I'm born,aspergus in my guts
I wasn't..
silently walking in the loony diagonal..
brave fisher makes me master,
black friar is my brother.
I'm born,aspergus in my soul..
I wasn't..
I'am a theory of sentiments,
bonzaied are mes words,
warped my brain..
you don't see me,gentle egotics,
you dont listen me,jolly mile runners,
I'm the spirit of crowd,
i'm a reflect of your fears,
the presence of your absence..
tonight,coming home,
bewitching on your comp',
I will be there..
I master aspergus your faithfull companion.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Aug 2011
About this poem:
doctor roland/mysterious lorentza 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...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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