Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Once, a fox was boasting to a cat.”So clever am I, I know hundreds of tricks! How many do you have?” asked Fox. the cat replied, “just one-but it is useful.”
The Fox was going to say something, but changed her mind.
Nevertheless, wolves came, Cat scrambled up a tree, and Fox died.
Once, a fox was boasting to a cat.”So clever am I, I know hundreds of tricks! How many do you have?” asked Fox. the cat replied, “just one-but it is useful.”
“What! How much good can just one do, compared to hundreds?” exclaimed the fox.
Wolves came, and Fox greeted them, telling Cat they were her friends. “Hello” said the wolves to Fox.
“It is good to see you again, brothers.Shall we eat?” the wolves agreed.
Cat, thinking of fish, agreed as well.
The wolves killed the cat, and the fox and the wolves shared their meal.And that was one of fox’s tricks.
Once, a fox was boasting to a cat.”So clever am I, I know hundreds of tricks! How many do you have?” asked Fox. the cat replied, “just one-but it is useful.”
“That is just as well,” said the fox,” for I can see what you cannot.” and the fox dashed away.
“What! How conceited Fox must be,” said the cat, '' I must not deal with her again.”
Wolves came, but the cat was so angry at the fox, that he only noticed when he was already being eaten.
Once, a fox was boasting to a cat.”So clever am I, I know hundreds of tricks! How many do you have?” asked Fox. Cat replied, “just one-but it is useful.”
“What! How much good can just one do, compared to hundreds?” exclaimed the fox.
Wolves came, and Fox had so many plans, Fox could not choose one, and froze in fear.
The cat scrambled up a tree. “There. That is my trick.Very useful-wouldn’t you agree?”
And the wolves killed the fox and ate it.
.
Seasons shuttle the tall stoic figure,
Graceful and solemn as wafted mist,
When seen, as if he was always there,
Overarching into meek, gloamy skies
Of mornings and dusk, mid day, lost,
Seems not right for wading out kills
That crane from above into the mud
And murk of the penny eyed waters
Only the ferryman will tender, for time
Slips, sleeping with the fishes, spears
Puddle and rim in the wakes, sparks
Of waters break like a sputtering fire,
His dart eyes are as yellow as golden
Sun dancing in funeral pyre.  So green
Creatures, must they always be gotten,
Gone, have it coming from the sheering,
Mercies of the Great Blue Heron who is all
Seeing, scything, down to dazed judgement,
Incited, pecking to order at the squirming fold.
.
(sonnet)

Tired, I awoke upon a lonely island beach
And gazed on a Goddess above the shore,
With sea foam hair, coral skin, what dream,
My salt eyes, blinded, open, wanting more,

Conspiring with rays of summer she shone
So bright, this daughter of the sun, we stood
I and my castaway crew, to that siren prone
As she led us to her mansion in the woods.

Her potions tamed the forest wolf and lion,
Spellbinding warrior poets to liven feasts.
Why then must she turn ***** men to swine,
By what she most desired contented least?

Desert falcon, my moly held Pharaohs' breeze
And what nil escape above the wine dark seas.
.
The name 'Circe' means 'falcon.'  She was a beautiful woman, whose braided red hair resembled flames.
In Greek mythology, Circe was a goddess of magic (or sometimes a nymph, witch, enchantress or sorceress). By most accounts, Circe was the daughter of Helios, the god of the sun.
Circe was renowned for her vast knowledge of potions and herbs. Through the use of magical potions and a wand or a staff, she transformed her enemies, or those who offended her, into animals.

As told in the Odyssey, Hermes told Odysseus to use the holy herb moly to protect himself from Circe's potion and thus resisted it.
A fable lesson learned
After every immoral step I took
Something valuable I earned
As all the pages I have burned
Nothing I could undo...
Happily Never After (the Second Curse of the ***** Toad)
by Michael R. Burch

He did not think of love of Her at all
frog-plangent nights, as moons engoldened roads
through crumbling stonewalled provinces, where toads
(nee princes) ruled in chinks and grew so small
at last to be invisible. He smiled
(the fables erred so curiously), and thought
bemusedly of being reconciled
to human flesh, because his heart was not
incapable of love, but, being cursed
a second time, could only love a toad’s . . .
and listened as inflated frogs rehearsed
cheekbulging tales of anguish from green moats . . .
and thought of her soft croak, her skin fine-warted,
his anemic flesh, and how true love was thwarted.

Originally published by Romantics Quarterly. Keywords/Tags: frog, *****, toad, prince, princess, curse, kiss, fable, true, love, magic, spell, croak, kingdom
Once upon a time there was a young lady, Who lived just out of the city,
During the day, Her neighbour’s would say,
“Gosh isn’t she polite!”, To which her parents would be proud they are right.
But during the night, She was considerably less “uptight"
She would give her parents a fright.
While she was at work, She would smile all day long even when the customer was a ****,
She was quick to make friends, And no one could call her pretend, They would all trust her to no end.
Once she gets home she would dash to her room, With a thunderous zoom,
To change into her brand new dress, She bumps into her father and tells him not to stress, She explains that’s she’s meeting with Meghan and Jess.
He looks back with an unconvinced smile, With a kiss on the cheek she says “I’ll be back in a while",
She walks to her friends house, With a knock at the door as quiet as a mouse,
Her friend bounds out at a considerable pace, The door tore a hole in her dress lace,
They scurry to the park, Before it goes dark,
As they all decide to meet the boys at the club, Filled with nerves as she’d only ever been to a pub,
But went with it all the same, For fear of appearing lame,
She was told that she would see Nate, A boy she thought was great,
She had plans to win him over before while she is there, And so she locks eyes and begins to stare,
She saunters over and they begin to chat, Nothing real just this and that,
He leans in to near, And whispers into her ear, He says “hey, we should get out of here"
She grins with glee, And nods to agree,
The pair headed across the floor, As they left through the door,
They began to walk down the street, And suddenly down an alley he started to retreat,
She expressed her dismay, She wasn’t going to play, Least of all not this way,
She began to edge further in, And then again a wall he had her pinned,
She told him that this wasn’t fun, He said “oh c’mon, I’ve only just begun",
She begins to regret leaving without a friend, Wishing this would end,
As the discomfort wouldn’t cease, He got his release,
As she sprinted back, Never straying from the beaten track,
With tears in her eyes, Now Nate she does despise,
She went straight to bed, With feelings of dread,
The moral of this tale, Will never go stale,
Never be quick to trust, You never know who is filled with lust,
This story may appal, But you must recall,
For many on this world, This tale had unfurled,
And now they carry it for life,
Teach sons of consent, To keep them decent,
And tell girls of the signs And how to draw the line.
Carlo C Gomez Dec 2019
Roger of Wendover
wrote of your audacity,
a chronicle, a fable in lore,
whereupon your face was softened
for the Coventry poor.

Tyranny of taxation,
a sovereign's oppression,
one husband's aggravation,
and so he gave to you
but one condition.

After the butterflies,
before the sunlit emprise,
no mask to disguise,
not a thing to prevent
prying eyes.

Only your decree
could now protect your
ladyship's modesty,
keep your name from
this sordid tale of infamy,
yet, what did Tom see?

It shan't be denied, it rests
indelibly in Flowers of History,
alas! along cobbled streets,
all of them you defied,
thus with head held high,
you rode in all your glory.
Next page