Three Poems inspired by Aesop's Fables

written as examples for our fable unit

The Crow and the Pitcher (acrostic)

Never one to shy away from a challenge and
Ever diligent in thought and solution, the
Crow, parched from strenuous and lengthy flight,
Eyed what might heal her failing constitution.
Standing upright in plain sight, the pitcher
Seemingly contained water that might quench
Immeasurable thirst, but alas, ‘twas too deep and
The crow’s resolve gave a great wrench.
“You, cruel pitcher, will be my execution.”

It might have been normal to lie down and die.
She sat, dejectedly pondering the why,

That something so dark should come to befall her.
How could life be so close yet effectively wall her from
Even a sip? Oh, that water did call her.

“Madam Crow,” she said to herself in an
Ornery tone, “this is not the time for self-pity.
Take stock of your assets and cleave all bad thoughts.
Hence forth, there’ll be no negativity!”
Escaping the clutch of the cold grip of death she
Renewed her inner-strength with a cleansing deep breath.

“Over there are some pebbles,” she cried, “I can use!”
Four at once she beaked with the strength of one who’s

Inspired to live when she surely should not.
Now she added twelve more to the indifferent pitcher.
Verily, with each load of stones the water did rise -
Every pass and the vessel’s rock-stores grew richer.
Now the life-saving liquid was kissing the brim,
The crow attacked it with vigor, attacked it with vim.
Indeed she succeeded and sat back fulfilled.
Oh, how she had persisted when chances were slim!
Now you see the results when you’re smart and strong-willed.
© Jeff Wilson, 2007

The Ants and the Grasshopper (rhyming couplets)

There once was a grasshopper playing a fiddle
Of actual work, he did very little
He spent all of his summer and most of the fall
Goofing around; doing nothing at all.
And while he rested or fiddled or slumbered
He took no notice of ants as they quietly lumbered
Right past his door, their path heavily trodden,
Burdened by various food they had gotten.
They worked and they labored right up to first snow
At which point they rested content and aglow
Knowing they had food to last them the season,
Their diligence and effort clearly the reason.
The grasshopper took notice of his rumbling belly,
And longed for a restaurant (or at least a good deli)
That was opened year-round for the cold, hungry insect,
But alas, looking around, there was none to detect.
So he banged on the door of a neighboring anthill
Panicked and screaming (he was really quite shrill),
He begged for a morsel, anything they could spare,
But those full-bellied ants really just didn’t care.
And lest you find them cruel, and this tale one of sorrow,
Take heed! Prepare today for the wants of tomorrow.
© Jeff Wilson, 2007

The North Wind and the Sun (rhyming quatrains)

The glittery Sun and the blustery Wind
Stared at each other, both truly chagrined.
The wind contesting (nonsensical blather)
Which of the two most people would rather

Take in as a guest (like it could be done).
Wind insisting that he would be the one.
The sun just smiled brightly, as she was apt.
This infuriated the Wind. The Wind, he snapped.

And he howled and challenged, “Dumb Sun! A contest!
You choose the terms and we’ll see who’s best!”
Normally Sun would laugh off such a bet.
Not this time. Here are the terms that Sun set.

“You see that man walking down there on the road?”
Indeed, the Wind saw the small man as he strode.
“This is a test of strength – yours outer, mine inner.
Which of us makes him sans coat is the winner.”

“You’re on!” Wind cried as he rushed from the sky.
Oh, the grass, it did bend, and the leaves, they did fly.
And when Wind whipped harder, and the coat he caught,
“My victory is at hand,” he airily thought.

Just then something happened that was quite contradictory
And Wind snatched defeat from the wanton jaws of victory.
In his haste to see that coat billow like a sail,
Wind overlooked the flaw that made his plan fail.

The force of the Wind froze the man cold on the spot
So he bundled up tighter, even tying a knot
In the belt ‘round his waist, nice and secure.
He wasn’t taking that coat off; that was for sure.

Wind, now seeing his error, died down, retreated,
Becoming nothing more than a breeze, defeated.
“It’s over, Sun. Finished. I’ll leave you this thought.
If I can’t, you can’t. Your effort is for naught.”

Sun just beamed from her noon-time position
A furnace just waiting for sudden ignition.
Her rays, at right angles, left stars in his eyes,
And the man felt his internal temperature rise.

He wiped sweat from his brow and loosened the knot.
“My goodness! It’s getting unbearably hot!”
Another five minutes saw the coat removed.
And without a word spoken, Sun’s point had been proved.

Thus, subtly beaten, Wind turned, gently so,
“Well played,” he lilted. “And I think you should know,
You’ve taught me today, as a matter of course,
That persuasion, my friend, is better than force.”
© Jeff Wilson, 2007