Posted by: Loren Coleman on February 18th, 2010

I get all kinds of visitors. Some are scientists, some are kids who are cryptozoologists-in-training, some are teachers, bakers, and models. The world is full of all kinds of people intrigued by cryptozoology.

Very, very infrequently, as happened yesterday, someone stops by, pays their five dollars admission, and tells me they have just come from a house warming party. But he was calm and filled with wonder. He stepped into my museum, the last alone man of the day.

I then realized later last night that this gentleman must have gone home and created a fantasy poem based a bit on his visit to the International Cryptozoology Museum, and a lot about what was happening in his head. That’s okay, it was something pleasant to read before I went to bed.

Perhaps this is a new category we should call “cryptofiction poetry” or just “CryptoPoetry.”

From the website self, I found this poem “had ideas,” by iambarr:

went to see a man today.
went to see a man about the unknown, because, you see, i had questions. turns out that asking questions is not enough to deserve answers. his name is loren coleman and, when it comes to the unknown, there are few who can rival his knowledge. bigfoot, yeti, coelocanth, jersey devil, mothman: these are coleman’s areas of expertise. there are secret things, unknowable things, unmentionable things that coleman has dedicated his life to..

drunken, i asked him about love.
he told me to leave. he doesn’t deal in fairy tails.

Alas, I wish iambarr would have asked about love,
A topic almost as mysterious as foxglove.
Instead we spoke of the dodo related to the dove,
Tom Slick and his fear of publicity,
Caused by Machine Gun Kelly’s duplicity.
You were a pleasant young man,
Standing underneath the can,
Of the octopus style giant squid.
But I’m afraid I lost you to your id.
You seemed as if you were a bit undid.
May you soon recover
And do discover
The love you truly do seek
With your girlfriend this week.
Passion, you see,
Is an interest of me.
But mostly of cryptid whales,
And beautiful smart females.
And certainly not of airedales.
Handrails. Coattails. Cocktails.
Or supposed Bigfoot toenails.

~ Loren

Loren Coleman About Loren Coleman
Loren Coleman is one of the world’s leading cryptozoologists, some say “the” leading living cryptozoologist. Certainly, he is acknowledged as the current living American researcher and writer who has most popularized cryptozoology in the late 20th and early 21st centuries. Starting his fieldwork and investigations in 1960, after traveling and trekking extensively in pursuit of cryptozoological mysteries, Coleman began writing to share his experiences in 1969. An honorary member of Ivan T. Sanderson’s Society for the Investigation of the Unexplained in the 1970s, Coleman has been bestowed with similar honorary memberships of the North Idaho College Cryptozoology Club in 1983, and in subsequent years, that of the British Columbia Scientific Cryptozoology Club, CryptoSafari International, and other international organizations. He was also a Life Member and Benefactor of the International Society of Cryptozoology (now-defunct). Loren Coleman’s daily blog, as a member of the Cryptomundo Team, served as an ongoing avenue of communication for the ever-growing body of cryptozoo news from 2005 through 2013. He returned as an infrequent contributor beginning Halloween week of 2015. Coleman is the founder in 2003, and current director of the International Cryptozoology Museum in Portland, Maine.

13 Responses to “CryptoPoetry”

  1. David-Australia responds:

    Don’t take this personally now, but I don’t think either of you guys should give up your respective day jobs to become full-time poets.

  2. Loren Coleman responds:

    Ah, a mild bit of criticism from down under.
    Fear not, a cryptozoologist I remain.
    But why throw this young man’s dreams asunder?
    It may be his only escape route from Maine.

  3. lukedog responds:

    I ‘Fear not’, for you indeed Loren.
    For you who live in Maine,
    Who hope to expose the unexplained’,
    Unlike Biscardi who seeks in vain,
    Will persevere , the crypto crown gain,
    Through hard work and toil,
    The sceptic and scoftic you may spoil,
    But not through science , rather evidence,
    Will the crown be attained and your museum sustained.


  4. Aaronious responds:

    Hi Loren,
    When the book “Carnivorous Nights: On the Trail of the Tasmanian Tiger” by by Margaret Mittelbach, Michael Crewdson, and Alexis Rockman was coming out, they held an haiku contest. I took second place. The topics: Tasmanian tiger, cryptozoology in general or environmental topics. Here’s one of each.

    Breath hot and meaty
    Carnivore stalks for dinner
    Smug little turnips

    “Ceolcanth 1”
    Extant old fish
    Swimming past extinction
    Living, breathing fossils

    “Urban Runoff”
    Silted river dies
    Mono-crop farming continues
    Future goes thirsty


  5. Loren Coleman responds:

    Yes, I spoke of that contest here and there. I submitted something, although I don’t recall learning they won anything. Here’s why. LOL.

    “Me-Teh Weeping” by Loren Coleman

    Not white, not alone
    The abominable one
    Yeti here, then gone

    (April 10, 2006)


    “Here, Not There” by Loren Coleman

    Thylacine, not seen
    Don’t look in Tasmania
    Search west Australia

    (April 12, 2006)

  6. loopstheloop responds:

    Poor poetry. What did she ever do to you lads to deserve this?

  7. Loren Coleman responds:

    Ah, I’ve revealed once again, why I stick to nonfiction!

  8. fuzzy responds:

    Some haikus for you
    I entered that contest, too
    Never heard nothin’

    Elusive nightmare of old
    in the lake’s black depths

    Jersey Devil’s voice
    Unheard as he leaps away
    Wings scraping the night

    Loch Ness is its home
    Sinuosity unseen
    Except for the few

    Hair covered man beast
    So silent in the forest
    Oh that I could see

    Extinct tiger wolf
    Trying to stay out of sight
    Did we kill them all?

    Leatherwing nightmare
    Soaring from the ancient skies
    Into our grey air

    A cryptic haiku
    Mystic prose for those who know
    We all seek answers

    Aussie native ‘roos
    Roam safely in the outback
    In Wisconsin too

    Slithering patterns
    Entwine unsuspecting prey
    impossibly large

    Felids from nowhere
    Prowl the moors, then disappear
    Shadows in the shrubs

    Carnivorous Nights
    A Tasmanian Tiger
    Alive in our minds

    Living animals
    Enticing the researchers
    Hiding from us all


  9. iambarr responds:

    mr coleman,

    despite my altered state, it was pretty fantastic to meet you yesterday. had a lot on my mind that didn’t exactly fall into the “crypto” category. i left your museum, walked around, continued thinking, and eventually my thoughts all meshed together. when i got home, i felt a little creative so i threw some words out. mostly they came from wondering what would have happened if i had walked in and demanded that you explain the truly inexplicable to me.

    my only hope is that nothing offended you and that i was polite and coherent when i spoke to you. your museum is amazing and you’re an interesting person. i promise to return when i’ve finished your book..


  10. Loren Coleman responds:

    No offense taken, at all.

    Indeed, all who come visit are welcomed guests. You behaved yourself, as a gentleman, despite any state (other than Maine), of which you may have found yourself in. You did not show it at the ICM.

    I tend to agree that love is one of the most mysterious of the mysteries around.

  11. JMonkey responds:

    What a charming post, though I must admit that not all the poetry was to my liking. But then hey, we are all different.

    Though you lurk in the woods
    surrounded by trees
    my heart yearns to walk with thee.

    To bask in your knowledge, see what you see
    to throw the stones, to break the trees
    to run here and there, though rarely seen
    to cause panic and awe in those who know not what we mean.

    To thrive from the Oregon mountains to the coast of Maine
    from the swamps in Florida to the Oklahoma plains
    To guide new explorations, to transpire indignation
    To become the object of Lauren’s infatuation

    So here me now, as I long for signs of thee
    Throw a stone, or maybe break a tree for me.
    Though we may never meet, for the I will search
    Until the nightwatchman covers me in dirt.


    I am not the best poet myself. But hey! Everyone else was doing it.

    My mom always said that defense would get me in trouble.

  12. David-Australia responds:

    Apologies, but it gets worse (or is that “verse”?):

    A cranky old guy from Down Under
    Tried to pull Loren’s verse quite asunder
    A young man from Maine
    Was first probably to blame
    And his strange rhyming name was “iambarr” . . .

  13. youcantryreachingme responds:

    Fair dinkum.

Sorry. Comments have been closed.

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