Long Wolves Poems
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I see them cluttered in my mind
The ravenous wolves that stalk me
My eyes shuttered, yet I'm not blind
Tears drop as leaves from willow trees
Fear settles like dust on my tongue
Consuming my will to appease
Gray shadows encroach from the wood
Fate approaches; claws and fangs bared
Eyes flaming beneath each furred hood
I've lost the fight to save my soul
Closer, they come, boldly snarling
My plight consigned to their control
Hostile hunters answer to 'Death'
I feel the strife of enmity
And smell the sour stench of their breath
Their howling spikes this morose night
The forest is calling my name
I am a shadow in moonlight
October 17, 2020 ~ Writing Challenge -Tercets
Sponsored by Constance La France
checked with howmanysyllables
On my mothers’ group Zoom,
Six of us in the “room,”
We remember what we used to do
When our babies would cry
Or, asleep, how they’d lie
And what helped us, back then, to get through.
What made us reminisce
Was, with grandkids now, this –
Things are not done the same way today
And our children, all grown,
With some kids of their own,
Think that they know the only right way.
It’s amazing, as well
As annoying as hell
To be criticized rather than praised
When we add our two cents
And our kids take offense,
Since it wasn’t by wolves they were raised.*
In the future, I hope,
That our children can cope
With the new rules their own kids will set
And they’ll protest that, no,
That’s not how things should go!
As for us? Oh, they’ll quickly forget.
*Thank you, Harriet, for that line…
Message
Mirrors and trepidation
Or maybe a bird or an avalanche
All I know
Is today is beautiful
Cut the words
From the bleeding skies
And feed them
To the starving Earth
Join the howling wolves
Enrich your mind
The wounded ears hear all
Tape your mind
To the thunderclouds
Gravitate
To your utopia
This world
Is waiting for you
To be molded
Into a better place
For all
Gregorian screams are loud
Pour your ignorance
Into granite cups
Oblivious-
The beauty of existing
Hold your heart
Fearlessly
Before the red lion
Face judgement
The kind you pass daily
Approve a message
Burning of sanity
Bound together by indulgence
The meaning
Is up for you to debate
The message
Is from my heart
To yours
With open arms
I accept tyranny
Her broken voice
Gathered the strength
To sing again, but tonight the
Rough winds restrict her effort.
Nor she could fly away to a faraway
Land, for her wings are severed too.
Bruised and defeated she lies perched
In the low branch of stolen freedom.
Yes, stolen it is, for whatever be her
Triumph in the past, she knows that she
Cannot escape her own shadow; a mocking
Rebuke of a proud arrogant bird.
In the past, her song would lighten up the
Glade as the dryads danced to the heavenly
Euphony she created, but the king of the jungle
Grew tired of her juvenile voice and instead
Forced her to sing songs that would summon
The wolves and hyenas, and so her song matured
Into a lustful cacophony that tattered the
Heart of the forest. She had choice then,
To fly away to another land, for she had
Wings, but Alas! She was also starting to
Enjoy her newly found freedom.
Then one night, after her song had finished,
The hungry king decided to feast on her
Little body to get whatever source of flesh
He can muster. She somehow survived the attack,
And now she lies perched on the low branch
Bruised and defeated. She is the nightingale
Of the forest.
They came in packs,
shoulders knotted with gym weight,
smelling of Axe and iron,
boys who scraped knuckles on lockers
just to feel something slice.
At lunch, they stalked the quad like wolves—
every joke a blade,
every girl a mirror they wanted to crack
or crown.
One leaned too long
on the freshman in geometry,
his eyes doing the talking his mouth
was too full of teeth.
They had trophy girls,
not lovers—prizes they unwrapped
with grins in the backseat,
then showed off to each other
like kills in the forest.
Behind it: the need.
To be taught something gentle—
to understand fractions, how to read a face
without splitting it.
One, behind the field house, cried
when I read his paper aloud.
He said don’t tell,
and I haven’t.
Until now.
I praise you my everlasting Father forever
Jesus I love you so much
Under the sky I am well placed upon your blessed creation Father
Juniper mead and joyful singing to you my Best friend
Lord Father you Blood covers me with Joy I am full of your holy spirit
Light this creation of yours Lord my everlasting father
Best friends of your creation sang to me of your light sir
Under the moon I am always watched over by you My Father
Under the stars You planted a garden
Roses grew up from concrete
New songs we will sing to the Lord
Of Wolves Lions and Lambs resting together in Peace and Love Unconditional Love
No More will there be War
No More will there be death
When Jesus Returns to us all
Amen
Little Wolf met her namesake this week at Apache festival with her brother.
They were together all week, running from one booth to another
Can we keep him? She asked her father, a chief and her mother.
I will keep him at my house, offered her giving grandmother.
Little Wolf, wolves need to stay in their packs, and run free.
You would not want your companion to be sad, you see.
Give him your best wishes, and he will visit from time to time.
But no one can truly say a wild animal “is mine”.
They parted ways, Little Wolf and Little Wolf, kindred souls.
But they always remembered they had likewise goals.
Connecting during star hours in their deep sleep.
Without making a sound, not even a peep.
When words stop
Words, words sunken Japanese warships
in the bay of Palau where yellow jellyfish do not sting
and the US military plans to make a base on the moon
and bomb the world to smithereens
I`m watching too much TV and fed useless information
I don`t need. Trying to make sense of this;
war is the loser nature is peace.
Until the war that is cyclical destroy everything this
is needed to win Concord.
In the meantime, economic wars are manufacturing useless
inventions and underpaid garment workers
cheap food and obese people. This lasts till a new hot
battle begins and those who want peace are traitors because
they know there are no winners it is an illusion we have not
been able to understand, like religion and Santa Claus.
When the human voice disappears
when wolves no longer howl in the valley, then battered
Nature will slowly take over, and peace will reign.
There is a picture in my mind
Of grazing sheep on a remote hillside
The shepherd is mindful of his flock
Guarding each of them with pride
His watchful eye then detects
One little lamb, - that strays away
Unaware of intimate danger
The consequence of being astray
He ventures into the underbrush
With a keen eye, and familiar voice
Only when it's safely back in the fold
Can He be content, and rejoice
Our Heavenly Father, gave a parable
To signify His ultimate love
How much more He cares for you
Than a sparrow, lamb or dove
The lamb knows the shepherds voice
There is a bond between the two
No stranger does it recognize
The Master's voice, is always true
Along our journey, wolves may howl
And threaten us throughout the night
The Shepard has promised us security
We are never, beyond His sight
Colan L Hiatt = 05-17-18
© All Rights Reserved
The weakening of limbs
I sink into my pillow
after 3 days of no sleep,
I feel weight-less
and what was on my
conscious and aching pain
turns into a fairytale dream.
The days of painting away
with my mates, keeping
a close eye for my boss's
vehicle approaching
as we take an extra
30 minutes for lunch break.
I'm back in School and there are
shooters in all the halls,
blood fills almost every
cemented cavity
as I flow away
like water
down the drain...
Evaporated
in time
while invading
Pennywise the clown
by simply closing my eyes...
The re-occurring nightmare
of a visit to the beach
to see one of mother's friends
when I was about ten.
The family dog, would
chase me into the dunes
and chew down on my back
and spill the blood from my neck.....
I had this dream about 12 times
and it was different but
would end the same.
The angels & demons spiraling
into my mind, constantly.
I can't let the bad ones out,
My mind feeds on running out of time
Once shiny was every new dime
and that sparkle in eyes not yet
exploited by those so darkened
I wish could ever so shine..
The wolves hunt with the lambs
under the protection of the rams
The pearls under such rare clams
found in rivers, oceans & dams...
You should watch yourself,
when you feel fear and distress
Its over before you are 12
with a sworn secret
and bleeding knees, torn dress.
Once beautiful with now needles
her only gentle high that cradles
bruises and black eyes
every-day events from clienteles
You can't hurt or kill
those of us who are
already dead.
I'll take the fall
from the holy sword...
Take a name and apply it,
its your name-tag
and please, we don't care
of your wonderful efforts...
You know you are no longer even here
when you'll rather surf rock bottom,
and no longer need to appease
the machine of capitalism
The sexualization of children
was the last draw,
and now we are entering Sodom
and Jesus will draw his sword.