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Post by Frostleaf on Jan 20, 2011 14:20:19 GMT -5
Yellow Eyes
Joan L. Van Vels
We've roamed the wild country
My beautiful yellow eyes,
Side by side we've hunted
Shadows dancing on northern skies.
There have been times of plenty
We were content and serene,
Peacefully sleeping
Dangers few and far between.
We've also known much hunger
Ribs protruding from each side,
Mournfully we howled
When our starving cubs had died.
And then there was our first winter
Romping thru the glistening snow,
Tasting each crystal snowflake
Falling gently to and fro.
Ah my dear, sweet yellow eyes
I've known no greater love,
Without you, I am nothing
Our wild souls are one.
And now you lay there dying
Steel jaws upon your frame,
Life's blood slowly seeping
I whimper your sweet name.
Helpless, I watch you struggle
Chest heaving with labored breath,
Steel jaws clenching tighter
Winds whisper the song of death.
The blood has now stopped flowing
I know the time is near,
And you will forever leave me
My love, my life, my dear.
And now my world is silent
Your struggles now have ceased,
I lay my head upon you
And know you are at peace.
Perhaps your soul has lifted
To skies where eagles soar,
And there you'll greet your brothers
To run with them forever more.
And someday I shall find you
In the heaven's so far above,
And when our wild soul's unite
There'll be no greater love. |
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Post by Frostleaf on Jan 20, 2011 14:21:37 GMT -5
Timber
Shay Tankersley
For my sister Debra - In memory of Timber
Free of spirit, body and soul
To her heart there was no key,
Captured by nothing, nothing at all
I wonder even by me.
In her veins ran the ultimate symbol
Of triumph over time,
Her beauty was a picture
Of the perfect design.
Her eyes held the ghost of ancestors
That roamed before,
Strength, courage and grace
She was to the core.
High upon a mountain
She now stands so regally,
A wisp of wind, she fades away
But not from my memory. |
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Post by Frostleaf on Jan 20, 2011 14:22:46 GMT -5
Silent Paws
Gerri K. McCann
Silent paws trotting
on a well beaten trail,
alone in the wilderness,
so young and so frail.
Little yips go unanswered,
the moon is now his guide,
looking for ones just like him,
or have all of them just died?
He sniffs the dampened ground
and senses man everywhere,
the silence is deafening
no howls in the air.
Oh why did he venture
so far from his den,
while his pack fell silent
at the hands of men?
His stomach is growling
but the hunger he’ll endure,
his pack family is out there
it’s their blood he smells for sure.
He stops in his tracks
and raises his head up high,
the terror overwhelms him
as he lets out another cry.
But still there’s no answer
he can’t understand why,
he’ll follow their trail
or he surely will die.
For days now he’s traveled
his spirit and body gone weak,
he lies down in white clover
no more energy left to speak.
Soon the soul hovers
over this tiny, frail pup,
whose future now will be guarded
as his soul travels up.
What right does man have
to take life from a living thing,
that has no way to voice its defense
against a human being?
The wolf is a symbol,
a brother, a friend.
it’s time now for action
before his existence comes to an end. |
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Post by Frostleaf on Jan 20, 2011 14:23:30 GMT -5
The Cry
Karen Evans
He stands alone at the top of the hill
And sings his mournful cry,
His mate and cubs are missing
He's not certain why.
He had been out hunting
Was gone for only a day,
And hurried back with empty jaws
So scarce now was their prey.
He wasn't gone long
Eager to get home,
But the den was cold and empty
And he sensed something was wrong.
The smell of man was everywhere
With footprints in the dirt,
And blood shed from his family
He knew they had been hurt.
He sat and waited day by day
With hopes they would return,
There wasn't much he could do
Except quietly sit and yearn.
Why would man come all this way
To hunt and shoot them down,
To interrupt their quiet lives
When no harm had been done?
Their territory plainly marked
And not once did they stray,
For they would rather starve to death
Than to get in man's way.
The smell of chickens, cows and sheep
Were so tempting at times,
But instincts warned not to hunt them
Or they would lose their lives.
And so they lived a quiet life
Existing on small game,
Careful it was only wildlife
And nothing man had tamed.
So he could find no reason
For the blood shed on that day,
So peacefully they lived here
So far out of man's way.
Maybe they'd be coming back
His cubbies and his mate,
Wolves are mated once for life
So he would sit and wait.
That was many moons ago
And they have not come back,
But he will not stop hoping
For the reunion of his pack.
He now knows men are murderers
But still does not know why,
And every night he climbs his hill
And sings his mournful cry. |
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Post by Frostleaf on Jan 20, 2011 14:24:19 GMT -5
Cheyenne
Marlene Elder
My best friend is truly misunderstood
She comes from nature like the earth and wood.
All the misconceptions about her, she must defend
They can't see, she has the gentleness of the wind.
My friend is mischevious; that's not just a rumor
But it's only her way of showing a sense of humor.
She has love and respect for the human race
Which never seems to be returned; what a disgrace.
My friend has a heart full of loyalty and love
Her grace and beauty were gifts from above.
She loves to frolic and run just for fun
Otherwise it's shade she seeks, to be out of the sun.
There are times you may not see her standing there
But, of your presence, you can bet she is aware.
When I look into her eyes, I see age old intelligence
When others see her, in fear they wince.
I love to watch my friend as she runs so free
Because my friend is a beautiful grey wolf, you see. |
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Post by Frostleaf on Jan 20, 2011 14:26:04 GMT -5
Prison Bars
Karen Evans
In memory of Contessa
These prison bars I sit behind
From which there is no escape.
Why didn't I get a second chance
But, now it is too late.
I tried to live my master's way
To put instincts aside.
To disobey meant punishment
And oh, how hard I tried.
I didn't mean to trash the house
I did it just for fun.
It's boring being in the house
With no place I can run.
And when I got to go outdoors
He put me on a chain.
I'd run around in circles
Till he'd come out again.
Uh oh, he found the hole I dug
I did it to stay cool.
He beat me with his balled up fists
Oh, why is he so cruel?
My tail tucked between my legs
I'm so scared that I pee.
It doesn't matter what I do
He's just so hard to please.
He doesn't even like the song
I howl every night.
He yells "shut up", and out he comes
To start another fight.
I'm battered, bruised and all alone
Is this how life should be?
When all I wanted was his love
And true acceptance of me.
For I can't help the way I am
At times I feel so strange.
I guess I'm like my ancestors
That once had roamed the range.
So, here I sit on death row
Trapped behind these bars.
Soon to be a spirit
Free amongst the stars.
I guess I'll never understand
The punishment that he,
Gave me each and every day
For me just being me. |
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Post by Frostleaf on Jan 20, 2011 14:26:58 GMT -5
Unknown
Unknown
Alone, high up on a moutaintop
A wolf sings of her despair
To the moon above, of a forlorn love
Her tale echos on the cold night air
With naught but the wind as a friend
To join in her sad lonely cry
Lost and alone and searching for home
The wolf and the moon in the sky
As the echoing notes die away
There comes an answering plea
To the sound turns her ear, she hears it so clear
"I'm coming, so please wait for me"
So she waits for the one who responded
And then she saw him appear
A wolf just as she, and longing to be
The one to ease all of her fear
He lifted his voice with a question
His song sweet as the croon of a dove
When she looked in his eyes, to her surprise
All she could see was his love
And so she answered his query
With her heart, her soul and her mind
Together give voice, and hope to rejoice
The wolves who are two of one kind. |
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Post by Frostleaf on Jan 20, 2011 14:27:42 GMT -5
The Voice of One Crying in the Wilderness
John Hubbard Bidwell
Now halt your minds
and listen to their cry
From northern alters
formed of snow and ice,
Beneath celestial curtains
in their sky,
The wolves give evensong
of sacrifice.
All creatures stop-
transfixed
by somber hymns
Which rise from frozen
mountains to the stars
To one whose understanding
never dims,
Who walked with man
and also bears the scars.
The howling joins the wind
which sweeps the earth
Angelic zephyrs sing
like flute and fife
And reach the ears of one
who from his birth
Has dared deny
the sacredness of life.
This man, now trembling,
sees upon his wall
A young wolf's head he shot-
to his distress,
That prophet's head brings
judgement on us all,
Like one who also cried
in wilderness.
So listen now-
we may not have so long;
Please listen to the crying
voice and care,
And pray that we may never
end the song
Of wolves and wind
that fills the arctic air. |
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Post by Frostleaf on Jan 20, 2011 14:28:29 GMT -5
Call of the Wild
He's been worshiped
And he's been feared,
He's been pushed from state
to state thru the years.
But now we know him
Now we understand,
The fragile balance
Between nature and man.
He's the call of the wild
with a spirit strong and true,
And each and every child
Should have the chance
To listen to the call of the wild.
Brother to brother
Father to son,
Have told the stories
Of this nobile one.
Proud as an eagle
And free as the wind,
And you can hear him
If you only listen.
You'll hear the call of the wild
With a spirit strong and true,
And each and every child
Should have the chance
To listen to the call of the wild.
Please let them hear
The call of the wild. |
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Post by Frostleaf on Jan 20, 2011 14:29:00 GMT -5
The Lonely Loner
C. Blaine
Chased from the world I once shared with man
Now I must seek asylum wherever I can
Blamed for so many things I've never done
They point and say "there, he's the one".
Once like the buffalo my numbers were great
But now for some company I constantly wait
My sleep is filled with dreams of days gone by
and each morning I awake with a tear in my eye.
They call me a predator, they don't understand
I'm simply a hunter with no gun in hand
I desire no trophy to hang on my wall
But just a full belly when night starts to fall.
Envious of my dog cousins and his master's love
And howling with loneliness to the Heaven's above
Though I long for a touch or a pat on the head
By nature's decision I'll have freedom instead.
Married for life to such a beautiful mate
Until last winter when a bullet decided her fate
The pups are all grown and gone from the den
And I'm too old and stubborn to start over again.
Now I'm truly a loner the legend is true
But forever searching for a friend like you
It's so hard to express but I'll try if I can
In your own words "hey I love you man".
As your world grows and buildings get taller
My little hiding place keeps getting smaller
If you don't come to your senses sometime soon
Then who will be left to howl at the moon? |
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Post by Frostleaf on Jan 20, 2011 14:37:00 GMT -5
The Wolves Are Coming...
The wolves are coming...
Their feet are falling on forgotten paths,
their long-lost voices are filling the sky.
While their yellow eyes cut through the night;
they leave their tracks on the muddy riversides.
The wolves are coming...
The forest whispers of their return,
of their attempt to restore themselves in Creation,
to weave themselves back into the web of life
that connects all living things.
The wolves are coming...
Their teeth are seeking out their pray tonight,
the deer and the elk, the cattle and sheep,
and they will leave blood and bones scattered in their wake.
Yet meat is what they need, so on meat they must feed.
The wolves are coming...
Some of us will greet them with traps and bullets,
others with songs and drums,
Some will say, "Welcome home brother."
others will say, "Be gone killer!"
The wolves are coming...
Some of them will come alone, others will come in packs.
Gray wolves, black wolves, brown wolves, silver wolves,
even white wolves, all coming back,
back to the lands they once roamed.
The wolves are coming...
Some of us will like it, some of us will not.
Some of us will stalk them with cameras,
and others will stalk them with guns.
And then we tremble when they stalk us.
The wolves are coming...
They are clothed in mystery and majesty,
surrounded by our love and hate.
They wander through our thoughts and dreams,
and they appear in our stories and legends.
The wolves are coming...
Their young will play in the meadows,
the old ones will doze in the sun,
and the alphas will watch over them both,
for they are not just a pack, but a family.
The wolves are coming...
Now their howls are echoing in the mountains,
carried by the cold winds down into our logging camps,
our real estate developments, our cities,
and our delusions of conquest.
The wolves are coming... |
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Post by piplup10036 on Jul 19, 2011 18:48:32 GMT -5
wow those are all some great poems  |
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Post by Firestarscourge on Jun 28, 2012 6:08:53 GMT -5
These are proboly the best wolf poems that i have ever seen(maybe even the best of all time that i've seen)  |
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Post by Shadowstalker on Jun 28, 2012 13:10:49 GMT -5
Nice, even though you'll never see these comments...
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