Best Howling Poems
American Indian, Nightshades, Moonshadows And Howling Wolf
Thirsty for red moon, its sacred beams and eternal pull
howling-out to speak to this dark and blind world, without fear;
Your echoes enter, soulful bones of insightful red man
birthing growing urges to return and run truly free,
falling upon ancient trails, foraging for lean red meat
race with red-heart's deepest desires into widest abyss,
embrace our mother earth, unified into one body.
Where ancient trails once well-known, rests under dust long fallin'.
Moon's golden realms hear both man and wolf, faithful loud callin'.
Standing proud, atop very high and lonesome mountain crag
winds caressing one of Nature's most beautiful creatures;
Notes calling loud, that give night's resplendent moon pregnant pause
in that silent and golden moment, where man so trembles,
for it is then knowledge comes, therein sings of true freedom
having no need for dreams of blind men or dark worldly lusts,
speaking to pack below, mirroring its deep felt tones.
Where ancient trails once well-known, rests under dust long fallin'.
Moon's golden realms hear both man and wolf, faithful loud callin'.
Alas! Fate and Fury- rage combine and oft delivers
soul-crushing, black-handed cuts from darkened realms far below;
Wherein has justice overcame Fate's most savage attacks
when hatred and greed both conspired to not be defeated,
in infliction of war's sorrows and deadly destruction
while parading under banner of Light and compassion,
tales of malevolent beasts, benevolently destroyed!
Where ancient trails once well-known, rests under dust long fallin'.
Moon's golden realms hear both man and wolf, faithful loud callin'.
R. J. Lindley,
Feb 2nd, 1973
Poetry-- Subject Nature, Wolf, Amerian Indian And Injustice...
Old note: My mother's father was Native American. I gained
great insight into the life of Native Americans from words
he spoke to me. Since his death, I have read many books that
gave even more historical knowledge on the subject. Finding
the ones that did not deliberately cover up the savage acts
carried out by "whites" against Native Americans.
Howling
Like the wolf cries
Screaming foreboding skies
Yelling for your love till sunrise
The erring echoes of your love reprise
Tangled tears that follow surmise
Bitter sorrows capsize
With empty eyes
Howling
Aug.26.2018
RICTAMETER ME
Sponsored by: White Wolf
Place 5'th
The path is lost where wild winds press,
No compass holds beneath the sky—
We walk alone through wilderness.
The thorns of time, the weight of stress,
The silent trees that do not lie—
The path is lost where wild winds press.
Regret is thick, and hope grows less,
Yet still we look, and still we try—
We walk alone through wilderness.
The stars are veiled, the nights are guess,
And every answer asks us why—
The path is lost where wild winds press.
But in the dark, we still confess
That somewhere deep, a flame won’t die—
We walk alone through wilderness.
Though life may wound and dreams digress,
Our spirit bends but will not die—
The path is lost where wild winds press,
We walk alone through wilderness.
Death, the howling, moaning wind
The dying can't ignore--
It scratches at the window pane
And slaps the shudder door.
Then cruelly taps upon the roof
With incessant, mocking strain--
And stops, but only for a breath,
Then begins to howl again.
The feeling of your touch
I know it in the brush of the wind
The heat of the sun
Sweeping down on my skin
A reasurrace of a hand on my shoulder
A tear wiped away
As it fell from the sky
I know much about you
Like your cowboys and indians
And the nights we would dance
a pow wow in the night lights
stars abrasive against our hearts
rubbing off the smudge and dirt
To say im proud would be an understatement
Our heritage may lie beneath the pavement
But in our hearts and in our words
The feathers still fly
Howling wolf, and I
HOWLING OF HUMIDITY
No wind blows.
The sweat of a dandelion,
No seeds sold
To the gardener there.
No planting of pretty peacocks.
Umbrella wide above the sun,
Puddles gather but don’t sink
To the humid earth,
Dusty red and brown.
Flooded with handheld fans,
Flowers alive on origami paper,
Promises of windswept dreams
Of a lazy Southern sea and ice tea.
Kim Rodrigues © 2016
Eyes like a bright moon
Howls shatter the silent night
Messages from wolves
I just can't think,
Or write,
Or eat,
Or sleep.
No longer fight,
To breathe,
Or cry,
And weep.
All that I own,
Believe in,
Worked for,
Has died.
Annihilating,
My morals,
Trust,
And faith inside.
This has very little to do with cost,
A couple of dollars is the least I've lost,
Their piggy banks haven't been bust,
What hurts me more is a loss of trust,
By those who'd rather believe.
I've become a completely empty shell,
Soul been dragged through the depths of hell,
Burning up with fear and pain inside,
With the blackest hound at my side,
Howling to let him back in.
(c) 2016 PJ Bayliss
Your dog has an indispensable dispatch,
a critical communique.
Are you listening?
Your dog is howling at sirens,
annoying all your neighbors.
Have you noticed?
Your dog’s evolutionary chain from wolves,
a prescriptive instinct.
Are you appreciating?
Your dog’s howling though, is much more,
the opening of a primordial door,
the call to a roaming distant pack,
a whining ballad to wilder tribe crying back.
Your dog prays to something larger than himself,
and because you are leading the pack,
it includes you.
This then, a necessity to survive.
This then, the most fundamental meaning
of God!
Your dog is howling at sirens.
Listen to your dog!
It was a howling good night for a pumpkin fight.
The cats were ready, their witches soon would alight.
The woods were aglow with lit cauldrons so bright.
Halloween Eve was prancing about, a marvelous sight.
How many pumpkins will we need for the fright?
Asked Merlonia, the head cat of Old Witch McBright.
She was the most sage and wise familiar here tonight.
They began stockpiling their ammunition, a horrific sight!
My writing gets wavy and I bet it would annoy some perfectionists out there.
I’m annoying but I don’t care right now.
They hate me, so I write about that too.
The tree outside is weird and funny and bouncy.
So I scribble a tree and the tree has a face.
So I look outside again, and the tree is talking to me.
I’m alone and talking to this tree.
I’m in my room and I sleep here sometimes.
But tonight, sleep seems silly and far away.
Stretching out my words.
Ohhh,
Or awww!
Or owww!
Howling in my room.
Until my mom hears my song and opens my door.
She’s angry.
I turn the light low but never off.
And write about that too!
Duel Challange from poetry soup
Prompt
Write a poem inspired by moonlight
Rules
Poem must include the word "moon" or "moonlight"
Won challange :) thanks for voting
Tonight the moon is dazzling
Looking from my garden
Gazing towards the lake
My heart did leap for joy
I began dancing in the moonlight
Majestic ripples in the water
Sent shivers down my spine
Stars twinkled in the horizon
Totally sublime
So, happy to be alive
Moonlight ~ eerie, will vampires be out !
I scream " where are you "
Come get my neck ~ bite me
Am I dreaming ~ or is that a howling wolf
Fixated in the moment of sheer ~ madness
WOLVES HOWLING AT THE MOON
Late at night when the moon shines bright
You may hear a sound that makes you chill
The wolves are howling at the moon again
From atop the ridge on Devil's Hill
The wolves for countless ages past
Have practiced this unanswered ordeal
This happens when the moon turns full
And the wolves begin to howl at will
They continue to howl for hours on end
You may wonder if they will ever cease
But just before the sun comes up
The silence brings blessed peace
So now you know the story
As told for centuries gone by
The wolves will continue to howl
But no one really knows why
11 August 2018
For the contest sponsored by Julia Ward
The beard line came within a 1/4" from a field of chest hair and called a truce on this wild mop headed man-child who spoke with such decibel excitement his voice waned from totally cracking up to a young southern officer's bass drawl. Demandingly adolescent it was, but more experienced than mine. He paced back and forth on wooden planked floors in the only lit room of his family's farm house. Surely no one was sleeping. It was as if I was the very first guest. It was quite uncomfortable. He was pushy like a realtor showing you your 13th house in a month, so desperate for you to fall in love with it.
"What do you think of these drawings?" inquiring innocently. They were sad. They were frightening, but artistically wonderful and marvelous.
"You did these.... WOW! This is great Bobby!" I exclaimed. I thought for a split second he would yell out CAPTAIN CAVE MAN!!! and go crashing through the window, then I remembered earlier in the day he showed me his Salman Rushdie book and I started feeling scared as hell. This guy might have brought me here to kill me. He wasn't intimidating or a bully, not very powerful or athletic, but totally energetic and manic. He could do it. I knew he could, but I would have to be asleep. This would be a sleepless night.
I am a wolf lover
I am simply an observer from afar
I looked up at the moon
Imagining your howling to keep me attuned
Moon is your vision in howling message
Vikings always wore your skin at winter’s rage
Blood was taken to compensate for lost courage in the battle
They see you as a companion spirit to set on another travel
Watching your blue eyes at birth, turning yellow
By the time you turn older, we’ll hear a loud bellow
Your desire to reunite with your blood brothers
All gray wolves and the red wolves smother an affair
Gather all alpha male and female
To produce the strongest cubs and care
A career in hunting intensified by watching
Learning to form a polygon, each is participating
Many rulers were fascinated to mean their names with yours
Some noble personality hunts you down for your shaggy fur
Using wolfhound to outrun and hunt your brothers
As they respond to human howls are then put in danger
Clearing my mind of any last wolves ever killed
Keep on howling and make us beguiled
Unwanted occupants warned away from trying to intrude
Protecting each other and your brood
I am only a follower for whatever is your knowing
I regret any anarchic killing
For I believed slain wolves’ brothers would revenge
I am to this day will help to make a change
27 March 2015