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Kurt Philip Behm Apr 2024
The Day I Hit The Bear

The day started out like most days in the mountains. The sky was bright but not entirely sunny. It was a Friday morning at 8:37 when I pulled out of my ‘economy’ motel on the eastern outskirts of Roanoke.

I had spent the previous afternoon (Thursday) riding the Blue Ridge Parkway from the Carolina border to Roanoke. It was after 6 and the heavy tree formation along the Parkway had started to darken the road, so I decided to call it a day. Too many animals call that time of night nirvana for me to feel safe after dusk anymore.

After a quick stop at ‘Denny’s” it was off to bed in the $41.00 motel I found just off the entrance to the Parkway. I slept great, as I always do on the road and woke up at seven raring to go. After a gas-up and ‘breakfast’ at the B.P. station, I was back up the entrance ramp onto the parkway and making the left turn that would take me North all the way to Front Royal Virginia.

As I started North, I got to thinking. I was riding my beloved Venture Royale, which I had always referred to as just the ‘Venture.’ Most guys I know after establishing a love affair with their motorcycle name their bike like they do their children and dogs. I never had — it was just the Venture.

After 150,000 of the most unbelievable miles anyone could imagine, the bike still had the name it was given by its manufacturer  I had always felt guilty about that, but never seemed to be able to come up with the appropriate name.

As I left the Blue Ridge Parkway and entered Shenandoah National Park (Skyline Drive), the sky darkened and the posted speed limit dropped to 35. I’ve always wondered why the speed limit was only 35 here yet 45 on the Parkway just below. The makeup and complexion of the roads looked identical or at least so it seemed. It’s a long ride through the park to Front Royal at 35mph, and if you don’t stop you might make it in about three hours.

I was now at a consistent elevation above 3000 feet and the air and shrubbery started to feel and look like the Rocky Mountains. I stopped at a rest stop to use the facilities and drink some water and then quickly got back on the road because my goal was to make it to the Pennsylvania line before dark.

The Bike was running as well as it ever has, and after 22 years of faithful service that’s saying a lot. There are only 2 states we haven’t been to together (Mississippi and Rhode Island), and I’ve got both of them on my short list to round out the lower 48. The Venture, there I go again calling it something so bland, has also been to Alaska twice. It has made 5 cross-country trips and my favorite, a 10-day Odyssey with my son going up one side of the Rockies and down the other. The memories of our times together came flooding back as I rounded a large bend in the road to the left.

Then it happened !

Before I could react, downshift, or even pull the brake lever, it was directly in front of me. I saw it, and my life flashed in front of me at exactly the same time. It was a black bear, and it looked to be full size. Before I could even exhale it was less than a foot from the front tire of the bike.

BAMMMMM ! It hit like a sledgehammer. First it sounded like a small explosion just behind the front wheel on the left side. Then the back of the bike lifted up about two feet in the air. I had hit the bear and then run over it as it passed under the bike.

We’ve all heard stories about near death experiences that cause your life to flash in front of your eyes in that very instant. Trust me, it’s true, and here’s what flashed through mine.

Anyone who knows me, knows about my lifelong love for motorcycles and motorcycling. My first ‘car’ was a BSA Gold Star that I had in High School. My mother never knew about it because YES VIRGINIA — my Grandmother and Grandfather let me hide it in their garage.

I bought the first 750 Honda when it was introduced in 1970, rode it all through college and believe me when I say those Penn State winters were brutal. I didn’t know it was called Hypothermia, but I experienced it every week between November and March. I dated my Wife on that motorcycle and am lucky that I still have it tucked away in the back of my garage today.

Combined with my love for Motorcycles is my love of the mountains and the Rockies in particular. I have spent almost all of my vacation time during the past 30 years riding, touring, and exploring the Rocky Mountain West.

As a result of my time in the Rockies, about 25 years ago I also developed a love for bears. All bears. I love Black Bears, Grizzly Bears and Polar Bears, but if forced to choose the Grizzly would be my favorite. My 2 close encounters in Yellowstone, and my 1 in Glacier, with large Brown Bears changed my perception of life and what it means forever. I was totally at their mercy. Looking into their eyes, which the so-called experts warn you against, was a life altering experience that I’m glad to have done

Now, back to what flashed through my mind when the bear was about to make contact. It all seemed to happen in slow motion but I thought as I hit him that if this was truly the end — how lucky I was! YES LUCKY. To end my life doing the thing I loved the most, in a place (A National Park) I loved most being, and to have it ended by an animal that meant more to me than any other. It all just seemed fitting and right.

In that instant I was ready to go, and in a strange and still unexplainable way, I was almost thankful for it happening the way it did.

And then before I had even blinked my eyes, the rear of the bike was back down on the road and now sliding to the right. I counter-steered as I was taught when road racing, and after drifting across both lanes the bike ‘******’ straight up and started heading North again. Instinctively I looked in my rear view mirror and saw the bear run off into the tall grass on the side of the road and then collapse.

I went about fifty yards further up the road and stopped the bike and got off. It was damaged in the front and just slightly leaking. The radiator cowling was broken off and part of the lower fairing was gone. There was organic material all over my left tailpipe which I would later find out was brain matter from the bear. I got off the bike and walked back to where I thought the bear was laying.

He was right where I had seen him collapse and he had a huge opening in his skull where he had made contact with the bike. As terrible as this made me feel, something else made me feel even worse, --- he was still breathing.

Two hikers (a husband and wife), about my age were now walking toward the bear and had seen the whole thing happen. They were locals and worried that there may be more bears around. They both suggested that we leave the area quickly. They told me there was a rest stop two miles further up the Parkway on the left and that I would be able call a Ranger to come and assist (shoot) the bear. I thanked them as they left and watched them head down the trail directly across the road from where the bear and I now were.

I got back on the bike and hurried up to the rest stop. Just as the couple had instructed the nice woman behind the counter called the Ranger Station and they sent a USFS Officer named Gary Roth to talk to me. I pleaded with the Ranger to forget about me, (I was fine), and to please go help the bear. I was pretty sure the bear was unconscious, but even then, you can sometimes still feel pain.

That Ranger spent almost two hours with me, first checking my driver’s license and registration, insurance card, etc. I’m sure he was also doing a back round check on me when he went back to his SUV, and all the while the poor bear was lying in trauma on the side of the road.

These Park Officials claim to love their charges, the animals in the park, but today it didn’t seem that way. I would have gladly given the officer my bike keys and identification, which he could have kept while going back to help (dispatch) the bear. ‘NO’ was all he replied back when I made that suggestion.

Finally, the Ranger left after thanking me for stopping and filing the report. He told me that most people who hit bears (on average one a month) don’t even stop to report it. At this time of the year the bears are very active, as they are foraging incessantly for food, trying to gain weight before hibernation. They are more vulnerable to car and motorcycle traffic in the fall than at any other time. He also told me that I was the only one in his memory (19 years in the park), to have hit a bear on a motorcycle and to have walked (ridden) away.

As I watched him head South on Skyline Drive, I looked at the sorry state of the Venture. I felt guiltier than ever, still referring to my beloved, and now damaged bike, in such an objective way. I decided to ride back to where I had hit the bear and make sure the Ranger did what he said he would do.  By the time I traveled the two miles to where the bear had been, the ranger was gone and there was no sight of the bear. However he did it, the Ranger had removed the bear quickly and took him to wherever they take animals that have been killed on the road.

I turned the bike around and headed North again. As I passed the rest stop I looked over to see if maybe the Ranger had come back, but the parking lot was now empty except for one lone moped parked off on the grass to the right of the building. ‘Must be a camper,’ I thought to myself.

Looking straight North again in the direction of Front Royal, I noticed the ‘Venture Royale’ badge on the dashboard of the bike. An epiphany then happened that had never happened while riding before.

                                THE BEAR / THE BEAR !!!

I would never again refer to my beloved motorcycle as the Venture again. The spirit of something primordial had overcome both of us today and allowed us to survive. From this moment on, the bike will forever be known as — THE BEAR.

Roanoke Virginia
October 2012
Nigel Morgan Nov 2012
We’d been to concert at the Town Hall. It was a Saturday night and still early for a Saturday Night Out. So many people on the streets. The girls barely dressed, the boys bouncing around in t-shirts. Older people threaded along the pavements walking purposefully, but ‘properly’ dressed, and now making their way, as we were, for the station.

I know He noticed her because He stopped, momentarily. We were holding hands. He loves to hold my hand. That evening I remember squeezing his hand firmly as if to say how pleased I was He was here and I was not walking to the station alone. I have done this, walking to the station alone, so often. It is good to have someone close at such times, someone to talk to about the performance, the music, what is going on around us. We walked right past them.

I noticed the man first and then the child. He was very tall, very dark, wearing a black leather jacket I think. He was not scruffy so much as untidy, dark and untidy, with curly hair that did not know a comb. He was busking. He sang an incomprehensible song in a language I didn’t recognize, playing an electric guitar plugged into a small amplifier by his feat. He turned from side to side as he sang as though looking for an audience. I remember his trainers and the soft guitar case open on the pavement with a smattering of coins. Then, this child.

Over the last two days I’ve examined the scene in my memory. I’ve sought to recall as much as I can about this little girl. She was not that little I think for her age, perhaps seven or eight. Stocky. Thick golden brown hair. A sensible skirt covering her knees, a fawn jumper with some sparkly decoration. Tights or long socks perhaps. Proper shoes. I keep examining my mind’s photo. What I recall most vividly was her large smiling eyes and her expression. This is my daddy, it said. He’s singing and I’m here looking after him. I’m his smiley girl here on the city street. It’s late. Other children back home would be in bed, but I’m here smiling at the people passing.

Yesterday we talked about this couple, the little girl mostly. He brought the subject up. He’d been thinking about her too. He’d been puzzling over the two of them. As a pair they seemed so physically different, hardly father and daughter. It was the (possible) daughter’s gaze, her twinkling eyes that had spoken to him - as they had spoken to me. This is my daddy, those eyes and that smiley face had said. And she was holding a bear.

Why did I not mention the bear until now? Of course, she was holding her bear. She had both arms around her bear. She was hugging her bear to herself. It was a mild evening for March – she wore no coat. He looked a good bear, not too old or small, not the kind of bear she’d been given in infancy, perhaps recently acquired but well-loved, well-hugged. A bear that seemed entirely right for her age, for her slightly old fashioned clothes. The sort of clothes I might have worn as a child. I think of a photo of me at that age dressed in a Cloth-Kits dress, with an Alice band, with glasses and lots of curly hair.  

He said ‘I’ve been wondering about the two of them. Did they have a home? Where would they go to when it became late?’ Was there a mother? Was she working somewhere on that Saturday night and the father had to take the girl. Was she wearing her best clothes? She looked OK. A glowing, healthy face, a face that reflected the bright, coloured lights of the city street.’

Suddenly, I realised there were tears in his eyes. I thought, He is imagining a story. He is imagining a story of this seven year old who should have been tucked up in bed with her bear, like my little boy with his blue blanket. He was imagining her life., her past in some Eastern European town, where she went to school, where she had friends and relatives, where she had been born and brought up, and been loved. And now the girl was here in this not so distant city. Perhaps illegally, without the papers, smuggled in as so many are. Her father, swarthy, even a tinge of the Roma perhaps, but she so different. It was the golden brown hair. Thick hair, a ribbon tied in it. A pink ribbon.

He had thought of his little girl, now fifteen, only when she was that age, seven. Oddly similar in some ways, the thick hair, the smiley face, a different but ever present bear, an infant’s bear, not a bear she’d take with her except in a bag. A bear not to be seen with at seven, but loved.

‘I’ll call her Katya,’ He said. The girl, not the bear.

And later He did. Every few days He would mention her – just in passing. ‘Do you think Katya’s  at school today?’ ‘I was in the city this afternoon, but I didn’t see Katya.’

He wrote about her and her father. A little story. I haven’t read it. He just told me He’d written it; He’d thought of following them in his imagination. He was a little embarrassed telling me this, and He didn’t offer to show me the story, which is unusual because when He mentions He’s written something He usually does. And so I wonder. I wonder how long this memory will stay with him and whether He will follow this couple (and her bear) into the future, create a story for them to live in.

Perhaps it will bring him the peace He does not have. The peace I try to give him when He is with me at home and we sit in my little house, at my table eating toast with Marmite after I’ve been out late whilst He’s sat on my settee and read – in peace at being in my home. I know He feels cast adrift from his family and He can’t be part of mine, yet a while. Perhaps it’s like being in another country. Perhaps He thinks, at least that busker had his child with him, his shining star, his ever-smiley girl.

Yet He is thinking of his smiley girl, smiley still at fifteen, still loving her dad despite what He’s done, despite the fact that she sees him so seldom. Despite the fact that He is only occasionally with her, and she knowing I, his lover, his young woman, his companion and friend, has captured his heart and thoughts.

I think of Katya too. I think of my older girl, so loved and circled about with love and admiration by her respective families and our friends. She is so special and so beautiful, as I was special at eleven, as I think I was beautiful at eleven, just on the brink of that transformation that will take her towards becoming a teenager – and the rest.  

We were lying in bed the Saturday morning before seeing Katya and I was telling him about my childhood. He’d asked me about zebra finches. Walking in his nearby park He had admired their bright red beaks in the park’s newly-restored aviary. I told him about a parrot in a park close to my childhood home, a parrot I passed as I went to school. I described for him my walk to school, meeting up with my friends, passing the parrot. I know how happy it made him to hear me talk about such things. He said so later, embracing me in the kitchen. ’I so love to hear you talk about your childhood.’ I could feel he was moved to say this. It was important. I realised then just how deeply he loved me. That it was important. That he imagined me as a child. That He wanted to know that part of me. He’s rarely asked about the stuff in between. Of my former lovers I’ve said a little. He has said a little about his past liaisons and affaires, but knows I am uncomfortable when he does. So we leave this. But childhood, That’s so different, because it is that precious, precious time of shelter and care: when we begin to discover who we are and who and what we love.

Where is Katya now? In a messy room she shares with her parents in a house shared with economic migrants, where she has a few belongings in three plastic bags. In one, her best clothes she wears to stand on the city street on a Saturday night with her daddy. In another a jumble of not so clean clothes she rotates each day. She has her sleeping bag, her bear, her warm coat and gloves. There’s a few magazines she’s found about the house. English is puzzling. She learnt a little at school back home, and from the TV of course, those American soaps. If she was here in my house I would stand her in the shower, wash her thick hair, put her clothes in the machine, sit her on my bed in my daughter’s clothes with some picture books, introduce her to my cats, we would bake some buns. I would give her a small gift of my love to take away with her and she would look on me with her smiley face, her sparkling eyes and let me hold her bear.

And later when I saw him I would tell him that Katya had been with me for a little, and tears would fall, mine and his, knowing that only in our dreams could we make this so.
Sara Leal Dec 2015
Big Teddy Bear,
This is for you.

Big Teddy Bear,
I love you.

Big Teddy Bear,
I'm addicted to your voice.

Big Teddy Bear,
I want to hug you until I'm dead.

Big Teddy Bear,
I would wait forever for you.

Big Teddy Bear,
I'm insane.

Big Teddy Bear,
I hope you know everything about me.

Big Teddy Bear,
I look forward to our future.

Big Teddy Bear,
Don't leave me, please.

Big Teddy Bear,
Heal me from your scars.

Big Teddy Bear,
Hold my hand.

Big Teddy Bear,
I promise.

Big Teddy Bear,
I won't let our love end.

Big Teddy Bear,
Don't send me away.

Big Teddy Bear,
I may be crazy.

But **Big Teddy Bear
,
I love you so much.
English version
Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear
Turn around
Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear
Touch the ground
Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear
Wiggle your nose
Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear
Touch your toes
Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear
I love you
Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear
This is true
Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear
Turn off the light
Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear
Say Good Night
Bada the cute little white bear
Sharina Saad Jun 2013
Papa bear whistles
Mama bear sings
Baby bear jumps
and he yells out loud!
Papa look what I have found!
a yellow hibiscus for mama!
Papa bear grins
Mama bear smiles
Baby bear struts with pride!
Mama bear, Papa bear and baby bear
are enjoying their walk in the woods.
A little teddy bear and I love her
A little teddy bear and I love her lots
He is cuddly and cute
Like a little cute bird
Like something you never heard
And you are my cuddly bear
I will name you after my school crush
Julia Clarke as she was sent to border town
Because she hated school and Canberra
But when I look at my teddy bear
I think of her the pretty good looking girl
Because
She is a little teddy bear and I love her
A little teddy bear and I love her lots
I think of all the times she teased
Cause she was a bad girl
Bad girl bad girl nothing but a bad girl
She rode at the back of the bus with me
Oh yeah she is a little teddy bear
And I love her lots love her lots lots lots
Little teddy bear and I love her lots  
Then played pool with me
We would’ve married
But she was a teddy bear that I love her
Little teddy bear and she loves me lots
Pretty girl teddy bear
And I love her lots
You see I was prepared to get teased with her
Cause I love her
You see if I saw her again I will live with her
Julia is a sweet beautiful teddy bear
And I am her cuddly bear
Cause she is a little teddy bear and I love her
Little teddy bear and I love her lots
Little bear ever so cute
Julia Clarke is a teddy bear I really love lots
I love my teddy bear
You are my little bear
I love my teddy bear
You are my little bear
You give me cuddles when I want it
And you sit on my bed
Waiting for me to rest my weary head
You see I call my teddy bear
My cute teddy bear
You see I call my teddy bear
My cute teddy bear
I call him
Cuddly bear
Just like my girlfriend called me
I look like a bear
Who was after a cuddle
But my head was in a bit of a muddle
I might have been tired
So off I go to bed
To cuddle my beautiful wonderful topsy teddy bear from all over the world
You see I love my teddy bear
My cute little teddy bear
Really really cute shaking his derryiare
I love teddy he is so cute
I cuddle him so he is not on mute
I just love my teddy bear
Cause he supplies with cuddles
Just for me
Hawley Anne Apr 8
I wonder if I could be blamed
for what my choice might be.
Between a man and a bear
and which one I would think may fight fair.

See I'm not to sure I'd need to give it much thought,
I think I'd choose the bear.
Because at least I'd know what came next,
no one expects a bear to fight fair.

A bear would not lie to me,
or first make me fall in love.
And bear would not get me wondering if I were truly nuts.

A bear might rip me limb from limb
but at least when it was done
The bear would not sit there and claim,
that he had done it out of love.

And the bear would not apologize then do it all again.
A bear would never hurt me by hooking up with my friend.

A bear wouldn't lie to me about the intentions that it had.
And a bear wouldn't call me crazy, anytime it made me mad.

The bear would probably **** me yes.
But at least then it would be done.
I wouldn't have to live with the pain, of what the bear had done.

The bear wouldn't play games with my mind.
It would either **** me or not.
But if I were to choose the man,
well I'd be better off to not.

Cuz a bear wouldn't do any of those things,
that I just described.
But I've been with the man who did them,
and it left me barely alive.
bear Sep 2014
brown bear, brown bear,
What do you see?
A sky of shining lights
slowly fills your dark cavity.

brown bear, brown bear,
What do you hear?
A rebellious, rumbustious crowd
yelling with hate and cheer.

brown bear, brown bear,
What do you smell?
A rising fire of hatred
that always seems to dwell.

brown bear, brown bear,
What do you taste?
The sweet satisfaction of victory,
but a bitter mouthful of disgrace.

brown bear, brown bear,
What do you feel?
nothing.
None of it seems real.
Poetic T Feb 2015
Little bear* eyes OPEN
Little bear everything SEEN
Little bear held so TIGHT
Little bear keeping me SAFE
Little bear my only FRIEND
Little bear shares BRUISES
Little bear held up PROTECT
Little bear thrown ASIDE
Little bear  "HELP ME"
Little bear witnesses TEARS
Little bear sees EVERYTHING
Little bear now buried with ME
Little bear I wish you could have *helped me.
Violence should never begin let alone end in the ways it does..  I was luckyish.... always tell an adult...
The bear broke out the bear trap, and screamed into the air, that the very man that set the trap that had imprisoned him there, had better find a hiding place, somewhere only he can go, to escape the fall of every gaze, every crystal drop of snow, because now he has an enemy who is red behind his eyes, an enemy who will not rest until gazing on his demise...

Kanza caught the biggest fish anyone had ever seen, they say he speared it from the bank when he saw it glinting green, without his artistry and skill the village would be doomed, once their thirst became too much, their last hopes consumed, but everyday there was a banquet, such was his expertise, that anything that took a breath in the forest could be seized, be it bird or beast or wild cat, weasel, fox or hare, Kanza even told the children that one day he'd catch a bear...

The bear withdrew into the darkness, under a canopy of pine, he knew that it was true that if he could just bide his time, eventually a man would come to check that awful snare, then before he could take a breath, his life would end right there, because no living creature from the mountains to the plains, deserves to live out their last in tortured, searing pain. Seconds turned to minutes, turned to hours, turned to days, but the bear, unblinking in the dark, never once broke his gaze, until one misty morning, still glaring at the trap, somewhere through the misty trees, he heard a twig go...SNAP!

Kanza knew all too well how big a mistake he'd made, now upon his back ,a million eyes, he'd meant to evade, but little did he know the kind of danger he was in, because now, flying through the air, was something much bigger than him, a creature so incredibly fast, as to leave nowhere to run, a demon,  a spectre, of ancient past, all his nightmares rolled into one.

The bear broke forth like holy hell, his roar shook the air, his razor sharp teeth and diamond claws ,in flesh, began to tear, Kanza ******* hold in his scream, as all around turned red, he knew he only had a few moments left, before he would be dead. The bear ploughed into the undergrowth, uprooting two small trees, then quickly spun to stare at his foe, who dropped down to his knees.

And there they sat, each one staring at the other and each one learning, understanding, what it is to suffer, Kanza knew his wounds would soon have him feeling dazed, the bear had been wounded by the trap, then hadn't eaten or slept in days.

"I'm sorry", Kanza said, the words surprising even him, as a line of crimson blood ran from his ear down to his chin, then he felt the darkness, and the ground around went black, Kanza fell forward to the ground, the eyes in his head rolled back...

When he awoke, he saw his reflection inside two huge black eyes, his instincts whispered for him not to move, something he didn't think too unwise, the bear stared into him as if it was reading his every thought, there was no escape left, no way of not being caught, after what felt like an age of the world had passed, the bear withdrew into the darkness, gazing until the last, Kanza turned to see that beside him was his mangled snare, never again in his life did he try to trap a bear.
jasmin allen Nov 2011
intro:
teddy bear teddy bear turn around teddy bear teddy bear touch the skyyyyy....
chorus:
i sleep with my **** like its my teddy bear cuz its my teddy bear like it like it my teddy bear
i dream of those leaves they are everywhere they they are everywhere
V1:
i wake up and the smoke disapate
i was so high last nite but now its a different day
if i were ****** tested it would be to there dismay
i cant wait till the cash bounce back my way
order some more kush its mi main entree
now here bad ***** smoke some john deer
we dont gotta be hicks to take a couple hits
got tht **** burning like a wick oh **** i cant feel my face
drip....
chorus:
i sleep with my **** like its my teddy bear cuz its my teddy bear like it like it my teddy bear
i dream of those leaves they are everywhere they they are everywhere
V2:
my teddy bear alwas got me feelin safe
im in the air like will & grace
hahahahahaa ***** i spit in ur face
come here baby come get a taste
i never knew green was a flavor
Mark Toney Nov 2021
I want to find a Boo-Boo
for my Smokey Bear
So now that you’re aware
of this just stop your
staring at me
Please hear my plea
Next time you
talk to Yogi
ask him ‘bout a
Boo-Boo Bear for
Smokey

The forest fires burn
burn, burn, burn, burn
Keep tryin’ to contain them
but those whack-a-moles
yearn to be free
Please listen to me
Next time you
talk to Yogi
ask him ‘bout a
Boo-Boo Bear for
Smokey

Smokey needs a
Boo-Boo Bear so
when he retires
he’ll take over his work
preventing forest fires
Can’t you see?
Please hear my plea
Next time you
talk to Yogi
ask him ‘bout a
Boo-Boo Bear for
Smokey




Mark Toney © 2021




“Created in 1944, the Smokey Bear Wildfire Prevention campaign is the longest-running public service advertising campaign in U.S. history, educating generations of Americans about their role in preventing wildfires … Though he has already accomplished so much, Smokey’s work is far from over. Wildfire prevention remains crucial, and he still needs your help. His catchphrase reflects your responsibility: Only you can prevent wildfires. Remember that this phrase is so much more than just a slogan: it’s an important way to care for the world around you.”—smokeybear.com

“Boo-Boo Bear is a Hanna-Barbera cartoon character on The Yogi Bear Show. Boo-Boo is an anthropomorphic bear cub who wears a blue or purple bowtie. Boo-Boo is Yogi Bear's constant companion, and often acts as his conscience.”—Wikipedia | Boo-Boo Bear
11/20/2021 - Poetry form: Light verse - Mark Toney © 2021
Rangzeb Hussain Feb 2010
The Teddy Bear sat on the shelf
in a room unused
and untouched for many centuries,
This room was like a tomb
for the Teddy Bear,
He was destined
and
chained to stay,
He had had many owners,
some rich,
others poor,
But,
as he wore on in Life
he showed little age,
He kept that eternal smile for his customers,
He was loyal to whoever claimed him,
And never once did he try to break free.

Out there where Time stabbed on
the years wasted many lives away,
The Bear now was precariously perched upon
the forlorn thorn throne road,
His eyes were tired,
Wrinkles now began to appear on his face,
And for the first time
he felt himself starting to age,
He felt his heart weaken.

The Bear had so many secrets,
Some that could change
the very foundations of the world,
But who could he tell them to?
His lips were stitched shut,
And in his mind he pondered
and reflected upon his entire Life,
You know, he really never had a name,
People had named him so many different times
that he really never came to figure
out who he really was inside.

He looked at his arms,
They had patches of all sorts,
Down on his legs
he had pieces of fluff sprouting out
and he was missing his left eye,
Tears rained down inside,
But not a single drop appeared outside,
He truly was treated like a raggy raggedy rag doll
with not a care in the world.

He had endured so much over his Life span,
He was thrown at,
Shot at,
Hit at,
Stepped on
and other punishments
his memory had long forgotten now,
He felt his heart grow slow
as the years crawled on.

He never had had a family
or anybody to care for,
People loved him
until something new
and better came to replace him,
Then he was tossed to the back
of someplace chilly and old,
As he sat there
he thought about his past owners
and friends,
He thought now of days of the past
and of Ages forgotten,
Something which even a History book
was unable to grasp
or truly convey.

Death stood before the Bear sometime ago,
Poking at him
and mocking him,
But the Grim Reaper never lifted his scythe
to take his Life away,
The Bear waited for that moment to come,
But it never arrived,
It was as if Death himself had forgotten him,
And his life was meaningless,
Was he truly so worthless?

He rubbed his old
and tired eyes,
The Moon outside the window
lit up the autumnal room
as if it were a silvery day,
All around him were littered Toys
of a bygone Age,
Some were in great form
and others practically dead,
He looked, but didn’t have the ability to talk, only hear,
He felt alone,
All the Toys were asleep,
All except one -
The Teddy Bear.
He was sick of fighting to go on,
He had done his bit
and it was his time to move on.

A sudden rough gust of wind blew
into the untouched room,
He felt the air splash onto his face,
This apocalyptic wind was too strong
for the old stricken Teddy Bear to handle,
The briskly blowing breeze blew
him off the shelf,
But, luckily
he was able to grasp the ledge of the shelf
with his weak paws.

He hung there for his dear Life,
He wanted to call the other Toys for help,
He screamed inside,
But nothing was heard outside,
He had no voice,
He wanted to speak but was unable to do so,
Sadness swept over him,
He knew his time was up,
And the cycle must continue,

He let go...

The laws of gravity were rapidly put into motion,
He was about to meet Mistress Destiny
so his brain thought of the perfect thing to say,
He roared with all his might inside
to shout out what was racing around his mind,
But he was unsuccessful in his attempt,
The silent scream roared on in utter silence.

He hit the wooden floor softly,
And fluff flooded the area in which he fell,
Bits of the Bear lay all around,
The gust of air blew all over the floor,
And motes of dust danced by the light of the fading Moon,
The last remains of the Teddy Bear
were blown into a corner to be forgotten,
It was as if his remains
and all his innermost dreams
were crushed to dust,
But like dust he will one day rise again.

As soon as this event took place,
The Toy that was sitting next to him
suddenly awoke by the noise of the fatal fall,
He noticed his neighbour
was no longer present,
Happily, he stretched out his legs
into the area were once the Teddy Bear had sat,
And merrily drifted back into a deep sleep,
And then came the dreams of the Cosmos,
And the brave-hearted Bear did indeed have a voice,
In the nightmare of the sleeping Toy
the dear departed Bear spoke:

“We all are born for to die,
But tell me this -
Who is it amongst us that really lives?
Sleep now, gentle friend...
and I will sing you a song
spun from the dead tears
of my now forgotten soul."




©Rangzeb Hussain
Marigolds Fever Sep 2018
Cowgirl boots cost her
just little pay
She knows to play it safe
Keepin them cowboys away
Wants soft black fur
To keep her warm at night...
they say
She murmurs by candlelight ...
Country bear soothing...
them Cowboys cause me fright
She doesn’t want a man
She’s lookin for a country bear
That’s her true fan
Cowboys want to make her purr
But a country bear is gona stretch his paws and groan
I finally found her
Big bear wont mind what she does with that hair
Cause he’s her country bear
She’s his woman
He’s her furry scare
Try not to stare
When they’re hittin the town fair
Kissin at the top of that ferris wheel
Ladies want to know
What’s that she feel
Township whispers..
there she goes
Smoochin that big bear
Maybe it ain’t no big deal
This is too surreal
Watching this
They eatin cotton candy
in complete bliss
Later in fright
Before the early light
All the ladies pray
Keep them cowboys at bay
Send me a country bear like Miss Fray
And we might promise to obey
Her secret
They want to know
She said forget it
Go to your rodeo
Bears ain’t something I’m about to share
That country woman
That country bear
It’s the perfect love affair
Tatiana Apr 2016
A boy with a bear was sitting in his room.
The bear was missing an eye
and the thread was unraveling
but his mother promised to fix him up
to make him new again.

They were going to his friends house
and his mom told him to leave his bear
But the boy didn't listen.
That bear was his heart and soul.

It was a warm summer day
the sky was bright blue
not a cloud could be seen
and the boy opened his window.

Don't stick your arms out the window.
The boy didn't listen.
Don't stick your bear out the window.
The boy didn't listen.

He wanted his bear to feel the warm air
in the same way he did.
He just wanted the bear
to feel the warm air.

But with one large bump,
the boy lost his grip
and down, down, down it goes
into the street-like abyss

But he didn't say anything.
He didn't know how to speak.
His bear helped him and now he's gone
somewhere on the side of the street.

The boy closed his eyes
shaking his head
and he slowly closed his window.
His mother breathed a sigh of relief.

He stared out the window.
He didn't look back.
He turned a blind eye
to his own unraveling thread.

Where is your bear?
I dropped it
You dropped it?
I dropped it

By the time they went to look,
it was already too dark
and the bear was gone
and so was the boy

I dropped it
I dropped it
*I dropped it
26 days in a row is a bit too much so I'll still do the 26 poems in total just not one every single day. That's a bit too much of a strain on me.
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2022
ah... Saturday... completely switched off...
in between watching the Wimbledon matches
a nature show came on...
all about bears...

                           bears... funny creatures...
pretty ingenious creatures...
    i think my totem is a bear...
     perhaps it should be a fox...
or an owl... perhaps even a rat...
    maybe a wolf... or a European bison...
or a stork...
      but i feel like a bear...

i'd oddly placed in this world...
i'm a carnivore that's actually an omnivore...
i have thumbs and pandas have
sort of thumbs too...
   pandas need to sit down to eat...
horses... maybe my totem is a horse...
or a boar... perhaps a snake...

but i like bears...
   i sort of walk about lazily like one: from time to time...
bare: bear: beard: beer...
at least in my native language the word
for bear is: niedźwiedź...
bare: bear: beard: beer...
  boor... that's another b-b-but... of course...

i think evolution span to great jokes...
man and bear...
       let's face it... what animal is intelligent
enough to grow thumbs...
and... tell winter to *******...
eh? the hardships of winter?!
   i think i'll just sleep it off...
and come autumn... when all the fruits
have fallen and are starting to ferment...
i think i'll eat like 100kg of rotting apples
and get drunk...

i've seen footage of drunk bears...
no cat video can top it...
drunk bears and drunk deer...
          i mean: cat videos are boring my comparison...

so in between watching Wimbledon this
bear show came on...
          they're carnivores but some "chose" to be
herbivores, they forage... men used to forage...
some are omnivores...
   the only carnivore among them is
the polar bear... what the **** grows in the Arctic
that also green? there's nothing green
in the Arctic except for the Northern Lights...

i feel like a bear...
           i want to be the joker among the carnivores...
be like: hey! look at me!
i can eat berries too! i can slurp honey
climbs trees like a monkey and rip into
coconuts... i swear to god...
apply biology to a geological timeline
and i can almost see some strange creature
emerge out of the bear that would
completely obliterate the origins of monkeys
and the evolution of monkeys...

or perhaps... that wouldn't be the case...
and that's only because bears are loners...
oddly enough: i'm a loner too...
sure... when social-stresses come into play
i switch gears... but... dump me in
a forest and i'll start wandering...
on the odd occasion i might curse at myself...

then again: bears don't have a clue about
conjuring a minotaur, a cyclops(e),
that horse-man-torso-"thing"... or mermaids...
then again: the Egyptian gods had heads
of animals and bodies of man...
hard to combine...
there was never an ancient Egyptian god
with a head of a monkey and a...
a shaved body of a monkey...
      i wonder why they were blind to such
imaginings... perhaps they feared
the obvious?! the similarity?
                            
they must have sensed it back then...
  they would rather put a jackal's head on a human
body than put a chimp's head on a human body...
name them: Amun,
      Anubis, (i'll exclude Apophis and Ma'at)...
  Ra, Horus... Thoth... Sekhmet...
                   Sobek...
but to be honest... i never found the Egyptian myths
alluring... i just mention them now because
i'm thinking about bears...
    but i couldn't just chop my head off
and chop a bear's head off and switch...
for starters... invert this head-chopping business
and put a man's head on a crocodile...
or put a man's head on a cat... or a crane...
hell... sure... enlarge the body of the animal...
for the "shoe to fit"... and what do you get?
sphinx riddles...
                    i'm really ******* surprised the ancient
Egyptians didn't invent the guillotine...
i'm actually shocked they didn't...

wow... what a strange advert: get better therapy...
it has a woman talking to her
Google Nurse... gizmo... or whatever you call
her... the grand A.I. project...
interesting is a buzzword for the tool...
toxic relationships etc. and the advert ends
with: seek real contact with real people...
are there unreal people? most probably...
are there unreal objects? yeah... inanimate objects
that can travel at the speed of light:
given that light is animate "object"....
the sun might be an orb in the sky...
but look at it with naked eyes and you'll
soon see the Ultraviolet pulverising sheen on it...
it doesn't shine... it doesn't glow... the moon does
that...
         the sun is chaotic... it sort of twirls
and "froths" and whirls... in Ultraviolet...
              it's like a melting metal when sieved...

come to think of it... is anything in this world
inanimate? French philosophers loved thinking about
chairs and tables...
i like to think of a chair on an abstract planet...
is the chair inanimate? but the planet is moving...
this advert prompted me...
so many people live a life of lacking question-worthiness...
people ask these stupid questions about
their stupid mistakes they keep repeating...
like the phenomenon of the recurrent dream...

only today i had a "blackout" dream where i was
eating a burger... but i think it was a dream
that informed me that someone was dreaming about me...
because i didn't see anything:
i think i just read while asleep: YOU'RE EATING
A BURGER... am i? i didn't see ****...

i'm dying to find out if i can write the...
right... at least the Hebrews are consistent with their
deity: they always said: it's all scripted...
there's no imagining "him"...
right... so what's the Tetragrammaton in Katakana?

    my best approximate is:

ヤハワ    (ya-ha-wa) - hmm...
                     i know, right... no Adam-and-Eve of the original
hiding of the vowels... and that W is not part of wHEN
but part of vERY...

what's the alternative?
       it's sort of "counter intuitive" when it comes to Katakana...
since? the language is orientated
with syllables that begin with consonants:
consonant-vowel...
there are no syllables of a vowel-consonant nature...
there's MA
                   but no AM...
and with the mysterious Katakana N sharing equal
status with the vowels... hmm...

so it's like: can you please hide a Y in an A?
that's how it works... i had it all wrong...
i seriously had it all wrong... the whole WIKIPEDIA
matrix of Katakana was not
about hiding an A in a Y... but a Y in an A...
for example...

    it's not about hiding ア in ヤ (A in Y)
but Y in A: ヤ in ア...

          タ (T) in ア (A) and not A (ア) in T (タ)...

K (カ) in A (ア) and not ア (A) in カ (K)...
it even looks logical like that... how the vowels
accommodate the consonants,
they "unravel"...
even though there's no AK to each KA...
the vowels are ingesting consonants...

there's only one "strange" dynamic...
between the free-standing vowels and the only
free-standing consonant: N...

the vowels:

ア イ ウ エ オ (a, i, u, e, o respectively)

   the "consonant" N: ン...

it works differently in this instance...
in this instance the "consonant" is ingesting
the vowels... not the reverse of the vowels ingesting
the consonants for the syllables...
just look:

ナ ニ ヌ ネ ノ (na, ni, nu, ne, no, respectively)

but all other consonants work in an opposite
dynamic: although they're written as BA MA KA...
how they're written is actually AB AM AK...

but of course i'd also revel in Hangul...
the Korean script...
but not all websites are compatible with it...
while almost all are compatible with
the Katakana...

i feel like a bear...
            and i'm also feeling terrible English...
there's this current ad. project...
crisps in? or crisps out? in / out of where?
sandwiches... IN! IN!
but unlike someone who's "terribly" English...
sure... crisps inside sandwiches...
but i'm talking about vegetable crisps...
dried beetroot, dried carrots...
dried sweet potatoes, dried parsley...
i don't mean putting standard potato "fries"
into buns of bread-dough... with cheese...
maybe some fresh celery stalks...
some pickles... yummy... i'm already salivating...

last night i got back home around 2am... limping...
the previous night i had a tumble on the stairs...
drank about 35cl of whiskey... tumbled...
****** up one of my toes...
throughout the shift i was walking with a quasi-limp...
trying to re-orientate my toes so i could
place my foot better...

i got home and drank another 35cl of whiskey...
went to bed around 4am... woke up around 2pm...
i felt mentally exhausted...
i love it when they throw me into these situations
above my usual pay-grade...
while about 12 people have been laid off...
i'm still punishing myself with ambition...
well: if i'm aiming to be a chemistry teacher...
might as well learn crowd control...

even today: i'm not even drinking that much...
but i'm already exhausting myself mentally by
peering into the Katakana...
i already mentioned: i would look into Hangul more
often if i could simply ctrl+c / ctrl+p more
of the script... but i'm only allowed 2 examples
of Hangul at a time...

for example?!
                           너    (-|)
     N  (eo)                                 i.e. you...
sort of... better example on:

oh man... but that match at Wimbledon?!
   between  Nick Kyrgios and Stefanos Tsitsipas
today?! that was something...
this is me returning to the sensible secular reality of...
i started watching a tennis match...
i ended watching a tennis match...
but there was this bear show in between matches...

i suppose any European can appreciate
either Hangul or Katakana...
   personally? i can't be the next Ezra Pound and fall
in love with Chinese ideograms...
just like most Europeans can't fall in love
with Russian ideas...
       i abhor English egalitarianism...
                         a lot of people abhor Communism...
i abhor that Capitalism usually invokes
making money from the misery of other people...
or the concept that they are nothing
but useless consumers...
    hmm... just start buying whiskey...
the odd shoe once in a while...
and bicycle parts...
                                start going to prostitutes rather
than trying to get a girlfriend and spend
money on gigs...
       i've distanced myself from pair-bonding...
i can't stomach that pair-bonding *******
when in public... i couldn't stomach a girlfriend
who ended up telling me "what a special we were"
when she was competing for the attention of other
women to show me off...
        
and how hard is it for two bears to mate?
given they solitary creatures?!
pretty ******* hard... but it's purer than some
chimpanzee harem...
perhaps bears didn't evolve to shed their fur
for a ****** good reason...
personally?! i too would love to hibernate
and never have knowledge of winter...
no... i take that back... i wish i could sleep through
the summer... i abhor this cult of:
*** only happens in the summer...
    *** should happen in winter
so that two bodies can warm each other...
counter what nature dictates...
after all: i stand outside of nature,
i stand outside of time i stand outside of space...
i am the abstract quantum of this world...
because i admire fire as much as i fear it...
should i find myself in a forest ablaze...
because i admire water as much as i feart it...
should i find myself in a leaking boat
in a middle of a storm at sea...
    but compare that with drinking a glass of water
on a humid day...

that's my answer to: and you will know the difference
between good and evil...
by consensus that's already decided:
but it's lied about... it's left hidden... for the advantage
of others to gain from...
will i be conflating polar opposites?
will i call night day and day night
should i venture as far north as Alaska during the summer?
should i call 4pm night during winter
but also call 4pm day during summer?

eh... sure... perhaps Latin looks sterile... it doesn't have
a Nomadic aesthetic similar to either Arabic
or Hebrew... but i don't appreciate either
of these scripts... none of them could
have perfected mathematics
in a way that Latin script could...
the Ancient Roman concept of the coliseum would
never be translated into a football stadium
(that massive hole in the ground,
like a meteor crater of the past rumbling
and agitating the present) like the Latin script has
preserved...

since even the dangling sacrifice on the crucifix
couldn't overpower the stature of the Latin script...
i'll call it what it was and is:
a Greco-Hebrew conspiracy against the Romans...
even that couldn't undermine the death
of this script like what was used to undermine
the death of the Babylonian Cuneiform...
and sure... the Glagolitic script died...
   as did the Runes... but they are still retained
and fondly remembered...

but of all the other scripts of the world?
i have envy for two... the Katakana and the Hangul
(the Japanese and the Korean)
respectively... i have no care for the Mandarin
hieroglyphs... they do not speak more sounds than
me: i speak more sounds than them...
their encoding is just too pedantic: ancient even...
alien...
               because they write without
a consonant to vowel differentiation...
Mandarin isn't superior: it's all ******* emoticons!

🐩 🍞💩

basically: less skeleton and more form,
which reads as: dog eat ****...
            but hieroglyphs are hieropglyphs...
the eat might as well have been written as
ate...
     dog ate ****... who cares if it's a poodle?!

i couldn't find an emoji with eating...
so i chose bread...
because... what do you do with bread?
throw it?! you throw rotten vegetables
in a theatre... cabbages and tomatoes...
the best you can do with bread
is dry it... in an oven...
so it doesn't venture into... turning mouldy...
or you soak it up... in milk...
and mix it with pork meat...
and create Slavic pork-burgers...

dog bread ****...
i.e. dog ate ****... no?!

just reminiscent of yesterday... how stressed i was
at the beginning... but then how i dug deep
into the role... how other supervisors spoke
of trouble with some of the stewards
and how i had: ZILCH...
you're never up in a hierarchy...
you're always down... ******* down...

it's so much better to keep them in position
and if they're gagging for a coffee...
you get the coffee for them...
you don't tell them to ask for a toilet break:
you just allow free reign...
it's not ******* prison...
         when you give them free food
how happy they become...
of course i fancied two of the girls on my shift...
one ****** Somali goddess...
i swear i was looking at the Queen of Sheba for a bit...
then this mixed race girl with
my wild hope: god give me a girl with curly hair...
god give me a girl with curly hair...

but i kept roaming... i was always present...
my feet ached by the end of it...
but CONTROL messaged me... 0 times...
i told them: you can be on your phones for as along
as it might take to pretend to checking the time...
how many did go on their phones?!
none...
                  i'm going to celebrate myself...
why the **** not...
   i did a good job... i fed my "pride"...
my... "heard"... i checked on each one...
are you happy? yep... most were happy...
i was just waiting for one of them to say the words:
it was a pleasure working with you...
once that dropped i knew i was waiting
for some other people to get fired...
for... egoism... nothing else... pretentious egoism:
"pretentious" without any cultural
knowledge...

**** me... some websites allow Katakana...
all the emojis... but no enough Hangul...
****** me off...
        
i was really enjoying this match-up between
Kyrgios vs. Tsitsipas...
                it's tennis... ****'s sake with football...
then again: it's tennis... and not squash...
i just remember myself being stressed...
but once the herd / pride were fed...
it's how you look...
               people respond to looks so
much differently when it's otherwise an attitude
assurance...
              the less i spoke the better they
behaved... and the fact that i kept them fed...

walking and walking... more walking...
                 more walking...
                              even i was telling them:
i'm tired of ego-mani(a)c hierachic busy-bodies...
obviously i had one lose canon...
i told the rest of them:
just break yourselves... ignore him...
ignore him...
                 they ignored him...
let him... let him: feel rejection...

                        he's a spare wheel
when the 4 are already working...
                my pride... my herd...
                             that's what i was aiming at:
a reminder... can i work with Matthew?!
i just need that... i need the word to be passed along...
what did "Matthew" do?
he allocated us breaks...
he fed us...

                   that's all i need...
                                 i don't need ego-tripping
hierarchical measures being implemented...
i know i'm dealing with jokers:
but i'm also not a woman...
i don't need minor cues...
as a man i know that when i snap
i'll bite rather than shout...
    
                 perhaps that's why i love the ontology
of masculinity...
           ontological-masculinity is
the antithesis of what's to be ever approached
via the movement of feminism...
the counter to feminism is... ontological-masculinity...
crazy women and ***** men...
perfect coupling... although there's a "third":
***** men: perfectly crazy:
as the prostitutes disclose... ***** men and
prostitutes...
Day is over
All went well
At least as far
As I can tell
Traffic Lights
Green not red
And then I thought
Of what he said......

When things are going well son
Don't poke the sleeping bear
Don't even venture near it
Don't poke it, don't you dare
As long as things are going
The way you want...it's fair
To tell you....don't you ever
Poke the sleeping bear

Dinner great
The kids were good
All was going
Like it should
Out for drinks
then I heard
In my head
The old man's words...

When things are going well son
Don't poke the sleeping bear
Don't even venture near it
Don't poke it, don't you dare
As long as things are going
The way you want...it's fair
To tell you....don't you ever
Poke the sleeping bear

Lightning struck
She walked in
Jeans as tight
As second skin
Wife looked over
Then I knew
I'd been caught
Not much to do

I went and poked the sleeping bear
Stupid me, it wasn't fair
I didn't know that she'd be there
But I had done gone and poked the bear
One quick look and I was caught
Was it my fault that she was hot?
I didn't mean to, so I thought
So all this good, was all for naught

When things are going well son
Don't poke the sleeping bear
Don't even venture near it
Don't poke it, don't you dare
As long as things are going
The way you want...it's fair
To tell you....don't you ever
Poke the sleeping bear
Raj Arumugam Sep 2010
Little Teddy bear
pink and cuddly
lying on the kerb
with the lights
of the cafes
bouncing off you

Oh who’s missing you tonight
crying for her teddy bear?
maybe it’s little Amy asleep
who dropped you
while her mum carried her
into the car?
and maybe now little Amy
cries in her room:
'Where’s my teddy bear?'
And Mom says: 'Oh, sweetheart;
sleep, maybe it’s in the car…
we’ll get it in the morning.'



Little Teddy bear
pink and cuddly
lying on the kerb
with the lights
of the cafes
bouncing off you


Oh who’s missing you tonight
crying for her teddy bear?
maybe it’s little Lin
who came visiting from Shanghai
and exchanged her panda bear
for an Aussie cuddly toy
and she’s in the airport now
and cries: 'I lost my Aussie teddy bear'
and they can’t find one at the airport
and Dad says:
'Don’t worry;
we’ll get you a new one
when we get home…'



Little Teddy bear
pink and cuddly
lying on the kerb
with the lights
of the cafes
bouncing off you
nevaeh Jan 2020
once upon a time

there was a bear
who was hungry and lost
and alone.

the bear trundled about a field
of wildflowers
smelling the sweet breeze
and hearing the buzz
of the bees.

one bee landed
on the tip of his nose
she was tired
she hated her job
she felt like she didn't fit
into her hive.

the bee saw the bear
and the bear saw the bee
and they saw each other's sadness.

the bee continued to come to the field
to gather nectar
hoping to see the bear again.

eventually they became friends
and they learned things about each other
the bear looked rough
but he was gentle and kind
and the bee looked small
but her sting was fierce.

the bee loved the bear
but she never thought he could love her back.

she was a bee from a farm
and he came from the woods.

but hope bloomed in the bees heart
when he said
he loved her back
and she vowed to be his
through it all.

she stayed by his side
through the winter when he slept
and in return he stayed by hers
when summers were too hot
and nectar too heavy.

lets get away from this field
said the bear
we can find somewhere vast
and floral and buoyant with life.

the bee went.

they discovered long streams
and slept in dark valleys
and they traveled the world

because the bear loved the bee
and she loved the bear
and they both loved
honey
i guess it's meant to bee <3 i love you bear
Robert Ronnow May 2019
Bear’s certain
it’s a bear
alone with salmon
it’s a bear
on the mountain
it’s a bear
up a canyon
it’s a bear
eating berries
it’s a bear
sedated, carried
it’s a bear
answer, query
it’s a bear
clown or faery
it’s a bear
There was once upon a time in a forest dark,
A wild brown bear, treads carefully he not
He was fearless yet fearsome, who is brave but not
He thinks, he snorts, he cries, a happy bear he's naught

With friends upon friends the bear's not really lonely
The brown bear laughs, talks, and enjoy other's company
But don't let that fool you with the fact that he hides,
A heaviness of heart, spinning mind, of endless thoughts that smites

Out of the crowd that gathers him
Somewhere deep in-between shoulders
Heads and paws huddle over to and fro
Someone caught the eyes of our bear so slow

It was a bear, no, not just any bear, a pink bear
With eyes that sparkle, pair of eyes so lovely there
And most of all her cheeks, and the smile formed in between
The brown bear turned pink as hot as day he blinked.

A wave was all he could muster and a small "grr" that says "hi"
Meanwhile the pink bear blossoms, waved back looking shy
He thinks, he snorts, he laughs, a happy bear he is now
She completes his world that very moment, he feels alive.

Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months
Many things have gone, time flew so fast
They are together now happily in their own world
Despite the rain or shine, they continue to ride

She's beautiful, she's kind, she's full of light
For him he's no one's treasure but to himself
To him she's his other half, his pink sugar cub
His only girl, his partner, his bestest friend, his only love

And she was the first one who
heard this poem.

She will always be.
My Pink sugar cub.
My only love.
My Mae mae chan.
I love you Kim, my Mae mae chan <3
Ashly Kocher Jul 2019
Teddy Bear
Teddy Bear
Today we celebrate you
Teddy Bear
Teddy Bear
Happy Birthday to you
Teddy Bear
Teddy Bear
Make a wish come true
Teddy Bear
Teddy Bear
I love you!!!!!!

Happy Birthday Teddy Bear!
storm siren Dec 2016
The rabbit hops through the snow,
Almost disappearing
As his fur is bright and white as the fog behind him.

He halts when he sees the large black bear.

The bear spots him immediately.

The bear bounds over to the rabbit,
And stands on his hind legs after they touch noses.

The rabbit ***** his head to the side,
And the bear paws at the note tied to his neck.

A man clears his throat.

The bear jumps, obviously shaken by the noise,
While the rabbit edges closer, chest puffed out and head held high.

The man laughs.

"I won't hurt you." The man says softly.
"That note, I believe it's for me."

The bear is crouched,
Seemingly trying to hide behind the rabbit.

The rabbit sticks his little arms out to his sides,
And shakes his head.

The man frowns.

A lion appears behind him.
And then a tiger.
And then cats and dogs and birds and snakes.

"There haven't been animals in this wood in decades." Explains the man. "All these animals are just like you."

The bears slowly looks up and blinks at the other animals.

The rabbit puts down his arms.
He suddenly bounces towards the man, sniffs him furiously,
And then grabs the note off the bear's neck.
The bear lets out a halfhearted roar,
And sits down.

The man reads the note.
He crushes it in his hands, and calls to the various, now having become animals.
He stands, back turned to the bear.

The bear's eyes go wide.

"All of your people did what they could to protect you. It is now that we seek vengeance for them. It is now that we take back these woods, our land. It is now that we save the remainders of our people. We have become, because of them. It's time we pay our debt!"

The rabbit stands at the man's feet. He looks awe-struck, and he squeaks in agreement while the other animals grown and yowl their responses.

The bear does nothing, but stare at the man's back.

Because out of the man's back
Sticks a wind-up key.
That just keeps on spinning,
With no end in sight.
The final piece to me "Once You Become" set. It is a darker concept based upon the Velveteen Rabbit.
There was a mother of goat
She had three kinder
She ordered them in hardness matter
"Don't ever and ever open the door under

Any raison
Even one says she is your mother
Wants to tell or has an order"
They all agreed and she went for work
There was a stranger

Passed by the neighbor
He was the greed bear
He said to himself in whisper
As he heard the kinder playing at higher

Voice reflecting their cheer
,"these must be fat
I will eat and lost my hunger"
He watched the home three days with great hear
He heard the mother telling that order
After the mother went, he went there

He knocked the door
When one answered in clear
He said, "I am your mother
Open the door to have a fare"
The first believe that

The first forgot the order
He opened the door at fast
The bear was so hunger
He took him out and ate at faster
When the mother returned

She found them had decreased
When she was learnt
She cried a lot
On the following day, she ordered

When she went, the greed bear came at fast
The door was knocked
He said, "I am your mother
Open the door to have a fare"

The second believe that
The second forgot the order
He opened the door at fast
The bear was so hunger

He took him out and ate at faster
When the mother returned
She found them had decreased
When she asked

She cried a lot
On the following day, she ordered
When she went the greed bear came at fast
The door was knocked

He said, "I am your mother
Open the door to have a fare"
The third did not believe that
He ordered him to stretch his hand

The bear forget the difference between his hand
And the shape of the goat's hand
The small goat said,"
Wait to get your hand kissed"

He got a rope that was a strong
And tided his with the stable rod
The small kid called all neighbor
While the bear screamed, mercy asked

His mother was attended
The bear was so hurt
The mother stroke his trunk
The swollen kinder were out

They were so sorry
They apologized to their omission
They said," we learnt a lesson
We will not forget forever"
Obey your mother

Obey your father
They knew more, more
They have more experience
And know which intelligence is

And which is carrying the worse
the greed have been great suffer, to fill his hunger and greedy. obeying the parents as the knew more
Brent Kincaid Apr 2016
He has one eye missing
And a patchwork ****.
I tell everybody he’s winking,
That he has one eye shut.
He’s lost a lot of hair
And he no longer sits up
Like he used to before.
But whenever I see him
I am never in doubt
He is still the bear I adore.

Bubby Bear is a very good bear
The best friend there ever could be.
He sleeps by my side every night
And Bubby never argues with me.

When things get too scary
Or out of control I go and
Grab up Bubby and hold him.
He’s always warm and he’s
Sympathetic, and so I never
Feel the need to scold him.
I can always talk to him
And explain things out
Because he is so very patient.
I think it is because he
Is such a very wise bear
And always there waiting.

Bubby Bear is the finest bear
He always right beside me.
I don’t have to worry that he
He might want to abandon me.

Some people like to tease me
About the way Bubby looks
And make fun of his condition.
But they have to admit to me
They don’t have a friend who gives
One hundred percent permission,
And never gets tired of them
Or tattles their confidences
Or gets bored with what they say.
That’s why Bubby is my best friend
Always was, always will be
All night long and every single day.

Bubby Bear is a very good bear
He puts up with my every whim.
I feel sorry for anyone who
Doesn’t have a friend like him.
Blue eyed vamp Oct 2013
Cuddle bear walking on shore with me.
Cuddle bear leans down to kiss me. Like!
Cuddle bear cuddle bear likes my eyes.
Cuddle bear respond to message
PLEASE! : )
there was a little bear he just loved to dance
anywhere he could when he got the chance
he just love to line dance dancing in a row
fancy struts and turns bear could really go

with his stetson hat and a cowboy suit
bear he looked the part and he looked so cute
they held a competition in the village hall
looking for the dancer who would be best of all.

now bear had his chance to win the local show
the music started playing bear began to go
doing fancy turns in perfect harmony
dancing for the crowd for everyone to see.

everyone was clapping tapping with there feet
shouting more to bear who gave them such a treat
bear he beat them all.now he was the best
this dancing little bear from the way out west.
Kayla Nov 2017
Boys are like teddy bear.
You love them for a short amount of time.
When that’s times up and the timer rings.
You just throw them away.
In your closet where you never see them again.
Then you get a new teddy bear.
You love this teddy bear.
The way he smells like the woods,
but after shave at the same time.
The way he fits perfectly in you’re arms.
This teddy bear oh you think it’s the one.
The one your going to love till the end of you’re life.
No this time the teddy bear stops loving you.
He throws you to his closet.
Just like you did to that teddy bear.
Now you know how it feels.
Opening your closet you bring that old teddy bear out.
Loving that old teddy bear till the end of your time.
Daviaso Oct 2018
A bear sat upon a mountaintop,
And there he contemplated life.
A thousand nights he thought,
A thousand days he slept,
Until he had a thought
For each star in the sky.
Himself he considered a star too,
As old and wise and special.

One evening a young squirrel
Bounded up the mountain.
With a leap and a chatter,
She said to the bear:
"When I was born you sat here;
Now you still do.
What have you done in between?"

"I have thought," the bear replied,
"Until I have a thought and a story
For every star in the sky.
I have lived a thousand moments
From here on this mountain."

"I have lived a thousand moments too,"
Piped the squirrel.

"Nonsense," the bear snorted.
"I was here a thousand moments
Before your coming."

"But how many did you live?"
The squirrel jumped to and fro
With formless jubilation.

"Quiet, squirrel!"
Thundered the now-annoyed bear.

She froze, then peeped,
Ever-so-quietly,
"You were here,
a thousand moments before me.
Is this moment one-thousand-and-one?"

The bear chuckled now.  "Yes
Dear squirrel, now I have lived
A thousand moments and one more."

"That's where you're wrong."

"DID YOU COME HERE
JUST TO PROVE ME WRONG?"
Again thundered the bear.
He rose and swung his terrible paws
Through the clear air.

"No no no!" screamed the squirrel,
Now frantic.
"I have lived a thousand moments
and you have lived a thousand moments!
I came to see what yours were,
Because they're so much longer."

"NO, you are wrong."
The bear came down on all fours
And put his face in front of hers,
Teeth staring like soulless pearls.
"A moment does not change.
I have lived more, not longer
Moments than you."

"Ah," muttered the squirrel,
Creeping backward before
His awesome teeth;
Then she fled outright.


When safely out of sight,
The squirrel stopped, composed herself.
"Ah," she repeated disdainfully.
"I went to you seeking answers,
But you have proven to me:"

Age does not bring wisdom.
This turned out more like a fable than I expected.  Hopefully this first draft is alright.
BC Jaime Mar 2018
He said
          “You’re a bear.”

I said
          “No, I’m a fish.
          Two fish, actually
          Swimming
          in opposite directions
          One tells me: Do it!
          The other says: Oh no
          you betta don’t!”


He said
          “No. You’re a bear.”

I said
          “No. Actually,
          I’m a monkey.
          A crazy, funny monkey
          who can pick up stuff
          with his toes
          then wonder when
          I’ll evolve
          (Even my pops used to call
          me his 'little monkey'.)”


He said
          “Just face it.
          YOU.
          ARE.
          A.
          BEAR.”


I said
          “I beg to differ,
          I am a night owl
          that stares at stars
          or watches Friends
          reruns in the wee hours
          of the morning.
          Ask me a question
          I’ll show you how
          wise I am.”


He said
          “Do you know that
          you are a bear?”


I said
          “Nope. I’m a snake.
          I have tremendous
          sympathy for others,
         great depth of perception
          Am intense, passionate,
          determined,
          at times, headstrong.”


He said
          “But, you are also a bear.
          A hairy bear.”


I said
          “Fine. I’m a bear.
          Are you happy?
          I’m grumpy, lumbering
          & hate bees.
          I’m hairy,
          I hibernate.
          I.
          Am.
          A. Bear.”
  

(after a taste
          of honey)

I said
          “And what are you
          Hmmm…?”


He said
          “I’m an otter.
          hairy & cute
          just like you
          Now, give me your paw
          Let’s go splash
          around in the river.”

© BC Jaime 2014 || IG: @B.C.Jaime

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/.
Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear
why do you cry
I've lost my stuffing
and button for my eye

Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear
where have you been
I've roamed and traveled
just to see my friend

Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear
who d o you love
I adore my friends
and angels above

Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear
what have you done
I've love and was hugged
and I'm still not done
I actually wrote this by ink on March 4, 2014. It was
in that afternoon at 5:15 p.m.
I often write by ink, keeping the mighty sword
in the grips of my hand.

— The End —