Best Wolf 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.
A snowy owl sat on her nest
while tending to her brood;
her mate flew out upon a quest
to gather up their food.
An old grey wolf then soon appeared
who wandered in the dark.
To owl he said, “Don’t be afeared
my noise is just a bark.”
To him she said, “How sweet your face,
I’m sure you mean no harm,
and surely heart is full of grace;
no need to be alarmed.
Please sit and visit us a while;
I’ll share with you my time.”
To her he said, with gentle smile,
“Please share with me your rhymes.”
And so this friendly bond was sealed
between unlikely pair,
the old grey wolf, his friendship yield,
and wise young owl so fair.
And so the moral of this tale
I offer you today,
to you one day might be avail
when stranger comes your way…
“Don’t be alarmed of those unknown,
who fate, to you may send,
that wander in the night alone;
they might turn out a friend.”
January 29, 2019
Poem of the Day - January 31, 2019
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.
09/02/2018
I listen to the sighing
of the wind, as I sit
in the cool shade
of a sprawling carob tree,
wondering if Basho,
in heavenly abode,
next to Elysian Fields,
is mumbling agitatedly
under his breath – possibly
grimaces, wrings his hands
as he flips the pages of
vain anthologies where
writers sell their wares…
Stuck in comfort zone
deprived of achievement,
wary of new horizons,
surprise ends and twists…
they cling to restrictions
and Mother Nature’s skirt.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Pareidolia Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Craig Cornish
© 24th August 2020
steel clouds once more freeze
bare trees comfort each other
ripped trunk holds it together
the sun shields its eyes
its flames dying in Winter
the core feels the biting chill
it is in my bones
deep set; can’t shake off the wolf
its gray-fur-stare is howling
my hands crisp and crack
tips and knuckles peel like bark
soulless rain drips down the oaks
my knees turn from lies
thinking themselves well in Spring
they limp like twigs before snap
cerise cheeks remind
the otherwise bleak weather
that seasons will change in time
sun will siphon miasma
Evening gusts shall take away all my fear,
The stars will shine and fill my eyes with cheer,
The universe holds everything so dear
But you my love... How much I want you here
Lonely nights upon horizons I face,
To hold you again in this sacred place
I howl forlorn into the moonlit space
Where once we lay in our loving embrace
Weeping willows shall whistle in the glen,
As I lay silent with paper and pen
You left me, but I forgive you, again
The tree my witness, return to me, then....
We grow our roots beneath this willow tree
In sun and rain we will together be
***
April 22, 2017
Copyright © Darren White and White Wolf
Speak now for the sea, ancient bard that guides me.
Be the voice of its wisdom, washing away my tears.
Raise me and lower me, like an endless wave,
seen and then unseen, but always remaining present.
Speak now for the wind that blows our seeds.
Give it voice so it may be heard by passing souls,
from one generation to the next, may its sound
be gentle with caution and deep sorrow.
Speak now for the frantic fire that cleanses
its crackling voice kills tree bark to be reborn
from speckled skin discarded like a serpent's husk
Phoenix, rising high in all its burning glory
Speak now for the earth that sucks our feet in
and licks with tongues along Lethe's banks
here I will rest, and watch with breaking eyes
the beauty of the universe above me
***
Copyright © White Wolf and Darren White
December 3 2017
When Ravenous Wolf, Prowls At Our Home's Open Door
Of beauty, paintings, flowers and smothering Art
Dares not the innocent truth- ever the race start
Or prisoner, trapped lamb- shear its own white fleece
By all the vanished gods, Death's hands embrace Greece
And dawn's beauty loses its most radiant glow
Whilst blighted forests listens to cackles of crows!
When ravenous wolf, prowls at our home's open door.
We must take action and not its mercy implore!
Down in the dark valleys, poisoned rivers freeze
Beasts above, seek delicious prey with such ease
Alas! Dare we in futile wish cry tis no so
And in fanciful dreams -beg that peace and love show
Within hope of tomorrows, believe such will cease
For we recall, magnificent heroes of Greece!
When ravenous wolf, prowls at our home's open door.
We must take action and not its mercy implore!
Life and Love must walk through darkest days hand in hand
In this our thought to be enlightened world we stand
Not as sheep to be slaughtered at merest of whims
If we fear ravenous sharks in seas we'd not swim
Or during pitch black nights we would cower inside
And miss seeing the heavens and moon's golden ride!
When ravenous wolf, prowls at our home's open door.
We must take action and not its mercy implore!
Such temerity would joys of life thus abolish
Do we allow world its false mirrors to polish
Nay! We prove such hatefulness we will not abide
While in arms of love and truth, we with grace reside
Shall we pray that ever greater Light gift us more
On us all, God's sweet mercy Heaven softly pours!
When ravenous wolf, prowls at our home's open door.
We must take action and not its mercy implore!
Robert J. Lindley, 6-13-2021
Dark rhyme,
( We may only keep, that which we are brave enough to defend )
This poem was born from blessed inspiration found this morn
While I was commenting to a friend, a very fine fellow poet….
A magic place, lone tree at forest’s side
A huge wolf pine that stands alone like me
It marked a boundary once where sheep would hide
Beneath green needled branches of that tree
It’s where I always go when things go wrong
I pull the forest’s shadows over me
And watch those shadows dance with silent song
My back pressed up against that old pine tree
The cruel remarks, the shunning that was there
Without a why or reason I could see
While others simply watched without a care
And smiled to see the blush of pain in me
I tell myself I still have all my pride
My journey starts, its only just begun
The woods are mine, the forest deeps abide
I’m on my way, I walk into the sun
An old man now with memories at night
But comfort from the thoughts of that lone pine
The fragments of those times have lost their might
Just shadows now with passing of the time.
Each of us have two wolves living inside us
One wants to eat burritos
and watch horror movies.
The other wants to walk about
in its underpants all day
snacking on cheetos between long naps.
The wolf that thrives is the one
who lives on with diabetes while the other
dies of a heart attack.
My silky ivory coat keeps me warm in the artic climate,
my keen senses search for prey in the Alaskan wilderness-
When I encounter the mighty mount Denali, I climb it,
yes, I am an Artic Wolf and am known for being carnivorous.
I savor the flavor of a great
muskoxen and caribou.
The way the twilight sparkles
upon my prey, I feel the
desire for more-
When darkness hovers over
the land, my pack and I
find that there is more prey
than during the day holding
such brilliant light.
My teeth-
Razor sharp.
My eyes-
Deep chameleon blue.
Here I am, hunting for the fox that I always fight,
we battle and struggle with each other’s strength-
And as I search for artic hares in the middle of the night,
my leap into catching him is nine feet long in length.
As dusk arrives I anticipate
the salmon-
The reverie delivers the taste
I can never resist.
As I run through my territory
of about one hundred miles
I feel the fervor of the fight.
My teeth-
They clench.
My eyes-
Intense.
I am ready for the temptation of killing as it arrives,
and as my teeth growl I soon become prepared-
My claws dug deep in the ground as I begin to thrive,
for I have encountered a black mountain bear.
Through the combat of the
battle I have found victory.
I am alone, with no other wolf
in the brawl.
I relish in the taste of triumph
and surmount as being the
greatest Artic Wolf in the
Alaskan territory.
My teeth-
Superior.
My eyes-
Acute.
My famished body has been marked with the game,
my prey killed with one grasp from my mouth-
Then I linger on to my cave, fulfilled and tame,
tomorrow it will be the time to travel down south.
Poetry in an Animal's View
Jamie Pan
January 29, 2017
A Brothers White Production
Skipping through the tall dry grass
memories of childhood flood back
the summer of youth a distant cry
as mudlarks face an early sun
On my back in the grass, as I read
stories of kings and knights
wind caresses my hair, whispers
an almost forgotten song
Dragonflies circle above in the sky
mesmerised by their flight
I am transported far back in time
lost in these pages I now breathe
And I am a boy again, plastic helmet
cardboard sword; brave and strong
we run around fighting each other
and invisible low-life enemies
Dragons appear in front and rear
Swooping down breathing fire about
But they are no match for us
as we slay them one by one
Those days, where grass was our universe
where friendship lasted a lifetime
and we would forever stay young
-deep in our hearts we always will be-
***
August 16, 2017
Copyright © White Wolf and Darren White
With flow and rhythm, poems can sing,
Music to ears: sounds are heard,
Euphoric eruptions it may bring,
Quintessentially spoken every word.
With words and lines, poems can rhyme
Caress the senses, soothe the eyes
In so few letters, through all times
Poems create images, soar the skies
Evoking emotions is what they’ll do
Fuelling the mind and inspiring as well
Metaphors and more and some even true
Open the door, let poet cast his spell
Enriching the world in wonderful ways
A poet and his poems: a pair that will stay
***
June 8, 2017
Copyright © White wolf and Darren White
I am the loner, the rebel
never the leader, I go my own way.
Never trying to run with the pack,
but ahead of them.
I never go where they go,
or do what they do.
Surviving amongst the solitude
of dense forests and misty fogs.
Living for the moonlit midnight hours.
Running wild and free
with the wind in my hair
and the moon
reflecting in my golden eyes.
My kind is close to extinction.
Only a few others remain
who are trustworthy,
only to them do I remain loyal.
I am unforgiving to those
who would dare to cross my path.
I am never afraid
to speak out into darkness.
My wail fills the night air,
a lone cry
not of sadness, or loneliness,
but of freedom,
to go my own way
and be a loner.
For Just That Archaic Poet's contest - "Personify Any Animal Of Your Choosing"
deer tracks disappear
'neath quieting falling snow -
a lone gray wolf howls
Susan Ashley
December 22, 2018
~ Fifth Place ~
Contest: Premiere Contest No. 200, Haiku or Tanka (including cinqku, cinquain or lanterne)
Sponsor: Brian Strand