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TheTeacher Oct 2012
My dad sleeps with A teddybear and i wonder why.  He's a construction worker and a pretty tough guy. He's a real man because I've never seen him cry.

He takes me to my games and when the cheers go up... he's always the loudest one. I was taught that winning is cool...but it's more important to have some fun.

Just me and my dad....I really love that guy. He's my hero and my star.....he said to be successful in life....You must be true to who you are.  I'm a poet/writer....but enough about me.....let's go back to my dad and his teddy.

My friend came over afterschool .....we were playing the game ....doing the things that kids do.  He said I'll be right back I'm going to the bathroom.

Upon his return his face had this worried look.  At first he tried to pass it off as a joke....but he failed the test.  It was obvious that he had something he needed to get off his chest.

On the way back downstairs I passed your father's room and I saw a disturbing sight.  I swore he was clutching a teddybear and holding it tight.....I hope he didn't let the bedbugs bite.  He began to laugh out loud....but i didn't find it funny.  I felt violated like pooh stealing the bees honey.

I tip toed up the stairs because this mission required stealth.....if my dad is awakened this may be harmful to my health.  I peeked into the room and what did i see?  Two beady black eyes with A yellow hat staring right at me.

I let out a gasp due to my surprise.....why the stuffed animal?  An answer was hard to surmise.  I retreated to the stairs and descended the was like the walk of shame.....I'm thinking about relocating and changing my whole name.

My friend was smiling and asked "Did you see?" steady stuffing popcorn in his face while I'm dealing with a catastrophe.  A few minutes later my dad magically appears and I can only utter "Dad why?" He's looking confused as he wipes the sleep from his eyes.

The bear that you were holding in your sleep.....What's the reason for that?  You are an adult and way too old for that.  He paused for a few minutes to gather his thoughts.  The response I recieved wasn't what i thought.

Son...although its my business what i do.....I'll explain my situation to you.   Do you know what its like to sleep in your bed alone?  Your mother ....(my wife) is no longer home.  We used to be happy or so I thought .....

The woman I loved for so many years has broken my heart and reduced me to tears.  My greatest gift from her is you.  You are my inspiration and the reason I work the way I do.  I loved her ....but she never loved me.

If something doesn't want to have to set it free.  Son...the bear became my form of relief game me comfort and allowed me to sleep.  The perfume that your mother used to wear.....she sprayed the bear with it.  The fragrance reminds me of the love we used to share I would tell her ....."I love you"...and gently stroked her hair.

The bear was given to me by your mother the first time we i become stronger and the hurt begins to and the bear will be at peace.  Son....I hope you understand that I'm still a strong man....I'm just hurting and allowing God to work his plan.

I got a clear view of my father's heart and i really no longer cared.....He had all the right in the world to sleep with a teddybear.
Breahna Sandlin Feb 2015
Dear* Teddybear,

        You are my closest friend that a person like me could have.
Your smile inspires me to stop the tears from falling and smile with you.
You can hold all my darkest secrets, even the lightest ones too, because we both know you'll never tell a soul.
You keep me sane in an unsecure state of mind when I feel low enough to want to leave you.
I hold you close hoping that you'll be holding me closer until our journey together ends

                                                            Hop­efully Your Closest Friend
Rajhen Ramoutar Jan 2015
Her brown eyes so clear
It looked like a little teddybear
So sweet and harmless
It would light up the darkness
Look in her unique eyes
And you'll see she's very wise
Her straight or curly hair
Has got me breathing for air
Smart and cute
The type that boys will pursuit
Logan Robertson Jul 2018
there's a fisherman down by the sea
sitting on the wharf
watching the sun sink into the western sky
a frown frames his house
he looks out the window
at his pole, gear
and especially that of his net
metaphors that weigh on him
uprooting his garden
a garden of no delight
one lonely row of forget me not
and regret
all wilting
his foundation
never found or realized
he pauses
runs his hand over his pole
like a belt without any notches
his grip slipping into the abyss
as the last of the orange
bleeds also
at where the sea  meets the sky
where his day slowly turns to night
somewhere out there he sees his image
in nature's mirror
at his crossroads
for deeply
and some may say shallowly
he looks onto the sea one last time
and he means what he says
and throws his fishing gear in
tears welling in his eye
as he watches his teddybear sink
lips gurgling
seemingly asking why
... why
he answers back
there were no fish or bites
in his lonely sea
or wind at his back
... there
his window opens wider
the sea not singing or dancing
he sees the ambient light
... here

Logan Robertson

If one reads between the lines the poem reads like a eulogy with a
harbinger to come.
I patrol in my backyard
Cruising im my pedal car
I can see the Joker
Well, it's really a toy clown
Locked safely away in the toy shed

I am looking for Two Face
A teddybear that my dog ripped
So my Mum sewed up his face
But now he is out there, free
I must track him down

I search for him in the kitchen
There I spot the Scarecrow
It is a puppet, long and thin
I must stop in my search now
So I can tackle with my foe

I put the Scarecrow behind bars
My search continues, relentless
I see Two Face hiding in the lounge
I now creep up, slowly behind him
I pounce, the battle is long, but I win

That scarred teddybear is put away
Where he won't harm anymore toys
My Batcave awaits, up in my bedroom
I am sleepy, my eyes are feeling tired
I am Batman, even I must sleep
copyright Chris Smith 2010
Starry Aug 2019
This pink teddybear
Is not like all
Pink teddybears
You don't want to take
Her to the hospital
Or to a sleepover
For she has
An additude
A foul mouth
Lyn Senz Nov 2013
Dripping wet emotions
with defensive underwear
tripping ghetto potions
an expensive teddybear

you're a wordy birdy whiddler
of some truth I wouldn't know
and I'm a hurdy gurdy fiddler
of some sooth I shouldn't show

you alight a quiet yearning
you aflame my frozen soul
feels so right the night so burning
but I don't claim my chosen goal

in the blissless listless morning
I begin again to go
you're a kissless mistress scorning
any kin my sin will sow

and the end my friend is calling
my life petty all alone
will she tend and end my falling
or be a pretty little stone

©2012 Lyn
RRaaccoonn Jun 2015
This is my friend Pearly ... He hangs out here next to where i sleep. but he doesn't get much sun, so today ... I took him out .. He was quite delighted .. i told him of it ... but he said "only for a bit and nodded ... then he said I'm Pearly the bear I like my sleep " ... ...

The next day Pearly wasnt in his cozy spot. i didnt think much of it till i saw a deep well with a hook. i walk'd up touched the rope .. pricky fuzzies.. Pearly what have you got going on here ? i pulled him up.. " its ***** down there". .. ...... he said "Hunting .. ... . Here you are" ................ then he handed me a bow .. and said "catch me a thick buck i can dig my teeth in"  (His thick arm raised up) ........................... a long pause happened then he said ....... but take its life swiftly. I can't bare the feeling of pain.... then moments later he stopped me ... actually bring me a bed of flower peddles i must return to my lifes work ..

The following morning i came in whistling with a basket of luscious velvet smelling flowers ... finding Pearly sprawled out breathing amost natural way .. quite pleasant listening to breathing man connected to his creature self .. .........Pearly hello pearly good morn ....... .. greetings ....... then he said " I'll have nothing ..... .... then i said no bakey eggies? .. he didnt move . how about a short trip look around? .... . .. no reaction............... how bout a warm bath? .. .... nothing. ..... just him there staring at nothing ........... i could sit there and watch him stare at nothing for hours .. ... i sighed oh well i catch you later .. ..
samasati Dec 2013
I can tell you’ve never been touched
like a hurricane doesn’t matter
like 40 below or a deep papercut between your
thumb and your index
couldn’t do any more harm
than a teddybear or marigold —
but that was
before me

before me,
you’ve never been touched
and you’ve never touched
quite like
into the fresh dew on dawn’s grass
and you’ve never stopped
to feel your ****** like stopping to
smell the roses on a worthwhile jaunt
or the daffodils
or the lilac trees, purple and white
or to smile at a happy sunflower
like all of your little hesitancies and horrors
are of little to no caliber

before me,
you’d never go a night without at least a sip of something,
you’d never give yourself
a chance
to be yourself
in the sober light of love

you’re shy and you avoid it
but if you counted the number of empty wine & beer bottles
on your balcony,
you’d finally know
you ought to stop pouring at night
and figure out how to explore at night;
dip your fingers in gooey paint and smear every colour
on the pavement
for hours and hours
until the sun awakes
like you have the power to love

even if

it aches

and at first, it will, like frostbite,
like papercuts all over your palms,
like cartoon cliff jumps that can never **** you,
like getting fired or evicted or rejected
because remembering something
as fierce and as merciless
as love
is heartbreakingly overwhelming
for the fact that

you had


and forgetting does not make you strong or shrewd
it’ll only ***** you over
and give you a blubbery beer belly and empty bottled balcony
and before me,
I’m pretty sure you thought your life was a tragedy
because drinking feels nice and *** releases hurt
but I’m just not interested in being with an alcoholic,
so it’s best we stop taking off our shirts.
欣快 Aug 2017
and i swear i'll be your best time of your life
until somebody eclipses me in every capacity
the sunrise hasn't happened yet and there's still bridges
to burn, the oversized teddybear you got me from
the fair of those overpriced games lined up under the bright
farris wheel lights that shine with nostalgia everytime
i think about them again, crashing on your couch
and waking up in the morning to the smell of breakfast
but you have disappeared and it will be tragic, bones
hurt when you break them but you haven't broke mine yet
Now he knows.
She introduced his necklace to inferno.
No shame, she set aflame
Flowers from prom night.
Sifted their sweet ashes into a jar
Maybe even prayed the ashes or the glass they came in would leave a scar
Tied it with a pretty ribbon
(maybe just in metaphor)
Grinned while she envisioned
His defeat from afar
(From here I can hear the smile cross her lips.)

And all this time she said she’s sleep
With the teddybear she gave my name
(Lay awake and wish it was me…please…)
(I often do the same)
Still has the jacket named skillet hanging in her closet
(She could wear it if she’s really cold…)
(She hasn’t lied or lost it)
She still has my purple heart
(She has all of them I’m told)
This...this gives me hope I'm scared to hold.
I would very much love feedback on the syle and particular flow of this one. I have a very solid picture and idea in my mind, but it doesnt want to come out in my usual fluid style. I'm wondering if this is completely effective, what i should/could change to improve it.
Joe Cole Nov 2015
Of place we'd been and things we had seen
Memories of a snowy day and a big white dog towing a sled
The sand dunes in the pine woods
When shreaks of joy rang forth
As we hurtled down the those slopes
Then came the saddest day when we said our last goodbyes
To that old white teddybear dog
Trips round Yorkshires lovely hills
Of you in a seat on the back of my bike
And the long haired highland cattle in Bedale park
A photograph I still posses of you sat by Richmond castle
A thousand memories remain
Kay P May 2014
At one point he realized that if he hugged me hard enough our hugs don’t last as long

It reminds me of the way some people take pills
if you take enough all at one time
perhaps the dosage will be strong enough
to run through your blood like runners in a race
to blissfully declare that it’s all for nothing and nothing for all
that the feeling of my shoulderblades cracking under pressure
is better than overdosing on pills

It reminds me of the way some people gorge on food
because if you eat it all as fast as you can
it takes a few minutes before your stomach feels that its too much
and if you wait to puke it all up in the bathroom of your school after lunch
maybe the feel of ***** and the burn in your throat
is worth the taste of all that food
that you ate too fast to enjoy it

It reminds me of the way some people use their orajel
because if you sit there are you numb one spot
all the other aches are suddenly so appearant
because all of you hurts, doesn’t it?
Not just one tooth, but all the others
and if you numb the one distracting you
suddenly your whole mouth is in disarray
and you hurt everywhere

It reminds me of life support
because a machine pumping what you were born with into your body
reminds me of the way I cling like a child to their mother’s skirts
to you as if you were my only living teddybear
because I know that if you were to walk away one day
I could go on living
and that fact alone makes it that much likely
that you’ll stay even longer

because I don’t think I need you
but I want you around anyway
May 1st, 2014
mark john junor Sep 2014
her tinderbox mind
burst into flames of mad sadness's at any moment
that will burn like a river of tears
she will strain at speaking just the right words
terrified that she will get it wrong
so she paints her one word at a time tale
in brilliance colors on bathroom stall windowpane
hoping to compensate for all the written fears
no frilly graybeard teddybear to save the queen of forever's this time
so she will lay in her lovers arms
staring up at the wonder wheel of stars
wishing upon all the falling hero's
that she had her knight
that she wont be alone for all her tomorrows
that just one hero has survived to craft her
tell her who to be
how to not feel the tears
I saw my lover there
I visited her, in her sleep
Gave her a kiss, softly
On her forehead and she knew
For she smiled in her sweet rest

I saw my friend there
As his nightmares came
I pulled the blankets around him
And whispered words of hope
Then he was at ease as they went away

I saw my child there
Crying in the sleep she faced
I wiped her tears away for her
And said I loved her and was there
She cuddled her teddybear and was at peace

I saw everyone there
Restless as dreams avoided them
So I wrote this poem for them to read
I hoped the words would show I care
And at last, give them beautiful dreams
copyright Chris Smith 2010
User Not Found Aug 2015
Sleeping soundly
The teddybear.
From monsters,
Sword in paw.
Tears rolling
Down her small face,
"Go back to bed,"
"You're too old
For this nonsense"
Daddy stopped checking
For the monsters
Three years before.
Turn on the lights,
Check the bed,
The closet,
Dark corners.
Fear creeping
Through every bone,
Off with the light,
Two steps and
One jump
To make it to the bed.
Tear soaked pillows,
Blade in hand,
The only fear
Is for what she feels,
She stopped searching
When she realized
The monsters
Were inside her
Lizzi Mote Apr 2014
Most of my life has been spent painting pictures in a song
though I was never good at Art&Design;,
so I resign myself to drawing words and colouring phrases with a ball point pen and
a weary head, that never should've got out of bed.

And I don't care what you want to be,
in the centre of the circle everybody wanted something from you; like an old teddybear
being ripped at the seams- no buttons to keep you together, only being torn apart like
a philosophical discussion about the creation of man. Pining for cosmic resolution and a reason to be.
You said you wanted that reason to be me.

I'll make you see the world tonight, make sense of the unknown. Learn how to grow old and be satisfied. How to grow, just grow. Know right from left to wrong and sing a different song.

'cause this city was built on fear and testimonies of the ignorant plaguing stubborn minds.
Manipulators lead the gullible ashtray, the weak remain same. No ones left to suffer the blame.
Hands clap as people riot in the street, echoes of the innocent stuck on repeat.

Yet you speak of harmonies and riches. You talk and your voice it's beautiful sound travels through the channels of my eager ears, wanders like a river with subtle grace and ripples of intonation, the mid-range pitch keep it from rising out of the banks of my thoughtless mouth.
And I count myself lucky as I gaze at the aimless faces rather there than here,
their body language gives nothing away, let's nothing in as if they're standing in a windless orchard in their minds. Whereas yours in perfection of a kind.
The poetry of your face is enigmatic yet I feel if I look closer I could easily understand.

The aimless faces try to draw you near but you ignore their cries;
for bribery is vain to try against incorruptible eyes. Although they were trying to warn you.
Their wires went unanswered. The bridges remain unbuilt. Now trouble is coming!
'cause you rested all your hopes on my thoughtless mouth and mishapened heart.

Your words- the beauty of your voice flows through the channels of my ears, wandering like a river, bubbling with your wishes and pain. My mouth is buckled, is buckled with fear.
Can I give you everything you're after?
Give you myself and more? Oh how I want to.

I want to .  .  .  .

'Cause this life was built out of rejection. Humour as a mechanism
of defence, a pretence that I'm strong, able. In fact quite capable of not destroying
everything in my path. My successes came out of needing to prove to them and myself that
I wasn't beaten down.
I have substance and I'm beginning to feel free,
like a bird in an unlocked cage.

LOVE comes from all sources and I don't care what you want to be, as long as you're good to me.
Try to understand where I'm coming from and keep surprising me , like you do.
We can sing the same old song, so long as my pictures colour in your heart.

Colour you in.
Corndog08 Sep 2014
My love,
this one goes out,
to the most beautiful,
**** scout.
Her face is gold,
her smell is sweet,
her hand are soft,
i love her feet.
It may sound weird,
what I write,
but my love,
my life,
my heart.
my teddybear,
a sweet,
cherry blossom,
of pure bliss,
she is my, only possum.
Shaun Meehan Nov 2014
air we breath
corroded by hate
the venom's bite pumped by heart
searing blood invading body, coursing vein
inciting rage, extreme acts unwarranted

grey, lost upon the world
grey, of dawn or dusk
signalling change though no more
bound instead by wretched cycle

where once was grey, now
black and white confused,
convincing everyone be right in cause
while all in parallel to err

hands, forgetting heart and ruled by mind corrupt
to be as children again, before ruin
innocent, curious to ask why

such horror to inspire and commit
cursed to look upon us
fear and wonder, admiration
false ideals the
greatest influence of their lives
robbing children their valour
by example we steal from them
most precious

ours, theirs
all victims, all destined to
tiny robots programmed to destroy
idea not their own
raised by fools, to become fools and raise fools

killing by vote and bullet
machine guns spewing streams of ballot
missile's payload concentrate of contrast opinion
artillery ordinance a rain of propaganda
bullets and bombs, on which scrawled
faith, race, and land
allegiance not to that which is them, but
to hollow party of privilege
for the sake of argument, not that which is right

teddybear victims,
torn, stained, growing
to ****—being killed before growing
made to suffer by dusty sin
like One-Third, atoning for the world

pray it not be them who judge as angels
recalling the misdeeds which hath befallen
innocent head

if had led the world
their demise, too grotesque for fiction
so far beyond cruel
most evil capable of their doing
might never see act

horror from depth so dark
drawn from plane beyond
to leave a scar on our own, a stain of remembrance
impossible to wash, despite deed's height
an ultimate violation of peace
so vile to make cringe the most stalwart
demanding shook from imagining

a moral guard must rouse
to stem atrocities' tide
volunteers, sacrifice ultimate and willing
an opposition to the perverse
who shrink from knight's brilliance
from that which is pure and valorous

soaring atop great raptor
choosing not to combat
but charge toward offering of self
for names unknown and person unmet

a breed rare, seeking neither fame nor thrill
but peace
to complete circle black that grey might return
that recurrence might see not light,
and chain be struck, obliterated

the highest of the low, display as peacock,
fanning to impress as they
from regal chairs rage debate, throwing a coward's stone
to err in belief knights harken their call
nay, never to those too crisp to combat
but, for them teddybears—
stuffing split, eye stitch torn, limp in anguish arms
never the silk necklace capable of sounding horn
knights heed only unspoken call

in defence of those without means,
incapable of further flight, to their arms they fold
being that in violent acquiesce of peace
that by threat of demise, and dauntless to see through
a commit to act of highest love
they might conjure to form the hope of hopes
that might rise—
the sepulchral dawn
nsw Apr 2020
My teddybear is my best friend
You may think that I'm caught in my childhood
Maybe that I'm just immature
But this teddybear has been here for me throughout all my years
Beginning from when my father gifted it to me at the age of 7
Leading up to my fathers death at the age of 12
All the way until now.. at the age of 18
This teddybear is sentimental and seen to me as a blessing
Each night that I used to be crushed in between my thoughts
Begging for a way out of my mind, my bear held my hand
He clutched my heart with such pureness, and would indicate me to take my time to heal
My teddybear is the representation of my father.
Amber Ily Lee Jun 2011
Did you know that
I can't keep a guy
more then three days?
It's 'cause it hurts to bad
when I think of your face

Did you know that
the first time I
held someone's hand
that wasn't yours
I cried so hard
and prayed for it to be you
and him to disappear

Did you hear that
the first time I kissed
someone that wasn't you
I tasted your lips
Mint and cinnamon

I dump guys flat on
'cause I can't take the pain
I could only feel the vain
Did you know that?

Did you catch that
I think about you
almost everyday?

Did you know that
my teddybear still has your nickname
and that hoodie of yours
is still in my room
I look at it and cry
'cause I think of you..

Did you know that?
I et you had no clue.
Butterfly Jan 2019
Your eyes
Deep like the ocean

Your lips
Soft like a teddybear

Your hair
Smells like roses

But a heart
From ice
Trust people how they are
Not on how they look
Makayla Jane Aug 2020
You showed up with a teddybear, Reeses, and a strawberry candle
Left without your hoodie and cologne
And this is only the beginning of my little collection of you
Not sure what I was going for exactly.
Al Drood Feb 2018
Hail squalls petulantly
against leaded windows,
as down in the midnight garden
unkempt brambles scratch
at cold night winds.

In the abandoned nursery,
where faded draught-blown drapes
brush dusty toy-strewn floorboards,
a broken rocking-horse moves faintly.

Upon a moonlit stage
where innocence long since died,
a legless teddybear stares
at a blind rag-doll.
A ***** harlequin
slumps drunkenly forward;
a crippled spinning-top
rusts beside a scattered jigsaw,
as mocking rhymes echo
insanely down the years.

Crockery elopes with cutlery,
suicidal mice run out of time,
blackbirds die oven-baked,
and the little boy laughs
to see such fun
as Old King Cole
steals your adult soul.
Vadim Slivinski Jan 2020
Light is dripping from the ceiling
(looks like you don’t really care):
If you stay with me this evening,
I will be your teddybear.
I will tuck you in at night,
Make you feel that it’s alright.

Drumroll, bass, guitar and fiddle
(you’re as quiet as they get):
If you care to die a little,

I will be your cigarette.
At your lips I’ll burn and fly,
All in ashes, to the sky.

Men are smashed, somebody fainted
(you just look completely fine):
If, perhaps, you’d like to get it,
I will be your glass of wine.
Cheer you up when you are sad,
Tip your tongue with viscous red.

Now it’s closing time, the last call
(seems that you would like to leave):
If you fancy cheeky rascals,
I will be your rebel chief.
I will play both Stark and Blaine,
Conquer countries in your name.

Half-transparent, slim, and curly,
You have almost fled my sight:
If you need to get up early,
I will be your taxi ride.
Safely drop you by your door
Not expecting something more.
Ida Nov 16
It's been a while but once again I find myself in front of a mirror unable to remember how I got here
It's me, I know that, but I keep waiting for her to tell me exactly why I stand here
Because I don't want to do the work of finding out so I rely on someone else
But the only one I have is myself
Oh wait, that's not true
I have my old teddy bear, and I have spring waiting for me around the corner.
It's spring again, it's been a year since I stood exactly where I stand right now, I haven't moved an inch
And still that reflection refuses to tell me what I need to hear.
It's me, all of it
My teddybear is me, it certainly isn't someone else
maybe spring is me, too.
You can turn away but she's still there, so you close your eyes but she's still there
You can walk around the earth but she'll still be there
I'll still be there
And I think I'll need to rip my own neck off to get rid of me

— The End —