Long Bear on Poems

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Another Day

I didn’t know if I was going to make it through the night, my feet were as cold as ice, my heart was where it was supposed to be, but I had this strange premonition that I would wake up in the middle of a storm just before the break of dawn.

 And the mountain will meet with the sea and whisper a silent prayer for thee. It was as plain as can be the waves were coming after me and so I had to ride on top of them until I got closer to my anticipated friend. 

There was a sudden heat coming out of the ground and not a single cactus could be found, a group of people were crossing the dessert and patches of dust starts popping out of the ground and swirling in the air ,causing everyone to run for cover that was not there,and the heat crawls slowly up their feet and the distance between them become wider.

For one moment I thought I was here and then I found myself at the bedside over there weeping for those that didn’t make it. 

 All of them were lying flat with their hands tied to their backs, feet bound with ropes and blood was flowing from their waist to the ankle. I have seen it from a distance and I kept saying to myself what do I have to do with such oracle?

It’s another deja vue that comes back to haunt me and a new window was opened in the earth and I could see everything that was running underground. 

A sanctuary with dead bodied buried beneath it and a hangman sign stood upright with a Guillotine position at the back and a pan set underneath to catch blood from the dock,

They had waiting rooms and places where they groom. The young girls had to dance naked before them and they were treated as daughter of the heathen 
In the early morning they bore the pain and at nights their bodies become the shame of the city oh what profanity, the pleasure of men are deferential to women. 

Another day has passed and hope is getting meager, and the fear of waiting for something to happen seems never ending. 

 They made their way through the ground from a tunnel that was out of bound and it leads from timbucktoe around the bend into the gorilla shoe.  

And the black bear on the other side continue to steal the spice but the panda came just in time to do the  summersault to get them out of the dark into the open air, and finally the plane got them out of there.
Form: Narrative


Bear On the Road

stuck on the highway and need to pee
either way  its not a pleasant time for me
I’ve taken my diuretic and its almost three.

the lanes are filled from left to right
I’m in the middle and my exit is tight
I’ve taken a deep breath with all my might

Can’t cross my knees while sitting in the seat
the A/C don’ work and I do mind this heat
the urge is more now my bladder is weak.

I see an exit with a station up ahead
Bless those who put it there instead
Maybe its closed, oh how I dread 

need to get over, my turn is coming near
no one will let me move over from here
another sign showing right lane exit only  (lonely)

can’t make the change and  I missed my turn indeed
toll booths  ahead which will delay my need
if only someone would be polite and do a  good deed

just about to lose my control if I have to stop
line is long, drove on thru, now here comes the cop
siren wailing and lights flashing on top

had to pull over, am sure they’ll be a fine
by mistake I drove thru the express line
will just tell l him I didn’t see the sign

rolled down my window waiting for the badge to appear
Oh officer I have to pee and the pain is so severe
if you will  please let me so and tell me it’s all clear

you see I saw a sign ‘bear right’  for a rest stop
but I couldn’t get over, some car was on top
if you would be lenient and let me make a swap.

I‘ll give you my autograph which is a sure treasure 
then you drive off and go about your pleasure
no ticket please, I’ll be gone on all good measures.

the cop replied ‘now why would I want your autograph’?
I said I am well known to kept you safe on Americas behalf
have been around for many  years and that’s no laugh.

I’d not want you to be in danger under some negligent acts
its my job to protect you and alert you to the bear facts
I will drive off now but you can follow my tracks.

I will be at the next filling station where is says ‘bear right’  
lets just turn our backs and become out of sight
and to you my jingle which I’ll now recite.
‘only you can prevent forest fires’  said Smokey the bear
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member GNRT THOUGHTS-OUR KIA SOUL

When we planned our road trip we set up with Budget 
that a Toyota Corolla would be waiting for us in Seattle
but after standing in line for 2 hours…I was a little rattled

When Budget ran out of cars and sent me to Avis…at their counter I was told…
“We don’t have your Toyota Corolla…but we can give you a new Kia Soul.”

Our Kia had 6 miles on it when we began our trip…
and as with any relationship we tried to take it slow…
while we navigated the Seattle freeways at night…we told her all the places she would go.

And she was such a good sport…wherever we went she gave it her best .
driving all around Seattle, Olympic national park and through the rains in the Northwest.

She took us all the way to the sun in glacier…she made this trip with ease
She drove right by a grizzly bear on our way to Lake Louise.

Through the dusty plains of Canada she waited patiently as we packed, unpacked and packed
and did not flinch in Montana when a pebble caused her windshield to crack.

We thought about substituting her because of that cracked windshield 
but Deborah made the case
that in the 2000 miles we’d already driven….we’d grown accustomed to her face.

Besides, we figured at this point we had nothing to lose and everything to gain….
So on she drove us with her cracked windshield to Canada 
then into Vermont, New Hampshire and Maine.

In Maine, like us, she rested for a few days…
and I could fulfill a promise I’m sure she had come to doubt
that I would take the time to clean her…all of her…inside and out.

We got her when she was just a baby
I’m glad we decided to keep her in spite of her little crack…
and when we returned her to Budget  in Bangor
she had more 6800 miles on her back.

It’s funny that Corolla we thought we were going to drive…
on this trip never played a part
But we were happy with our substitute…the Kia Soul with heart.

In 48 days she grew a little older, she’s not as aligned as she once was 
and she’s developed a few scars everyone can see…
Perhaps that’s why we love her so much…
because she’s a lot like Deborah and me.
© Jim Yerman  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

The Kings Three Sons Part 2

The eldest of the sons came first. He was large; as tall as a bear on its hind legs, and FAT. His chin was not one or two, but three! His stomach hung so far down, it took four servants to keep it above the ground. "My King," he barked out in a manner rather rude, "What has so much importance that you drag me from my table of food?" "Surely," the King said, looking his oldest son up and down, ‘you can afford to miss a meal or four." With a squeal the eldest son turned red. "As you know," the King spoke out, "I have not much time as King anymore, tell me what your plans are, if this future was bestowed on you?’" With a smile that covered his face in a pudgy haze, the eldest son spoke. "The army has grown tired of sitting around. They bother me constantly with boring sounds. The prisoners they usually torture, have rotted away, leaving only bones, not even the hounds will eat." "The land is filled with peace, my son, how can that be a bad thing?" "Because," the eldest when on, ‘they are bored and will not want to fight for us when peace breaks down to war."
"And what would you have them do?" "Send them out. They have free range with in the land. Have them take the food that is ours, and bring it back from me to enjoy." "So, you will have your people starve?" "They are not my people, but yours." With anger, the King said, "My son, I love you as much as any King could love a son, but I love my people more, and thus, I can not make King." With anger, the eldest son raised a chubby fist, and spat out, "When you die, old man,I will have your throne. I will have all the crops and meats and cheeses your people make, inside my stomach! And when I eat all their food, I'll eat their children too!" Storming off with his servants, hurrying ahead, trying to keep his girth from tripping his feet. Saddened, the King called forth his second son. The King's second son was thin and tall with women all around. "My King," the second son spoke, "what is so important that you must drag me from the women I keep?" "My son,"
Form: Narrative

Thrashing In the Dark

A glorious sunset in an opening
Never before seen.  Miles from nowhere.
Dimming iridescent sunset.
The forest shines light to the East
Eyes can't adjust to the shadows of the West.
The light of the day led to this throne
Breaking trails though walls of green
Opening like a curtain  revealing anew
Wanted to leave early but decided against
Opting for just one more moment of awe
Faced with uncertainty direction is known
Only because backwards was in hours ago
First steps are easy as the forest denses
Ruckus of movement echoes away and back
Lumbering clumsily full of strength
Sticks breaking, leaves brushing
Thorns sticking, bits of bark blinding
Blackness of night dimming. Steps weakening
Shins stopped by logs. Bruises throbbing
Straight lines becoming circles
Faint remnants of twilight rotate on horizon
Ducking under widow-makers blindly
The tree fogs hums rising
Deer huff sightless upon approach
The lonely wolf between here and home
Draws out a far-to-close harmonious  note
What was that?  A sound I didn't make
Stopped abruptly, heal to toe tipping
Heavy breaths echo from mouth to ear 
Holding breath with throat rasping starting to crackle
Ears perked pinging the darkness.
Faint white noise increasing in volume
Sharp cracks penetrate the silence
It's coming right at me.
Fear races, body tenses
Bear on a charge with it's prey in sight
Heavy limbs breaking, small branches twanging
Thrashing closer as hairs raise on end
Skin of scalp tightens sloughing from the skull
Legs begin running before being told
The brain is still interpreting failing senses
Gnarly fangs of timber tearing at cloth and flesh
Anguish escapes with a primal face crunching growl 
As crag hooks foot in a hand-less fall
Ears ringing as pain numbs in anticipation
Louder and louder the pursuer above crashes
Veering right past me
Another wayward traveler surging aimlessly
Thrashing the darkness as if being chased.
Trying to find his way home in the Dark.

In the Dark
9/11/17


The Cry of a Little Child

THE CRY OF A LITTLE CHILD

A little child cried that night there in a bed of straw,
As Joseph and His mother fell to worship Him in awe.
A little child cried that night, just outside of the inn
As He was brought forth to this world, His life now to begin.
A little child cried that night, all wrapped in swaddling clothes,
And Mary gave the name to Him that God for Him had chose.
A little child cried that night as shepherds from the hills
Had come to tell of angel songs that in the heavens filled.
This child that in the manger lay was God’s begotten Son,
Who one day uttered loud His voice, and creation had begun.
This child that cried there helplessly for nourishment and food
Had one day looked at all He made and said that it was good.
This crying child that now did feed upon His mother’s breast
One day had finished all He made and took a day of rest.
This child commanded everything to be right in its place,
And now He was a tiny babe with tears upon His face.
Why did He come from far away to such a humble birth?
Why did He come from heaven’s home to this place on the earth?
This crying child had come with love for sinners far and wide,
And knowing that upon a hill He would be crucified.
Perhaps He cried upon that night not for what we’d expect,
But knowing that He would grow up and Him man would reject.
Perhaps the tears then filled His eyes as He looked out to see
The bitter beating and the nails He’d bear on Calvary.
Perhaps He also cried because the awful curse of sin
Would cause His Father up above to turn His back on Him.
A little child cried that night--oh, can’t you see His face?
And through His crying see His love, His mercy, and His grace?
And won’t you see just why He came, to save us from our sin?
This child came for you, my friend; if you will let Him in
He’ll give to you eternal life, a home in heaven above,
Just place your faith in Him today and give to Him your love.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Quest of the Heart: Chapter One, Cont

Of Ghosts and Fiends in Twilight, Cont.


The battle was joined and I was the victor
But no spoils were I to partake of just yet
The daemon commander was still in my way
His face glowing red with rage, his ire set

“Thou mayest hath quick the Master’s servants dispersed,”
“All sad, soulless slaves without purpose or mind,”
The daemon roared and spit through a scowling grin,
“I shalt not be as inept a foe thee wilt find!

Suddenly I was lifted up off the ground
And hurled hard against the wall by unseen hands
Wolven Stave flew from my grip as I crashed to the floor
Sorely stunned, but unbroken I regained my stand

I searched for Wolven Stave and to my dismay
The black daemon held it in one big, filthy claw
“Thy fight is at an end!” he said with a sneer
“Thou brave knight is lost, an inglorious fall!”

Wolven Stave’s blue stone then began to glow red
“Thou knowest not of whom thou chastise, mayhaps!”
I shot back with a smile as Grey Bane broke free
Came down and cleaved the vile beast from scalp to chaps

The Daemon split fell a bloody heap on the stone
Wolven Stave with Grey Bane was restored to me
Victor this battle, but the war not yet won
The Dark Lord awaits, my Lady Wife I must free

But which path to take to seek his dark abode?
With calm mind to see with my heart where it would go
Soon I was visited by a vision strange
My Fair Gennifer surrounded by ice and snow

I decided to let my heart guide me on
Not sure of the meaning of what I had seen
No truer friend found than the heart true in love
To aid in my Lady’s release from the cruel fiend

I stepped over piles of dismembered flesh and bone
Towards a door I espied at the chambers far end
I brought my full weight to bear on the locked door
It broke loose and flung open, through and down I went
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Body Ails Yet Spirit Soars

Written: October 28, 2023, For Unseeking Seeker Contest
                            _____________________________

Amid the distress and pressure of life,
A salient soul suspires to scamper strife.
Despite bodily weakness and a lingering graze,
Unwavering strength and vitality inside amaze

Breath may be beleaguered, even as the body ails.
Flog to fatten, follow, even if fiefdom fails.
It rises beyond tough times with its optimism.
In desultory days, grasp toward agnosticism.

Nature's gentle whistle splendors serenity.
In the shades of a sunset and bird melody.
The body fails, but the spirit stays hopeful.
It speaks for drive and the resolve to be careful.

It glides amid a storm fearlessly, paving the way.
Amid agony, the soul rises, grows, and stays.
Each rebirth lends the soul wings and a slope.
Despite the gloom, there's still a glint of hope.

Allow the body to suffer and the soul to soar.
Yet it is the spirit that prevails over deplore.
Rejuvenation is the answer to physical illness.
A soaring persona that can bear on grimness

Embrace depth inside; the spirit ablaze is untamed.
Let ailments prevail; rousing spirits set us unblamed.
Despite all odds, the spirit shines brightly amid sorrow.
It climbs above, decries its path, and is never hollow.

Renewal lets you start again, fix harm, and be free.
Honor the body aches as they reveal our glee.
Rebirth lifts the soul, ruining walls and letting in light.
Hardship lends life and shows God's eternal insight.

While bones and skin plunge, souls remain.
With every harm and grief, refuse to be slain.
The probe fire speaks while the body is feeble.
It lights a bright spark that leads us to a needle.
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

In the War-zone of Self

I am a mosaic of strength,
built from pieces of scars and stars,
loving fiercely, too fiercely perhaps,
and wrapped tight in the armor of over-care.
I am not counterfeit, nor a shadowed ghost
but real, pulsing with heart and hurt,
loving with all that I have,
and more than I ever learned how to hold.

If I’ve wounded you, those I cherish and call mine,
it was never meant in malice, never a blade with intent,
only the ripple of choosing myself
in a life that once taught me I couldn’t.
For I am not just a person but a battlefield,
where every breath is a truce or a clash,
unlearning the scripts of survival I wore,
for too many years, too close to my skin.

And so, I stand here, raw and at odds,
fighting with ghosts of lessons learned wrong,
with the past that etched survival into my bones—
apologizing, humbly, to each of you who has felt
the tremors of my chaos, my endless undoing.

I never meant to be a storm that shakes,
to bring the weight of my history to bear on love.
I am sorry for the moments I’ve left you uncertain,
sorry if my battles spilled onto your shores.

But know that I carry hope,
a glimmer that one day I’ll be at peace with myself,
that the battles within will soften and quiet,
and I’ll emerge whole, not a shell, but the true me—
the person you know I’m fighting to become.

And I hold a dream, a wish wrapped in faith,
that each of you will still stand by my side,
when I come out the other side of this war,
when my chaos has settled into calm.

Thank you, each of you, for bearing witness
to this storm that crashes and stills,
for loving me through the war-zone of myself.

As Flies To Wanton Boys Are We To Th' Gods

66 Million years ago
Fireball from the sky hits 
Echoing life-planet,
Snuffing almost all in darkness
Mouse like burrowing under the inferno. 

1750
People harvested like wheat
Strong men, children and women
Especially women
Packed into sea vessels 
To Build America

1854
Holding stinking potatoes they watch as 
Ships bulging with grain leave port.
Children’s hunger 
Leached their lives,
Imperialism flourishes

1953
We lived in fear.
Sky could light up Incinerating us all.
Duck and cover. Duck and cover.
It was real.
Military industrialism thriving.

1954
They live in fear.
Numbered arms came to supper and talked in accents.
Lives buried by decrees and camps. 
The future: unbelievable, unliveable.
It could happen again.

December 2-3, 1984
As they slept, in the night
Creped over town 
Phosgene gas, denser than air, close to the ground
Coughing, eye irritation, burning lungs, suffocation.
Union Carbide profited.

9/11, 2001
Towers dedicated to wealth crumble to the streets
3,000 gone in dust.
Opportunity for war
500,000 and more slain abroad 
The dominance of oil and hate.

March 11, 2011
Millions of sea tons put boats on roads. 
Doomed reactor irradiating the world.
Wait for the effects. 
Don’t eat the fish.
Living better electrically.

Now
Phone rings in Gaza.
Get out now!
Run!
Rubble.
Precision bombing.

Gaunt polar bear on the top of the word
Fires scorch earth in  the night
Huracanes eat shorelines
And people migrate to find water.
Carbon-wealth legacy.

Soon
Child smelling, picking lilacs 
Drinking specks of nectar
Future, hope 
Before us.

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