Prowls Poems | Examples

Nature of the Beast

The beast bites the hand
taught to feed and stroke its mane
the wild creed and lash
can't be tamed chained nor retrained
hunger defeats any pause

each person harbors
a beast that they dare not rouse
that prowls through their dreams
for denial whets their fangs
and strokes more intense hunger

I know all its words
I share its profound dark breaths
I walk where it stalks
know that its way is ruin
but the beast is my shadow

I forged my own beast
as a dark-born reflection
a natural kin
to unmask the buried truth
I learn in no other way

we meet by its fire
to combine our restless breaths
feel our pulses match
trade discord for true accord
and turn our truce into peace

Salty Brine of Turning Tide

torrents of tears flowed
when he saw a sea dragon
beached dehydrated
for he knows that it like him
could only shed tears on land

the tears were salty
welling from bag of sea brine
in the ocean's blood
he harbored in his body
as fluid to bathe his cells

he needed to cry
but till now tears would not spill
weeping on ebb tide
to wash moribund eyes clean
and inhale with a fresh breath

he fights the current
gripping on to refusals
yet the water wins
the dragon prowls in the foam
its searing breath flares fear

one tear another
fell soft on scalded shadow
fell on dragon's eyes
sending the sand grit flying
washing the stall clean of grime

fear sinks in the tide
form of the trial changes
relief opens gate
as ocean consumes his past
dragon wings have unfolded

tears were the pivot
to beat the challenge
breaking resistance
setting sails on favored wind
on the course past the dragon

When Truth Turns to Shadows

When truth is reversed into lies,
a silent cry takes its place.
And when this happens,
prayer becomes the only weapon
against the cruelty of the world.

A cry the world refuses to hear.
A pain that goes unnoticed.
A silent cry in a solitary room—
and yet, a flicker of hope,
a thought still blooming
beyond the ache.

Trust becomes a fragile thread—
easily frayed once you step away.
Laughter echoes in your absence,
not always in kindness.
Advice arrives,
dressed in concern,
but its weight presses you further down.

Encouragement stays silent,
while sympathy hides behind walls.
Words come sharp,
not to lift, but to slice.
They speak as if they know your path,
yet never ask where your feet have been.

The smile once shared
to lift others from despair—
gone in a breath,
vanished in the hush
of midnight blues.
In a moment, everything changed.

Now, with only the weight of sorrow to carry,
I hold on to the one thing that remains:
prayer—
the shield against the shadows,
the strength to block the evil
that prowls unseen.

RESURRECTED DAWN

"Resurrected Dawn"
In twilight's hush, where shadows dance,
The Dire Wolf's howl, a haunting trance,
Echoes through the ravaged land,
As humans tremble, at their own hand.

The scientists' hubris, a fatal flaw,
Unleashed the beasts, in a world gone raw,
The T-Rex stalks, with calculated stride,
The Triceratops, with armor, does reside.
The Pteranodon's wings, a darkening sky,
As humans cower, with a desperate cry,
The Saber-toothed Tiger, with eyes aglow,
Prowls the ruins, where cities once did grow.

The planet's reborn, in a primal scream,
As ancient monsters, reclaim their dream,
The humans, a fragile, quivering throng,
Must adapt, or perish, in this resurrected wrong.

The Dire Wolf's pack, a ruthless might,
Hunts down the last, of humanity's light,
Yet, in their eyes, a glimmer of fear,
As they confront, the creatures they did bring here.

The world is lost, in a bygone age,
Where humans are prey, and beasts do engage,
Their primal instincts, a force so bold,

The future's uncertain, as the past unfold.
In this resurrected dawn, where monsters roam,
Humanity's fate, is a desperate, final home.

April

waking to rain
remnants of the storm
the cat prowls past my bed
memories of love stir
I’m alone
in the silent room
my heart beats
the sun bleeds through clouds
a poetic leap
trees sprout leaves
to live is to live again
trees sprout leaves 
a poetic leap
the sun bleeds through clouds
my heart beats
in the silent room
I’m alone
memories of love stir
the cat prowls past my bed
remnants of the storm
waking to rain

(palindrome)

Kiss and Run

Please kiss and run, my only son
Her body is on fire.

Water rises,
Whisky on the table, 
A unique type of gold in a glass,
That type of woman isn’t in your social class
Moments like these are meant to last
No money to spend, but time to kill.
 My only son, a fall from grace,
Or a plunge from the hill
 
Take your misty mistletoe kiss
 Disconnect the extinguisher: 
That girl is on fire! Try not to diss
 
A battle beyond hopelessness for a woman in the ghetto
A segment of labor and a segment of pain

My son it appears that you are navigating your life 
In a fast pace of unsophisticated women:
... 

1 Peter 5:8 Be sober-minded; be watchful.
 Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion,
 seeking someone to devour.

Beast

At the center of forgotten crossroads,
in the valley of Shadows of the Moon,
the beast within wakens from its abode,
gazing skyward, howls its sorrowful tune.

Silently, it prowls the cold, lonely vale.
All the time, it watches, it sees and waits.
It breathes in and exhales, breathes in, exhales,
and mourns the absence of its mate.

Heed—but don't gaze at its stare,
for in its eyes, a curse resides.
A hunger vast, a hollow glare,
where lost souls twist and turn inside.

No silver binds, no chains confine,
no whispered prayer can still its rage.
Through mist and moonlight, darkly divine,
it lingers, trapped within its cage.

Some Funny Thought On The Way Out Nowhere

Now again, someone upstairs, 
and somewhere on a bus
headed somewhere in Louisiana 
where it is one a.m.

eyes mind thy business 
while pyramid in the sky 
shows well it’s lessons and then 
out wild and naked
in the Nevada sun,
 
the dark green grass 
and the funeral, 
where a police car prowls past and says
 “Don’t you know you’ll freeze?”
then their faces turn yellow 
and blood pours out the mouth 
on this calm night that 
brought cool to the Summer. 

Waiting on Storefront Nowhere America
but there are still plenty of trains and lightning.

Wind and rain still relentless.

Whispered Steps at Midnight

Wind howls along the cobbled street,
Sin prowls where shadows twist and meet.
Doors creak though none are standing near,
Shores leak the mist that whispers fear.

Lights fade as echoes start to grow,
Nights trade their peace for something low.
Steps sound but no one's in my sight,
Breath drowned beneath the grip of night.


8X8x8x8 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Charles Messina

Nighttime

It's at night that I feel at best
Knowing that I can lay down and finally rest

That's the time when the stars come out
There's one winking at me, I must have some serious clout

The moon watches over the earth 
When Dracula prowls, possibly he left blood on your hearth

The kids all snicker because their favorite TV show comes on
My hubby and I watch our favorite rom-com

Restaurants are filled as chefs are preparing 
Food from around the world if you are daring

Teens take off for their first date
Hoping they have enough money and the kiss is first rate

The lights all shine from the skyscrapers in NYC 
Morning will come soon, it's almost over, what a pity.

The Fox

Once a fox was lost in the field;
No shelter, friends, nor food to yield!
His fending hope has lastly keened,
But stood once more when prey he gleaned...

There he melded with flocks of sheep,
Dealing and coping with their keep;
Hardly bids to maintain his guise,
Yet still a fox behind those eyes!

He has sampled reed grass, at least,
Though fox despised such meager feast;
Athirst he was for blood and flesh—
The fox's hunt proved fruitless, fresh.

Then he crept at night, so sullen,
Watched his cozy troupe, heart swollen;
With eyes so wild, his mask now falls,
And all his care breaks castle walls!

He tried to curb his morbid crave,
But nature's call he could not stave;
And within a breath, off he gave—
A savage slaughter none could save!

His lethal claws that pierced through flesh,
His irksome fangs of crimson mesh;
The fox that once ate grassy fare,
Now dwells in dreams of dark nightmare!

The fox reveled, now bloody fed;
All took place as his hunt had led.
The fox is glad, the sheep lie dead—
Away he prowls, new prey ahead...

alley cat of Allen town

ebony like a puma, velvet pretty
she prowls and growls and moans in her sleep
like a little black dress, fashionably chic and insightful
there is purring now, her dreams might have shifted
the toms in the alley remain in hiding, fearful
she can be such a tease, and sometimes a torment
her scratches are serious; she is not afraid to bite
the howling and growling is back
alley cat of Allentown

Haunted Cemetery

The story told by haggard sage,
of evil born in days of yore,
of blood filled eyes that never age
and peer up at their coffin's door.

The hunt that fate can never sate
now prowls across the foggy moor
and slips within the village gate
with appetite that must restore.

The blood of life that lives and dies
and then is born to seek again.
A painful truth that never lies;
a curse so real it never ends.

Another lured to evil's whim,
now drawn to eyes they can't resist,
reflecting distant candle dim
and falling there to life's last kiss.

A MONSTER IN SIERRA LEONE KUSH

Kush is both a lover and a monster
Capturing the hearts of our youth.  
Its eyes, as deep as the night and bright as stars
Hold secrets of passion and unspoken truths.

With a touch that sends shivers down the spine
It suffocates the soul into delirium.  
Its voice, a haunting melody
Whispers promises and fears alike—a lullaby of sweet agony.

Draped in a velvet cloak of desire
It prowls the landscapes of dreams
Leaving traces of warmth and damage
And claw marks of yearning on Sierra Leonean youth.

This creature, born from the wild storms of the heart
Is a keeper of boundless affection
A distributor of heartache
A beast of love that devours our youth.

She is Lost

I know she is lost 
but those lost 
can be brought home 

I want to print 
one hundred 
missing flyers

but how she’d hate 
to be found
believes she knows 
this twisting trail 

Like her mother’s 
weary face 
awaiting a simple knock 

If I linger 
in her swelling shadow 
will I be swallowed? 

If I dispel 
my every urge 
to search and save 
will she forget me? 

If I rush 
toward her trembling arm 
golden cape draped from my neck 
will she resent me? 

Missing pets 
might stray to long 
surrounding sidewalks 
turn strange 

She is far from 
a mangy mutt 
still she prowls in pursuit 
of his fleeting praise 

How does he have her 
blindly convinced 
he is steering 
the right direction 

How does he have her 
mindlessly certain 
his hostile affection 
is truer than us 

Us who never screamed 
who seldom swore 
would not dare sneer 

It is unsettling 
to remain upset 
I have lost her 

She is the one 
trudging through 
the disorienting fog 

She is the one 
facing the perilously unknown
evergreen grove 
miles from home 

I am only the one 
who knows 
she is lost

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