The Bear and The Flea

It is the poetry that is the language of my soul when I find it hard to speak in whole sentences. Sometimes, life doesn't make sense. Poetry has a rhythm and sway to it. It's soothing, like that feeling you get when you're in a rocking chair. And so when troubles come or chaos ensues, I digress to my poetic nature to find meaning and solace. I'd like to think it's spiritual. In any event, it calms the waves and tames the fears. What more could I ask for?

The Bear and The Flea

Beside the stream stood the big brown bear

without a care, as it would seem.

He fished and swam the whole day through

and before he knew he saw a ram.

　

In pleasantries he spoke to him

but had not a whim of the ram's fleas.

Awakening from one deep nap

in the woolen nap the flea did spring.

　

The ram and bear said their goodbye

with sunset nigh and neither aware

of the relay that occurred between the two

during evening dew at the end of day.

　

And well into night the bear did stir

for beneath his fur the flea did bite.

As the darkness passed, no reasons, no rhymes,

a hundred times the flea harrassed.

　

The bear would doze and near deep sleep,

in the pain would creep distressing his repose.

At morning's light the bear did see

the ravaging flea and his camping site.

　

"What do you there in this situation

with no invitation?" asked the tired bear.

"It's my home," replied the indignant flea.

"Now can you leave me be?" he said with a moan.

　

Outraged, the bear nearly cursed,

"It was my home first, now get out of there!"

"Go back to sleep!" said the flea with vigor.

"You're so much bigger than that underfed sheep."

　

"To you I reply, I'll no longer be smitten.

Remember once bitten, twice shy?"

"You're a terrible host," said the flea in his sass.

"Not one bit of class. I'll not leave my post."

　

The bear, unswayed, began to walk,

and the flea kept the talk, as the bear felt betrayed.

Over forest path went the bear to the lake.

The flea's mistake was not forseeing the bath.

　

Lowering his head, the bear faked a drink.

Inside of a blink he jumped in instead.

He twisted and thrashed, dislodging the flea.

"I'm drowning!!!" screamed he, but still the bear splashed.

　

The last thing of note was the bear finally free.

His advice to the flea? "You're fine if you float!"

Moral of the story:
Don't go where you're not welcome.