The Peninsula of Toys

The Peninsula of Toys

peninsula of toys

The peninsula of toys
Moves piece by piece
Down the hall.
A four-armed alien wrestler
Is joined by Spider Man and triceratops.
They reach out from the wall
Growing as the peninsula of toys.
The playthings of
Four little boys.
Toys cluster and grow
They move about.
A basketball bounces
A semi loses its trailer
T. rex skeleton chews a black clip-on tie
Yellow baseball bat wishes for a ball
In the end, they join
They grow
They move about
They creep out from the wall
They form the peninsula of toys
Made of the things of little boys.

David Madrid

Contact: David Madrid


Who was Aesop?

It depends which story you believe, but one version is that he was a deformed, stuttering Greek slave in the 6th century B.C. who was granted the gift of crafting fables by the goddess Isis.

The magic of Isis transformed Aesop into the legendary fabulist whose stories live on because of their timeless lessons.

Aesop’s fables have been told and retold throughout history. You can find different versions of the same story among different cultures.

In the end, according to one version, Aesop was thrown off a cliff by the people of Delphi, who then suffered pestilence and famine. Whether true or not, I like to imagine that Isis used her powers to curse those who dared kill the legendary storyteller.

David Madrid, president of, is a storyteller who also writes fables. While impossible to compete with Aesop, the greatest fabulist of all time, this website offers fables that we hope teach lessons that both children and adults will recognize and consider. will occasionally offer you its version of Aesop’s fables.

We love the fable, and we thank Aesop for showing us the way.


A woodcut from La vida del Ysopet con sus fabulas historiadas (Spain, 1489) depicting a hunchbacked Aesop surrounded by events from the stories in Planudes’ version of his life.

Woodcut image from Wikipedia

David Madrid

Contact: David Madrid

The Stuck Truck

The Stuck Truck

It was the driver’s bad luck

That the truck got stuck

As he drove beneath the overpass.

Slightly wedged, he hit the gas,

And jammed the truck in tight.

So they called far and wide for experts who were bright,

Engineers with brilliant minds,

A solution they would surely find.

An expert said: “We can use some floor-to-ceiling jacks

“To raise the overpass.”

But with each lift of a jack

The arch that held the bridge cracked.

“We can cut off the top of the truck with a saw,”

Was another idea with a serious flaw.

Two geniuses discussed breaking apart the road above.

“It will loosen the arch just enough.”

People gathered on the bridge and looked down.

“Oh my, what will they do?” they fretted and frowned.

But a young boy nearby licking a sucker

Said: “I know how to help the troubled trucker.

“Why don’t you deflate the tires on the truck?

“I’ll wager that the truck will drop and become unstuck.”

For all those brains that had traveled for miles,

None saw the problem through the eyes of a child.

And so dear readers, remember the lesson

Taught so long ago by Ralph Waldo Emerson:

That it doesn’t matter who you meet

When you are walking down the street.

That person can teach you a thing or two

Even if the person is old or a youth.

The End

David Madrid

Contact: David Madrid

“In my walks, every man I meet is my superior in some way, … in that I learn from him.”

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Philosopher, Poet, Essayist

May 25, 1803 – April 27, 1882


garbage 1


What an evil curse upon the earth is litter.

Thrown from the window of a moving car. Tossed on the ground at the city park. Dumped into the desert from the back of a truck.

Litter is a most grievous blot upon the land, upon our waters.

Litter grows. It multiplies. It’s ugly. It’s horrid. It’s sick.

We’re sick, those of us who practice litter. We spew garbage upon our very souls.

Once upon a time, we practiced keeping America beautiful. Now, we practice dumping waste, pumping waste, scattering waste.

We eat waste. We drink it. We die with its mark upon our soul.


The answer is simple. Pick it up. Pack it in; pack it out. Don’t dump.

Keep America beautiful. Keep our earth beautiful. Keep your soul beautiful.

I’m counting on you. You can count on me.

David Madrid

Contact: David Madrid

The Pond

The bird stands by the pond, and I don’t know what kind of a bird it is.

The pond is at the end of an irrigation ditch, and that little body of water is popular with the feathered population.

I see them sitting out there in the water, and I see them hanging around the ditches and fields: fleet roadrunners, burrowing owls, duck, geese, egrets, blue herons, and best of all, magnificent soaring raptors. I don’t know if they are hawks or falcons.

The bird by the pond is about 18 inches tall. It has a short body and long neck. It is brown. I haven’t seen a bird like this before.

bird and pond

Out there by the pond, I see them hang around. Webbed-footed birds float on the water. I see quail scurry along the ditches and run through the fields. I see a quail mother fake injury to sacrifice herself for her fleeing young.

I see four ugly buzzards that take a couple of weeks to devour the carcass of what appears to be a dead porcupine.

I don’t know if it is a porcupine. The smell keeps me at a distance. Not to mention, I don’t want to disturb the vultures that so diligently feast on the shrinking rodent.

Yes, there is beauty out there at the pond and along the artery that feeds it.

The pond always has water. Occasionally, the pond gets thirsty, but then a great burst of rain or flowing irrigation fills it again.

The pond holds enough water that migratory birds of all feathers make it a point to drop by and float awhile. At least until they see me.


Out there by the open fields where farmers grow their crops, there is beauty, even in the carcass of a porcupine and the ugly birds that feed upon it.

David Madrid

Email: David Madrid

Hello world!

Welcome to This site is your place to come for original stories written by me, David Madrid. I am a writer and storyteller. I hope to share my positive fables and stories with you. Whether you are an adult or child, my stories will appeal to you.

I have just begun to build this site, so have patience with me, and check back regularly for new stories and blog posts.

Read El Chupacabra, a horror story featuring the mythical goat sucker of Latino lore.

Thank you for your interest.

David Madrid

Contact: David Madrid