To live with wolves, you have to howl like a wolf.
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Snow wolves
I can hear the wolves
Howl in the distance
The howl is suddenly
Dampened by the falling snow
In a clearing
I see the wolves howl
Perched on the slanted rock
They cry to the moon
The moon cries back
It cries with agony
It cries because of death
Death witnessed beneath it's glow
The wolves turn and howl
The snow doesn't let up
But blows harder
Through blind panic
i run
I hear the wolves howl
Only it isn't in the distance
poem by Eric Ripley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Three Wolves
Three, lonely wolves once lived together,
each one wished for a separate thing.
The first wolf wished for companionship,
so the moon was created for him to howl at every night.
The second wolf wished to be able to see the paths that lay ahead of him,
so the sun was created and he now walked on without fear.
The third wolf wished to be able to see his past,
so the stars were created and he was told that each one was the spirit of an ancestor.
poem by Louis Parr
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The Wolf Song
Twas a night - one night in far away plains
the wolves sat in
half circles
howling away to the moon shine.
The wind whispers, the wolf howll:
shh ahooo shh ahooo shh ahooo ahooo ahooo ahooo ahooo
shh ahooo shh ahooo shh ahooo ahooo ahooo ahooo ahooo
In far away plains moon shines
through thick fog of darknesss-
orange glows thinly in silence-
wolves wonder the far away plains;
under the moon shine.
The wind whispers, the wolf howl:
shh ahooo shh ahooo shh ahooo ahooo ahooo ahooo ahooo
shh ahooo shh ahooo shh ahooo ahooo ahooo ahooo ahooo
A pale glow plays teasingly
in the dark sky.
Stars hang dangling near water's edge.
The wind blows blows away the pale glow
and thick fog covers lightly
and soon
the wind whispers, the wolves howl:
shh ahooo shh ahooo shh ahooo ahooo ahooo ahooo ahooo
shh ahooo shh ahooo shh ahooo ahooo ahooo ahooo ahooo
poem by Celine Berghmans
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To my True Love
This moon keeps my heart beatin..
And helps me through my days..
Untill one day I get to her
just like the Wolf trying to get to the moon...
Which they howl at all the time because
To wolves it is like their goddess
To people it is just the moon,
But this special girl is like the moon
And I am like the wolf.
poem by Tyler Anhorn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Howl of the Night
A howl can be herd in the night as the snow falls
A howl can run through and enter the soul of
The wolf who's heart is as pure as the grain
A howl shall show no mercy and shall either hunt you
Or guide you, It will be strong and hard -the howl of the night.
The howl shall come from the spirit of the strongest,
The bravest and the boldest.
It will not be weak, as the wind carries the howl farther
To the Pack, all will awaken and cry with
The howl of the night.
poem by Rebecca Seetahal
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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You'll live, but I'll not; perhaps
You'll live, but I'll not; perhaps,
The final turn is that.
Oh, how strongly grabs us
The secret plot of fate.
They differently shot us:
Each creature has its lot,
Each has its order, robust, --
A wolf is always shot.
In freedom, wolves are grown,
But deal with them is short:
In grass, in ice, in snow, --
A wolf is always shot.
Don't cry, oh, friend my dear,
If, in the hot or cold,
From tracks of wolves, you'll hear
My desperate recall.
poem by Anna Akhmatova
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Wolf In Me
The wolf in me,
it wants to come out.
Come out and howl.
Howl at the moon.
The wolf in me,
wants to come out.
Come out and run free.
Through the mountains.
The wolf in me,
wants to break free.
Free from the hold,
that this prison has on me.
poem by Ninja Soul
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Just Writting About Wolfs
days get colder nights get longer..wind howls a lonely howl
deep in the night a lone wolf howls do his howls fall on def ears
as he sits high upon a cliff looking down upon the woods he calls home
he wonders in the shadows a loner but never really alone
we has the wind the earth and the air that goes threw him
it like an old friend to him the darkness the shadows
the wolf wonders alone in mind and thoughts
whats he thinking of
we may never know know....
but hawk circles above does he hear the howl as the wolf says hello in the nights sky to hawk
flying so live so free
the wolf is the path finder the teacher they finder of the way
the hawk hears the howl and carries the message up to the sky
what the message, , , , , you may as for each its difffenrt each its own sound even one of silance
the wolf knows all is well in the world tonght
dont know why i wrote this one or whats its meaning is just kinda came to me as i sat here watching the football game
hope you all enjoyed
greyicewolf
.
poem by Jeff Greyicewolf
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The Wolf Inside
The wounded howl aloud
A howl that runs like water
Shivers down your spine
Tonight you will whine
Death is at my heels
The wolf inside wants to devour
I no longer want to feel
I no longer want to cower
I cry the red tears
I release all my fear
The unwanted die alone
The alone live in peace
Love shatters the soul
But keeps the heart beating
The wolf inside longed to be free
It wanted to run
But you left me
Every night brings pain
Every night the beast inside gains
Taking me away from you
I know what I must do
Sorrow lasts through this night
I'll take a peice of you
And keep in memory
I know what I must do
I must live without you
poem by Ashley Morris
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Li'l Red Riding Hood
[howls]
Who's that I see walkin' in these woods?
Why it's Little Red Ridin' Hood
Hey there Little Red Riding Hood
You sure are lookin' good
You're everything a big bad wolf would want
Listen to me [howl]
Little Red Ridin' Hood
I don't think even big girls should
Go walkin' in these spooky old woods alone
[howls]
What big eyes you have
The kind of eyes that drive wolves mad
So, just to see that you don't get chased
I think I ought to walk with you for a way
What full lips you have
They're sure to lure someone bad
So, untill you get to grandma's place
I think you ought to walk, with me and be safe
I'm gonna keep my sheep suit on
Till I'm sure that you've been shown
That I can be trusted walkin' with you alone
[howls]
Little Red Ridin' Hood
I'd like to hold you if I could
But you might think I'm a big bad wolf, so I won't
[howls]
What a big heart I have
The better to love you with
Little Red Ridin' Hood
Even bad wolves can be good
I'll try to be satisfied
Just to walk close by your side
Maybe you'll see things my way
Before we get to grandma's place
Little Red Ridin' Hood
You sure are lookin' good
You're everything a big bad wolf could want
[howls]
(Baaa)
song performed by by Bowling For Soup
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Running With Wolves
Trapped in submission,
Sumberged in this condition,
Trapped in a shell,
I wish I could quell.
To be free is a dream,
To have what I desire is a wish.
Where can I go,
Where will this path lead,
From this shell I'll never grow,
From this body I won't stop to bleed.
Running with wolves,
An impossible dream,
A most wanted wish.
This shell hiding the beast inside,
I walk in skin,
He talks to me as a guide,
He is my friend, my opposite, my twin.
For him to break free,
What a day that would be,
Until...I abide,
Always there yet he hides inside.
The burning sensation,
To howl,
To run,
To feel the fascination.
Though I feel no fur,
Scratch no claws,
Run no forest,
Howl no song.
My dreams keep me in fascination,
They drive the sensation,
The wolf inside keeps me alive,
The running of the wolves makes me thrive.
poem by Evan Skora
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
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If you live among wolves you have to act like a wolf.
quote by Nikita Khrushchev
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He that lives with wolves, must howl with wolves.
Warning and Promise
Wolves howl, chill warning,
Songs of red blood.
Hunters smile, men reach for spears,
Stone, one with wood.
Our Lady of wolves, with fangs,
In dark shadows is seen.
Howl, children of darkness, follow,
Run with your white queen.
Circles of shadows, cover the prey,
Red stains the snow.
Blood on white snow, ice and fire,
Stars spin, and glow.
poem by Jerome Brooke
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