A vampire's beauty
THE SUN SETS AS THE MOON RISES THE MEMBERS OF MY CLAN RISE FROM THE SHADOWS WE CLMB TO THE ROOFS OF OUR HOUSE AND HOWL AT THE MOON THEN THE NIGHTMARE BEGINS AGAIN FOR THESE MORTALS AS WE DESTROY THEM ONE BY ONE EATING THEIR INSIDES THEIR BLOOD DRIPS FROM MY FANGS I'VE BECOME THE ONE THING I WAS SUPPOSE TO DESTROY.WE RUN AND RUN FOR MILES IN SEACH OF FOOD OR VAMPIRES THE BLOOD OF A VAMPIRE DEALY TO MAN BUT DELIOUS TO US BUT AS WE FIND A VAMPIRE AWAY FROM HER CLAN I CONER HER BUT WHEN I SEE HER FACE I STARE INTO HER BEAUTIFUL BROWN EYES ASWELL AS HER NATURAL BEAUTY I GO FOR THE KILL BUT WHEN I DO SHE STARE RIGHT BACK INTO MY EYES I HEAR THE HOWL TO LEAVE FOR THE SUN IS RISEING AND WE CANT BE SEEN IN ARE WOLF FORM WE HEAD BACK TO OUR HOUSES AS ANGERY TEENAGERS BUT THE ONLY THING I WAS THINKING OF WAS THAT VAMPIRE AND HOW CAN WE KILL SOMETHING SO BEAUTIFUL BUT YET I REALIZED THAT VAMPIRE WAS THE ONE WHO KILL OUR LEADER THE WHITE WOLF MY ANGER IS BEENING UNLEASH BUT THE CLAN STOPS ME FROM TRANSFORMING AGAIN.
THE FOLLOWING NIGHT THE CLAN REGROUPS AT THE SAME LOCATION WERE A SAW HER WE TRANSFORM BACK INTO HUMANS BUT WE STAY HIDDEN HOURS GO BY SHE CAUGHT OUR SCENT SHE FALLS RIGHT FOR OUR TRAP WE FOLLOW HER AND WHEN WE CONERED HER I TRANSFORM BACK INTO A WOLF BUT WHEN I GO FOR THE KILL HER CLAN APPERS OUT OF NO WHERE WE WERE EACH IN A BATTLE BUT WHEN SHE STRIKES I STOPED HER AND BEAT HER BADLY IF ONLY I WOULD HAD CLAWED HER SHE WOULD HAD BEEN DEAD BY KNOW BUT I KEEP HER AS A PERSONER AND LET HER WATCH US DEVARE HER CLANS BY THE TIME WE'RE DONE THE SUN IS ALREADY RISEING WE DESCIED TO TAKE HER TO OUR UNDER GROND LAIR AND KEEP HER THERE UNTIL I DESCIED WHEN TO KILL HER AND SHE OPENS HER EYES AS WE BEGIN TO CHANGE BACK INTO HUMANS I CARRY HER TO THE LAIR THE ONLY THING I TOLD HER HERE JUST DRINK I CUT MY WRIST AND SHE BEGINS TO DRINK BUT AFTER SHE FINSH SHE PASSES OUT AND BEGAN TO COUGH OUT BLOOD. FOUR DAYS GO BY AND SHE WAKES UP A HUMAN NO LONGER A VAMPIRE BECAME WEAKER AND WEAKER BUT YET NO MORE DANGER WELL COME NEAR HER AGAIN FOR WHEN THE FULL MOON RISES AGAIN SHE'LL TURN INTO A WOLF THE EVERYSAME THING THAT HAPPENED TO HER HAPPENED TO ME AS THIS STORY ENDS I TAKE HER WITH ME OUTSIDE AND WE HOWL TO THE MOON AND TRANSFORM INTO WOLVES ONCE MORE AND THE HUNT BEGINS AGAIN.
poem by Micheal Diaz
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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
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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
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Arctic Beauty
The wily wolf deserves respect.
Some children think it's cute...
But most of us, I would suspect,
Are somewhat more astute!
The wolf is wild, no fast-formed friend,
Untamed by modern man.
It doesn't seek to comprehend
What humans want to plan...
The wolf is wary all the time,
To every sound it hears.
Its instincts are, of course, sublime,
Whenever danger nears!
The wolf survives cold Winter's spell...
Determined day-by-day...
To bide its time, then howl, 'Farewell! '
When Spring is here to stay!
The wolf delights in Summer's heat
With all that this entails -
For then, its speed is hard to beat,
In fact, it rarely fails.
The wolf is known to howl at night,
To serenade the moon...
This wailing noise can cause us fright
And some of us to swoon...
The wolf won't change to suit Mankind...
It's lived without his aid.
A wilder creature's hard to find.
The legends never fade.
The wolf is callous to the core,
Like any hunting beast.
Each bloodied tooth, each bloodied claw
Proves hunting hasn't ceased.
The wily wolf has cubs to feed,
The future to preserve...
It doesn't kill for hate or greed...
Just life upon this Earth...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Arctic Beauty'.
The Stephen Gayford poems can be viewed here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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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
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Vampire Memory
When I go I go,
When I stay I stay,
And in all that you will always think of me.
Never forget,
Never forgetting a vampires memory,
A night with memories,
Vampire memories,
I watch you watching me,
You watch me watching you,
I look away,
You can’t,
I look back at you,
You’re still watching me,
You’ll never forget,
A vampire memory,
And you’ll never see me,
Unless I see you and let you see me.
Never forget,
Never forget,
Never forget a vampire memory.
I wistfully watch as you step in the sun,
I wistfully see you dance in the light,
Laughing at the irony,
I can never forget a vampire memory,
I am a vampire that can never forget,
You are a human, who will never forget,
And I can see that you want to but don’t and can’t.
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
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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
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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
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A Vampire Clan
Twilight had arrived at the castle
by the sea
Just as princess came back to
her bedroom
She was always inside the castle
dusk til dawn
For the bad vampires and demons
were many spawn
Her father always says it is best not
to invite trouble
But sometimes mad trouble comes
to you uninvited
As the dropp dead gorgeous demon
who is in disguise
Or the brain eating zombie who has
the red eyes
A vicious vampire clan came to her
bedroom window
With a joke and a laugh they decided
to go inside
To quickly capture the beautiful princess
all demons fear
Never did they know their time was
already near
poem by Rachel Nichols
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The Wolf and The Moon
The Wolf and The Moon
By Tolly Rebeka Christian BlackWolf Hawk
The day is past and the Moon now rises from beneath the mountain to greet the stars.
The Moon smiles on the sleeping towns, their drone wound down. However, in the
forest, Life is still flowing full speed. The Owl fly’s his “day” begun, “Who, Halloo
Moon! ” “Hello to you Owl.” The Moon spins on his way. He makes many more
greetings to the animals of the forest. He starts to grow weary, and makes ready to bed
down for the day when the Wolf came to visit and talk as the animals and Moon talk,
“My good friend Wolf! How are you? ” Wolf jumps playfully to and fro, “I am glad
Wolf that it has been good for you! It is almost time for the Sun to come up now, I
have to go home.” The Wolf whimpered and followed the Moon. When the Moon was
almost home he turned to the Wolf and asked, “Why do you follow me? ” the Wolf
jumped and landed in the Moons hands and curled up with a tremendous sigh. “No
Wolf you cannot come with me, not yet, but now that I know you love me we will be
together in spirit, and someday you will be able to come with me to my home to live.”
For years, the Wolf ran with the Moon at night, and then they would part ways at
dawn. One day while the sun was shining brightly the Wolf, now old to earthly eyes,
faded to a wisp of mist from mortal sight, on the night of the New Moon. You could
see, that night, a cloud in his shape running before the Moon, and as the Moon grew
fuller you could see on the face of the Moon a shape like that old Wolf, you could see a
promise kept. The Moon and Wolf were friends, one entity forever.
poem by Tolly Rebeka Christian BlackWolf Hawk
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The Witches Are Laughing At Us Now, I Know It
The vampire kids all turned each other to vampires
The zombie kids walk around depressed
While the vampire kids take their anger out on them
And each other
Much like a civil war
The hate allotted between the three of us
I try to take no part but the vamps hate me anyway
Because the vampires hate everyone
And the zombies only hate themselves
Then me and the vampires have it out
Every once in a full moon
But I don’t hate them because they hate me
I just hate them sometimes
But then I remember just how ignorant
They can be and let it all go back to normal
And I forget all about the zombies
Cause I have no sympathy for self loathing
poem by Dan Walters
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I Shriek
I shriek with sound that matters,
Falling is to entice a devil into my arms,
My body hoped for anything averse to hell,
And my hold drank the blood of another;
One vampire, two humans they equal,
For my nothingness is terrible to humans
And I entice the demons of unholy greatness,
To dreaming the throbs of terror
And dazzling painful feeling, which is without emotion.
It vexes me to search the body, that innocent game
Is of kissing for blood, the blood of evil.
I suck often as a prize, whispers may destroy my life.
It is a ghastly occupation being a vampire,
But blood seizes us and we deliver.
poem by Naveed Akram
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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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A Vampire Clan's Dilemma
When the princess
of the sparkling castle
by the aqua blue sea
is confronted by evil
She always knows
exactly what to do
keeps her calm
and has no fear
Not even surprised
on this night
of the blue moon
When five vicious vampires
came rather quickly
through the window
With a hungry look
on their ravaged face
drool on their chin
A dead stare with
a now or never
determination
Five vicious vampires
with one goal and plan
to capture one princess
a very easy task
A vampire princess
a true vampire delight
With the introduction
of her new friend
shockwave annihilator
A miracle was performed
in nanoseconds
five vampires gone
One beautiful princess
enjoying her room
with favourite view
poem by Rachel Nichols
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Blood of an Innoccent Little Vampire, Maria
Blood of an Innoccent Little Vampire, Maria
By, Demon
Maria,
Maria come to me,
Mom will sing a song to you that she once knew,
Far,
Far that angel did cross and he gave me my dear Maria,
Oh my Maria that I love so,
My little angel,
My angel of white and black,
My dear angel that I named my Maria,
My little angel covered in blood,
Oh my Maria what have you done,
Blood covering your whole body,
So many dead bodies on the floor,
So much blood every where on you and me,
The bite marks on our bodies,
Where did they come from my dear Maria,
The blood dripping from our mouths,
Oh my Maria what have we done,
The blood tastes so good to us,
The angel that gave me my Maria,
Wasn’t an angel he was a vampire,
A white haired demon with blood red eyes,
Our fangs paired with our angelic vampire.
poem by Demon Elwin
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Wolfblood
She looks like a schoolgirl, but a dark secret she hides;
It is only in her own kind, that she feels able to confide.
Whenever there's a full moon, her human form morphs
Into the sleek and unmistakable form of a female wolf.
In human form, when feelings of anger take ahold,
Her eyes immediately flash the colour of liquid gold.
Whenever she feels threatened, she lets out a roar;
Her once brave assailants will then run away for sure.
With a face full of fury and her sharp teeth bared,
The humans about her feel both shocked and scared.
Her primal cravings for meat, she must learn to control;
She must learn how to pacify her true Wolfblood soul.
As she grows older, she has so many things to learn.
So many unanswered questions inside her still burn.
The blood of wolves pulses through her every vein;
Trying to keep such a secret, drives her almost insane.
As a wolf, all of her senses are suddenly heightened;
Her once heavy tread is now considerably lightened.
This teenage Wolfblood, and all those of her breed,
Can travel both field and forest at breakneck speed.
All night long, she has the freedom to run and play,
But, as a wolf, from humans, she must stay well away.
Unbeknown to her friends, she lives a double existence,
But from wild Wolfbloods, she must keep her distance.
Only her own kind, have ever witnessed her change:
If humans saw her shape-shift, they'd think it strange.
The rules of being a Wolfblood are extremely clear:
You must never totally transform when humans are near.
In the dead of night, her friends have heard her howls:
Little do any of them realise that it is one of their pals.
A relationship with teenage humans, she happily builds,
But it's vital that her closely guarded secret isn't revealed.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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I Had A Vampire
I had a dream about a vampire
His hair was fair with flames
His eyes sparkled like sapphire
Only a few who knew his name.
He had big and bulky muscles
And he stood around 6 feet tall
Only the bravest of the bravest
And the fearless of them all
Would ever be so valliant
As to even walk up to the tree
Where this monster awaits for dinner,
And say 'Lord, be with me.'
The bravest of the bravest
And the fearless of them all
Would take upon this vampire
And possibly make it fall.
He drew his sword out of his sheath,
And approached the wicked beast
For it leaped into the air
And onto him the very least.
Man slung his sword left and right,
But vampire had already won
With a bite of pearly white fangs
The evil deed was done.
But wait why is he standing up?
Man was a man no more
For vampire only bit once,
And the venom had the score.
Two vampires now there are,
Out to get the strong ones
The men who think superior
And did what had to be done.
Now an army of vampires,
Each one different but the same
Hung to the courage they had
Still a few hold their name
Of man, though they were not man,
But they had a man's willpower
To overcome this evilness
And fight hour after hour
Against the two strongest monsters,
The ones who started the fall
They tore away the bravest of the bravest
And the fearless of them all.
The one with the hair of flames
And blue sapphire eyes
Leapt onto one of the biggest
And he fell down in surprise.
Vampire ripped him to pieces,
Shredded him apart
Tearing out the only thing needed,
His no-longer beating heart.
Vampire took down all the men
The whole army one by one
This time he made sure of it
And knew he finally won.
I woke up surprisingly happy
Knowing the vampire with flame
Had won an evil victory
But I still didn't know his name
Until one day I met him
In another one of my dreams
Or maybe it was real
Nothing is what it seems.
Whether it be a dream or real,
I woke up a vampire.
With flowing hair of flames
And he was my only desire.
poem by Rebecca Ryan
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Lamian Lamentations
There is no such thing as innocence
To an addict
Like a vampire who craves the blood not the bite
It keeps them medicated
It keeps them warm
It makes them innocent
There is no right from wrong
Only pain from which to deliver oneself
Evil is not a consequence considered
Righteous are they who seek to punish the avenger
For they will be forgiven
There is no such thing as innocence
Only justice served cold with revenge and a drink
And Justice is a vampire
poem by Ted Sheridan
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A too severe Penalty? ? story poem
The vampire breed grows more profuse.
According to the latest news
They have evolved and hunt by day
This frightens me I have to say.
I used to stay indoors by night
and do my chores in broad daylight.
I knew that vampires feared the sun
But now that last safeguard is gone.
They used to fear the crucifix
just as they should the heretics.
But now we have no defence at all.
Should a vampire choose to call.
They do not wear long flowing cloaks
they dress like all the other folks.
There is no way you can be sure
about the family next door
You cannot tell who you can trust.
To be quite free of the blood lust.
Even the Vicar is not free
of being watched suspiciously.
I do not mind donating blood.
I feel quite strongly that I should
but only voluntarily
and taken scientifically.
I live alone reclusively
and venture out reluctantly.
Do all my shopping on the net
which seems to be the safest bet.
I often wonder what they’ll do
when everyone’s a vampire too.
No humans left on which to prey.
They’ll have to find some other way.
To satisfy their thirst for blood
Though I have always understood.
They do not prey on their own kind
Because their systems are designed
to digest only human blood.
Their prime and only source of food
When the last of us is gone
and no one left to feast upon
They’ll be condemned eternally
to wander wailing hungrily.
A well deserv’ed punishment
for preying on the innocent
Thee is no court of last appeal
to which the vampires could apply.
But if there were could it repeal.
Established laws and let them die
I like to think perhaps they would
for vampires are misunderstood.
perhaps they did not choose to be
vampires voluntarily.
18-Oct-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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A werewolf howl
A howl in the night,
Cuts the silence in two,
A howl in the night,
Makes you ask ‘who? ’
It is a lonely hunter,
That stands on the field,
It is a lonely hunter,
That hasn’t yet killed,
A creature so big,
All covered in pelt,
A creature so big,
Whit its head high held,
A wolf on two legs,
Howls to the moon,
A wolf on two legs,
Is going to kill soon,
It is called a werewolf,
Deadly as few,
It is called a werewolf,
If just you knew.
poem by Anna Turtle
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