Bear claw tree

I was on a walk and I saw a tree,

With weird fruit that attracted me.

I went closer to inspect them well,

They were brown and smelled like hell.

Shaped like a paw of a grizzly or a polar,

As fruit, I guess they’re powered by solar.

With long, thin, black things super, super sharp,

Mat, furless black that’ll go through a carp.

I looked closer and one pawed at me,

Startled I yanked my babyface free.

All of them seemed to have come to life,

A treeful of them waving, sharp as a knife.

One of them fell, I guess it was ripe.

It didn’t move and I poked it with my pipe.

My poke made a hole and jam oozed out,

It was a pastry, I had no doubt.

A bear claw tree, isn’t that wonder,

I tasted it, and it made me ponder:

“What is the filling? Tastes like vanilla.

Whatever it is, it’s one tasty filler.”

A bear claw tree almost next to my home,

I guess my sweet tooth won’t have to roam.

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Hugging dangerous animals

If your eyes see a polar bear cub,

And you want to give it a rub-a-dub-dub,

Look out, look out, its mom may get mad,

It might think your intentions are bad.

Then you take hold of mummy bear’s ears,

While letting go of all of your fears,

Steer it to the left and steer it to the right,

Give its cheeks a kiss and you’ll have no fight.

Plant one final one on its black nose,

And it will not know these from those.

 

If you want to hug a real, wild panther,

If you want to pet its sandy sand fur,

The key to this affection is in its name,

It’s not called a pant-her just for a game.

Grab its belt if you get close enough,

Grab it gently, it’s not nice to be rough,

Lift it a bit and then give a squeeze,

Not too hard, you don’t want it to wheeze,

It got a hug and it got stumped,

Now you should run before it gets pumped.

 

If you want to cuddle with a shark,

And do it in the wild and not a water park,

You’ll have to swim like a deep-end ninja,

And, very gently, stroke its fin-ja.

Sharks just stop if they feel a nice touch,

Great big whites and hammerheads as much.

When you do this, it’ll get sleepy,

Then cuddle its gills, it’s not creepy.

Just make sure you don’t have a small nick,

Or you might become food real quick.

 

If you see a herd of cute hippos

And want to kiss their big nose-tip-pos,

You need a stick about here-to-here long,

And a crow feather stuck to it quite strong.

Reach with the stick and tickle their noses,

They’ll get laughing like hyenas and crow-ses.

When they bellow, it’s safe to approach,

Under the surface like a diving coach.

Surface with speed in front of each one,

A peck on the nose and then you’re done.

 

If you spy a rattlesnake den,

And get a craving there and then,

For a sweet deal, a snake-on-head-hat,

Here’s what you do when you want just that.

Everybody knows that snakes have sockses,

And their doors never come with lockses,

So just go in when it’s hibernation time,

Grab a grass snake (color brown or lime),

While its sleepy, turbanize it:

You have a hat with a perfect fit.

 

(Oh, by the way, here’s a disclaimer,

I’m not responsible for a hug-related maimer,

So if you hurt yourself when trying,

Don’t call me, don’t come prying.)

 

 

The not-so-scientific explanation for bears, part 1

I like bears, they’re so furry and their furriness is diverse.

 

Once there was a panda bear, extremely sad was he.

He always cried and moaned and wailed, his eyes you couldn’t see.

Without a break he rubbed his eyes, sore they soon would be.

This made him even sadder, yes, not good if you ask me.

 

He had a friend, a smart old snake, to tell him what to do.

“You need to stop just sitting here, think of something new.

Like dance or song or sunbathing. Then you can’t feel blue.

Hey, I know, just wait a while.” Came back before he knew.

 

She slithered back, and in her tail, she grasped a wooden thing.

“Look, hey look, I got you this, it’s brown and it goes ‘ding’.

Or ‘twang’ or ‘plonk’ or ‘thump, thump, clonk’, if it you want to swing.

Try it out, here I’ll show how, just scratch that biggest string.”

 

The panda grasped it carefully, turned it round and round.

Held it to his big head and scratched, ooh, it made a sound.

“It’s called a ‘you coo lay-lee’ now, behind that big green mound.

I went and asked for happy things; this is what they found.”

 

“You play it with friends or family, make a song or two.

Try and play, I’ll sit and stay, you furry musician you.”

He made a song or two or three, an audience he drew.

And just like that, the tears they went, away they quickly flew.

 

He made his mind, went on a tour, to the north and west.

He charmed the people on the plains, the deserts and the rest.

Ended up on the Northery Pole, when he was feeling his best.

His fur turned white, glad he was, he lay down to have a rest.

 

While he slept, his feet grew big, good to run on ice.

His claws they changed, sharpened up, didn’t grow much in size.

Fur grew long for the wind, a white and precious prize.

His neck now thin, to look for food in the holes in ice.

 

The bear became a new kind, a polar, furry beast.

He grew in size, to like the cold, fish his new main feast.

He was the biggest in the north, the glaciers he policed.

One day he saw a nice new thing, the sunshine had increased.

 

Too long for one post, to be continued…