Thursday, July 1, 2010

Bear poetry!

Thanks everyone for the wonderful poems you've entered so far! I'll leave the contest open until midnight tonight. Tomorrow, I'll post a compilation of the poems, and I'll announce the winners.


I have special little bear-gifts for the winners which I picked up at Jade City yesterday, as we made our way up the Cassiar Highway towards home. If you aren't local, and you ever have the chance to travel up this way, I highly recommend the Highway 37 experience! Don't forget to take your camera with you.

5 comments:

Poetikat said...

It's a long one, but I hope you enjoy the frivolity (with a nod to Robert Service).
This poem was inspired by a real news-story out of B.C. The first and last verses appear italicized in the original, but Blogger won't accommodate that.

BUCKWHEAT’S LAST GRAB


Strange things happen in the dark of night,
While you’re bundled up in bed.
Keep away from the honey-hive at the height
Of the moon, or you’ll end up dead!

Tall tales told by the campfirelight,
Old grizzlies love to share.
Cubs, wide-eyed shrunk up with fright,
Heed not the chill night air.

One story is their favourite,
Sends shivers up small spines,
‘Bout a Kamloops bear gone missing
Who couldn’t read the signs.

“Stay out!" "Keep off!” The billboards read,
And, “Enter if you dare!",
"No tresspassing!","Beware of Dog!”
Buckwheat could only stare.

The printed word dumbfounded him,
For book-learnin’ he’d spurned.
He might have been more careful,
If reading he had learned.

So on he went into the yard,
Just followin’ his nose,
To that sweet smell of honey,
When up behind him rose…

A figure of great height and bulk,
Wielding a big long stick.
He drew a bead on “Bucky”,
Who thought it was a trick…

Until he saw the gun go off
And he knew he was done.
Then Bucky crumpled in a heap
For he weighed near a ton.

And farmer Orwall rolled his sleeves;
He had some work to do.
The massive bear he had to hide,
‘Else, this dark night he’d rue.

Long gone midnight, moon was high
And Orwall dug down deep,
And rolling the old bear inside
Poor Bucky went to sleep—

Forever with the angels,
In paradise for bears;
Where honey flows from faucets,
Rolls down the marble stairs—

At least that’s what they tell the cubs,
Especially when there’s tears--
Young bears need reassuring;
The big bears calm their fears.

Now farmer Orwall’s up in court,
With charges to be laid.
The law still frowns on shootin’ bears
To stop a midnight raid.

So let that be a lesson
To bears who leave their cave:
Stay in school and learn to read
‘Cause signs your life could save.

Strange things happen in the dark of night,
While you’re bundled up in bed.
Keep away from the honey-hive at the height
Of the moon, or you’ll end up dead!

Kathleen Mortensen © 2007

Fireblossom said...

I like those bears, too!

RachelW said...

Oh, poor old Bucky! :-(

jozien said...

Now i read up on how to write a haiku,(difficult!) i try one more time.

a great big black bear
lumbering in causally
he walked out again

Rob-bear said...

Brown bear, sniffing intently.
Fine food in the air.
Nothing else matters for her.