Bear Care Poems | Examples
These Bear Care poems are examples of Care poems about Bear. These are the best examples of Care Bear poems written by international poets.
My name is Loneliness, a mask I wear,
Faces surround me, but none see my care.
I surround myself with fleeting ties,
Acquaintances who hear my words, not my sighs.
My name is Fatigue, a weight I bear,
Work my only solace, a reason to rise, a purpose to share.
Without it, I'm lost in a haze,
Dragging hours like chains, in endless days.
My name is Disappointment, a shadow cast,
Each effort a fresh wound, each try a forecast.
What's the point of striving when the end is known?
Regret, a familiar ache, a sorrow grown.
My name is Misery, a shadow I carried,
etched into my bones by all the pains I have married.
I drown in fleeting comforts, in amber tides,
where sorrow ebbs and numbs what grief provides.
Each wound has shaped me, carved me, made me whole,
yet still the ache lingers, so I sip for solace.
My name could be Sadness, a constant guest,
Tears fall like autumn rain, chilling my rest.
Yet in this sorrow, I find a strange reprieve,
A fragile pulse that persists, a heartbeat I retrieve.
i keep watering seeds i know will never grow
i give every seed a chance at life
never giving up on them
even if i can see so very clearly
they won't live
at least not long enough to bear crops
i feed and feed and feed
running myself dry just to water you
i'm almost out of water
but i'll use my last bit on you
even though i know you won't give a single thing in return
but i keep watering and watering
knowing the outcome each time
but maybe
just maybe
i can get you to grow
even if i have to kill myself
for you to survive
She came tonight, a whisper soft,
As I lay reading, lost in thought.
Her warmth curled close, a phantom grace,
And time dissolved in her embrace.
The book fell silent in my hand,
Her breath was there, I swear I felt.
A tear broke free, then came the flood—
A river born of love and guilt.
Three decades gone, yet still she stays,
A shadow dancing through my days.
She left because they locked me in,
For sins I never did commit.
She couldn’t bear the bars between,
The silence stretched too far, too wide.
She chose the stars, the final flight—
And left me here to ache and write.
I never let her fade from view,
Her name still trembles on my lips.
I love her still, I always will,
Through every crack my heart equips.
Why, Baby, why? We’d still be whole,
If fate had not betrayed our soul.
But maybe love defies the grave—
And finds a way to still be brave.
So let the spectral glow remain,
A light that cuts through loss and pain.
She’s still with me, in dreams, in breath—
Love outlives even death.
“A people few in number”
with an outsize burden to bear
With Russia and Ukraine
simply compare
More killed there
this century than anywhere
~ Does anyone care
A gentle care bear drifts on a cotton sky,
Where imagination fans its wings so high.
In soft dream, he cruises past starry streams,
Lost in sweet reverie, where wonder gleams.
With playful whimsy, clouds become his throne,
A castle where he laughs, all on his own.
Through misty halls of hallucination, bright,
His visualization , a magic in pale light.
The bear floats on, heart open and free,
A silent hug in that cloud-land fantasy—
Where every child can drift and see,
A world from words, alive in reverie.
“Sadness flies away on the wings of time.”
—Jean De La Fontaine
...................................................
Heavy is this gray cloud above our heads,
Its weight like stone, it bows our shoulders low.
The robe of joy we wore is torn to shreds,
We're clothed in tears, in despair, ache, and woe,
Yet still we crave good hearts to love and care.
This yoke we bear clings tight like second skin,
Its presence felt in every breath we take.
Memories we thought were buried within
Still rise and pull us under when we wake,
Our hearts exposed—so empty and stripped bare.
But time erased our sadness, eased the pain,
The scar too faint for even eyes to see.
Now joy returns in true love’s gentle rain,
Its warmth and laughter set our spirits free,
The love it brings now shines with fun and flair.
I'll not journey to the moon and leave rubbish there.
Thinking of all the junk left behind is hard to bear.
~ thoughts of the poet
No trace of trespassing on the moon should be kept.
I scorn the lack of mankind's judgment for being inept.
Footprints should have been swept before flying home.
Into realms of outer space mankind chooses to roam,
leaving junk strewn on moon... pieces of a robot,
a golf ball, a flag planted by the hands of an astronaut.
The moon is not a dumping ground for what's left behind.
It ruins the concept of a radiant moon that's been maligned
when her glorious beauty should be regaled and enshrined.
There should be a sign posted by The Guardians of the Galaxy.
"Luna is not a refuse heap for man's rubble and debris.
If you must visit, show her deserved respect and use integrity.
Take your rubbish with you as you leave this property."
The Guardians ~ with irrefutable authority.
My ears are sealed, forever bound by quiet/
A world of stillness, no sound can riot/
Yet my mind pulses, alive and aware/
With whispers and images you unknowingly share/
Every thought, unspoken and raw/
Every dream, every flaw/
They flow to me, a bittersweet stream/
Of joys, of sorrows, of hope, of esteem/
Your words, unuttered, cut me deep/
Your judgements linger, wounds that seep/
I yearn to mend the hate that you keep/
To wake the love in hearts asleep/
I see your regrets, the burdens you bear/
I glimpse the pain beneath the glare/
Life's weight is heavy, this much is true/
But why place that pain on me too/
For though I live in silence stark/
My soul is tender, it feels each mark/
So spare your scorn, your anger untamed/
There's kindness in you, don't leave it unnamed/
I know you feel heavy inside
Like the weight of the world is too much to bear.?
You carry a burden no one can see,
?And it feels like you are fading unnoticeable?
Into the air.
But listen...
You are not the unwanted one.?
I see you.?Your pain, your struggle
they matter.
?You are here, and that means something.
The silence you feel isn't the end.?
It's a moment, a purpose,?
Before you find your voice again.
You are more than the darkness that surrounds you.?
It's okay to feel lost,
?But don't mistake it for being forgotten.
You are worth more than these thoughts.?
And no matter how quiet the world goes,?
You still matter.
I promise you, the storm isn't forever.?
You will rise.
?You are stronger than you think.?
The pain is not your forever.
And I believe in you, even when you don’t.
What color are your eyes?
What weights are they showing you bear?
Your tired eyes, they're piercing,
They're too heavy to offer self care.
You're exhausted, but need not rest,
Sleeping won't cure what's hiding.
Do my eyes offer yours comfort?
Do they warm you to confiding?
I know mine just as well,
I'm aware mine paint demise.
But I don't mind so still I ask,
What color are your eyes?
One of the happiness is to see
Something that grows its fruit
It takes a struggle as a durian tree
The will to bear its fruit
Bear to have patience to care
Hope for the time being for growth
Need to endure and be consistent
Until the time comes to bear the fruit.
Oh judge, dear friend, delay is but a muse,
No weight to bear, no reason to accuse.
For patience blooms where moments linger,
Each tick of the clock paints truth with its finger.
A poem, though brief, holds depth untold,
Not rushed by time, but a treasure to unfold.
To weigh its worth, your care was true,
For art demands the heart’s review.
Forgiveness? It’s needless, your pause is wise,
You see the stars, not just the skies.
So take your time; it’s never too late,
For judgment born of thought is great.
We honor the care, the time you’ve spent,
Your thoughtful gaze, so reverent.
No rush to answer, no need to defend,
For poetry’s light will never end.
Am I a nobody, hidden and small,
A quiet voice in the shadow’s call.
I give my all, I bear the load,
Yet walk unseen down every road.
Am I a nobody, calm and kind,
Feeling the hurt that others hide.
They find my worth in materialistic charades—
Is there no merit to who’s inside?
Am I a nobody, lost and plain,
For loving deep through joy and pain.
If love and grace don’t earn a name,
Then let me be this “nobody,” glad to be framed.
For in my heart, my truth will stay,
A quiet light that paves the way.
In Rhythms & Silence- Rajit
Seeing the garden rage with fire
Oh! the might of her might scream
Only the water from the rod of life can lower that pyre
How a person would be able to smile as her rage becomes a pleasant beam
The water brings the nutrients to her soil.
No longer does it appear to be a scorched earth!
Her humble breasts and legs decrease her tendency for her blood to boil. (decreascendo in tone)
At least it gives the opportunity for a new life to come from her loins in a beautiful birth (rising sharply)
After the rod has made its due, PLEASE kiss the peach
It is the life of the rage and calm
Oh! the ever-loved scent of the peach on the beach
Let it feel our lips to a tasty balm
Protect her like the bear!!!
As she deserves your tender loving care!!!
When life is not always fair,
And we want to help a pair,
Why is our answer always to bring a fifty fifty call to bear,
When we know a different answer is what should appear,
As the facts were laid bare,
For us to compare.
Is it because we do not want to appear unfair,
To the pair who both want us to care,
Or is it that we don't want to get on the wrong side of both here,
So, we can say our conscience is clear,
And we have done our bit in a world that is not always fair.
Something to ponder on here,