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Best Howl Poems | Poetry

Below are the all-time best Howl poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of howl poems written by PoetrySoup members

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New Howl Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Howl poems are below this new poems list.

Why Wolves Howl by Rowe, Jesse
Howl for the Poets by McCadden, Laura
An Unearthly Howl by Ellison, Jack
Wolverine Howl by Naye, Joseph Jeremiah
HOWL TO THE MOON by Pratt, Mia
A Coyote's Howl by Vitale, Mario
Howl to the moon by FU, H.Y.
Howl of the flame by Mays , Llayn
Listening to the winds howl by mcdaid, liam
Not Howl by Sebring, Amanda

View all new Howl Poems

The Best Howl Poems

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Creature In The Night

Where cold stars exist in the dark,
serene winds whisper to trees
and scarce human ears can listen,
lone songs wail in the distance
in frozen moon's silver spotlight,
a mark left where paws had paused.

Written by: January 16th, 2015

Inspired by creature #3 Coyote

nette onclaud's contest - NIGHT CREATURES

This poem was also inspired by actual events. A few weeks ago, I discovered 
some large animal paw prints that were left in the snow, near my home. I later
found out that the tracks were made by a wolf.

Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2015

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Furious wind from the north hisses louder, banging against the gaped mouth of a sky, drenched… Haggard, the night wheezes with quack of birds waylaid; a time of unruly rainfall crashing once more: and the moon grows bald, groaning a jumble of cracked acoustics: On and on, the roar of sleet pierces through lush trees in a noise that grates far into the dark horizon, an energy fierce like a woman scorned. How she blares a war amidst a company of men, flowers, and all in one driven ride that her wild thrill rasps zooms --- until on ninth hour a slow-motion of rhythm flows, while she pauses to croon a mellow tune as if... in final taps of a wail, nothing ever happened. For Shadow Hamilton:The Noise Contest Written 3/9/2017

Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2017

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She roams cross the land her heart so bitter blue Leaving behind frosty morning dew Icy veil sadly unkept Laden woe upswept She speechless Wept Left dreamless Numb regret windswept No kind soul to intercept Cold bemoaning howling winds a clue She roams cross the land her heart so bitter blue
-andaree form- Posted on May 1, 2018

Copyright © Line Gauthier | Year Posted 2018

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She Wolf

My nostrils sniff the air seeking,
the various scents tantalising.
Then I smell the bison and throwing
back my head I howl to my pack.

The bison start to panic and flee
as we follow hot on their tails.
Distant between us shortening at 
each stride I pick a young bull.

Going in for the kill my mate joins
me and together we bring him down.
Helped by the pack his death is quick
tonight we all eat and I will have milk.

Returning to my lair I settle down to
nurse my six hungry cubs. Knowing only
too well that tomorrow it will all
happen again if we are to live.


Copyright © Shadow Hamilton | Year Posted 2018

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Generic Oppression Poem

Oppressed by you, your state, your religion
So you think you good, kind and Superior
But I find you  cruel, arrogant and callous
But that is just in my view, what do I know?

You control the language that describes pain
But there is no for me in its grid, or how I feel
My soul is ripped from my body and bound,
On to your machines on which I slave and toil.

You say it has to be this way, no room for doubt
Master and slave, it is only a matter of degrees
But it is my kind that is always tied to the rack
While you sip vintage wine in the lap of luxury.

Everything has its time and its place, yours is over
End is near, for you and everything you hold dear
Everything carries with it the root of its own destruction
And I will rejoice now that your has very nearly come.

Copyright © tony northover | Year Posted 2013

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Lost In Love

Holding you inside one fragile beautiful flower blossoming dream
Sweet you are my love painting words breathtaking within all wishes

Silvery streak of moonlight shimmering a star 
only now I read between the lines trailing thoughts 

How can you ask someone to stop loving without care 
an impossible task even for the hardest of hearts  

If I were the last person on this planet sunshine through clouds 
that's how it draws to me you're asking me not to love you 

Misery likes company cuts deeper than a knife wounds beauty
never was the answer to love in our friendships face

Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2015

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AlphaBet Constructs 3 2 1

Annotated Achilles amends fallen frame amputees

Bulimec Barbies browse media monkey banalaties

Cameo clouds cling to beaded breath curios

Dopamine dreams dilenate check cash desires

Echo endorfins eulogize bullet brain excrement

Fecal folly fantasies reveal relevant frivoloties

Gonadial grownups gulp secret scrotal generosities

Helical hemorriods hinder senior stricken hemocraps

Idiotic ideals idioiosyncrate post partem iconoclasts

Jack Jill juxtapositories seek sexestential jouveniers

Kryptic killer kisses ascot arrogant kingdumbs

Liquid lipid loiners fear frontline lucklullibies

Malovent mommies masterbate rich reflective mommocules

Nevertheless nightengales nourich ruby rich noonbeams

Ovulatory occults outsource torrent tofu outrages

Pensive picses picnics lovelorny passions 

***** quiet quintensials release rancid quotients

Rape ripe residuals nullify nimble reprocussions

Silky seafoam silohouttes fornicate frothy sandlets

Tepid torch trilogies belie beligerent tourniquets

Useless utterences utilize organize orgasmic utopias

Venimous vixens violate visions

White willow wombs softly seed hospice hell winds

XX XY xfactors envision extracurricular xraydoms

Yearning yoyo yesterdays calculate clearcovert yeilds

Zen zealous zions mirror maginfy Zoneotones 

Copyright © Dave Collins | Year Posted 2013

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Hounds from Hell

Hounds from Hell take their toll on your soul
as you walk the mainstreet of mainstream
and watch Saturn and Neptune dance to a simple tone
of silence in the outer space.
As you sit in the middle of the world
free yourself from the sense of hopelessness,
only see yourself in the mirror of deception
as your reflection laughs at you and looks right through you,
and doesn't have remorse for what it says or does to you.

Hounds from Hell take your soul,
chock you, cut of your air,
the smog and fog blind you in the city of ash.
Hear the hounds from hell howl for your soul,
go now, barracade your soul behind sins and temptation,
Alone, listening to your soul die away,
watch love go away from you, with suitcase in hand,
picture frames broken and collect dust through the sands of time.
Till the cleaning lady comes on Monday, to clean the mess
that you left behind.
You are gone, without a trace of ever returning.
Looks of the Hounds of Hell came for you and stole you from
comfort and warmth,
till the sorrowed heart cracks and pain spills out
and you look at it all spill out over the floor.
The Hounds from Hell have paid a consumable harmage to you,
and your rich soul of sorrowness burns away... slowly.

Fear darkens souls,
innocent souls burn with a new day,
a slumber that has no end
with nightmares haunting every light of hope
there is left in this desolate Wasteland.
Fear and darkness tears a hole in the darkened universe
and we all go to hell to see the Hounds,
who come for us all.
The graveyards fill,
and death guards the tombstones of the dead,
and the flowers burn away on the feet of the dead.


Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013

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A Midnight's Trail

Your poetry talks to me in the moody night
a voice of indigo telling me secrets of pain and love
while Luna licks my ear with impatience for my excitement, 
I begin to walk faster, like a wolf on a scent, your red scent,
following shadows into sounds of howling winter
seeking just one more whisper from your passion
one more paw print in the hard snow of destiny,
will I ever find your lair of love in the cold night
I swear that I can see the copper glow of your eyes -


Copyright © Justin Bordner | Year Posted 2016

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the circle of life

A predator among us.
A villian in our midst.
An entity of evil,
Clouding up our wits.
Preying on the innocent.
Devouring the strong.
A sycophant immortal.
Unbound by right and wrong.
White wool adorning
The curves of their form.
Cloven hooves dragging
on the ground with the worms.
No hoofprints behind them.
just the four toed paws
dotted at the tips
by their long and angry claws.
Nature is a cruel being.
Creating monsters in her storms.
No one understands
And everyone is torn.
The prey will always villify
those who are higher than they
on the food chains bottom
the sheep will always stay.
The wolves are meant to feed
without remourse consume
The psyches of the weak
to bring them to their doom.
The sheep will bleat and bellow
in fear of those wolves
And try to justify their blindness
by stamping hard their hooves.
Hiding in the herd,
the prey upon their back
the predators facade
turns their wool to black.
Such is natures way.
No one is at fault.
The circle of life.
The predators of thought.
For who can blame the hungry beast
for eating to survive
When you people create such feasts
And tantalize our eyes.
We can not feel guilty
for gaining our sustenance.
consider this my fealty
for i shall not repent.

Copyright © JoAnna Mitchell | Year Posted 2013

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I once had a friend named Mildred

Who wiggled a lot in my bed,

She’d snore with delight

Her growl was a fright;

I rang the alarm clock instead.

“Without the right sleep, even the gentlest person 
can turn into a crazed beast!”—own quote
John Freeman’s Dumb and Dumber Personal quotes

Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2015

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Smitten Kitten

Leapin' lizards up in dem’ gizzards, something we call the creepy crawl. And her womb spew forth blasphemy, and her lips uttered deceit. Black alters in Bone orchards. Praise hell syndicate burn down this town and everyone in it. Red lights…, blood lust. Ambrosia, with her hair so fare.  Clearly obvious why the gods chose her. Devourer of subtleties... Tenderest of vittles. I know at night your bones up and come to life causing mischief. All monkey minds in devil times, chatter chatter, screechhhh... All lost, no hope. And then there was you. Burn down the temple and sing. Eyes bare witness to the rise of her. Dance to the rhythms of a free will symphony. Bleed from thyn eyes,... I don't mind. Bliss bliss and heaven. Your absence is the bane of my existence.

Copyright © Pauly Plaster J.R. | Year Posted 2014

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Thick, black clouds gathered overhead,
veiling the moonlight with guise dread. 

Wind weaves with howls, and spies embed
a gaunt hollow man in its stead,
lifting his black mound shroud a ted,
refusing to release its dead.

Strain, he stands searchingly ahead; 
pain screams rip from his throat and bled.
A stir in the air dares to sped
on as he falls to his knees unfed.


Copyright © Eve Roper | Year Posted 2017

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Love On The Riverbed

Love On The Riverbed

He pitched a tent on her banks
Her teeth clenched as pegs dug deep
Campfire sparks, heat's erecting 
The winds howling in lost flight

connie pachecho


Copyright © connie pachecho | Year Posted 2017

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Ghost Wolf

The stars shone bright on that moonlit night
long about a fortnight ago.
Huntin' for the wolf that'd caused our plight-
it were forty-one sheep she stole!

All us farmers who work this fine land
grew tired of takin' the losses.
With shotguns in hand we were a fearless band,
yet hung 'round our necks - silver crosses.

Tales have been spun 'bout a spectral beast
that disappears into thin air.
So we sought out the local town priest
who blessed us and offered up prayer.

We left with our guns and our crosses,
prayin' that tonight it would end.
Mad as dogs because of the losses,
the white wolf was hardly a friend.

Just after midnight we stopped in our tracks-
a howl... we shook in our boots!
Wolves as a rule will travel in packs-
this came from just one, no dispute.

We spotted her there upon the hill,
the moon lit her up for the kill.
We aimed our guns as one for the thrill
then she vanished, a most bitter pill.

Aye, the wolf got away is what we would say
to the villagers here down below.
But truth be told what we witnessed that day,
well, 'tis better that they never know.  

Copyright © July Morning | Year Posted 2018

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The Eye

a howling demon  ~~
a moment of perfect calm
the eye of the storm ~

Copyright © Tom Cunningham | Year Posted 2018

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Child vs Adult

A child gets hurt
  He screams... He cries
  It may seem to him he's about to die

An adult gets injured 
  He shrugs it off... He's no creampuff
  He's got a job to do -- He's gotta be tough

Ask yourself two questions honestly
  Who's got more sense? Who behaves stupidly? 


Copyright © Gershon Wolf | Year Posted 2018

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Yeh khaalipan

Jab Meri Bechaini Mit Jayegi
Jab Mere Dilko Sukoon Mil Jayega
Yeh Khaalipan Mit Jayega

Do Pal Ki Chandni Ke Liye
Aj Bhi Zinda Hoon Main
Meri Khaamoshi Ke Ageh Aasmaan Bhi Khatam Ho Jayega

Kehne Ke Liye Toh Roz Marta Hoon Main
Thoda Aur Marne Ke Liye
Yeh Deewana Kal Phir Ayega

Copyright © shadab shaikh | Year Posted 2013

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I Meme, Therefore I Am

forgot what I had set out to remember
when my deconstructed self
discovered there was no authentic anything
saw through it all every granule
how we became the unwitting tools
of smarter people who really weren't smart enough
concluding if this is life
you can imagine what death is like
I can tell you this much
we are alone in this galactic theme park
alone as a lizard on a sunny rock
what percent of the totality 
of all there is in all the universe
do we perceive 
and what do you see with nothing absent
this question failed to sweep through 
the bum fight arenas
where they need permission to think
no escaping that free means battle 
which goddammit means not free
shouting to anyone my agent will sue
as the lines grew longer 
and the bread grew shorter
the sly ones were trampled by their own venality
order was quickly restored destroyed restored etc.
the pace was feverish so were the faces
on State TV at 6 and 11
self denialists saw their heads roll down the lane
towards the ten pins at Bowl N' Boogie 
in an educated kind of idiocy
for which there is no help
a scandal of poor illumination
you never know which is the foreground
and which is the background
discovering heaven is not overhead
OK I’d better let up on the enthusiasm
too many grimacing faces in the popcorn
too many bushwhacking gargoyles
plump like 3-D bratwurst
in this Biblical sauerkraut mamodrama
making the world lounge safe
for my blindfolded baptism 
for both the seen and the unseen
beneath the scum covered water
on a need to know basis
I now reveal a deadly secret
there is direction there is magnitude
densities and rarities
we mime we imitate
we steal what we are
and are beaten with sticks 
for having a mind and knowing it
I meme therefore I am
Defection Control had him by the throat
blow a kiss to the camera
it's all just a really big index

From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio:

Copyright © Walter Alter | Year Posted 2016

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Oh no too moppy ahhhhhh



knock knock knock
bang bang
tick tock


mish mash

ring ring



Copyright © Charles Rutherford | Year Posted 2014

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The Uncontained

he parlayed a condom full of nouns
in bold thrusts of the quill
for the para structuralist cadres
many of them freeway orphans
who won't even read a stoplight
on the other hand
there's a lot of other hand
upon hearing the chimes of midnight
I opened the door 
another surprise party 
that I knew about all along
arranged by my body building therapist
who was a notorious sadist
requiring humiliation ab astra
went in after my scenario gland
in an act of divine pity
sewed me back up real fast
couldn't handle the pixel rate
the audience shrieked and laughed
it was the great awakening
after the Treaty of Lucky Seven
in which all nations pledged
to honor their accidents and idiocies 
as though they were instruments of divination
uh oh here comes my chiropractor
a known mob boss
never found the need to knock
cracked his knuckles at the door 
and politely asked may I enter  
he spoke 7 languages 
and several materialist dialects
and could talk without
moving his lips
many were blamed for
things they never said
a hundred times a day
nothing is uncontained
archaeologists in the city dumps
using a subway map with all the stops
snorted and toiled through Winter
at their historico-revisionist comedy
piecing convex to concave
any idea past its prime is stupid
this is the unfortunate fate of all humanity
nobody really likes change 
unless it’s more money
oh I know I’ll never work in this town again
but with a bankroll
the size of a chewed pencil
you get the picture
now buckle up kids
mommy's going to drive a little faster
there's a cop on my ***
and I think I can lose him

From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
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Copyright © Walter Alter | Year Posted 2016

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Goddess Grip

She struts with a strategic lust
punishing hesitation with voluptuous thrust,
invading my chamber of fresh heart and hard part
certain for her meal of tender male from the start,
perfume from waving sea spreading broadly through this fantasy
skin textured fine with urge for pulsing vine, Goddess grins robustly,
she walks in rosebud red
stalks the songs and lips within this throbing head,
the call she croons to with curving tongue
door of desire widens to release a white river upon breasts divinely hung -


Copyright © Justin Bordner | Year Posted 2014

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Two's Magic Nose

Such a nose had Ol’ Blue.
Best in south Missouri... everybody knew.
Could smell a pheasant across the plain.
Could point a covey in a hurricane.
That’s the way the legend goes.
Ol’ Blue had a “magic nose.”
As Blue got older, his master’s mind would drift away
To a place where he and young Blue used to play. 
In the mornings, sitting over his coffee cup
He found it sad there were no pups.
He thought it would be such a shame
If the only memory was Ol’ Blue’s name.
So, Jim was compelled and full of pride;
He made a search, far and wide,
To find Ol’ Blue a suitable mate.
No doubt, his offspring would be great.
It seemed likely, he supposed,
At least one pup would have his “magic nose.”
She was a Champion Miss from New Orleans,
A beautiful “red” named Cajun Queen.
But Blue suddenly passed away, before the pups were born.
Jim was broken hearted.  He and “Queenie” mourned.
Then came the litter, but there was only one.
Jim struggled for hope; after all, he was Ol’ Blue’s son.
Dappled and lanky, a handsome little cuss,
He looked just like Blue.  Jim made such a fuss.
Naming this pup would require no ado.
It was obvious.  Officially, he would be “Blue Two.”
Oh yes, these were mighty large tracks to fill.
“Can he?”, folks asked.  Jim would say, “Heck yes he will!”

So his nickname became “Two” and he seemed to be smart.
Soon it was time for his training to start.
The basics went well, but Jim’s outlook grew very dim
When, instead of pointing, Two would wag and jump and bark at him.
Oh, Two seemed to be trying; but try as he might,
He just could not seem to ever get it right.

“Blue’s son or not, he’s got to go!”
Jim found Two a “pet home” far away, in Tupelo.
On his way back, he stopped in Texarkana.
Been too long a time since he’d seen his sister Hannah.
Six days and six pounds later, he was back on his way.
Work at the farm was callin’ and he’d be drivin’ all day.
He thought about Ol’ Blue and wondered if and when
He’d ever have a birddog as good as Blue again.
Oh, he knew another “magic nose” was just a far off dream;
After all, it wasn’t something any man could scheme.
A “magic nose” was a gift from God, only given to a few;
And he was proud and very lucky just to have known Ol’ Blue.
As he turned into his drive, he broke into a smile.
“Why… I can’t believe it!  It…It must be 300 miles!”
Two was on the porch, thin and dirty; but he struck a handsome pose.
Jim ran and hugged Two hard.  “How’d you get back?  Lord only knows!”
Suddenly Jim realized; and struck with awe, he slowly rose.
A tear trickled to his smile.  “Why Two… you have a “magic nose!”
Two and Jim are best of friends, together everywhere.
From milkin’ cows to bedtime, Two is always there.
Jim doesn’t hunt much anymore, now Two’s a rescue dog.
Just last month, he saved a little girl lost in Cooley’s Bog.
Jim struts and tells proud, heroic stories;
While Two wags and jumps and barks, and shares his glory.
Jim boasts, “Like father, like son!”, then speaks fondly of Blue;
But all know the largest tracks to fill are those of Two.
His deeds are known far and wide,
And fill Jim’s heart with love and pride.
For with every rescue, the legend grows;
About a dog named Two, and his “magic nose.”

Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014

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Black Helicopters Overhead

i hope you don't mind 
if I wander in through your front door
and reset your clocks to headlight savings
life requires humor he said to the lens grinders
as he rode his all terrain moon beam to heaven
where they were eradicating stupidity with fairy tales
same **** greater magnification was basically it
slipped on their own icy hearts
applying one clever artifice after another
but after all one wants to hasten 
the modern world along clippity clop
impediments to traffic flow were to be shot
what happened next is not in the dictionary
which is fine don't get me wrong
beats the nuts off hunger
but the world is not nice anymore
isolated pockets of rebellion perhaps
out in the bleak lizard sands hanging from a tree
but the rest stuffed with foam peanuts
that could turn you to ballroom dancing
your narrator being the test case 
for daisy picking the numbers the samples the statistics
I love you just the same she whispered after the operation
the entire ABC unit was called in from the chalk mines
and the XYZ crew was called in from the slate quarry
but no amount of preparation could have warned them 
of the melancholic yet piquant sagging of standards 
his mind had turned upon itself out of shame and envy 
he had an entire city in his head 
that wasn’t in Architectural Digest
honkings sirens gunfire breaking glass
spasms and outbursts and phobias and anxieties and
compulgings and obsessities and hallucinotions and
mysterias and distortoons and damplifications and
twitchings and itchings and may I add bowel flux 
we haven't even begun to look at his libido
which had shrunk from a blacksmith's forge of intensity
to the vague expectation of an afternoon nap
better than living the prelude to a beheading
you decide if hiding in the bushes permanently
like a grinning jack in the box with a message
is the same as dancing through the forest
dressed in leaves and  emeralds 
pantomime after all is deception
random at first then shapes intervene
there is no random he said over and over in proof
they say the devil spoke Hebrew 
and Popeye smoked his spinach
a contemporary exercise in 
signal location

From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
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Copyright © Walter Alter | Year Posted 2016

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Arrogance is a need to be better than most
An inflated sense of self is much of  the boast
Walking  through the day
Up on the hill
Looking down on the humble is just their way
Never believing they will tumble 
Or there will be a price to pay
An when that day comes
It is never their fault 
Because they are better than most
An continue to boast...........

Copyright © Ninette Carey | Year Posted 2014