The lone wolf may yet kill as many deer as a pack.
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Lone Wolf
I am a lone wolf
I always was and will be
I feel fine, I am resigned to this
I am a lone wolf
I am a lone wolf
Got my cares
Wrapped up all nice and neat
In my suitcase
Ill take it down the street
To a place with plenty of space for me
I am a lone wolf
I am a lone wolf
It blows my mind
That people wanna try to get inside my tired head
I am a lone wolf
I am a lone wolf
I am a lone wolf
Nobody needs to get too close to me
Youll only see this truth
I am a lone wolf
song performed by by Eels
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Law of the Jungle
Now this is the Law of the Jungle -- as old and as true as the sky; And the Wolf that shall keep it may prosper, but the Wolf that shall break it must die. AAs the creeper that girdles the tree-trunk the Law runneth forward and back --
For the strength of the Pack is the Wolf, and the strength of the Wolf is the Pack.
Wash daily from nose-tip to tail-tip; drink deeply, but never too deep;
And remember the night is for hunting, and forget not the day is for sleep.
The Jackal may follow the Tiger, but, Cub, when thy whiskers are grown,
Remember the Wolf is a Hunter -- go forth and get food of thine own.
Keep peace withe Lords of the Jungle -- the Tiger, the Panther, and Bear.
And trouble not Hathi the Silent, and mock not the Boar in his lair.
When Pack meets with Pack in the Jungle, and neither will go from the trail,
Lie down till the leaders have spoken -- it may be fair words shall prevail.
When ye fight with a Wolf of the Pack, ye must fight him alone and afar,
Lest others take part in the quarrel, and the Pack be diminished by war.
The Lair of the Wolf is his refuge, and where he has made him his home,
Not even the Head Wolf may enter, not even the Council may come.
The Lair of the Wolf is his refuge, but where he has digged it too plain,
The Council shall send him a message, and so he shall change it again.
If ye kill before midnight, be silent, and wake not the woods with your bay,
Lest ye frighten the deer from the crop, and your brothers go empty away.
Ye may kill for yourselves, and your mates, and your cubs as they need, and ye can;
But kill not for pleasure of killing, and seven times never kill Man!
If ye plunder his Kill from a weaker, devour not all in thy pride;
Pack-Right is the right of the meanest; so leave him the head and the hide.
The Kill of the Pack is the meat of the Pack. Ye must eat where it lies;
And no one may carry away of that meat to his lair, or he dies.
The Kill of the Wolf is the meat of the Wolf. He may do what he will;
But, till he has given permission, the Pack may not eat of that Kill.
Cub-Right is the right of the Yearling. From all of his Pack he may claim
Full-gorge when the killer has eaten; and none may refuse him the same.
Lair-Right is the right of the Mother. From all of her year she may claim
One haunch of each kill for her litter, and none may deny her the same.
Cave-Right is the right of the Father -- to hunt by himself for his own:
He is freed of all calls to the Pack; he is judged by the Council alone.
Because of his age and his cunning, because of his gripe and his paw,
In all that the Law leaveth open, the word of your Head Wolf is Law.
Now these are the Laws of the Jungle, and many and mighty are they;
But the head and the hoof of the Law and the haunch and the hump is -- Obey!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Lone Wolf Sits
A lone wolf sits on a hill
Her black eyes gaze
A prize unaware
Somewhere below
The pack circles
Unaware of her dilemma
She has strayed
Against her mother’s wishes
She continues to play
With the wrong crowd
The lone wolf howls
The pack pounces
Their teeth are set
The scene is repeated
Until one by one
The girls are all seated
The fire crackles
As the moon rises
They circle and howl
And seek their next prey
poem by Brian Kilpatrick
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lone Wolf Plan
I get more power,
At night time.
I am a lone wolf,
And a smart one too.
I hunt by myself,
And feed myself.
I look for love,
But I always get rejected.
I've taken my last reject,
So I hunt for blood.
I hunt the one's,
Who rejcted me.
I hunt my old pack,
To kill the leader.
Once that's done,
I'll be leader.
I can lead my new pack,
To victory.
I shall win a new love,
And win a pack.
My strength is better,
But my smarts are better.
I am clever,
So I will win.
I fight the leader,
And lose.
Now I die,
All alone.
My plans have failed,
My life has just began.
I might not breath the air,
Or run freely.
But my new life,
As a spirit,
Has just begun...
poem by Dragon Crenshaw
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Lone White Wolf: The Hunt
As the first day of the new moon creeps into the trees, no wolf among the pack gathers to see the light overcome the darkness to bring in the new day except the lone white wolf. This peculiar wolf is almost solid white except for the black along the length of his nose. It watches over the pack as they peacefully sleep, unaware of his eyes that could protect everything that was soon to come.
Today was the first day of the long hunt for the white wolf. He must bring down an animal that could feed the whole pack for several days, so he could become an official member of the pack, but more importantly, he must prove himself to be one with the pack instead of running alone.
The leader of the wolf pack slowly raises his head like a turtle to look around to see who’s awake. He sees all the wolves are still asleep in a tight circle except the outcast. The leader doesn’t understand why this wolf sleeps alone nor does he understand why the wolf was born white instead of gray. The white wolf stirs from his wakeful sleep. The eyes of the self-proclaimed leader stay on him before moving off to look into the distance searching for all the answers to his questions among the countless trees.
The leader of the wolf pack slowly gets up and walks to the lone wolf and nudges him to sound the morning howl. It was customary for the leader of the wolf pack to do this, but for reasons unknown to any wolf besides the leader, the wolf chose the outcast to sound the howl. The white wolf understands and gives a howl to stir the remaining wolves out of their deep slumber.
Once all the wolves are fully awake and able to comprehend what today is and what it means for the outcast, they realize it is the first day of the new moon. It is the first day of the long hunt. All of the wolves first look to the leader, then to the outcast, then back to the leader wondering who is going to give the special howl to begin the long hunt. No wolf willingly howled the beginning of the long hunt because if the howl was bad, the hunt would go badly, but if the howl was good, the hunt would go smoothly and the hunt would be short. The answer is soon apparent when the eyes of the leader look over the pack to see whose eyes would meet his. None but one pair kept his gaze.
The leader gave a sign, and the wolf began to prepare to give the special howl that would determine the outcome of the hunt. A wolf could not open its muzzle and give an ordinary howl since the hunt would also go badly. To give the special howl the wolf must pull back its hind legs and brace itself to make sure all legs are securely anchored to the ground so that the wolf, while giving the special howl would not slide backwards during the middle of it.
The lone wolf was ready mentally and physically to give the special howl. Once his feet were securely on the ground, the wolf began the howl. The lone white wolf put everything in his howl: the pain of being an outcast his entire life, the anger at his individuality, everything was put into that howl. Wolves stepped back with their fur standing on end; birds flew away squawking bloody murder. The others started yipping and snapping at nothing in particular remembering everything they’d ever felt. After the lone wolf was done, he realized the effect his special howl had on the wolves and he noticed the disarray and confusion that he had caused.
The leader is satisfied and gets the pack into order; it was time to begin the hunt. The wolves began running, their muscles rippling beneath their skin. Nothing could stop them. Their destination was a mile and a half down the road where the large game was located. Running freely among the wolf pack, the lone wolf didn’t feel like an outcast, but whenever he began to get too close, a shallow snip on the shoulder would shove him away to a safer distance.
The game was just ahead; it was time for the lone wolf to prove himself to the pack. The lone wolf went ahead of the pack and picked one of the biggest caribou he could find and slowly approached while the pack followed. The wolves lurched like a bullet from a gun onto the caribou with the white wolf clinging to the exposed flesh of the neck bringing it to the ground but not before it got one last kick in. The kill was successful; the caribou was dead. It was then that the white wolf noticed the bloody mess of the leader of the pack. The last kick of the now dead caribou landed on the skull of the leader, and he was dead instantly. The sight was a grizzly one with his skull caved in and blood gushing out of the wound.
The self-proclaimed leader was dead with no next-in-line to follow. Every wolf looked to the now dead leader, then to the outcast, then back to the dead leader, and then back to the outcast. The white wolf met the eyes of each wolf and got an unspoken request from each one. It was unanimous; the previous outcast of the pack became the leader. For the first time in history, a white wolf was chosen to lead and will lead the wolves to a prosperity the wolves have never known.
2009 October
poem by Matthew Bresette
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A demarche-Cauchy3-tricks
A demarche…
Take a pictured horse as deer.
Who will treat deer as horse?
Gods will say that.
All as pets are teacher pets.
Horse then goes as deer.
Throw the stones to test the water depth.
Games with theorems are centered guards.
Take a test upon aha actions.
With images of horse they all are Tory.
With image of deer they all are foes.
Invite a wolf into house or close the door to kill the dogs are after math after test.
poem by Cheung Shun Sang
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hunting Song of the Seeonee Pack
As the dawn was breaking the Sambhur belled
Once, twice, and again!
And a doe leaped up -- and a doe leaped up
From the pond in the wood where the wild deer sup.
This I, scouting alone, beheld,
Once, twice, and again!
As the dawn was breaking the Sambhur belled
Once, twice, and again!
And a wolf stole back -- and a wolf stole back
To carry the word to the waiting Pack;
And we sought and we found and we bayed on his track
Once, twice, and again!
As the dawn was breaking the Wolf-pack yelled
Once, twice, and again!
Feet in the jungle that leave no mark!
Eyes that can see in the dark -- the dark!
Tongue -- give tongue to it! Hark! O Hark!
Once, twice, and again!
His spots are the joy of the Leopard: his horns are the Buffalo's pride --
Be clean, for the strength of the hunter is known by the gloss of his hide.
If ye find that the Bullock can toss you, or the heavy-browed Sambhur can gore;
Ye need not stop work to inform us; we knew it ten seasons before.
Oppress not the cubs of the stranger, but hail them as Sister and Brother,
For though they are little and fubsy, it may be the Bear is their mother.
"There is none like to me!" says the Cub in the pride of his earliest kill;
But the Jungle is large and the Cub he is small. Let him think and be still.
poem by Rudyard Kipling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Spirits are coming to visit
Spirits are coming to visit,
Frog and Bee,
Coyote,
All away from home,
Coming for you,
Coming for healing.
Love is the key.
Eagles,
Dreams of flying
of belonging,
of the search
for legitimization.
Who is different?
Wolf,
pack animal,
highly attuned to belonging.
Lone Wolf,
and the pain of alienation
isolation
loneliness
Alone.
poem by Lewis MehlMadrona
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Wolf's Howl
Have You Ever Heard
A Lone Wolf’s Howl
… Sends Chills, Up My Spine
In Memory, (Even Now)
… Not Out Of Fear …
That’s Not What I Hear
It’s A Longing
A Calling
A Soul-Star Rising
And Vocalizing
A Notice … A Need
A Heed of The Breed
He’s Lifting His Head
Out Of The Dark
Not Like A Bark
But, Rite of Passage-Mark
Thru the Air, ‘Hahooooo’ Zooms
In Moonlight, and in Tune
A Long, Mellow Note
The Wolf Sung-Spoke
Wolf, is Howling To Say …
Same Things, We Pray …
Have You Ever Heard a Lone Wolf Howl
Sends Chills, Up My Spine (Even Now) ! …
poem by MoonBee Canady
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lupus
The Lupus
Wolf, feared animal in folktales, is back in north Europe
it was eradicated, or so we thought, but they have been
observed in woodlands wiser than before, they don’t
like sheep and rabbits avoid humans and dislike dogs.
prefer deer though, and wild boars. As historians tell us
never did wolves kill man. But you can’t beat the power
of fairytales, they eat little children and prowling cats.
If this goes on hunters say there will be no wild animals
For us to kill, get rid of them “grey foot” is our enemy.
And dark tales fill the papers, a wolf has been observed
near a kindergarten, spots of lamb blood in the snow.
Wolves are always seen in the mist just like in folklores
Let’s kill them now before it is too late our children get
eaten by those shadowy four legged, satanic monsters.
A question remains thought, why don’t wolves like sheep?
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shounen Stereotype
Shounen stereotype of male protagonist:
1. a fool
2. a fool genius
3. a commoner
4. a very unfortunate commoner
5. a tough guy
6. an ever hungry tough guy
7. a lone wolf
8. a pervert lone wolf
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wolf Moon
Though no longer amongst us
Their tradition and spirit lingers on
Like the names associated with
Each month's new full moon
A reoccurring theme in the cycle
When months are measured by moons returning
A practice common among indigenous peoples
In the month of January
A great moon rises slowly
And at night the Wolf pack howl out plaintively
For food is scarce and the wolves are hungry
To the First Peoples - The Wolf is brother
And only a brother can feel the pain of his brother's hunger
That is why the Native Peoples name January “Wolf Moon” in their brother's honor
Now to a museum, all too soon -The Tipi (tepee, teepee) has gone
Whilst within a reservation the Wolf Pack are free to roam
As for their spirit - It is running free
And cannot be captured, best to let it be
Your Brother, The Wolf never was your enemy
© Calac
poem by Chris Lane
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The strength of the wolf is in the pack, the strength of the pack is in the wolf.
Natural Selection for Friend Thad
I am a male an alpha plus.
My only purpose is to breed,
to sow the seeds of genius.
So that my offspring will succeed.
I am the leader of the pack.
No one is fit to take my place.
I have the wisdom which they lack.
I am the wolf who sets the pace.
We work together as a team
but I direct the strategy
I have the wit to plan and scheme
The other wolves defer to me.
That is the way it has to be
As long as I am best I’ll lead.
Some day some pup will challenge me
and hopefully he will succeed..
I am a male an alpha plus
but even alpha males grow old.
In nature it was ever thus
The leadership goes to the bold.
I’m not the wolf I used to be.
I’ve had my time now I must leave.
The pack goes on triumphantly
just as it should do I believe..
To lead the pack a privilege
that’s only open to a few.
Who have the strength and the knowledge
to rule the pack as they must do.
A pack that lacks strong leadership
will very quickly succumb to
lack of direction and hardship.
A leader must know what to do.
But also know he must give way.
To new leader in due course
He’s played the part he had to play
a law that nature will enforce.
Only the best is fit to lead
life is a struggle to survive.
Though a strong leader will succeed
ensuring that his pack will live.
Though leaders come and leaders go.
The pack remains an entity
Since time began it has been so
and will for ever seemingly.
11/06/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lone Wolf
I sit on this rock
Feeling hopeless inside
A lone wolf am I
I howl at the moon
Wishing it would howl back
If it did I would not feel so lonely inside
Its glow seems to say
Don’t worry it’s going to be alright
But I feel lonely just the same
I wonder if, on this night
There is another wolf
Who also feels hopeless inside
I wish for a friend
Just like me
Who sometimes feels lonely inside
Loneliness is like a pit of darkness
Right where your heart should be
It grasps you and wont lose its hold
Because loneliness is like a great beast
That lives within us all
So, I think, we must try to fight back
But I know one thing for certain
Everyone at one time or another
Is a lone wolf
poem by Giuliana Carder
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hidden Observer
The lone gray wolf sat still once more,
Next to another tree...
As if to tap his frozen paw,
In time, impatiently...
The snow had stopped, the breeze was cool,
He sighed another sigh...
And there he sat, as if a fool,
For something to pass by...
An hour vanished like the sun
That clouds had blocked from sight.
Yet there was nothing to be done,
Waiting in that twilight...
Starvation haunts the carnivores
When snow sets on the ground.
The lone gray wolf can't rest indoors
When there's no food around...
Then drooping ears pricked up at last!
A rustling sound was heard...
The lone gray wolf then ran so fast
To catch the helpless bird!
The ancient battle then ensued,
The hunter and the prey...
This time, the wolf had won the fued
And food was on its way...
The ancient rules must still apply...
For Nature's Laws must serve her...
That's why, beneath the twilight sky,
He's the hidden observer...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Hidden Observer'.
The Stephen Gayford poems can be viewed here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fat Dogs Wear Well Fed Collars
the wolf cannot wear your collar
the wolf cannot eat your slave bread
the wolf feels a free wind on free face
the wolf hears all sounds freedom fed
the wolf must hunt for its piece of meat
the wolf hunts mountains where free rivers meet
the wolf will starve to death as lean winter creeps
the wolf paints landscapes scenes as death inward seeps
the wolf licks not the beast man’s hand wolf never weeps
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lone Wolf...
I rely on myself as the lone wolf
I gain strength from my own company
That I may understand and except myself
Raise myself to triumph in lifes trials
I rely on no-one for there in lurks weakness
Only true self control can reawaken my soul
Patroling the shadows of my emotions
My instincts must predict lifes next move
My Cosmic survival relies on my denial of pain
To usher in an age of selfish revolution
To discover my lone wolf, to discover my independence...
Spread the love... The peace will follow...
poem by Cosmic Dreamer
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Tundra Wolf Eats Wild Joy Life Survival
tundra wolf alone has survived vicious winter
alone without pack without companionship
has survived all challenges imposed in winter
fur very long dense fluffy soft survival postures
top hairs 150-160 mm guard hairs 80-150 mm
underfur 70 mm layers survival light grey colour
lower fur lead-grey upper fur reddish-grey ensures
wind composite layers in tundra wolf running
ranging over Arctic rim hunting prey life ensures
wild domestic reindeer snow sheep hares arctic foxes
feed power tundra muscles for long ranges running
make birth den in river valleys thickets in dry plateaus
rarely will tundra wolf make form permanent home territories
winter coast malting hangs on lone male wolf rough proud
looping across tundra landscape seeking reindeer migrations
days past not eating moving moving seeking prey life kills
searching herds scouting out weakness in migration herds
run lone wolf run forty minutes 30 mph hunting weakness
run with hope run with life joy smile in wild range spirit
no reindeer slow injured fall to paws gripping claws
race hunt abandoned lone wolf joy cools in pool ice waters
it is good to run it is good to be healthy flex strong muscles
season begs movement 200 300km ranging stamina wilderness runs
to hunt to live to breathe life tundra air hunting wild distances
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Jiggle-joggle! Giggle-goggle! A LONE WOLF Struggles in the Jungle!
Ships pass in the night speaks only a signal shown by choice
To other ships passing by – it’s a distant voice in the darkness;
Same as the ocean of life, one speaks by a look and a voice
To another then darkness again and silence in the duskiness.
Jiggle-joggle! Giggle-goggle! A lone wolf struggles in the jungle!
My heart flinches as another heart doesn’t answer and a frown,
My mind squinches if he hears only the echoes of my own;
Thoughts and finds no other inspiration - in frustration I am;
For A-Z loneness is my home, right to the end alone I am!
Jiggle-joggle! Giggle-goggle! A lone wolf struggles in the jungle!
Loneliness is killing me with spine-chilling terror, I can’t bear;
Loneliness is tormenting me with thousand hells; I can shed a tear;
I don't want to sleep as loneliness digs a hole in me – oh my dear!
I love everyone but none can hear nor come near but one fear.
Jiggle-joggle! Giggle-goggle! A lone wolf struggles in the jungle!
Alone each minute, alone each hour of every night and day,
Alone I walk the streets at night, alone I live, alone I dream,
Alone I eat, alone I sleep; alone I weep, I cry and I scream!
Alone I stay, alone I lay; alone I pray to end this life – I say......
Jiggle-joggle! Giggle-goggle! A lone wolf struggles in the jungle!
poem by Harindhar Reddy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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