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Scavenging

All the boys crammed
The puncture of evanescence
Like kings with poly-vinyl thrones
Eyes moseying the harried ducts
Prying, calculating, or simply
Living on the surface of things
Life ebbed and they're still
A wolf pack; licking legs,
Grinding fangs, cigarette parting
The superfluous lips
And I was there, somersaulting
Behind the surrealistic blur
Scavenging amongst the wolves:
A swarthy incompetent sot
With an illustrious frivolity
Of a decaying carrion
In the wolves' den,
Prying, calculating
The oddities.

Many a men can,
I'm a man who wouldn't
Or more apt, can not
Become a member of the pack.

poem by Norman Santos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Winter Pack

The wolves run in the night
Searching for something thats just out of sight
They hunt together on this frigid winter's night
Searching for food that will take the hunger away

The alpha stops, followed by his pack
Along a frozen lake shore is an elk
Who plays alone in the deep winter snow
The wolves are hungry they're ready for attack

The wolves circle 'round without a sound
The elk doesn't notice at all
One sharp yap and the wolves charge
The elk has fallen and tonight will be a feast

The alpha eats with hungry gazes upon him
When the rest of the pack eat it is time for sleep
But first the alpha howls and it rises through the pack
This is not a mournful hungry howl, but a joyus happy one

The wolves go to sleep under the full moon
They are happy and filled with food
They dream dreams of the coming spring
When the toll of winter will leave this winter pack.

poem by Hannah Branz
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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The scorching sun

Prying eyes are the scorching sun.
Prying eyes dry the sprouting love.
Prying eyes fail the budding love.
Yet there spring fresh sprouts and buds.
08.09.2010

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
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Fairies

They are formed with affection,
They are formed by a small child,
They are formed by a lone mind,
Now they start to fill the skies,
Life recovers from the cold,
Dancing amongst the blossom,
They're wherever we don't look,
Hiding from our prying eyes,
Life gets scorched by the cruel sun,
Dancing in the warm night breeze,
They scamper from human sounds,
Hiding from our prying eyes,
Life prepares for the darkness,
Dancing on dying leaves,
They're nowhere that we can find,
Hiding from our prying eyes,
Life is sleeping through the cold,
Dancing on the icy mist,
They find solace when alone,
Hiding from our prying eyes,
They are killed with denial,
They are killed by a small child,
They are killed with a glass jar,
Until they are almost gone.

poem by Christian Lacdael
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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

poem by Chris Lane
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Leaders Of The Pack

At first, the two wolves look the same
As others in the pack,
Yet in their hearts there burns a flame
That flares when they attack,
For Nature calls upon each one
To hunt when hunger strikes,
Then wolves beneath the setting sun
Do what nobody likes...

Survival's played out day and night
Beneath the sun and moon
That watch on high while creatures fight
And leave their bodies strewn,
Yet those that live must strive again
For hunger soon returns
And leaders know the moment when
The flame inside them burns...

The savage beasts outlive the doomed,
The helpless and the frail,
And though successes aren't assumed,
The leaders rarely fail,
For such as these are born not made
And conscience holds no sway,
For wolves are wolves when all is weighed
And all the world's their prey...

Denis Martindale, copyright, March 2011.

The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Leaders Of The Pack'.

More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com

poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I wanted marriage for myself. I was not calculating about it. I wish I was more calculating.

quote by Linda McCartney
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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But I wanted marriage for myself. I was not calculating about it. I wish I was more calculating.

quote by Linda McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pack Leaders

The two wolves walked, one thought in mind,
Survival was no game,
That's why their two strengths were combined
When hunting was their aim...
Two heads better, as some would say,
That plan had served them well,
For when they chased the fleeing prey,
They all ran close to Hell...

Each time they tried to track new scents...
Their hunger stayed the same,
With no disgust for past events,
No sense of guilt or shame...
That's why they paced themselves this hour
And kept at bay their dread,
Conserving all their dregs of power
For what must lay ahead...

The two wolves sought no friends or fans,
So wild no man could tame,
The world itself was their expanse,
They sought no claim to fame...
Pack leaders come, pack leaders go,
For now, they ruled by might,
A fact that only few would do,
Yet true both day and night...

Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2011.

The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Pack Leaders'.

More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com

poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pigs, Sheep And Wolves

Bit and fat
Pigs supposed to look like that
Barnyard thug
Sleep on straw and calls it a rug
Yeah thats a rug, ok
Hes walking down the street
And nobodys going to argue with him
Hes a half-a-ton of pig meat
Up in the hills above the farm
Lives a pack of wolves
Never did a harm
Sleep all day
Hunt till four
Maybe catch a couple of rodents
You know carnivore
Sheep in the meadow
Nibbling on some clover
One of the sheep wanders over
Sits by a rock
Separated from the flock
Hes just sitting by a rock
Whered he go?
I dont know
Well he was here a minute ago
I dont know
Sheeps dead
Got a gash as big as a wolfs head
Oh god
Big and fat
Pigs supposed to look like that
Wallowing in lanolin
Hes rubbing it into his pigskin
Police going crazy
Lets get him
Lets get that wolf
Lets get him
Lets get that wolf
Lets get him
Lets kill him, Lets get him
Lets kill him
Court-appointed lawyer wasnt very bright
Or maybe he was bright
Maybe he just had a late night
Yeah it was just a late night
And he files some feeble appeal
And the governor says forget it
Its a done deal
Election, I dont care, election
Lets give that wolf a lethal injection
Lets get him, yeah get him
Lets kill him, Lets get him
Lets kill him, Lets get him,kill him
Lets get him and kill him
Whew, slow
Here comes the media
Setting up their camera
Asking everyones opinion
About pigs, sheep and wolves
Big and fat
Pigs supposed to laugh like that
This is hilarious
What a great time
Im the pig who committed
The perfect crime
All around the world
France, Scandinavia
Theres a candle light vigils
Protesting this behavior
Its animal behavior
Animal behavior
Its Pig, sheep and wolves
Pig, sheep and wolves
Pig, sheep and wolves
Its animal behavior
Pig, sheep and wolves

song performed by by Paul Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Power, Hunger

They say one and one is two.
What if I hide one every other interval?
One and one becomes three, then four, then nine,
Keeping a breezy countenance, while
Inside calculating, calculating, the numbers
Filming perception over, and they say hunger
But I'm the one to bestarve.
They worship at my feet, scrawny drunk bastards
Out of their minds.

poem by Eon Ezkiel
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pigs, Sheep & Wolves

Words & music by paul simon
Big and fat
Pigs supposed to look like that
Barnyard thug
Sleeps on straw and calls it a rug
Yeah thats a rug, ok
Ses walking down the street
And nobodys gonna argue with him
Hes a half-a-ton of pig meat
Up in the hills above the farm
Lives a pack of wolves
Never did no harm
Sleep all day
Hunt till four
Maybe catch a couple of rodents
You know carnivore
Sheep in the meadow
Nibbling on some clover
One of the sheep wanders over
Sits by a rock
Separated from the flock
Hes just sitting by a rock
Whered he go? dont know
Well he was here a minute ago
I dont know
Sheeps dead
Got a gash as big as a wolfs head
Oh god
Big and fat
Pigs supposed to look like that
Wallowing in lanolin
Hes rubbing it into his pigskin
Police going crazy
Lets get him
Lets get that wolf
Lets get him
Lets get that wolf
Lets get him
Lets kill him, lets get him
Lets kill him
Court-appointed lawyer wasnt very bright
Oh maybe he was bright
Maybe he just had a late night
Yeah it was just a late night
And he files some feeble appeal
And the governor says forget it
Its a done deal
Election, I dont care, election
Lets give that wolf a lethal iniection
Lets get him, yeah get him,
Lets kill him, lets get him
Lets kill him, lets get him, kill him
Lets get him and kill him
Whew, slow
Here comes the media
Setting up their camera
Asking everyones opinion
About pigs, sheep and wolves
Big and fat
Pigs supposed to laugh like that
This is hilarious
What a great time
Im the pig who committed
The perfect crime
All around the world
France, scandinavia
Theres candle light vigils
Protesting this behavior
It s animal behavior
Animal behavior
Its pigs, sheep and wolves
Pigs, sheep and wolves
Pigs, sheep and wolves
Its animal behavior
Its pigs, sheep and wolves

song performed by by Paul Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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The Winter Wolves Are Coming

The Winter Wolves are coming
They are drawing ever near
The Winter Wolves are coming
They smell our blood, our fear

The Winter Wolves are coming
In packs of hundreds and more
The Winter Wolves are coming
They are knocking at our door

The Winter Wolves are coming
With teeth as sharp as knives
The Winter Wolves are coming
They mean to take our lives

The Winter wolves are coming
The smell our blood, our fear
The Winter Wolves are coming
The Cold of Death is here.

poem by Tim Vallie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Prying Eyes

Do you ever get that feeling
someone is watch you all the time.
Scrutinising every move you make
so they can tittle-tattle to the boss,
even if you innocently talk to someone.
It is an uncomfortable feeling
that you get from prying eyes
and there is nothing you can do about it,
except find another job and leave.
There is nothing you can say
when the one with prying eyes
is related to the boss.

29 February 2008

poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Water Closet

We are in the water closet
adjacent perpendicular mirrors
you sink ninety degrees on vertical
teeth brushing body bent axis horizontal

Mmmhhhh...
yes
oral hygiene stimulate arousal cleansing

You are bending brushing bristling
backside tattoo target inviting

I behind you lust limb salivating
stalk to sweep fine bristles beating
scrubbing swaying brushing
I sweep swayed toward for following

Your call mating instincts answer
spring pounce prey posterior
as I the deviant disciplinarian to wallop
my wonderful water closet trollop

How I so delight sight anticpatory
you bracing administration's imagining
whoop-wallop deviant deliciously
spontaneous training demented delivery

Pack! Pa-pack!
Pa-pack -a- pack PACT! !

Such a sweetest slapping rapping