Best Grizzlies Poems
~ An Extremely Shallow Poem
with nothing significant
to say ~
Woodland nymphs, a chorus
are singing in the darkling forest
while a fearless brontosaurus
is looking for a florist
Starlight flickers, moonlight dies
forest creatures stop and sigh
When two grizzlies do collide
a twitter double homicide
Miss Raccoon takes her ballet slippers off
which explains her hacking cough
Her rhyming here's a little rough
to which she says ~ Life is tough
Goblins live in caves
Secret corners in the back
Grizzlies know they’re there
They are compatible in fact
Waiting to eat me and you
Part 3
9th Delerium: Emptyness
Water wheels in wastelands... turning,
drowning relics in the slum
Rumpled rags of fashioned burlap... burning,
lit by bandits blind and dumb
Pastured prisons, ponies bridled ... yearning,
forest fairies under thumb
Sounds inside of cauldrons coughing... churning,
blaring bugles, tattooed drum
10th Delirium: Alienation
Rain unravelling, wistfully weeping... falling,
treacle trickling, fickle sky
Mushrooms sprinkled, visions sprouting... sprawling,
seagulls drowning, dolphins die
Rabble gasping, spirits broken... crawling,
lonely lonesome swallows cry
Babbling brooks and breakers ebbing... bawling
puppies paddle, puppets sigh
People passing ripple past me... calling,
rainbow colours, collars high
Chaos seething, lepers looting... stalling,
stealing stallions on the sly
Pencils pausing, scholars scrambling... scrawling,
scratching scribbles, asking why
11th Delirium: Jetsam
Silver sails sway pallid pirates... prowling,
Jolly Rogers, wind and sound
Parrots perching, tattered feathers... fouling,
tethered talons, tied and bound
Shipwrecked foghorns, trumpets stranded... howling,
spiral springs of time unwound
Magic moonlight, shimmers shaking... scowling,
burnt out matchsticks washed aground
Prairie wolfs, coyotes calling... yowling,
witching hours, midnight hounds
Tightrope walkers, grizzlies grunting... growling,
seeking islands, lost and found
12th Delirium: Relief
Slumber shattered, vapours captive... haunting,
chained in mirrors, breaking free
Scarlet skylines, daylight dawning... daunting,
rivers rushing to the sea
Silence softens, sandmen whisper... wanting,
piercing rafters, turning keys
Shadows shudder, notions fluster... flaunting,
moonbeam bullets meant for me
Mind in migraine, meadows trembling... taunting,
sparrows speak in harmony
REAWAKENING
Pitter patter, teardrops paling... pearling,
salting scarves in secret drawers
Mist amongst us, smoke rings rising... curling,
climbing from the ocean floors
See-saw circles, senses swerving... swirling,
swept away with silver oars
Courtyard jesters, sceptres twisting... twirling,
push the past to foreign shores
Passing pangs of passions heaving... hurling,
burning bridges, closing doors
Roses wither, icons waning... whirling,
time decays and time restores
End
The late may sunlight is bathing a monument of Nature
so colossal in sculpted vertical structure
that it may very well be the palace complex of forgotten supermen,
stories from my childhood pastor of biblical Petra
discovered by Crusaders, or the Temple of Ramesses in Egypt
emerge in my mind as we course through this valley of watered chisled fascades,
sandstone worked by the trickles of centuries
has created craftsmanship of rusticly romanesque grandeur,
pillars, cornices, porticos, grotesque statuary
invites the imagination into the architecture of antiquity
and the legacy that looms in the landscape of divine forces,
these are the White Cliffs of America
born from the bone of Divinity
and worked by the water of will,
Coming out of the Atlantis precinct as Clark calls it
a fork in the river confronts us like a new religion
a pathway heretofore unknown to our shadowed souls,
the Hidatsas mentioned nothing of this avenue,
I am angered hot by this suprise of doom
if we choose the wrong river we find only dreadful failure,
both waterways are mighty , broad, and of a similar depth,
one goes northwest the other southwest,
I swear my brain is gonna burst,
Clark is bracing himself against a tree as if he is waiting for a heart attack,
nobody knows blue from black at this juncture
and the guys are gettin hyper as horses amid thunder,
after discussing the odds he and I return to camp
as professional officers, no doubts, only orders,
two small detachments , one led by me, the other by Ordway
will traverse on foot one river each
up to forty miles examining clues like owls on a mouse's trail,
each party is on extra alert for bear and Indians,
grizzlies have become a common monster lately
sometimes requiring 12 shots to subdue,
they are infamous for their zombie qualities
having freakish endurance and bloodlust while being injured,
as for the natives, one only knows after eyes are shown,
J.A.B.
Lions, tigers and bears alarm me, no-brainer!
Zookeepers seem to like them and circus trainers.
Some blokes put gray in your hair - like Freddy Krueger
but strokes are not funny, I panic 'round cougars.
Pythons, parrots and apes distress me, no-brainer
Crocodile Dundee was just an entertainer.
Trees are traps and leopards lie perfectly still there,
they'll permanently jeopardize lots more than hair.
Gray wolves, foxes and deer upset me, no-brainer
Forest rangers take care and jungle campaigners.
Locks don't stop gorillas, stray geese or grizzlies
merely seeing them turns my locks to frizzlies.
Toadfrogs, lizards and hares concern me, no-brainer.
Steve Irwin, I am not, should I make it plainer?
Lions, tigers and bears make me sweat unaware,
wild animal beasties leave me pulling my hair.
Three truant scholars spending our sabbaticals
in crisp Colorado, we all re-read Walden,
dared to drink from streams so icy clear
the fish seemed suspended in mid-air.
Our flimsy nylon shelters shielded us
from what weather there was to worry on,
as summer slipped to autumn
and autumn waned winterward.
Four full years past we trekked those trails
through stands of timber frequented by fox,
by birds, by deer -- and by growling grizzlies.
We walked well-wooded hillsides
of mixed conifers and broadleaf.
In deep drafts we breathed the earthy air.
Now, when my son hugs his honey bear,
red-jacketed, black-button eyed,
I see the hellish maw, the bloodied claw,
of the darkish-brown raging beast
that tore off my arm and maimed
two sages, amid the yellow quaking aspen
where, yet, that gory grizzly ages.
in gurgling rapids
salmon jumping ladders
while grizzlies feast
AP: 3rd place 2022
About the lives of bears for years
A Czech and Pole were keen.
But neither had in their careers
A grizzly ever seen.
They therefore flew to Yellowstone
With data they'd compiled
To find and study on their own
Some grizzlies in the wild.
"It's mating season, so beware,"
They heard a ranger say.
"We need to know you're safe out there,
So call us every day."
The calls arrived for five days straight,
But then no more were heard.
Officials said investigate
To find what had occurred.
The rangers searched both day and night
And hope was growing dim.
A pair then found the camping site,
But what they saw was grim.
Some bears had torn the camp to shreds.
The men were not around.
But luckily the female's treads
Observant rangers found.
They followed, killed, and sliced the bear
To stomach contents scan.
The Pole's remains were clearly there,
But not the other man.
One ranger said, "It does appear
We've searched to no avail."
The other nodded, "Yes, I fear
The Czech is in the male."
grizzlies and browns
salmon run ~~~~
hibernation falls
I know if I could ever reach you,
i'd come to say I'd love to meet you...
In the days that lie beneath the open face,
in the simplest ways we live in our craze-
and the wildest braves...
They take up our maze,
and say to this-
to have no worries
or heartaches belonging,
no trendy tripping,
or grizzlies existing-
we may wonder aloud,
and take stake in each other,
even the faintest pictures of ourselves-
of the goal,
to bind with the sacred,
or even to just smile...
Because I know that if I could ever reach you,
I'd come to say I'd love to meet you...
In the plainest most original redemption song,
we'd never leave you behind as even a token-
printed with ancient words.
People who give bear hugs
are very charming people to me,
always expressing themselves
open and affectionately,
it doesn't matter if they're
male or female or
if their black of white,
after feeling down and then
getting hugged you suddenly
feel loved and feather light,
but don't do what a guy
named Timothy Treadwell did
which to me was a little extreme,
if you read about it which happened
in the 1990's you will plainly see,
when out in the wilds of Alaska
he'd get friendly with the grizzlies,
hanging out and hobnobbing
with the giant ferocious creatures,
he'd wander up to each one of them
as if they were teddy bears trying to reach
out and touch and almost hug them,
and in one video of him it looked
like he was trying to play tag your it in it,
now most of the grizzlies ignored
him thinking oh its just that crazy Tim,
and Tim thought hey these bears
love me and getting killed is very slim,
when one fateful day as Timothy
and his girlfriend were in their tent
about to leave they had quite a surprise,
a mean old grizzly bear came calling
with nothing but revenge on his bear mind,
who had had enough of Tim
and his grizzly bear handling ways,
and if only Tim had hugged his own kind
he and his girlfriend would still be alive today.
THE GRIZZLY ATTACK
Relentlessly grizzlies search
Bloody skin
Ferret out each secret fear
Victoria Anderson-Throop
2013
This is based on a true event, however
I have only speculated on what the bear was thinking.
A story is told in Canada's North,
By the Black and Grizzly Bears,
Of the day that one of them stumbled across,
The strangest looking pair.
He thought they were bears, (or so he guessed),
But their coats were not the same,
He wanted to talk to them, find out for sure,
But wondered if they were tame.
To back up a bit, I'll tell you a tale,
Of our northern camping trip,
When I and my son went out for a week,
Taking nature in our grip.
The Alaska Highway is where we drove,
Past a town we knew as Trutch,
And into the bush we found our way,
To camp and fish and such.
But after a week of coffee and beans,
And campfires, dirt and dust,
We started to smell, and knew in our hearts,
A bath was really a must.
The water was cold, but we were brave,
We stripped to the way we were born,
As into the water we made our way,
My son was feeling forlorn.
But after a struggle to get him wet,
I started to wash his hair,
Then heard a small voice, so quiet and calm,
Say, "Daddy, look at the bear".
I said, "Be quiet, I haven't the time,
To listen to nonsense and talk",
But after another "Dad, look at the bear",
I saw it was there by a rock.
It stood ten feet tall, or so it appeared,
And stared at us there in the creek,
I said, "Be real still and look at the bear,
Keep quiet and don't make a squeak."
The bear kept on watching, but looked confused,
("They're Black Bears or Grizzlies", it said,)
Then after five minutes, which seemed like an hour,
It walked away shaking it's head.
A story is told in Canada's North,
By the Black and Grizzly Bears,
Of the day that one of them stumbled across,
The strangest looking pair.
Dark days, the ecilpse
I'm like an owl
Asking who?
Deep in the astral's...
Mind of wisdom and,
I slit that serpent into two!
Right and left parts,
Forming vessels of man and woman
My membranes splitting
Neurons swift-ing, reconnecting,
And I hymn, humming
Hummingbird flying...
Early in the morning,
And the sun luminous, gloom!
Lucid dreams to vivid images
5th gear in tune,
From cars to spaceships too mars!
Traffic jams: I skipped breakfast...
Red lights beaming to sirens
Alerting me too soon!
Remembering waking up
From a nightmare,
As my dreams were to mere!
Dark days: moon light shining
Lonely and so low,
Wearing white sheets to Ghost busting:
Capturing my shadows...
And Shouting whooo!
To all black: like crawls
Creepy, freaky too...!
Keeping keys and owning lands
From locksmith to will smith
"I can go on"... hitting keys,
To feeling jade and my will low,
So I seemed blue!
Knowing jay be behind rocks,
Catching bees for honey:
And grizzlies growling:
can't bare the pain!
Licking the sweetness all around
To falling asleep on the ground,
wearing black, rebelling like a goat,
Grass eating, to high mountains for
Fine fields: lime green and yellows;
To being pampered, high up...
Make-up so dark,
To shouting black is beautiful,
A black panther!
Deep in the jungle fighting
For my survival to challenging the king
So we all live like royalty:
The Kingdom of my dreams-
to dwell in freedom, and free will
So I write in liberty:
knowing its out of liability,
For you-man-needy...
So I keep on giving!
The love I have for my people-
country, nations like Shakespeare's novels,
Just without the tragedy...!
She was taken by bears, that was the consensus,
dragged off in her sleeping bag; tracks confirmed.
Later the child was eaten, but not before she died of old age.
She lodged with the Grizzlies, growing sturdy, unusually hirsute
for a human girl, but pretty in a wide-bottomed way.
Frank Goddard and his hunting buddy Pete
had her in his sights one winter. He almost pulled the trigger
on his bolt action 30-06, but saw she was different and with her cubs.
They were leaf-mossed bundles of mewing need.
She was foraging for dead squirrels.
After one exceptionally hard year, an old bear warned her.
“We should have chewed you up, buried you in the forest
in juicy frozen lumps for when the hunger gnaws.” Said the bear.
She cried when she left the bear clan and her cubs,
but she stayed in the wilderness. Her limbs lost their ursine strength,
her body shrank, became twiggy and hollow.
A party of campers from Cleveland claimed to have seen her
buzzing through the tree’s, humming.
She grew wizened. No new leaf uncurled in her, then she died.
Bob Turner found her remains as he led a group of Eagle Scouts
over the ‘Big Hole’ mountain pass one summer. She had kept the
sleeping bag, she had made it her totem, a thing she wore like an animal
spirit. Scavengers had eaten most of her, but the bears killed the animals
and brought them back to lay beside her scatterings.
The Scouts took pictures and reported the find to the Montana Rangers,
but the Chippewa Cree had removed all sign of her death
by the time the Rangers returned.