The Grizzly Bear
The Grizzly Bear is huge and wild
It has devoured the little child.
The little child is unaware
It has been eaten by the bear.
poem by Alfred Edward Housman
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In House Joke Man
IN HOUSE JOKE MAN
AP toasts, hosts, verse free from fee,
no tyrant rhyme rules most on site,
Oh! I rant boast's writ's point can't see
will one respond wit[h] second sight?
8 June 2008 Parody A. E. HOUSMAN - see quote below
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'The Grizzly Bear is huge and wild; He has devoured the infant child. The infant child is not aware He has been eaten by the bear.'
A. E. HOUSMAN
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Grizzly Bear
Yeah they call me Grizzly Bear got long black grizzly hair
Walk down the street and everybody stop and stare
Ohohoh well I'm wild and wooly and free
And so you'd better not mess with me
Lemme tell you that I howl yowl growl like a grizzly bear
They say there go Grizzly Bear got no clothes to wear
They say I'm all hung up bein' nowhere
Yeah but the girls they love my clows and my great big chompin' jaws
Lemme tell you that I howl yowl and growl like a grizzly bear
Well now I can't be chained and I can't be tamed and they can't kill my desire
So baby gimme a hug I'll be your bearskin rug
And I'll lie in front of your fire on winter
Baby if you dare why don't you come on down to my lair
And if you got some money to share I'll be waitin' for you there
Hey you know I'm gonna on strong and we can hug'n mate the whole week long
Lemme tell you that I howl yowl a growl like a grizzly bear
[ piano ]
(Yeah watch out baby here I come again)
They call me Grizzly Bear they say I'm kooky and square
They can say anything they want about me I don't care I don't care
Because I'm takin' it day by day and I'm livin' my own sweet way
Lemme tell you that I howl yowl a growl like a grizzly bear
Like grizzly bear yeah I really rip and tear I really get my share
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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The Lost Teddy
Once there was a little child who loved her teddy bear
She always has her teddy bear near her.
Her teddy bear keeps her happy when she’s asleep
The little child was in the bathroom, brushing her teeth
When a little fairy came in and took the little child’s teddy away
To a far away castle that no one knows about it
When the little child had finished doing her teeth, she notice her teddy was missing
She looked everywhere for the teddy
She was crying when she went to her mommy
The little fairy putted the little child’s teddy back on her bed
The little child went up to her bedroom thinking that her teddy was lost forever
But when she got to her bedroom, she saw her teddy lying at the end of the bed
She was so happy that she slept very well.
poem by Jessica Bousfield
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A strong Bear, a poor cave
A quarrel took place,
Between a tight, narrow cave,
and a huge, black, hairy bear.
the poor cave was afraid of,
her narrowness,
the bear had no fear.
Actually, the bear was
in search of a cave,
where he could spent
his night merrily,
his mission was to hide himself,
by all means, fair or unfair.
The bear begged the shelter,
from the cave to get entered,
but cave denied.
she said, ' I am not wide.
if I take you in,
you may get me in trouble,
every thing mine get in disorder.
how can you stay in me quite?
seek other place to-night.'
The bear snored a loud,
as if, thunders of big cloud.
huge bear tried getting forcibly in,
smiled and said, 'I have to win.
O' poor cave, see my strong body,
look at my height!
I am quite black,
while you are white.
you are unaware of facts,
you are mine, my cave,
you are made for me.
I know, you think yourself too small,
If I enter, you will be torn,
and might get burst,
but it is nothing like this,
surrender yourself
before me silently.
or I will react violently.
the little cave said nothing,
but tried to scape herself,
with all her might.
thrusting the bear out.
Bear so huge, no doubt.
He tried utmost entering forcibly,
getting success a little bit.
until the cave burst,
the bear continued to hit.
At last, a hot bloody stream,
blew out of the cave.
It couldn't itself save.
It was torn and oozing sweat.
the huge bear was running,
in and out very smoothly,
Poor cave, in this struggle,
has become out.
the bear has come first, no doubt.
....................................... ............
poem by Rani Madhubala
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Runaway Child
Runaway Child, don’t have to take it anymore
Runaway Child, just walk out of that door
Runaway Child, no more chances to take
Runaway Child, it’s your choice to make
Runaway Child, aren’t you sick and tired of the pain
Runaway Child, here there’s nothing to gain
Runaway Child, you get treated like dirt
Runaway Child, get away from the hurt
Runaway Child, here it’s no use
Runaway Child, get away from the abuse
Runaway Child, you don’t have 9 lives
Runaway Child, take that step or dive
Runaway Child, why are you still there
Runaway Child, how much pain can you bear
Runaway Child, you don’t have to say goodbye
Runaway Child, say goodbye, when they DIE!
poem by Patrick Harris
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Barely bearable
I find the winter hard to bear.
A fact that must clearly state.
I wish I had been born a bear
and had the sense to hibernate
I do not like the damp and cold
nor do I like the snow and ice
and it gets worse as I grow old.
I often think it would be nice.
To be a hairy grizzly bear
and sleep from autumn until spring.
Kept snug and warm by my thick hair,
no need to wake for anything.
But sadly I am not a bear
I need my thermal underwear.
1-Jan-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Fozzie Bear has so many bear puns in this script - like, 'Trac is grizzly!' 'This is unbearable!' It's the greatest.
quote by Jason Segel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eyes of a child
Eyes of a child
Such gems in stones
Staring you close
Still as blue sky
They don't lie
Their sun is shining
While you are crying
Eyes of a child
Day or night
I got no light
Free as a child
I can be wild
Eyes of a child
Let them go, into the snow
Without your grace
There's a lot more to know
Just glance over their face
It's the eye of a child
Free and wild
Child don't think too much
Ain't no worry as such
Joy driven life they live
Half-a-soul they give
It's the eyes of a child
Free and wild
Save me child
Save me child
Set me free and wild
Eyes of my child
poem by Siddharth Shah
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Old Child
Child. Old child,
No longer wild;
No longer speaking,
No longer beguiled;
I have become
A quiet old child.
Child. Old child,
No longer cold;
Never an old man,
Always too old;
I have become
An old child tenfold.
Child. Old child,
Forever a child;
Always rethinking,
Always exiled.
I should become
A happy old child.
Child. Old child.
Always soft-spoken;
No longer breaking,
Still being broken;
I have become
An old child, unspoken.
Child. Old child,
No longer bold;
By thinking, rethinking
Of stories untold,
All through my childhood,
I've become... old.
poem by Mihai Cosmescu
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The mother and the artist
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of wonderfully emollient freshness; every
unfurling instant of impregnably magnificent existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of spellbindingly undefeated innocence; every
unfurling instant of symbiotically pristine existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of timelessly unconquerable truth; every unfurling
instant of bounteously magnanimous existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unfathomably unfettered creativity; every
unfurling instant of timelessly burgeoning existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of royally triumphant resplendence; every
unfurling instant of unconquerably majestic existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of eternally exhilarating vivaciousness; every
unfurling instant of redolently insuperable existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unbelievably ameliorating optimism; every
unfurling instant of marvelously benign existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of brilliantly liberated camaraderie; every
unfurling instant of iridescently inscrutable existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unshakably virgin righteousness; every
unfurling instant of beautifully untainted existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of uninhibitedly heavenly frolic; every unfurling
instant of tantalizingly sensuous existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of compassionately humanitarian friendship; every
unfurling instant of magically mitigating existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of miraculously everlasting freshness; every
unfurling instant of invincibly coalescing existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of pricelessly ubiquitous oneness; every unfurling
instant of robustly blessed existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unbreakably Omnipotent desire; every unfurling
instant of victoriously effulgent existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unceasingly reinvigorating fantasy; every
unfurling minute of poignantly charismatic existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of insurmountably intrepid enchantment; every
unfurling minute of rhapsodically unhindered existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of Omnisciently tranquil serenity; every unfurling
instant of endlessly bestowing existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of perpetually fragrant breath; every unfurling
instant of Omnipresently benevolent existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of Immortally ardent love; every unfurling instant
of limitlessly fructifying existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of fantastically alleviating poetry; every
unfurling instant of boundlessly splendid existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of fabulously effervescent tanginess; every
unfurling instant of spiritually uplifting existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unlimitedly enlightening Sunshine; every
unfurling instant of infallibly luminescent existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of immaculately godly melody; every unfurling
instant of amiably melanging existence,
Because. And Only Because. A Mother is; has and shall for times immemorial
remain the Greatest Sculptor of every organism on this astoundingly
multiplying Universe; A Mother is the Greatest Artist….
poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Wild Child
im a wild child
thats what they say
im a wild child
till my dying day
im a wild child
and you wont regret
cuz ill bring a party
that youll never forget
they say that im crazy
that ill never calm down
so you better watch out
when i come to your town
dont listen dont care
you cant controle me
if you know whats good for you
just let me be
cuz im a wild child
thats what they say
im a wild child
till my dying day
im a wild child
and im neva gonna change
im an uncontrolable beast
that you just cant cage
when i was younger they used to
lock me in my room
hoping and praying
that ill calm down soon
they dont understand
that im neva gona stop
i just broke free
somone call a cop
cuz im a wild child
thats what they say
im a wild child
till my dying day
im a wild child
im hell on wheels
dont diss it dont play
till you know how it feels!
poem by Helena Dombrowski
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I had to weave and play around with a honey bear, you know, and I could wrestle with him a little bit, but there's no way you can even wrestle a honey bear, let alone a grizzly bear that's standing ten feet to eleven feet tall! Can you imagine? But it was fascinating to work that close to that kind of animal.
quote by Leslie Nielsen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Dora Dorian
Child of two strong nations, heir
Born of high-souled hope that smiled,
Seeing for each brought forth a fair
Child,
By thy gracious brows, and wild
Golden-clouded heaven of hair,
By thine eyes elate and mild,
Hope would fain take heart to swear
Men should yet be reconciled,
Seeing the sign she bids thee bear,
Child.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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The Golden Teddy Bear
The golden teddy bear
sits upon the shelf
and waits for his child to come home
For then he can comfort
and love his child
forever and ever
On a dark night
or a dream fright
he comforts his child forever
The golden teddy bear
sits upon the shelf
and waits for his child to come home
poem by Emily Heath
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Child
Child,
God knows
how much I love you.
Child,
I may not be
the kind of mother
that you want,
I may not have given you
the kind of life
that you want,
but I'm your mother
and no one can change that.
Child,
you are so dear to me,
and all through my life
I wish nothing
but your happiness.
Child,
forgive this mother
for not having the strength
to protect you from sadness
of being apart
from your loved one.
But child,
I am more sad
when you cry for a man
whom I think
not worthy of you.
So child,
please bear the pain
because I believe
that somewhere
there is someone
worthy of your love.
Child,
trust me
you will find that man,
if you just set yourself free
from your wrong love.
Child,
I'm your mother...
I have raised you,
and I know
what is best for you.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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The Brown Bear
Into the brown bear was the bullet,
Passing through as if adequate.
It was a Kodiak bear, in Alaska,
Opening too much, clever as a comma,
Frustrating the children of our family
Without the concern for their safety.
Sadly, we circumvented the monster,
Inside the region of the debtor.
We perceive and discern the awkward tree,
This cone-bearing tree too banging and mighty.
We instead deceived the bear, always roaring,
Like a grizzly, but not at all, just defying.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Bear up, my child, bear up; Zeus who oversees and directs all things is still mighty in heaven.
Honey Child
Well, the first time that I met you, You were only seventeen,
But I had to put you down, 'Cause I didn't know where you'd been.
You had a long black dress, Your hair in a mess,
You didn't seem to have no class, But the look on
your face was no disgrace, I knew I had to move real fast.
Honey Child, Don't you know you drive me wild! Oh, Honey Child,
Don't you know you drive me wild! Just about to lose my mind.
Well the second time that I met you, You were just turned
twenty-one, An' all your talk about love, Love was gone, long gone.
Oh, Honey Child, Don't you know you drive me wild! Honey child,
Don't you know you drive me wild! Just about to lose my mind.
Yeah, yeah.
Oh, honey child, Don't you know you drive me wild, mm.
Honey child, Don't you know you drive me wild. Honey child,
Don't you know you drive me wild. Oh, yeah, honey child,
Don't you know you drive me wild. Oh, oh, honey child,
Don't you know you drive me wild. Honey child, now,
Don't you know you drive me wild, Yeah, yeah.
Honey, honey, honey, honey child, Don't you know you drive me wild.
song performed by by Bad Company
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Eyes of a Child
When I was young
so very small
the world was a huge place of wonder
it was a vast universe of endless possibility
then I grew old, so very tired
and I knew what it was all about
the love ran cold
the heart not so bold
the limits began to show their ugly heads
the eyes of the child still remain
I still look at the world the same
even with jaded glasses
Are you still a child
with dreams run wild
or have you given up on all?
Summon your will,
the child remains with you still
and as we know
a child will lead us.
poem by Samael Wolf
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Social Studies- Jesus' Birth
Mary was blessed with a child,
The child whose kicking is so wild
but this child is not wicked nor evil
With this child our Future is grat,
and every child, and every adult
Shall one day be saved
poem by Melinda Sordini
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