Best Fables Poems
whispering low tides
lunar fables washed ashore
articulate waves
=================================
For Rauls "reflections" contest!
What are our millennium fables?
Women keep giving each other labels,
No harmony for our ecology,
An alliance should be our synergy,
No accountability for the economy,
No wise leaders to steer us to unity,
Century's getting older, folks!
Any teamwork to cast off these yokes?
Symbiosis should aim at harmony,
Let's pray for millennium synergy!
The elders gather the children together in a tent,
to pass down the teachings of the Ojibwe culture;
through fables, legends, myths, songs and dance,
to the sound of a beating drum we listen.
Of moral stepping stones and spiritual beliefs,
through fables, legends, myths, songs and dance;
we learn of the seven grandfather's who dwell above,
of animals in nature who have great spirit.
In fables, humility is represented by the mighty wolf,
for the wolf's very life is to be part of the pack;
and the ultimate shame is to be outcast, alone,
to know humility is to know who you are.
In legends, honesty is represented by the raven,
for the raven accepts himself completely;
and knows how to use his gifts in order to thrive,
to walk life in integrity is to know honesty.
In myths, respect is represented by the buffalo,
yes, to live your life in peace and total harmony;
to give of yourself in order that the people survive,
to honor your creation is to know respect.
In songs, bravery is represented by the bear,
the mother bear has the greatest strength;
and courage to protect and feed her young,
to face life with courage is to now bravery.
The drums, speak of wisdom represented by the beaver,
the beaver uses his gifts for his survival;
and alters his environment to sustain his existence,
to cherish knowledge is to know wisdom.
In dance, truth is represented by the turtle,
here on earth since the beginning of all time;
he lives his life slowly but with a destination in mind,
and knows the importance of the journey.
In fables, legends, myths, dance and songs we learn,
of the eagle who flies the highest to the creator;
who sees all, the eagle connects all the teachings,
to earn an eagle feather is the highest honor.
"Life is circular and the heart is the center and we are the heart."
___________________
February 22, 2017
Verse/Fables, Legends, and Myths
Copyright Protected, ID 879326
For the contest, Fable
sponsor, Nayda Ivette Negron
Second Place
I own a rooster
live on a farm
the animals vote
I am simply caretaker
Under my farm
there is a huge bunker
a thousand men in uniform
systems, equipment and missiles
I am simply caretaker
fearlessly laughing
chillingly dreaming fables
Nightmare adventures
And we became the layer of voices
With engineered precision ripples
And auto-tuned echoes
And though many who bow blindly
In the sanctuaries of their own belief system
Would sometimes rationally scrutinize
And disqualify the sacraments of others
Truth would always appear obvious
On fables rather than reflections
I Midas
King Midas' greed for riches was such
That everything turned to gold in his clutch,
As did his daughter one day
When she got in the way.
Much better for her had they not kept in touch.
II Arthur
The Camelot tale is a wonderful fable,
And King Arthur and knights were all equally able,
But had trouble deciding
Just who was presiding
When no one could sit at the head of the table.
III The Emperor (the one with the new clothes)
The vain Emperor was pleased, as he gazed in the glass,
At how well his new trousers conformed to his ass.
The fabric, so sheer,
With one crease in the rear,
And the "zipper" in front, though demure, was pure class.
Fables etch their values upon young minds.
Then, society unfolds.
Degenerates & subjugates
Nothing really deteriorates
Living life in magenta & chartreuse
Trying to cover over the bruises
Inflicted by white lies
Negating the ending
For the sake of feeding
The all encompassing
Heartfelt alibis
Recounting storybook fables
Resounding through the Taj Mahal
Told underneath the kitchen table
Heard through the majestic macaw
Throwing stones at the glass ceiling
We call self help, we call healing
Writing secrets in the sand
Hoping one day they'll understand
Regenerate & propagate
We stand at heavens gate
Waiting to be let in
Lets hope our holiness outweighs our sins.
for now please imagine generic
fairy tale characters
analogous if you will
to possessing physical, livingsocial,
and three dimensional
corporeal form (at least until
the end of this poem), and compared
to computer generated imagery
makes this request rill
lee not that impossible,
far-fetched, or difficult,
and most likely already
a done deal, hence nill,
null, and void might
stop the average
Joe, Jack or Jill
dead in their poetic iambic feet,
but would defeat
the purpose i.e, kill
and bring to abrupt violent end
my (very questionable)
"FAKE" purpose plus,
disallow me to distill
crazy literary whim of mine swill
culled via injecting
lifelike characteristics
into morality tale creations,
perhaps first heard
as nursery rhymes, drill
ling moral, perchance told
to your own chill
darn in tandem
with Cain and Able
by the likes of
Aesop, Brothers Grimm,
or Greco-Roman myths assume
Chicken Little, Casandra, and the Boy
Who Cried Wolf maybe
owned reason sound ding doom
and gloom alarm, and ignored
at their own peril,
when subsequent "FAKE" fume
issued turned out to be bigly,
yuge fire and fury
actual threat didst loom
(way before Trump
coopted those elicit terms),
and truly aye wonder
no lawyer got
called for said room
errs, which revision would
make them more apropos
for today and tomb
morrow, when generations
of future boys and girls,
yet tubby conceived
in the womb
hence law suits would result
into bajillion dollars
costs would zoom.
It’s harder to bleed when blood is gone
What’s greed with the line money’s on/
Will it run up on someone’s lawn/
Or try and take from your spawn/
Then act like nothing was wrong/
The track they’re taking is long/
When that feeling is an old song/
As you’re turning the tables around/
Just gas and keep burning fables down/
Outlast and be learning angles they’ll surround/
Outcast to be free and yearn for an angels sound
Put loving labels,
On all my tables,
Fables are fine for fun,
But no life is won.
Love, is by breath bequeath,....................................(Genesis 2:7)
By God to guest,
Receives the best,
By which they manifest.
Into life may the guest bequeath,
This not unusual request,.....................................................................(Romans 12:1-3)
God’s very best,
Love’s action as life. ..............................................................................(1 John 4:7-8)
Void mind’s strife,
Lovingly love in life.
By love, avoid strife,
Cuts as a knife,
Your life. Read Hebrews 8:10,....................(The third covenant of your perfection.)
Begin again,
The heart to gen,
Love again.
Love is written in the heart,
Life cannot be lived apart!!
9-6-09 [email protected]
On a cool spring morning, by a clear mountain stream, an enchantress sat skywriting.
Her arms danced at awkward, inhuman angles and as they did, her bracelets jangled a melody which the birds took up in chorus.
The soundtrack was magic. Insects buzzed in beat, animals froze mid-forage, and the wind died, lest moving clouds corrupt her work.
The mask-wearing knight, a killer for the king, was dressed in black. Even the buck knife, loosely gripped in his right hand, was painted black. His boots were cloth wrapped and his movements were as smooth as smoke. He was noiseless death itself.
As he drew closer, the birds suddenly stopped chirping. "Go home boy, " the enchantress whispered. The knight blinked in disbelief and froze but the enchantress did not look around.
She pulled a half-penny from a pouch, kissed it, and lobbed it into the stream.
The knight’s mind went from deadly certain to vague. Why was he here? He sheathed his knife, lowered his mask and wiped his lips. What had he been doing?
Still not looking his way, the minx motioned to the clear, babbling stream, "Come, drink," she said. He drew beside her and with a quick glance, as he sipped water from cupped hands, he saw that she was young and beautiful.
She’d never looked his way, but she knew him in a rarefied, magical way - as if he were her brother, and she felt the sting of his long sorrow, that his wife was barren.
"Your love will bear you two sons if you're home and can bed her before dark," she said softly.
The knight stood, wiped his hands on his trousers, nodded at her, and ran for his horse.
The enchantress smiled to herself and resumed her unearthly work. The sound of horse and rider quickly faded as the birds resumed their spell-song.
Two strapping young men they would be.
pouring rooibos tea for no one
but me.
the high whistle would not
be a sound
if it was all alone.
still, i set out three florid cups —
to gratify Lily-Bell and Thistledown.*
the fairies love the blue rose
and butterfly inside
my fine porcelain.
later, I shall set aside
the Flower Fables*
and long stem conversation.
i shake out the welcome mat
with all its earthly problems
and exact a calligraphic invitation.
i lay down the sublime —
it waits for your shoes
teeny or otherwise
and silver wings
golden halo
fairy dust.
that’s you because i say so
it’s been too long —
even a day, without you!
3/16/2020
*Flower Fables by Louisa May Alcott
(Inspired by ‘paranoir’ by Riz Mack)
Reckless Jack and fair Jill, youthful hearts aroused,
did scale that hill, less for water, than illicit thrills.
Atop that perilous height, they began a lover’s fight.
Stolen moments, once sweetly solaced, can prove brief.
Alas, the twisted tryst, turned awkward tumble swift,
with clothes askew and most immodest bruises blue.
Honest folk, share this lesson far and wide, by rhyme and tune -
beware young lovers, less passion's tide prove a bumpy slide to ruin.
07.0620