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My Caribou by Loo, Lu
free cee ARE THERE CARIBOU IN MALIBOU by cohan, jeffry
free cee ArE TheRE CAribou iN MalIBU by cohan, jeffry
FREE CEE are there caribou in malibu by cohan, jeffry

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The Best Caribou Poems

Details | Caribou Poem |

A Futuristic Christmas-Contest

Hereafter in the times of tomorrows yesterday,
Came the development of an exhilarating Christmas holiday.

Sometime earlier than the present time,
This holiday was old fashioned through out mankind.

World-wide festivities nowadays have come,
All the wonders of advancement has finally begun.

Santa's automobile has but only two wheels,
Placed on each side of his shatter proof shields.

No longer are there caribou with bells that jingle,
A 2031 stainless steel V-8, red and white shingles.

Santa is not plump and white bearded like he used to be,
Now he has a shaved head sporting a black goatee.

The good girls and boys get emails on the Eve,
Announcing his arrival and what time he will leave.

There are ramps starting at the base of the exhaust,
Sliding presents down the chimney a lil' crisscrossed.

No more elves working tirelessly at the North Pole,
But electronic robots made of silver and gold.

Tall green pine trees decorated with sheets of red ice,
No more LED lights, now there's something more precise.

The snow used to be white, fluffy and soft,
Now a tiny hue of pink intertwined with blue frost.

The stockings have no gravity, they float and linger,
Special sugar cookies made with a snap of my finger.

Opening gifts using the new electronic scissors,
My whole family wakes up wearing matching knickers.

My son and daughter build snow forts with excavators,
And all through out December we have curious spectators.

I sit here and look back to when I was thirty-five,
I wonder how in the world did I ever survive!

Some say the first Christmas was in December 336ad,
Based on some chart, oh how I strongly disagree.

I miss that chubby old man and his beautiful reindeer,
And his red sleigh while brushing his long white beard.

Oh my, how things have altered so ridiculously fast,
I never thought so much can change from many Christmas's past.

~A Futuristic Christmas Contest~
Sponsor: Mystic Rose
Date Written: November 16, 2015

Details | Caribou Poem |

free cee ARE THERE CARIBOU IN MALIBOU

                           ARE THERE CARIBOU IN MALIBU?

The frail I fail to reach
The elderly with so much to teach
Those older whose shoulder brushes mine
And yet each and every eye still to shine
Those tangled up by values and vine
The ones who feed squirrels in some secluded square
Those with remembrances to relate with reverence, relevance and a touch of flair
The old and the better ones
The cold and bitter ones
Those who fear to do what they could never dare
Those who dare not do that which they fear

That elder on a bench was once a tailor in a shop on Main Street in Malibu
The one over there used to do conservation work for the caribou
Because every elder once was………….
Everyone once was something
Something of worth with value assessed
Everyone has been caressed
With lamentable last times and blessed by first times
Bed times, bad times and the worst times
Rain shower times and feathery flower times
Times of weakness and power times
Repressing and depressing times
Most had lovers to whom they were inclined
Sorrowfully one fell well behind
Still others had delight definitively defined
Some of them, on occasion, rose to the occasion
And most once had a viable vocation
Everyone did something kind
Everyone had vengeance weighing on their mind
Everyone tried to kindle a spark
And some were left deeply in the dark
Yet sadly only a sacred few will die and acutely, with acumen, leave their memorable mark
        © 2012…copyright PHREEPOETREE..~free cee!~

Details | Caribou Poem |

Alaskan wilderness, a beautiful sight, holds grave danger when you go it alone.
It was freezing cold one night when Frank’s unwanted adventure began.
He had left early that Sunday morn, before an unexpected blizzard moved in.
In daylight he had traveled miles across pristine splendor; thick snow made vision blur.
The flurry came so quickly; it took him by surprise. Wolves howl imposed death’s cries.
He had traveled 150 miles past Wendell Winthrop’s summer cottage.
The next closest shelter was 200 miles away where the year round trapper lived.
Frank was all alone; to survive the night, he needed to bury himself in snow.

The next morning he woke up alive! Hurray! It was a great start for the new day.
He brushed the snow off and got on his snowmobile, all prepared for a brisk ride home.
To his disbelief, the snowmobile would not start. No repair brought even one spark.
What would he do? An unwanted adventure was about to begin…unprepared.

He collected a few supplies and warm clothes, which he carried and started walking.
In the distance he heard hungry howls followed by a fallen caribou screaming.
After two days of surviving eating snow, he knew that he had to find some meat.
But he was in for a God sent treat. Behind a snow mound he heard a wolverine.
There it was. Food! Wild kill; a part eaten moose with no bear or wolf to be seen.
The wolverine shared, without a choice; a gunshot wound in her side made her weak.
It all made sense. Noisy guns scared the bears and wolves off during the blizzard.
Poachers must have shot the wolverine while trying to get out of the storm safely.

Having a concerned heart, Frank wrapped a shirt around the bleeding wound; Blood stopped.
The injured mammal seemed happy and so did Frank. That morning they ate together.
He built a makeshift stretcher; then, lifted the wolverine onto it, like two friends.
Mile after mile he trudged before he and “Wolvie” were hungry again; he made camp.
Three ptarmigan flew close to the fire. Pow! Pow! Pow! Frank and Wolvie ate that night.
He had gone a long way before camping again. His friend seemed to be much better.
It was a miracle! She lived; after five days she walked, but stayed right by Frank’s side.
Almost there, a black bear cornered Frank. Wolvie lunged at its throat; the bear ran.
They made it! The trapper came out, raised his gun. Frank shouted, “Don’t, shoot!”
The trapper could not believe his ears. Frank and the wolverine were co-heros.

1/2/2017

Details | Caribou Poem |

Yukon Vet - Favorite TV Show

D Doctor Michelle Oakley, Yukon Vet
O On Nat Geo, best animal show yet,
C can bring the thrills of taking care of tamed
T to wild species, with her strength and famed
O operations handling moose and yaks,
R red foxes, musk-oxen, huge elk with racks.

M Michelle, a rugged lady, there on call,
I in helping animals both large and small,
C can teach an injured hawk to fly once more
H healing wings so one day it can soar.
E Even ailing porcupines get cured.
L Linx, when spotted ill, are gently lured
L letting her perform her healing skills
E ensuring we who watch enjoy the thrills.

O Often she helps out a local zoo,
A and mountain goats, mule deer, and caribou
K keep her busy if they're hurt or when
L land in danger birthing, because then
E every newborn life is nature's prize.
Y Yearly vaccines often can comprise

Y yielding into schemes to bring them close,
U upon which she will shoot a dart with dose,
K kindly making sure it hits the spot;
O often quite involved to give a shot.
N Nothing more exciting than to see

V vast Yukon plains with creatures wild and free,
E entrapped, when needed, by a blowgun dart
T to be repaired by this vet's healing art.

Sandra M. Haight

~2nd Place~
Premiere Contest: Your Favorite Habit-Forming TV Show
Sponsor: Tom Quigley
Judged: 08/25/2016

This TV series, 'Dr. Oakley - Yukon Vet' is aired on Nat Geo Wild, usually in the spring months. I have watched Seasons 1,2 and 3, and looking forward to Season 4 next spring. I love this show!

Details | Caribou Poem |

Brushed A Season Her Love

We spread these wings in dreams which fly....
Beyound the ambient hieroglyphic sky; our heritage
This coign of vantage; etched her silken starry 
Night an ancient cavern carnelian hues ? Ancestral
Meek as the mink and caribou; banal their mischief-makers
Carved a stone this image one million years her matriarch..
Barbaric schemes times kings; confronted by she, mono y mono
Exposed love's fiery minx iconic; ironic while the tables turn ?
Pelion, hand writing with scenic wings; empowered by Genial, we deem.

Details | Caribou Poem |

Ravening

You want it all.

The lakes and tar sands

Fresh water and fish

Arctic diamonds

Pipelines that confine

The caribou

And make the hunt ridiculous.

Forests for the churning

Of lusty, gossip press

And row houses

Like card houses

In six figure excess.

You set the price

You peg the share return

You fudge prospectus

Upon contingent prospectus.

You eyeball Brazil’s rubber

Argentina’s beef

And the yen’s stability.

Look for bottom line

In a bombshell.

You feed the college factories

With student debt

And prevarication.

You ruin IT marvels of innovation

With the barbs of bribed analysts.

You forestall needful medicines.

Your food franchises gorge your towns

And starve your staffs.

You stuff the sanctuaries

With hype and lifestyle

And trendy powerless slogans.

And dandle politicians

Like Punch and Judy.

But no one is laughing.

Moving jobs like pawns off-shore.

Buying justice by the pound.

You are the ravening

And the implacable.

You kill this place

In increments.

Chanting with pounded fist

“Business is business”.

And the odd one of us

Builds a cabin in the bush

And marvels at the night music

And lights.

Details | Caribou Poem |

PEACE

PEACE


Bergs dot the ocean, even  in June,  and 
Thick  fogs  clothe the Labrador shore early each morning.
The sea ice rocks slowly in the harbor from wind and sun. 
As  I roast my fish on the warming gravel beach
The air grows clear and crystalline for  miles to the horizon
And  I  hear only
The seagull cries
Over the lone level water  
And tumbling streams laughing  their way over mossed boulders old as time,
Streams known only  to me and the fish.

We know the splendor of  the yellow arctic poppy in bloom in the long days of July,  
The wild goose arrowing south high above the shore before the sun-dogs of October,
And the incandescent rainbow of the aurora in bloom in January.  

Polar bears hunt ringed seals along the coast, whales  call in the bay,  
And caribou herds migrate to their calving grounds among 
The ankle-deep turf of tundra with mushrooms in an abundance of sizes and colours,
Bilberry, red mountain cranberry, and crowberry, which bears graze  in late summer. 
There is life here  -  and pristine growth, primeval   and pure.
I need only a simple cabin - black spruce for walls and white birch bark for roof,  
And a boat  -  and my trap line  mended.

And I shall have peace here
Among  the evening green and white of this cold coast
With unnamed  summer streams running warm into unnamed bays and hidden coves  
Between high  cliffs rising  straight from the sea,  
Their wind-   and wave-scoured faces looking  straight east over the foggy Atlantic.

Details | Caribou Poem |

Elk Behaviour

The elk is just an Eastern moose,
Or else a Western caribou … 

But if you chance to meet one,
He will be polite and nod to you.

Details | Caribou Poem |

Swing

Three young kids sit on the double swing
In nearby woods nightingale will sing
As kids swing on the swing
They talk about everything

They talk about adventures in distant places
Light of joy lights up on their faces
To the south tropical beaches 
To the north cold breezes

The animals like polar bear in frozen tundra 
Mongolian death worm in distant Asia
Wolves chasing caribou following the alpha
Komodo dragon, ropen from New Guinea, and Indian king cobra

View from the swing is far towards north, south, east and west
Each of brothers will have his own quest
The swing is place where they will rest
As they will expand their families crest

The swing reaches far to the air to great expanse 
The vastness of that expanse
Makes children’s young souls with joy dance
It is like a dream a romance

But as fresh air reaches the lungs the vision inside it will turn to transcendence
The vision of to universe counterbalance
The spirit that will begin as one writing universe laws and end in brilliance 
Equal radiance at the end from base and planetary destiny absolute eminence 

In worlds most distant waters children want to swim
But for now let them dream
Swing so small so large to a child will seem
They will remember the wonder years when one day they realize their dream

Details | Caribou Poem |

SPRING WILL COME

SPRING     WILL     COME

Small birds in draughty nests behind my brick chimney know that spring will come.
Fixing the gutters in leaky boots, my son knows that spring will  come.
Herds of caribou hurrying to cross the still-solid  Mackenzie,
Bearcubs with mum in deep-ice caves on Baffin Island,
Trees in the garden  with rows of dormant budlets,
Ducks beaking the ice on frozen pondlets,
My tiny grandson wrapped like an
Eskimo as he plays in the  snow,
All know spring will come.
I, too, know that long
After I am no more,
Spring will
Come.

Details | Caribou Poem |

Cold Moon

Moon-bounced light, flint-hard
meets my eyes
cold air, sharp as a shard
of glass
slices my nose and sears
my ears
Yet this is warmth, the arena of life’s race
the cosmic granule on which we breathing
creatures cling
not the absolute, the devastating
cold deep space
 
Not a soul was once aboard
this universe
No heart soared
and sang its beauty, marveled its force
Mary Celeste sailed time’s ocean
with no crew to mark her course
At the still bucking caribou calf I see the grizzly gnaw
yet of nature’s splendour I cannot lose my awe

Details | Caribou Poem |

Alaska, The Last Frontier

Alaska, The Last Frontier

Alaska; the wilderness state, the last frontier:
Where majestic mountains, 
Deliver streams into flowing rivers: 
Down slopes covered in forests 
Of Sitka Spruce and Western Hemlock
That dominates the landscape.
The name Alaska originates 
From the Aleut word 'Aleyska,'
Meaning the 'mainland' or literally:
'The object toward which the action of the sea is directed.'
Home to barren-ground caribou, lemmings and polar bears,
Willow ptarmigan, moose 
And the stately Chinook King salmon, 
And home to the nation’s only herd of wood bison:
Thought not to exist but, reintroduced  
And brought back from extinction!  

Hence, ages ago when glaciers grew and melted,
A land bridge was formed between Siberia and Alaska:
Where the ancestors lived and eventually walked over,
To settle the great land and coastal waters.
The indigenous peoples of Eskimos and Indians
(Aleuts and Yuit; Athabaskans, Tlingit and Haida.)  
Believe all places, objects and creatures;— 
Possess a divine presence and Shaman:
Are spiritual healers who can meditate with them.
Under the aurora borealis, 
From the North Pacific to the Arctic Ocean,
They conduct their way of life.
Engaging in hunting, trapping, trading and fishing:
At peace with the world!   

March 30, 1867, marks the day history changed, 
When the Alaskan territory was sold,
By the Empire of Russia to the United States of America:
An area twice the size of Texas,
For seven point two million US dollars.
And for the next three decades was given little attention,
Until gold was discovered near Nome in 1899. 
Then a stampede of sourdoughs left the Yukon’s
Klondike gold fields for richer claims, 
Of placer and bench gold,
In the streams and soils and rocks of Alaska, 
Via the American only route and Canadian trails.
Today, gold is the State’s national mineral.
—And when war came to the Aleutian Islands;—
After the attack on Pearl Harbor,
Alaska proved its worth and came of age. 
Due to its strategic importance in the war effort;— 
Growth took place at a rapid pace: 
Roads and towns, naval bases and airports appeared overnight;
Alaskan pride in the fight for freedom prevailed!   

Every March, since 1973, 
The Iditarod (the last great race on earth) is run:
From Anchorage to Nome,
On a trail just over a thousand miles,
By mushers and their Alaskan Malamute and Siberian dogs.
North America’s highest Peak
And the world’s largest rise
Is Denali (formerly called Mount McKinley),
Located in the Alaskan Range:
And a lake (Ilamna Lake), the size of Connecticut!

The state flag bears the North Star and Big Dipper;—
On a background of blue that waves in the wind.
'North to the Future'
As its citizens sing 'Alaska’s Flag Song!'
And pays homage to the early prospectors 
In their quest for gold,
And in honor of achieving the forty-ninth statehood, 
On January the third, 1959;—
As the ‘Forget-me-not' flower blooms in Spring,
When the season of love begins.
Today trawlers leave the ports to catch 
The prized Alaskan King Crab.
And the Iñupiat spear the Bowhead whale
In managed traditional fishing waters,
And net Coho and Sockeye 
Swimming upstream to ancient spawning grounds.
While a bustling oil industry thrives, 
With offshore drilling  and land exploration.
Alaska, jade of the North, in the twenty-first century!

Details | Caribou Poem |

Predator & Prey

The life and death struggles of predator and prey
is nature's poetry in motion in its most bittersweet way.
I challenge anyone not to feel compassion for the predator's victim.
Compassion is what seperates us all from all other species.
It's the very quality that defines us as being human.
A fully fed grizzly bear may witness a pack of wolves slowly take down a caribou.
Not once will that bear think, "I wish that poor prey victim's suffering was through,"
and yet we who feel compassion for the predator's slain prey
continue to murder each other each and every day.

Best Caribou Poems | Poetry

New Caribou Poems

The Best Caribou Poems

The Flame

I Am An Artic Wolf

My Zoo From A to Z

The Sun Stays Away These Days

The Wolf - Part 2

An Inuit's Longing For Home

My Caribou

Boom

Food for Thought

A Futuristic Christmas-Contest

Inuksuk Hunter

Unwelcome Season

free cee ARE THERE CARIBOU IN MALIBOU

Eskimo Dream

Co-heroes

Yukon Vet - Favorite TV Show

Brushed A Season Her Love

Ravening

PEACE

Elk Behaviour

Swing

SPRING WILL COME

Cold Moon

Alaska, The Last Frontier

Predator & Prey