Darklight Monarchs
Not the night call for his mate
Nor the full moon instinct howl
This wolf song sings forlorn fate
A lonesome breed on singular prowl
Alone in their wild forest home
Guardians of woodland mystery
High upon timbered mountain tops
They roam deep shadows ranging free
Only the whisper of their silent paw prints
Swift across valley and meadow home
Ancient witness to continental journey
Wildlife pilgrims under starry dome
Darklight Monarchs in silken fur
Royal sanction of Red, Grey and White
World renown majestic and noble
From Alaska to Arabia an awesome sight
(co-written between jinx and granville holt)
poem by Jinx Natta
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Wolf Song
Not the night call for his mate
Nor the full moon instinct howl
This wolf song sings forlorn fate
A lonesome breed on singular prowl
Alone in their wild forest home
Guardians of woodland mystery
High upon timbered mountain tops
They roam deep shadows ranging free
Only the whisper of their silent paw prints
Swift across valley and meadow home
Ancient witness to continental journey
Wildlife pilgrims under starry dome
Darklight Monarchs in silken fur
Royal sanction of Red, Grey and White
World renown majestic and noble
From Alaska to Arabia an awesome sight
poem by Granville Holt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mountain's Lonely Echo
His lonely howl echos through the mountains high,
crying out to his lover, desperate is his cry.
Their lands seperate them from the start,
but no mountain so high, can seperate their heart.
His heart beats slowly as his cries ring out in the night,
traveling through his domain, never losing his sight.
To reach his mate, his life he will give,
to have that moment in time, his reason to live.
Cold bearing down on him as his feet grow tired,
but on he must go, to reach his desire.
Never looking back at the foot prints he leaves behind,
knowing ahead the mountain he must climb.
Heart full of hope that his mate will be there waiting,
to fulfill his every need, his heart anticipating.
One dream under the night to come true,
one journey he must pull through.
Life to begin, to quiet his lonely howl,
no more traveling, no more on the prowl.
Life complete for him and his mate,
his lonely howl echoing through the mountain,
as his lady does wait.
poem by Ruth warren
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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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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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White Majesty
The white wolf stares at all he sees,
His kingdom to protect
And like all royal majesties,
He, too, commands respect...
So if alone or in a pack,
He does what he must do.
To go without, some food to lack,
That's not his point of view...
The days are cold, the nights are cold,
He must endure them all.
No wonder, then, at night's he's bold,
To howl and fear install.
Condemned to prowl, new meals to find,
He doesn't beg like some.
Such thoughts like these don't come to mind,
Not even for one crumb...
He knows his place upon this Earth,
Beneath the sun and stars
And in his realm, he proves his worth,
Despite the wounds and scars.
For him, there's no sweet home from home,
No comforts meek and mild...
His majesty was born to roam,
To live life in the wild...
Denis Martindale, copyright, January 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'White Majesty II'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Animal Instinct
(Music: DirkschneiderKaufmannWienhold - Words: DirkschneiderKaufmann)
I don't wanna be another retro-man
I don't wanna be no part of your plans
I don't wanna be no diamond king
I just wanna pull the detonation pin
I won't give up a life of sin
You'll never tame the beast within
You can't abuse what I've got in here
My animal instinct is what you fear
And I howl - and I prowl
I am a raptor in time
And I howl - and I prowl
I am unbroken - creature of the wild
I've got an animal instinct
I've got an animal instinct
I don't wanna lead nor even dominate
Not a top-dog leader that only devastates
You know I'm free and I stand so proud
My animal anger - I shout it aloud
[Bridge]
[Chorus]
Animal - animal - animal - animal - instinct
Animal - animal - animal - animal - instinct
[Chorus]
song performed by by U. D. O.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Curlew Song
The viewless blast flies moaning past,
Away to the forest trees,
Where giant pines and leafless vines
Bend 'neath the wandering breeze!
From ferny streams, unearthly screams
Are heard in the midnight blue;
As afar they roam to the shepherd's home,
The shrieks of the wild Curlew!
As afar they roam
To the shepherd's home,
The shrieks of the wild Curlew!
The mists are curled o'er a dark-faced world,
And the shadows sleep around,
Where the clear lagoon reflects the moon
In her hazy glory crowned;
While dingoes howl, and wake the growl
Of the watchdog brave and true;
Whose loud, rough bark shoots up in the dark,
With the song of the lone Curlew!
Whose loud, rough bark
Shoots up in the dark,
With the song of the lone Curlew!
Near herby banks the dark green ranks
Of the rushes stoop to drink;
And the ripples chime, in a measured time,
On the smooth and mossy brink;
As wind-breaths sigh, and pass, and die,
To start from the swamps anew,
And join again o'er ridge and plain
With the wails of the sad Curlew!
And join again
O'er ridge and plain
With the wails of the sad Curlew!
The clouds are thrown around the cone
Of the mountain bare and high,
(Whose craggy peak uprears to the cheek -
To the face of the sombre sky)
When down beneath the foggy wreath,
Full many a gully through,
They rend the air, like cries of despair,
The screams of the wild Curlew!
They rend the air,
Like cries of despair,
The screams of the wild Curlew!
The viewless blast flies moaning past,
Away to the forest trees;
Where giant pines and leafless vines
Bend 'neath the wandering breeze!
From ferny streams, unearthly screams
Are heard in the midnight blue;
As afar they roam to the shepherd's home,
The shrieks of the wild Curlew!
As afar they roam
To the shepherd's home,
The shrieks of the wild Curlew!
poem by Henry Kendall
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By The Rosanna--To F.M. Stanzer Thal, Tyrol
The old grey Alp has caught the cloud,
And the torrent river sings aloud;
The glacier-green Rosanna sings
An organ song of its upper springs.
Foaming under the tiers of pine,
I see it dash down the dark ravine,
And it tumbles the rocks in boisterous play,
With an earnest will to find its way.
Sharp it throws out an emerald shoulder,
And, thundering ever of the mountain,
Slaps in sport some giant boulder,
And tops it in a silver fountain.
A chain of foam from end to end,
And a solitude so deep, my friend,
You may forget that man abides
Beyond the great mute mountain-sides.
Yet to me, in this high-walled solitude
Of river and rock and forest rude,
The roaring voice through the long white chain
Is the voice of the world of bubble and brain.
poem by George Meredith
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A Deep Werewolf Dream
I'm howling at the moon
Always searching for you
I know you’re in the night
Wanting to taste and bite
Moving through the forest
With a dangerous quick speed
Looking, searching through the crimson night
Can you hear me calling?
Could this be possible?
Or could it be our fate
Are you my nightmare?
Or my one true mate
The moon shining on me from above
Showing a way from me to you
Such a feeling of magic embraces me
Is this what it feels like to be near you?
Such warmth, such love
Makes me want howl
The trees start to move back and forth
Pushing me to you, will you come too?
As silky grass rub against my feet
So hurry and find me
And use the moon
And hear my call howl
Follow my love and listen to the tune
Follow my love
Follow me
Straight to the full moon
poem by Tierra Fisher
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The Black Wolf (The Song of Merlin)
The black wolf howls
as dusk prowls among the shadows.
Freed from the stones of ancient altars
his haunting song drifts above the willows.
As light retreats, the wolf entreats
the spirit of the moon to come forth
and shed her beams upon the dreams
of night’s primeval sleep.
Close to the flames of my evening fire
I sit entranced by the choir of spectral hosts,
as other voices repeat the sound
that shakes the ground like thunder;
and yet, in spite of the holocaust,
I sense some purpose I once lost to my vanity.
Hope swells within my soul
that like the wolf I might find
the muse of lyric poetry.
Here in the forest beneath the sky
I dream of the fires
my mother set in the apple groves.
From dusk to dawn with lilting voice
she told the ancient stories.
She spoke in time of the hearth of heaven
and of the starry circle dance.
She sang to the earth; she sang to the trees.
She sang to the night with love.
Nature’s soul possessed the smoke
that was my mother’s misty cape;
and now the wolf in my mother’s tongue
sings the same celestial song.
Copyright © 1993 John M. Marshall
poem by John M. Marshall
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Wolf Man
What do you think about a girl
who fell in love with a wolf man
night after night
she would look at his photo
on an LP record cover
missing him and thinking about him
This girl was me in my younger days
for he looked so serene and beautiful
without knowing his fate that
when the moon rises he will have to turn into
a wolf and roam around the fields and mountains
She didn't know his fate though she knew
he is the wolf man
with the charm he only contained in his feature
with a soul that maddened him and her
simultaneously
They never met in person
but the girl was truly in love with this wolf man
or rather a young boy he was
as young as she was I think 14
him 17 at the most...
One day this girl went to see a movie
about the wolf man
though it was banned for a school girl to go
see a movie by the school authority
she dare went to the theater and watched this movie
Nazareno it was titled
and saw the boy turn into a wolf
and saw that boy in real form
When would she meet this wolf man
in her life?
If fate allows her to see him in person
that will be a love for the first sight!
The boy grew over the years and became a man
a young man who could hand her a hand
to rescue her to rise from her
own seclusion and show her a new world
that would enlighten her soul and body
to be able to truly love someone
she dearly care about,
and that was her fate that she would
finally meet the guy in person
maybe a knight on a white horse
as many would described her him to be
and experience a new life
with and through him.
so this girl was waiting for that knight to arrive
at her door step
but he didn't come
so she had to go all the way across the sea
to eventually find him and meet him
and she is renewed by that knight
not on a white horse but
near her and beside her and with her
Now that her story is complete and
a great helper he became to her
such a soul and feature the man held
with him to show this girl the direction to go to
and led her through the walks of life
She is back home now having met this man
the wolf man who always was in her mind
and the wolf became a human again
and came to this human world.
Now they are here finally
safely arrived from the long
journey life challenged her to take on.
10: 02 PM
(November 17,2012) Korea-Japan time
poem by Sangnam Nam
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Bushmen
Rugged men and tough men these,
Men of the lonely ways,
Hard and sturdy as their trees
Where the timbered ranges raise
Their ragged crests to rake the sky;
For the call has come again,
As oft it came in the years gone by,
And the Bush sends forth her men.
Silent men, with eyes alert,
Tramping the hillside steep,
Where the giant trees at the mountain's skirt
Their lonely vigil keep;
Fighting their way where the tangled fern
Covers an ancient track,
Plying the lore that the bushmen learn
Thro' the lonely years outback.
The men of the forest are out once more,
Searching early and late.
As they searched thro' many a day before,
For many a missing mate.
Or a wandering stranger gone astray
In the land of the towering tree,
That has become for all today
The land of tragedy.
And, while the task is a task for men,
Ne'er will they call a stop.
They will tramp the wild bushland again,
And tramp until they drop,
With never a thought for the hours ill-spared
From the labor of the day
To the men of the forest whom fate has dared,
There's nought but to obey.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Song of the Shingle-Splitters
IN dark wild woods, where the lone owl broods
And the dingoes nightly yell—
Where the curlew’s cry goes floating by,
We splitters of shingles dwell.
And all day through, from the time of the dew
To the hour when the mopoke calls,
Our mallets ring where the woodbirds sing
Sweet hymns by the waterfalls.
And all night long we are lulled by the song
Of gales in the grand old trees;
And in the breaks we can hear the lakes
And the moan of the distant seas.
For afar from heat and dust of street,
And hall and turret, and dome,
In forest deep, where the torrents leap,
Is the shingle-splitter’s home.
The dweller in town may lie upon down,
And own his palace and park:
We envy him not his prosperous lot,
Though we slumber on sheets of bark.
Our food is rough, but we have enough;
Our drink is better than wine:
For cool creeks flow wherever we go,
Shut in from the hot sunshine.
Though rude our roof, it is weather-proof,
And at the end of the days
We sit and smoke over yarn and joke,
By the bush-fire’s sturdy blaze.
For away from din, and sorrow and sin,
Where troubles but rarely come,
We jog along, like a merry song,
In the shingle-splitter’s home.
What though our work he heavy, we shirk
From nothing beneath the sun;
And toil is sweet to those who can eat
And rest when the day is done.
In the Sabbath-time we hear no chime,
No sound of the Sunday bells;
But yet Heaven smiles on the forest aisles,
And God in the woodland dwells.
We listen to notes from the million throats
Of chorister birds on high,
Our psalm is the breeze in the lordly trees,
And our dome is the broad blue sky,
Oh! a brave frank life, unsmitten by strife,
We live wherever we roam,
And our hearts are free as the great strong sea,
In the shingle-splitter’s home.
poem by Henry Kendall
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Home, Sweet Home
Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam,
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home;
A charm from the sky seems to hallow us there,
Which, seek through the world, is ne'er met with elsewhere.
Home, home, sweet, sweet home!
There's no place like home, oh, there's no place like home!
An exile from home, splendor dazzles in vain;
Oh, give me my lowly thatched cottage again!
The birds singing gayly, that come at my call --
Give me them -- and the peace of mind, dearer than all!
Home, home, sweet, sweet home!
There's no place like home, oh, there's no place like home!
I gaze on the moon as I tread the drear wild,
And feel that my mother now thinks of her child,
As she looks on that moon from our own cottage door
Thro' the woodbine, whose fragrance shall cheer me no more.
Home, home, sweet, sweet home!
There's no place like home, oh, there's no place like home!
How sweet 'tis to sit 'neath a fond father's smile,
And the caress of a mother to soothe and beguile!
Let others delight mid new pleasures to roam,
But give me, oh, give me, the pleasures of home.
Home, home, sweet, sweet home!
There's no place like home, oh, there's no place like home!
To thee I'll return, overburdened with care;
The heart's dearest solace will smile on me there;
No more from that cottage again will I roam;
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home.
Home, home, sweet, sweet, home!
There's no place like home, oh, there's no place like home!
poem by John Howard Payne
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Lines on Embro and Zorra
O'er various counties of the north,
When cruel order did go forth
For to destroy many a home
So that the wild deer free might roam,
The men of Sutherland and Ross
The broad Atlantic they did cross.
Each seeking for a fertile farm,
These rolling lands for them had charm.
They ne'er desired again to roam,
Each happy in his woodland home ;
Where middle branch of Thames doth flow
They built the village of Embro,
And it the hill tops now doth crown
Like its grand namesake, Edina town.
And good flour mills you here do find,
And oats, also, they here do grind.
poem by James McIntyre
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High Lonesome
High in a tree on the top of the hill
By the light of the lonesome ol moon
I hear the call of a lone whipporwill
Singing his mournful tune.
Way off in the night blows the long freight train
With a roar and a ramble of wheels
My poor heart is breaking with every refrain
Cause it sounds just like the way I feel.
And it's high lonesome
High lonesome, heartbroken and blue
High lonesome
Lil darling, I'm lonesome for you.
--- Instrumental ---
Do you ever get weary roamin around
Do you think of the sweet love we knew
Do you ever get lonesome the way I am now
Lil darling I'm lonesome for you.
And it's high lonesome
High lonesome heartbroken and blue
Its a high lonesome
Lil darling I'm lonesome for you.
It's high lonesome
Lil darling I'm lonesome for you...
song performed by by Randy Travis
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
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The Mighty Thor of Algo. Park I
The great Algonquin park,
lush forest of great unknowns,
the secrets that lie in her shadows,
and mystery that have found home.
Deep inside this forest green
A lonewolf's trail forges it's path,
In and out of her vast density,
The hunting spirit, and days pass.
The mighty soul of spirit one,
In search of great surrender,
Preys upon the offers taking,
solitude, being it's defender.
A passage from such journey,
Brings conjure of such folklore,
The truths and myths that abound,
O f this singular mighty Thor......
poem by Geoff Warden
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Pull My Chain
Got me on a short leash, tied to your screen door
I used to run with the big dogs 'til I stretched out on your front porch
Used to be a hound dog, chased a lot of fast cars
Now I don't even bark when the kitty cats stroll through the back yard
I used to howl at the moon, yeah I've been known to roam
Then I caught her trail one day, followed this girl home
I ain't the same, she knows how to put my chain
They say that an old dog, can't learn a new trick
Well she taught me to stay the first day and I learned real quick
There's a doghouse, a fence and a gate latch
I keep my tail waggin' and I don't mind beggin for a good scratch
I used to howl at the moon, yeah I've been known to roam
Then I met this girl one day that brought this old stray home
I ain't the same, she knows how to pull my chain
I used to howl at the moon, yeah I've been known to roam
Then I caught her trail one day, followed this girl home
I ain't the same, she knows how to pull my chain
song performed by by Toby Keith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Winter Perfection
They say the dog is Man's best friend,
His buddy, through and through...
You can depend he will defend,
So credit where it's due...
Yet from the wild wolf he was tamed
And brought into the home,
Where he plays free and unashamed,
Wherever he may roam...
To think, the wolf once crossed the globe,
The forests, plains and hills...
And every valley Man could probe,
The wild wolf hunts and kills.
Beyond the cities, Nature rules
The hunter and the prey...
When Summer dies, the Autumn cools,
Then Winter haunts each day.
The blinding snow falls to the ground
And freezes far and wide...
It's then the white wolf roams around
And has no need to hide.
His camouflage is perfect now,
Successful hunts ensue...
The truth is harsh, yet fates allow
The things the wolf must do...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Winter Perfection'.
The Stephen Gayford poems can be viewed here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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