Yes, I’m the cute little pooch,
You treat like a substitute child,
Domesticated and to some extent,
By breeding, I’m pedigree styled,
But don’t ignore my ancestral line,
For I still listen to the call of the wild,
And in my heart I’m still a wolf
And this wolf can be easily riled.
callous the call of
---the LIVE persons lives to die
flesh so body yet
spirit soul lives on
forever decay and rot
flesh disintegrates
flesh so body yet
---the persons lives to so die
callous the call of
12/12/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2023©
Last night
as the sun went down
I heard the highway call
Distant echoes
soul astir
the leaves not quite yet fall
Last night
that voice cried out again
from places far away
And like before
my feet unsure
—of what my heart will say
(Dreamsleep: July, 2023)
I heard the call of the wild
It bewildered me and chilled my body
Closed my mind filled
Filled me with uncertainty
I am entrapped in my own village
I have been lapsed
Fell! Fallen to the tillage digging up dirt
Nature's worth
11/24/21
Written by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
hardy timothy, beware of me ~
for I am out to trample thee
We know about wolves and dogs and their instincts.
And we're all somehow genetically linked.
What's the human's call?
Something we don't think about at all...
We want to be noticed or seen.
Without knowing this, this is our routine.
Deep within the forest
wind across the mountains steep
The waves that don't sleep don't rest
atop the briny deep
The shadows always calling
the wilderness that pleas
The dreams in which you wake up falling
the fear that makes you freeze
The force that crawls within your mind
ever since you were a child
The urge to fly, leave your own kind
to answer the call of the wild
As the crow flies
'Cross the teal skies
And the moon dines
On the night
As the dog howls
Across the town
And the last cloud
Fades from sight
As the darkness breaks
And your skin
Crawling with the evening
ghosts
starts to freeze
When the moon has turned to blood
And darkness feasts on the sun
I'll be calling you, calling you
Madness
I'll be calling for you, calling for you
Insane!
Well I sharpened my tongue
On the angel's wings
To try to pierce the sound
of my own laughter
Darkness knows
no throne but my soul
I am the devil's
glorious bastard
When the moon has turned to blood
And darkness feasts on the sun
I'll be calling you, calling you
Madness
I'll be calling for you, calling for you
Insane!
You asked me for a rose
As pretty as your nose
So I searched and I found if
Right before my eyes
I hung the fool moon
round your thin neck and you
Rose
into the sky
Do not ask me why
Cos I've lost all reason tonight
and I'll be calling you, calling you
Madness
I'll be calling for you, calling for you
Insane!
Swifter than dawn to dusk
He runs, his body fluid with the transition of night.
His silver fur glistening in the pale moonlight.
Whining he paws the ground
Searching for the familiar smell.
She stands hidden in the dense foliage.
Her eyes tucked behind a camera lens.
Waiting for the perfect pose
To catch the essence of the wild.
Capturing the king of the forest
Silent and still he freezes
The wind ruffling his fur
He feels the eyes of someone watching
Instinct tells him to run
The call of the wild tells him to stay
Careful to not make a sound
She moves a step forward.
A branch breaks and she stills.
Instinct tells her to stay still
The call of the wild tells her to walk forward
He sees her reveal herself toward the forest
Vulnerable and afraid
Growling a sense of warning
He tenses and crouches low
He feels another set of eyes on him
Frozen she feels the forest quiet
Behind her wolf, the pack joins his beauty
Surrounding him they stare
Her wolf tilts his head back and croons
She captures the call of the wild.
10/24/2015
Sponsor: Casarah Nance
Jack London's Call of the Wild
First brought to our attention in the year 1903
by a name that somehow jolts illusive memory
but how can we recall something so long ago
when we were never born, how then could we know?
Perhaps nature revealed the need to study more
black wolves upon our land reaching on to shore
or was it but an interest to avoid daily routine
the fascination of wolves that we have never seen?
This calling of the wild could it be an illusion
a mere excuse to escape then lost in delusion?
whatever the reason feelings scream beware
always be afraid of the wolf who isn't there!
My house bound kitty sits beside
the tightly closed back door.
I cannot let him out for fear
he may come home no more.
Bold coyotes watch our country home
for any chance of seeing
an unwary duck or chicken
or any warm blooded being.
My neighbor's cats were slaughtered
right in front of her startled eyes.
So I have to turn unhearing ear
to his imploring cries.
I do not blame the coyotes.
Their hunger must be sated.
Most of the land where they once roamed,
has now been fenced and gated.
My kitty has never been hungry, but
he still hears the call of the wild.
His mother was a feral cat
and he is his mother's child.
By: Joyce Johnson
Written October, 2015
Trashed # 3 contest sponsor Broken Wings
I envy those living as part of the wild
For I too, once heeded its call
A smoldering ember since I was a child
Urge, and belonging all part of the thrall.
I’ve enjoyed the fresh taste of a sparkling stream
Felt the tremble as you push through your fear
Stood high on a peak admiring Gods scheme
Felt both delight and remorse for taking a deer.
I’ve walked for weeks through valleys and trees
Traversed mountains with lush native grass
Felt the warmth and the cold of high country breeze
Navigated tussock, forests and high country pass.
I’ve smelt autumn rain as it mingles with dirt
Enjoyed the isolation of me and my views
Valued crude shelter while nature unleashes its hurt
Watched forest birds doing their best to amuse
But I’m now destined to be one of societies slaves
In a world where worth is measured by cash
Where worry and stress are delivered in waves
Where those without are regarded as trash.
I felt most alive in the middle of nowhere
Now dead when hemmed by city and streets
Nothing compares with fresh mountain air
Living free, no money, bills, or receipts.
Being as wild as wild comes,
he came and Tucked his
weary head INTO MY BED!
My, what fun we had.
with his popsicle,
we ate ravenously.
was it real or was it in fun?
I had, yet to find out!
What would he do
if he only knew,
what his love meant?
True or False, we felt!
Canis Lupis, your silver coat’s, light
Reflected by moonlight’s eerie glow,
Sheds glimpses of you in hunt of night
With your pack in quiet stealthy show.
The mystery in your feral song
Enchants the heart of this solemn soul,
As the pack chimes in to sing along;
To feed your young, swells your lofty goal.
Respected by the Native people
Who knew you helped the balance of life,
Long ago you hunted together
Until settlers filled your life with strife.
They killed you off in such great numbers
Your species almost became extinct.
But once protected you've multiplied
To roam the woodlands by your instinct.
Now once again we hear your wolf songs
As you call out to your pack in tune.
And they respond and the hunt is on
Engulfed by light of the silver moon.
© Connie Marcum Wong
Note: I forgot to enter this in Casarah's contest after writing it especially for it!
http://www.bing.com/images/search?q=Wolf+Howling+at+Full+Moon&view=detailv2&&id=39986E9F42C2B3777805B2129B0C96D8E62240B9&selectedIndex=10&ccid=Ubg7mKFX&simid=608032967450167630&thid=OIP.M51b83b98a1579d2379402034fa9a59b2o0&ajaxhist=0
Wild are the free ones
Freedom's no place for the timid
The free ones live wildly
And the Wild has no limits
Fighters are the free ones
Never squelching what they've earned
Rising from the ashes
Of the broken dreams they've burned
The free ones live loudly
Freedom doesn't whisper
Not concerned who sees or hears
Free functioning transistors
The wild ones live freely
Despite what the world becomes
Free are the wild ones;
Wild are the free ones
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