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Fables
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Poetry Contest Description
Write a poem based on fables, folklore and legends.
![](https://deepundergroundpoetry.com/images/uploads/forum_post/580311.jpg?1713569995)
This contest celebrates the timeless tradition of storytelling through poetry, offering an opportunity for you to weave tales of moral lessons, strange creatures, and imagination.
Your poem should be inspired by a fable, folklore, myth, or legend of your choosing. Please leave a little note in your author’s note regarding what your chosen folklore is. Bonus points if you get a little local lore in there that we’ve probably never heard of before.
Notes
• New writes only
• No pictures / audio / video allowed
• Entries over 50 words
• AI entries forbidden
• No erotica
• As many entries as you like on this one
• Comp judged by host
• Two weeks
Good luck, and fare thee well, bards.
Rew
15
Joined 30th Sep 2022
Forum Posts: 532
Fire of Insight
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The Midnight Shift.
My Great-great-grandfather...
" There warra tip by Miggy wood
dug out o Miggy mine
an it were girtly big, like a mountain stood,
an it smouldered all the time.
(belching sulphurous fumes reeking of hell )
Coals were mined there since ancient days
people lived, worked there and died,
and a village grew and was known as Middleton
cos it grew twixt pit and slag-pile
(their dead were buried elsewhere)
It was said neolithics had dug for coal
using antlers of the giant elk.
and they'd tramped and tramped a little road
betwixt spoil heap and where they dwelt.
(we knew this), now known as ' Old Run Road ')
They were a tidy lot and dug their graves
adjacent to their spoil heaps,
their miners considered as sacred braves
laid to rest with honour for their long sleep.
(they kept settlements warm during their big freeze)
Centuries past and the spoil heap grew
till it dominated the landscape,
and swallowed up those brave ancient few
and little mines that they had scraped.
(the neolithics vanished from mind...)
Well, coal fell in and out of fashion
till the mine owners started to panic,
as the tip smouldered on all grey an ashen
they decided to sell it all on, and quick.
It was all about to vanish, my dear,
history and our local myth
under brick and stone, forever disappeared,
till I found fossiled bones, on my midnight shift "
" There warra tip by Miggy wood
dug out o Miggy mine
an it were girtly big, like a mountain stood,
an it smouldered all the time.
(belching sulphurous fumes reeking of hell )
Coals were mined there since ancient days
people lived, worked there and died,
and a village grew and was known as Middleton
cos it grew twixt pit and slag-pile
(their dead were buried elsewhere)
It was said neolithics had dug for coal
using antlers of the giant elk.
and they'd tramped and tramped a little road
betwixt spoil heap and where they dwelt.
(we knew this), now known as ' Old Run Road ')
They were a tidy lot and dug their graves
adjacent to their spoil heaps,
their miners considered as sacred braves
laid to rest with honour for their long sleep.
(they kept settlements warm during their big freeze)
Centuries past and the spoil heap grew
till it dominated the landscape,
and swallowed up those brave ancient few
and little mines that they had scraped.
(the neolithics vanished from mind...)
Well, coal fell in and out of fashion
till the mine owners started to panic,
as the tip smouldered on all grey an ashen
they decided to sell it all on, and quick.
It was all about to vanish, my dear,
history and our local myth
under brick and stone, forever disappeared,
till I found fossiled bones, on my midnight shift "
Written by Rew
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Great job, Rew. Thanks for kicking this off :)
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Anne-Ri999
5
Joined 16th Aug 2023
Forum Posts: 199
Thought Provoker
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Anne-Ri999
5
Joined 16th Aug 2023
Forum Posts: 199
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Related submission no longer exists.
Anne-Ri999
5
Joined 16th Aug 2023
Forum Posts: 199
Thought Provoker
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Oh I was too quick to send in some entries. I see now that you wish to have POEMS as entries.
These arent poems of course so just ignore these as entries. I might return at a later date with a poem.
These arent poems of course so just ignore these as entries. I might return at a later date with a poem.
MadameLavender
90
Joined 17th Feb 2013
Forum Posts: 5676
Guardian of Shadows
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Lucy
They let the sand slip through their hands,
the sisters who went walking,
along the shore
to gather more
grains while they were talking.
What did they say
Oh, while the day
slid by without them knowing?
The youngest one
had told no-one
a-following, she was going.
Her footprints light on forest floor
Lucy went and wandered
off the trail
while nightingales
chirped and tried to warn her.
"Ah, dear young babe
you won't be saved
from what we see is coming--
it sits and gloats
beyond the copse,
waiting, watching, humming!"
And while the others did their chores
Lucy kept on going,
gliding through the summer haze
as minutes ticked on into days,
and years would follow, flowing.
Alas, alas, it's come to pass!
The birds, they started calling
"She's gone to where
it's called 'no-where'!"
Her mother's tears, are falling.
"My child, my girl!
Where in this world
have you met your end!"
The mother's cry
soars to the sky--
forever on the wind.
the sisters who went walking,
along the shore
to gather more
grains while they were talking.
What did they say
Oh, while the day
slid by without them knowing?
The youngest one
had told no-one
a-following, she was going.
Her footprints light on forest floor
Lucy went and wandered
off the trail
while nightingales
chirped and tried to warn her.
"Ah, dear young babe
you won't be saved
from what we see is coming--
it sits and gloats
beyond the copse,
waiting, watching, humming!"
And while the others did their chores
Lucy kept on going,
gliding through the summer haze
as minutes ticked on into days,
and years would follow, flowing.
Alas, alas, it's come to pass!
The birds, they started calling
"She's gone to where
it's called 'no-where'!"
Her mother's tears, are falling.
"My child, my girl!
Where in this world
have you met your end!"
The mother's cry
soars to the sky--
forever on the wind.
Written by MadameLavender
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LostViking
Lost Viking
8
Joined 2nd Apr 2020
Forum Posts: 35
Lost Viking
Fire of Insight
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The Lights of Marfa, Texas (as told by a tribal elder)
In the heart of the desert, ancient spirits roam,
In lands of Apache, this legend is known,
There once lived a people old as the sands
They looked out in sorry at the loss of their home.
The Apache chief was filled with hate and
Promised his daughter for a change of fate.
To the warrior who brought him a white woman’s scalp
He’d give his daughter on a golden plate.
Naiche, a young warrior, with eyes so deep,
Took up the challenge, with courage to keep,
He stalked a family, by Pecos River,
Watching a maiden whose beauty was deep.
Amelia, the name of a spirit unbound,
Innocence and naivety within her he found.
Her story with Naiche's would soon combine
Never to part from Apache’s ground.
Beneath the stars, in the night's embrace,
Naiche and Amelia met, face to face,
Their hearts beat as one, in love's bright flame,
He found her fate in her soft embrace.
For Naiche knew, his chief's decree,
He knew their love could never be.
In lust and sorrow, he took his prize,
Then took her scalp as she fell to her knees.
He wed the chief's daughter, but in dreams he'd see,
Amelia's face, haunted memory,
As war descended, he spread his arms wide
For only in death would he ever be free.
Now when night falls, and desert winds sing,
The legend of Naiche and Amelia springs,
In Marfa's lights, a dance so bright,
Two souls unite in eternal light.
In lands of Apache, this legend is known,
There once lived a people old as the sands
They looked out in sorry at the loss of their home.
The Apache chief was filled with hate and
Promised his daughter for a change of fate.
To the warrior who brought him a white woman’s scalp
He’d give his daughter on a golden plate.
Naiche, a young warrior, with eyes so deep,
Took up the challenge, with courage to keep,
He stalked a family, by Pecos River,
Watching a maiden whose beauty was deep.
Amelia, the name of a spirit unbound,
Innocence and naivety within her he found.
Her story with Naiche's would soon combine
Never to part from Apache’s ground.
Beneath the stars, in the night's embrace,
Naiche and Amelia met, face to face,
Their hearts beat as one, in love's bright flame,
He found her fate in her soft embrace.
For Naiche knew, his chief's decree,
He knew their love could never be.
In lust and sorrow, he took his prize,
Then took her scalp as she fell to her knees.
He wed the chief's daughter, but in dreams he'd see,
Amelia's face, haunted memory,
As war descended, he spread his arms wide
For only in death would he ever be free.
Now when night falls, and desert winds sing,
The legend of Naiche and Amelia springs,
In Marfa's lights, a dance so bright,
Two souls unite in eternal light.
Written by LostViking
(Lost Viking)
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Thank you for the entries thus far :)
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<< post removed >>
Isgyppie_
L.C. McQuillen
5
Joined 17th Dec 2015
Forum Posts: 63
L.C. McQuillen
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wallyroo92
151
Joined 11th July 2012
Forum Posts: 1843
Tyrant of Words
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El Cipitio
His father was Morning Star
His mother was Sihuehuet*, goddess of the moon
He was the product of a forbidden romance
But his can be a tale, one of terror and gloom
When the queen’s affair had been discovered
Her husband went to the Teotl* seeking justness
So the Aztec god cursed both mother and child
Her husband believed he had received justice
The boy’s feet were bent backwards
Given a conical hat and a pot belly of enormous girth
A ghastly sight for the few that have seen him
Always as a child, doomed to walk the earth
Farmers would sometimes follow his footprints
Trying to track down those hideous hooves
But his backwards feet sent them n the opposite direction
Deeper and deeper into the woods
Ladies who bathed or walked by the river
Can feel eyes watching them or had rocks thrown
Appearing and disappearing laughing like child’s play
Feeling a chill down to the bones
They say he’s covered in ash when they tell dark tales
Like other ancient fables of ghosts, spirits and more
But the little boy who was cursed likes to play games
Has now become more of entertainment in local folklore
His mother was Sihuehuet*, goddess of the moon
He was the product of a forbidden romance
But his can be a tale, one of terror and gloom
When the queen’s affair had been discovered
Her husband went to the Teotl* seeking justness
So the Aztec god cursed both mother and child
Her husband believed he had received justice
The boy’s feet were bent backwards
Given a conical hat and a pot belly of enormous girth
A ghastly sight for the few that have seen him
Always as a child, doomed to walk the earth
Farmers would sometimes follow his footprints
Trying to track down those hideous hooves
But his backwards feet sent them n the opposite direction
Deeper and deeper into the woods
Ladies who bathed or walked by the river
Can feel eyes watching them or had rocks thrown
Appearing and disappearing laughing like child’s play
Feeling a chill down to the bones
They say he’s covered in ash when they tell dark tales
Like other ancient fables of ghosts, spirits and more
But the little boy who was cursed likes to play games
Has now become more of entertainment in local folklore
Written by wallyroo92
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Sappho
1
Joined 8th Aug 2018
Forum Posts: 13
Twisted Dreamer
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Loreley
For hours I've been sitting on this rock
Where you wanted to meet me
In the afternoon hours, and now
The sky is already dressed for soiree
In all shades of orange, red and pink
Where are you, dear, when will you come?
A hundred times I've brushed my hair
A golden wave flowing to my hips
Soft and silken like the
Legendary golden fleece
Longing for your hands' gentle touch
Where are you, dear, when will you come?
I climbed up a steep path to this rock
Hi above the river Rhein
A wonderful viewpoint of the valley
But as far as the eye can see
The sultan of my heart is still not in sight!
Where are you, dear, when will you come?
Did your father send you out with orders?
Or - god forbid! - did you fall among thieves?
Worried and yearning I intonate a
Bitter-sweet song to carry you towards me
Can you hear my calling?
Where are you, dear, when will you come?
Are you on this ship cruising the stream?
I cannot spot you. But what's that?
All eyes on me!
Watch out captain! Can't you see
The dangerous rapids in front of you?
Where are you, dear, please please come!
Oh my goodness, it's too late!
With his slippery and wet fingers
Father Rhein has grabbed the ship and
Pulled it down to his deadly kingdom
Alas, I'm afraid they'll blame it on me!
Where are you, dear, I need you to come!
Where you wanted to meet me
In the afternoon hours, and now
The sky is already dressed for soiree
In all shades of orange, red and pink
Where are you, dear, when will you come?
A hundred times I've brushed my hair
A golden wave flowing to my hips
Soft and silken like the
Legendary golden fleece
Longing for your hands' gentle touch
Where are you, dear, when will you come?
I climbed up a steep path to this rock
Hi above the river Rhein
A wonderful viewpoint of the valley
But as far as the eye can see
The sultan of my heart is still not in sight!
Where are you, dear, when will you come?
Did your father send you out with orders?
Or - god forbid! - did you fall among thieves?
Worried and yearning I intonate a
Bitter-sweet song to carry you towards me
Can you hear my calling?
Where are you, dear, when will you come?
Are you on this ship cruising the stream?
I cannot spot you. But what's that?
All eyes on me!
Watch out captain! Can't you see
The dangerous rapids in front of you?
Where are you, dear, please please come!
Oh my goodness, it's too late!
With his slippery and wet fingers
Father Rhein has grabbed the ship and
Pulled it down to his deadly kingdom
Alas, I'm afraid they'll blame it on me!
Where are you, dear, I need you to come!
Written by Sappho
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