Best Aesop Poems
Was it a sheer accident that I became a poet?
Poetry, I didn’t pursue, rather it cropped up
As a late-night guest, quite unexpected.
A teacher’s career, I have been bent upon
And prefer to be known more as a teacher than a poet.
In my eyes, teachers are a venerable sort,
Happy that I could belong to that ‘special’ lot,
Instilling in young ones - newer insights gleaned,
Enriching their lives - with atoms of knowledge pooled,
Brightening their paths - with millions of lanterns lit,
Rowing them away - from the perilous shoals of life,
And leading them to be anchored on safer shores!
A teacher sure stands taller above,
Every other mortal who serves!!
Numerous are the guise a teacher has to put on,
And cleverer the tricks she has to play,
To tackle the wards in her all-out care,
And launch them out into a world to fare.
I have played all at once myriad roles,
More of a mentor and not just a tutor,
A physician who heals, a nurse who tends,
A parent who cares or a pal who shares,
A patron who supports or a lawyer who argues,
A scholar who learns and a master who trains.
As Christ taught his disciples - with parables many,
As Socrates instructed the youth - through endless queries,
As Sullivan led Keller - to the new dawn of light,
As Aesop enlightened kids - with countless tales,
I strove to be a TEACHER.
An erudite soul with a mission!
A sculptor who sees an angel, veiled within a rock!
An architect building an edifice to last a lifetime!
A warrior uncompromising in war,
On Ignorance – the most ignoble foe!
I don’t know where I presently stand,
Nor do I know how my students would rate me,
Though often floundered or failed to act,
In the manner I ever so longed to do,
I would rather be a TEACHER all my life,
A ‘guru’ out and out, from hilt to heel.
And I would wear that mantle with pride!
"Gratitude turns what we have into enough."
Aesop
_______________________________
Each new morning I wake-up with words of thank you,
thanks for this sweet day whether gray or blue,
I am grateful for all . . .
for everything I have- be it real big or small,
thankful for the paintings upon my wall,
for my sleeping cat too,
grateful for this Victorian apartment home,
when some must sleep in a wet cardboard dome,
I offer thanksgiving . . .
for food that I eat daily- that is life-giving,
and for the courage to be forgiving,
and heart for those who roam,
I thank the Lord each day for this gift of writing,
when with this life's hardships I am fighting.
perhaps my words assist . . .
a wounded soul who- this cruel world has dismissed,
oh, this birth given gift the Lord has kissed,
for words are uniting.
__________________________
September 8, 2020
Poetry/Rhyme/Reflections of Gratitude
Copyright Protected, ID 20-1284-270-03
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Written for the contest, Attitude of Gratitude
sponsor, Francine Roberts
First Place
Rachel
Rachel, sweetest looking peach on such a high branch
A teasing sway in her round hips, full of undiluted
gorgeous femininity
Eyes as blue as sky and a voice that is felt all over,
more like a warm breeze than sound
Aesop might recommend the lesson of the sour grapes,
but his Greek eyes never saw such a perfect
northern beauty as Rachel. He would have to
eat his words and tell his tale in reverse; how this unreachable
treasure made all the low hanging fruit taste sour
Damn!
Aesop writes about an unlikely pair
A race betwixt a turtle and a hare
While the hare fiddled around
The wily turtle gained ground
Resulting in the hare losing the dare
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Another crossroad.
Invalids weep when
wearing another's
soiled diapers suddenly
disappear.
In spite of the battered off-chance -
from a despondent interruption;
I'm the exposed exception.
Coarse fingers bleed.
My wheelchair spokes
are hardly friendly.
I proudly bawl when no one
can see me bow my head
amongst the company of
irreverent observers.
At rest
with this solemn disease -
the embrassing stench of inhumanity
forces me to open a
newly glass-stained window.
I whisk swallowed past-killings
onto bent steel hangers.
Neatly there, they elegantly droop -
angled and uninteresting;
in a dank closet where
falsified myths
and I
silently hide.
Leukemia, I personally, thank you.
Mid wives laugh at me.
Jesters poke a crooked finger, also.
Kings, queens
and jacks are left behind.
I chuckle, too - with an
unbridled Lucille Ball lament.
Four spaded-aces and a forgotten spittoon;
the uninviting hospice where we
comfortably bed together
crocheting darned finales.
Say farewell.
Don't tell anyone.
Blood bleeds beyond
frowned staled dales and
expiration is a personal moment.
Daddy and Mommy need to witness
the definition of
an unwarranted demise.
Open ended the
Grimm fairy tale concludes,
without a finely tuned
Aesop moral,
leashing the braille-exhausted
onto another muddied
crossroad.
PEE WEE HERMAN
Thought cops wouldn’t determine,
he put himself in that popcorn box.
Maybe he should have used his socks.
HOWARD HUGHES
A world famous recluse.
Millions for planes, women and cars,
treasured most his urine in jars.
CATHERINE THE GREAT
A czarina whose needs couldn’t wait.
Rumored to have a private stable,
with horses…. if her Cossacks weren’t able.
AESOP
May his fables never stop,
true treasures among many Greek joys.
Whereas Socrates, Plato, chose educating boys.
GEORGE WASHINGTON
Add to the amazing things he’s done,
was never caught chewing a mint wreath,
while mixing politics and funky breath from wood teeth.
PONCE de LEON
I hate to tell you son,
you searched Florida for the fountain of youth.
AARP there first, how’d you miss the booth.
MARILYN MONROE
There’s a girl I wanted to know.
It could’ve worked out fine,
if Bobby and Jack didn’t head the line
Without a wish in my heart
I stare at glen's pinnacle.
The end of the yellow brick road shakes my weary hand.
Without a knot in my throat
I gaze past a forgotten dell's innocence.
The beginning of a backward's journey has just begun.
The fairy tale was a lie.
The epic had no moral.
The brook is a silent Shangrila preserved for me.
Lost and wandering.
One guardian angel became lost.
Sherlock Holmes failed upon her obvious whereabouts.
Zanphilia speaks to no one.
She combs her hair with honey -
Looking for her forgotten Echo in disenchanted streams.
A goddess of philosophy.
A virgin removed from the claws of Zeus
Needing to baptize herself within salvations's waters.
I see my perfected wings.
I don't see the lustrous beauty beyond them;
I envision the ignorance of clandestine laughter.
The crocus shimmer.
The woodlands set the winds into symphonic overtures.
The morals Aesop needed to write disappeared.
I am Mother Nature.
My name is Zanphilia.
I am omnipresent.
I surround you.
My actions warrant no excuses.
I accept no apologies or prayers.
Speak to me anytime you desire.
Reflections are oft captivating.
Written by: Kory Calhoun
Written for: ~~Constance La France~~ A Rambling Poet's contest~~
~~REFLECTION~~
I
School bag, blue shirt, hair parted on the right,
Dal-rice, clock ticking away in delight;
Cycles stop, wagons with seasonal crop,
Get to her class before the gates shut tight.
II
The obsession froths beyond the eavesdrop,
Secrecy brews a moral of Aesop;
Friends don't yet know, the fear that the eyes show,
Grows the need to shout it from the rooftop.
III
Geography is boring, the maps tow
Useless details such as where's Kosovo;
It's all pretense, the absorption intense,
But her attention sets the world aglow.
IV
The wistful heart struggles to make some sense
And accept pain at misery's expense;
Then her comment, and the motives ferment,
The surging tide sweeps over the heart's fence.
V
Evening is drunk with sunlight, the day's spent,
Menthol erases the cigarette scent;
She fades from sight, the mundanities write,
A long ride back under the clouds' intent.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Date: 24 / 10 / 2016
One of the reasons I used present tense is, for me this is a memory trapped in time, like a photograph. A day in life from simpler time.
Aesop, Fables 533 (from Babrius 70) (trans. Gibbs) (Greek fable C6th B.C.) :
"The gods were getting married. One after another, they all got hitched, until finally it
was time for Polemos (War) to draw his lot, the last of the bachelors. Hybris (Reckless
Pride) became his wife, since she was the only one left without a husband. They say
Polemos loved Hybris with such abandon that he still follows her everywhere she goes. So
do not ever allow Hybris to come upon the nations or cities of mankind, smiling fondly at
the crowds, because Polemos (War) will be coming right behind her."
You are my enemy! I hate your guts!
Why, you ask? My government said I should.
"For what reasons for your loathing me?" What's
the justification? - The common good!
"Should I reciprocate?" Doesn't matter!
My government said that you are a threat.
"Your leaders are as 'mad as a hatter'
and shouldn't attempt folly they'll regret."
Preemptive measures are in store for you
and there's nothing -Nada! to prevent it.
"Arrogance has a price, this is our view.
And you're overbearing prides and conceit
will cost your country misery and dead.
This, foe, is what my government has said."
Drowning in labels
not Aesop Fables
not normal retard
like being slapped hard
born an army brat
Lady was the cat
without hardly any hair
they would laugh they would stare
they called me hippie
I seemed so wimpy
stuttered bad in school
looked on as a fool
Navy my biggest break
fluent speech I did make
head trauma
and coma
sent me right back home
no longer freedom
to my best friend
it was my end
a pedophile he called me
ladies' man he didn't see
labels and judgements made
they'll never ever fade
THIS POVERTY OF MINE...
Improves upon the amount of time it takes you to conduct an opera that
tells about how to live this life.
Moralistic conceptions are fulfillments of healthy appetites.
An Aesop Fable he or she will write.
***
RAPUNZEL
Rapunzel Rapunzel let your hair down.
I am the new Prince in town.
I killed the lad you loved today.
Rapunzel let your hair down and be my lady.
I come from far away to be your Prince.
I know your mother locked you away to become an old maid.
I am here to give you a life of matrimony, love and affection, children, a
family.
Rapunzel, let your hair down.
I will woo you with flowers to ingratiate.
We are meant to be together eternally.
Rapunzel, be my lady.
***
Rise above iniquity and address this perilous world
Domestic violence, conflict, and confusion are illuminated throughout the
universe.
Why is this constant struggle and strife?
Live right!
***
SHARMAR - THE KING
This is a man’s world.
This is a woman’s universe.
She is the child bearer.
I have become the villain.
I am an abuser.
She is in love.
I will use her not to face [my] troubles.
Conflict will confuse all.
I work hard in any endeavor.
The future is there to proclaim.
A woman’s place is behind her man.
See Coretta with King.
Strength she gave.
She empowered her man.
You saw her sadness and her gleam.
You see Betty with X.
Empowerment she was and the ultimate strength.
You saw her beam as a scholar.
Her walk fulfills that power.
Much light from pain diminishes weakness.
Might it be moralistic?
***
To destroy is to bring new life.
If one is without the other, why?
***
A woman’s hair is her glory.
What does that statement mean?
The manner of principality states age brings glory.
Therefore, the subject of these philosophies thrives.
A woman’s life is magnified 100xs by her life-story.
Move not my soul, if it is not closer to the Almighty God.
If my soul is no closer to the Lord Almighty, I shall not be moved.
________________________________________|
PENNED ON JULY 20, 2014!
A pair of blue wings is hovering
against the inky black covering
within ‘Little Fox’ constellation
of Vulpecula designation,
portrayed with stipple sidereal
in Hubble image ethereal,
‘Hen two dash four three seven’ labeled.
A hen with fox is Aesop fabled,
except it was really a crow
in that apologue still apropos
where pride overcame the bird’s good sense,
so fox got the food through the pretense
of disparaging its corvine caw;
thus the crow dropped the cheese from its jaw.
There are many stories much the same.
In Middle Ages the bird became
chanticleer; Chaucer’s ‘Canterbury
Tales’ has one that warns to be wary
of flattery false and specious praise,
since fox on inflated ego plays
with rooster to hear his special cry,
hence to distract and snatch him thereby.
Yet fox falls prey to his own conceit,
and chanticleer flees to tree retreat.
But coming back to high-flying hen
which Hubble’s scope brought within our ken,
this nebula with glowing surround
was by stargazer Minkowski found
then by Henize later catalogued
as nebula with the name befogged
in misleading term planetary,
for that title is quite contrary
to remnant of an imploded star,
which is indeed what those objects are.
As shown by the wings, it’s bipolar,
cast off from a star like ours solar
which nearing end of its astral span
swelled to red giant’s flash in the pan
then sent forth its layers into space,
as a white dwarf for core took its place…
And yet my inspiration’s essence
came from the alae’s luminescence
seen in this vast stelliferous sight
against the canvas of cosmic night.
Still, one might fancy those whizzing wings
borne by empyreal bird that sings
melodies wafted amidst the spheres
only a starry-eyed poet hears.
~ Harley White
* * * * * * * * *
The image and info can be found by looking up Hen 2-437 on the net.
92
How some students grew up on the Computor?
and can't function in the real world right click the bus mommy and place it at the
stop it is taking much too long to come around the horn. form method="post"
This paragraphic is free to be a space bar for mee and ewe.
option>Sometimes in my fables there is parts and pieces of mye poems this is
not yellow journalism or nepotism or even bad form eye can copy and paste and
then add text eye can translate pictures into banners and banners into love eye
can relate a page to GOD and find a way to enter clouds formed and someday
eye will make it rain inside this idiot Computor box and it will fry all the electronic
components of every Computor in the world then we will all go outside again and
inhale the fresher air.
value="Radio"
Just now eye went to a Bravenet website to make me a new website and its free
but of course the upgrades would cost me but the free sights is challenging and
it gave me a code for a welcome type box and it did NOT work as it is in the form
of a a href not a url. The idea is the webpage would bring me people they would
sign my little guestbook too bad it does not even relate to the page it won't
translate at all the code is wrong its backwards to a forum type webpage the url
is too long. The HEY REF only works on websites the URL IMG thing only works
on FORUMS how many people have followed links to there destruction. When
eye got the thing on my FIRST PAGE of HOME the thing took off with me when eye
clicked it open we went for an internet ride and eye lost the page eye was on NO
fun. Eye would not want a HOME Computor user to become lost in navigation
when he was just trying to let me knoe that he had viewed my poems. The thing
is done the web page that they gave me is very green and nice looking but does
not do a real function oh well in this Brave New World does anything rally have to
have a function and so mye gentle reader ewe it seems to mee the eye the poet
fable maker fabulist like Aesop that eye am just the new proud owner of another
big white elephant so they will always benefit from instruction of this knowledge
from someone please open windows as many as yew want and let them learn
yew some.
A bunny can hop, jump, and leap
And sit up straight whilst fast asleep
A tortoise must climb
One step at a time
Spurred on by the Roadrunner's beep
8D
my mind is an open book.
read it and have a look.
"Open" said Crow.
"We near the brook"
"Stones are there and
little by little does the trick.
Love the journey... it's the
Mother of all invention.
==============================
http://www.usatoday.com/tech/science/discoveries/2009-08-06-aesop-experiment_N.htm?csp=34
Article By Malcolm Ritter, Associated Press
NEW YORK — From the goose that laid the golden egg to the race between the tortoise and
the hare, Aesop's fables are known for teaching moral lessons rather than literally being
true. But a new study says at least one such tale might really have happened.
It's the fable about a thirsty crow. The bird comes across a pitcher with the water level
too low for him to reach. The crow raises the water level by dropping stones into the
pitcher. (Moral: Little by little does the trick, or in other retellings, necessity is the
mother of invention.)