Long White wolf Poems
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Maradona, ice palace princess was more formidable than we knew
Her reputation was startlingly modest, said the soothsayer, Lou.
She led the dragon brigade in January, stated snowy owl, a friend.
Her army annihilated the enemy, I mean to a devastating end.
Heaven’s pink angel bird messenger warned us of her arrival.
We wondered if we would be able to thrive, or just hope for survival.
Crystal cavern frost monger told us of her daring and dangerous feats.
Some of the stories were so outrageous, I listened to all the repeats.
She is on her way to winter palace, it has a few powdered blue roofs.
It might still have some dents on it from Santa’s reindeer’s hard hoofs.
Maradona rode on a white burly elk by way of Lebrabreeze valley.
She is the kind of ice princess you do not want to find in a dark alley.
The dragons were snarling, growling, and looking for places to hide.
Maradona is dangerous, she kills folk everywhere including outside.
Don’t be fooled by her fabulous rhinestone-like ice crystals and smile.
She has slaughtered many in this country, she has cunning and guile.
Cats and dogs were hiding in snowbanks, covering up with blue snow.
Guardians of Nostradamus society had barely any place to go.
We were frenzied when white elk marched Maradona up the frosty hill.
Glistening snow was silent, ice crystals adding to this January chill.
Diabolical Maradona can give you dreams, from her translucent wings.
Her pearlized crown is amazing, the envy of presidents and kings.
Her wisdom and whimsy whirls in so fast, you are thrown off your feed.
What else in this world would her sentinels, the white wolf dogs need?
The Camarilla *part 1
She forgets every meaning of untroubled silence and fantasy
Joyful and full of spirit, indulgent ways to live a life in existence
Her unity, filled with haven never again the craven
Allowing to never again be discredited, nor run from her responsibilities
Walking in a bust that rejected hopeful-less feelings
The love, joy healed every carefree solitary need
Soft reactions, with a gift that holds inner peace
A joy of the stop, universal, opening the silence
Her enemy now wears the white wolf coat~
With no interest of ongoing thoughts, ending these uncomfortable ways
Engraved words removed, releasing pristine motions that swim in mystery
Gazing at the world with one complete look, of everything
Regretting old thoughts of waste
Losing and forgetting every notion that now can be dealt and felt
Rising to the ability of her sexuality, that rises above and below all levels
Now she whispers, words that untwist her fate, with great debate
Destroying and diverting demonic demons data dreaming
A sin to go on when one ignores the light
A lovely look against every break was all it took
Intervening every change that took place
She is and always will be saved,
Enjoying all the pleasure and painless desires for compassion
Eliminating every form of inner prison, turning it into medicated freedom
Dedicating every matter behind,
Oh! How to spread that life's a dream one should be shared
Sane like the flowers that grow throughout the year
Finally, finding the perfect ruler of peaceful grace
Calmly giving life and advice, praying, praising, and preparing
Forgetting her NEFARIOUS, purpose!
Dedicate~ To The MALKAVIAN- Part 1* Poem written by; Nate D.
Winter Woman appeared in the hour of darkest need
She was on foot, alone, needing no man or steed.
Her wolf mates SheRah and HeMaRay were at her side.
Scanning the woods where Norse enemies might try to hide.
I was astounded upon seeing White Woman’s beauty.
I had pledged my loyalty, and to serve her as was my duty.
But she took my breath, and she held me in the palm of love.
Her essence so pure, I expected to see a lone white dove.
SheRah might have noticed me; she turned and gave a sniff.
I tried to walk forward with confidence. Did HeMaRay catch a whiff?
Winter Woman put up her hand to stop them before they got to my throat.
I was holding nothing in my hands, I would later sometimes gloat.
What say you? She asked, not in words, but rather in the lean of her head.
The wolves gave me a once over, I knew one off step, and I’d be dead.
To serve you, to join your honor, my queen. I pledge my all to you.
She accepted with graciousness, for it is what a true Winter Woman would do.
So I came to live in the kingdom of the land of the ice and snow.
Where people pledge their loyalty, and like-minded hearts do grow.
I received my own little white wolf pup as a gift from the Queen.
Come by some day to see him. I named him Little White King.
The cold winter has arrived
and the pack leader must be strong
he gathers the tribe to discuss preservation
as he does every time winter comes
With their ally, Raven, cawing nearby
The trees shiver from heavy snow
A scented breeze captures their nostrils
With the hunt now ready to commence
"Now listen up my pack
we must unite to survive
as the food supply is scarce
we must work together to last the cold"
The alpha aware, only one in ten hunts succeed
He lets out a haunting howl
then one by one the others join in
it was as if they were trying to outdo one another
"We will not let the elements defeat us
we will all thrive and overcome
for there is hope yet
follow me and you will see"
"While our primal instincts take control
we are bound together on this earth
howl at the moon for we know of her power
she guides us through our nightly prowls"
Now simultaneously the pack cheers with confidence
There now filled with the fire of life burning inside them
Into the night they dart off in search for their survival
Forever these wild-hearted shall roam freely the land
7/11/2017
"Is it rare to see a white wolf Grandpa?"
I stared at the child. Then at my husband.
That depends, Grandpa said. In the house?
The child’s worried look changed immediately.
“Under the bed?” I gave my husband a guttural sound.
He looked up. “A wolf wouldn’t fit there. He would be squashed.”
What if we saw one in the garden? The child asked.
“I would hand him a rake and some gloves,” Grandpa told him.
Satisfied, he began to settle down with his video game.
“A white wolf!” My husband said. “Imagine that.”
I did not have to imagine it; there was a white wolf on his magazine.
Next to a woman dressed in winter white with antlers.
Now these questions made a lot more sense
WHITE
Show : White White ink: White wolf:
money. Funny. Loony.
White bear : White rays : Job : White
Polar. Solar. Collar.
White day: White blooms : White horse:
Serene. Jasmine. Pristine.
White teeth White page Ant white:
to bite. to write. Termite..
White snow Snow White White dove
to glow. Princess. for peace.
White milk White curd, Bright white
to drink. Yogurt. silver.
White cloud White cranes White owl :
in sky. to fly. Arctic.
Pale white White lightning: Blank white
dry grass. Bright flash. canvas.
White rock : White foam : White wire:
Marble. Bubble. Cable,
White dress : White sheet : 'White hair :
Wedding. Bedding. ''Shedding.
05/26/23
A Brian Strand Premiere no. 1220
Second Place
Contest by Brian Strand
The shadow song:
Existing, but not alive.
To live a life without self-awareness and understanding,
Can never know or be truly alive!
Not even aware perhaps that they are but only
Life’s shadows, of where their alternative life should be.
The Shadow Song - in motion —
I am the darkness in which this world of yours hides in.
And yet I am only a lonely shadow from the western sky.
Nothing else is, but I, only I, can exist as the One and
The All in this space which is everything.
Not even time itself can touch my gaping void.
For one must have mind and thought to make motion.
There is only me, and I shall never be.
White Wolf
Natures orchestra takes their seats
Conductor of heavens readies his wand
Thunder will be clapping soon
Thor is here
The white wolf howls out in joy
Skies light up as shattered rainbows
Stillness
Then here is the rain
Washing away yesterdays sadness
Then tranquility
A lull in the raindrops
Here comes the wind now
Love that sound
Trees dancing
As I
Settle down
For tonight's dreams
Notes:
I was chatting with WhiteWolf in PoetryChat and he was talking about a storm on its way, and I told him your lines could be poetry, so I literally took the chat lines and turned them into a poem for fun!!
No Tommy I dont want your input, run away
Quote By: White Wolf:
Were it not for the scent of the rose, what would entice us to grow?
Were it not for the courage of our souls to explore unknown valleys,
how would we reach the heights of our tallest mountain?
Courage is more than just a lofty word, more than just action
it is a feeling deep inside that grows from the knowledge
that we are ancient warriors born to be the best we can be !
Beauty is more than skin deep, more than just a pretty smile
its at the core of our souls and at the center of our hearts.
It is more about what we reflect and find in others,
then about illusionary mirrors filled with lies and deceit.
Life is a rooted friend that will remain with us forever,
if we water it with grace and help it to stay alive.
Tell me, how does your garden grow? (pause)
Courage, beauty, life, its all about how we connect with others,
and knowing when to fold and when to go.
I believe life is a gift that is much more cherished when it is shared.
Sometimes,
sailing in ebony blades
of saturnine seas
brings forth a forsaken froth
of scarred reveries,
when musk-ochre
tints of sunshine cease
to slice through solemn
scarlet skies and
cruelly-coloured black-pearls
shimmer as an obsidian beacon
of forest-green intentions,
caging pantoums of peace
in glass-jars of
bleeding sandalwood-scented
butterflies, entrapped in
sapphire patterns.
My spirit is often ablaze
as a crematory where
opal-gold truths are buried
eight feet under the raven crusts,
and I rise as feathery-flames
in hot-bronze furnaces
of diamond-dragon's
chauvinistic cave,
so that heart's papier- mâché
cells never sacrifice their
rosemary plasma to
eagle-edged egoes and
noiseless yet suffocating
sonatas of narcissistic
nestled woodpeckers.
I believe, life is wistful
like wilderness of a white-wolf,
growling besides midnight's
brim and howling to the
carmine moon, wrapping
peach-sunsets of serenity
in fluid-time, unfolding
scattered shades of
sonorously rustling foliages,
shimmering in breezes of
crumbling claret twigs and
satin seedlings whining
to the list of traitors,
for their unborn lavender buds.
So, swear not under the afterglows
of august skies and
let me float on the
crest of azure waves, in my
snowflake-capsule, being
immortally evanescent,
As every promise is like
a betraying magenta melody
of crepuscular youth, fading
in forged futuristic pastels.