Related quotes: Lone howl under the great...

Lone Traveler

Lone howl under the great blue night sky
A pack of wolves running through the forest
Chasing down crying little rabbit looking for a hole
Doesn’t know that every damn hole is full of corns

Lone howl under the great blue night sky
The moon shines like there is no other night
To make the curve she had to follow the relenting howl
As time runs in circle, the night goes faster than before

Lone howl under the great blue night sky
A child walks down the street of the city of angels
Knows no bond to depend on, no rope to hang on
He raised his hand for a dime, he’s only got reservation in heaven

Can you catch the notes floating with the sound
Within the cold air that freezes your bones and brain
With the snow that falls like storm,
And nothing but the white emptiness before your soul

And I’m walking with my bare two feet, listening carefully
To the sound of cars driving on the streets at night
To the sound of babies crying out their heart
To the sound of waves washing the shore, the sound of loneliness
To the sound of traveling stars, the sound of the universe

poem by Alexander Foald
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Related quotes

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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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
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Beauty of The Moon

Running along the mountains
Feeling the air rush through me
Feel the earth under my paws
Running through the forest at night
My pack on my heels
Run faster and faster
My beta on my left
My she Alpha on my right
Running through the mountains
The moon shining above us
Our anchor
Curling up together under the full moon
Feel the pull to the moon
Feel its strength
Get up and start to run
Run up to the hill
I stare up at the moon
I put my head back and howl
Howl for my love
Howl for my life
Howl for the beauty of the moon
My anchor
The full moon
My she alpha
She howls alongside me
Feel the earth under my paws
I start to run
Run alongside the mountains
Breathing in the air around me
My pack at my heels
My beta on my left
My she alpha on my right
We run
We run with the moon as our anchor
We throw back our heads
We howl
We howl for our loves
We howl for our lives
We howl
For the beauty of the moon

poem by Vianca Borrero
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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Sounds that should not be missed

Sound of blossom of a flower,
I desire to hear,
the sound of nature.

Sound of rain's glassy water drop,
over a roof's top,
the sound of joy.

Sound of beat of our heart,
through our ears caught,
the sound of wonder.

Sound of delicious supper in boil,
after a great day's toil,
the sound of hunger.

Sound of a mother's loving ballad,
hearing the cry of her toddler,
the sound of love! ! !

poem by Shyam Balaji
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Fogging Up The Windows

the sound of a small child crying
hungry in the night
of a young woman sleepless
waiting for daylight
the sound of church bells ringing
not too far away
the sound of an old man dying
remembering how to pray

the sound of two hearts breaking
a thousand miles apart
of the last tear a fallin'
unseen in the dark
the sound of lifetimes wasted
of a love that didnt last
the sound of memories forgotten
of a time already past

can you hear?
can you hear?
a lone tree a fallin'
a hoot owl callin'

life and death, a lover's breath
fogging up the windows
of an empty room...
fogging up the windows
of an empty room...

the sound of the nails driven
into His screaming hands
the sound of salvation
entrusted to a man
the sound of bodies falling
of buildings swept by flame
the sound of different voices
whose souls are the same

can you hear?
can you hear?
a lone tree a fallin'
a hoot owl callin'

life and death, a lover's breath
fogging up the windows
of an empty room...
fogging up the windows
of an empty room....

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Hounds Howl At Night (Reprise)

The hounds howl at night
Because evil is here
The hounds howl at night
For the terror that will soon begin
The hounds howl at night
For the blackness of the night
The hounds howl at night
For their love of the crescent moon
Even though it's shrouded in fog

poem by Justin Gildow
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On The Road

I 's boun' to see my gal to-night--
Oh, lone de way, my dearie!
De moon ain't out, de stars ain't bright--
Oh, lone de way, my dearie!
Dis hoss o' mine is pow'ful slow,
But when I does git to yo' do'
Yo' kiss 'll pay me back, an' mo',
Dough lone de way, my dearie.

De night is skeery-lak an' still--
Oh, lone de way, my dearie!
'Cept fu' dat mou'nful whippo'will--
Oh, lone de way, my dearie!
De way so long wif dis slow pace,
'T 'u'd seem to me lak savin' grace
Ef you was on a nearer place,
Fu' lone de way, my dearie.

I hyeah de hootin' of de owl--
Oh, lone de way, my dearie!
I wish dat watch-dog would n't howl:--
Oh, lone de way, my dearie!
An' evaht'ing, bofe right an' lef',
Seem p'int'ly lak hit put itse'f
In shape to skeer me half to def--
Oh, lone de way, my dearie!

I whistles so's I won't be feared--
Oh lone de way, my dearie!
But anyhow I's kin' o' skeered,
Fu' lone de way, my dearie.
De sky been lookin' mighty glum,
But you kin mek hit lighten some,
Ef you 'll jes' say you's glad I come,
Dough lone de way, my dearie.

poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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The Trumpet Call

Trumpeter, sound for the last Crusade!
Sound for the fire of the red-cross kings,
Sound for the passion, the splendour, the pity
That swept the world for a dead Man's sake,
Sound, till the answering trumpet rings
Clear from the heights of the holy City,
Sound till the lions of England awake,
Sound for the tomb that our lives have betrayed;
O'er broken shrine and abandoned wall,
Trumpeter, sound the great recall,
Trumpeter, rally us, rally us, rally us;
Sound for the last Crusade!

Trumpeter, sound for the splendour of God!
Sound the music whose name is law,
Whose service is perfect freedom still,
The order august that rules the stars.
Bid the anarchs of night withdraw,
Too long the destroyers have worked their will,
Sound for the last, the last of the wars.
Sound for the heights that our fathers trod,
When truth was truth and love was love,
With a hell beneath, but a heaven above,
Trumpeter, rally us, up to the heights of it!
Sound for the City of God.

poem by Alfred Noyes
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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
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The Sounds, Within And Without

have you ever listened
to the sounds of
a young boy praying
after his father and mother
have split up

have you heard the sound
a small animal makes when
it's hit by a car?
kinda like the sound a child makes
when it's split open by friendly fire!

have you felt the deep down
sound the young boy makes
when the judge sentences him
to hard time
the sound you cant see on his face

have you heard the sound
of the old man's heart
fighting to hold on
in an empty room
with the curtains pulled

have you ever heard the sound
of the wolf's howl, and
the hawk's scree
buried deep beneath
the layers that cover
your own wildness
are you listening

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Comes The Night Of My Life

comes now the night of my life
a very dark night

the sound of the cat
looking for a mate

someone in heat
the dogs howl in the middle

of the road some footsteps
coming to the house

by the window
i show my sorrow

i talk about tomorrow
to the moon that somehow

pretends to listen
on the other hand you may be right

i pretend the moon is here
comes now the darkest night

how can a moon be a reality?
how can you be here with me?

to survive please understand
lying to myself is much fun

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Sound of Snow

The sound of snow......
it is all of these together
or separately
or combined
and sometimes
none of them at all,
like a dark still night
where sound just doesn't belong.

....it is a kitten landing on a feather pillow,
a single thin piece of paper
floating from side to side
then settling on the ground in one graceful slide,
it is a wind through a spider's web,
long silk hair tussled by a breeze
....snow is not silent it is discrete,
hiding in the open
....a three year old's sleeping breath,
a tear of joy escaping down a red round cheek
....the sound of snow is
the moment between sleep and consciousness,
fuzzy and both empty of thought and full of promise all at once,
snow is the sound dreams would make if we heard them while awake,
snow is the sound an angel makes as it guides a soul to rest.
The sound of snow
...it's all of these together
or separately
or combined
and sometimes
none of them at all.

poem by TP Sage
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a Poem Of Silence

Silence is a beautiful thing.
no other sound is as great as silence.

Silence is the sound of nothing,
but it is still a sound.
even if a sound is great and amazing,
nothing can top the blissfulness of silence.

not the sound of wind on grass,
not the sound of laughter,
nothing is as beautiful as silence.

silence is a sound, but it is so much
better than any other sound.
What created such a far-off winner?

I love silence, silence is the best.
Never there will be a time that there
will be
a greater sound
than silence.

poem by Llew N. Rmail
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Hate Myself And Want To Die (Outtake '92)

Runny nose and runny yolk
Even if you have a cold still
You can cough on me again
I still havent had my fulfill
In the someday what's that sound?
In the someday what's that sound?
In the someday what's that sound?
In the someday what's that sound?
Broken heart and broken bones
Think of how a castrated horsefeels
One more quirky cliche'd phrase
You're the one I wanna refill
In the someday what's that sound?
In the someday what's that sound?
In the someday what's that sound?
In the someday what's that sound?
most people don't realize
that two large pieces of coral,
painted brown, and attached tohis skull
with common wood screws can makea child look like a deer
In the someday what's that sound?
In the someday what's that sound?
In the someday what's that sound?
In the someday what's that sound?
Runny nose and runny yolk
Even if you have a cold still
You can cough on me again
I still havent had my fulfill
In the someday what's that sound?
In the someday what's that sound?
In the someday what's that sound?
In the someday what's that sound

song performed by by Nirvana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Night after night

Night after night I look at the sky
And ask why you are not here.
Night after night I listen to the
Overwhelming sound of my heart
Night after night I look around and see
That you are not here
Night after night I sit here and feel
The emptiness
That you have left behind
Night after night I pray to the sky
That where ever you might be
You have found happiness.

poem by Gabby Becerra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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How Wide The Dawn

How wide the Dawn
Is smiling!
How silent-new
The air is breathing!
How raw the sea
Without a wave
Is looking!

And in the night –
Id est last night
How strange
The owl chanteth!
How far, how far
Its cry did seem
And yet
It was so near!
How thrilled the tree
Below my lighted window
And in the night
The solemn night
The owl was still a-calling
To spirits wild
Perhaps
Or long white ghosts
Perhaps!

And in the eyes
Of the pale moon
The lake nearby glistened:
How white
How thin
The rays that fall
In midst of the dark waters!
And from the lake
A soundless sound
Is coming:
For in the waves
And from the waves
There comes a little gurgling
And in the night
In the long night
The owl is speaking, speaking!

Ah! this night – in the night
The people in the house
Are all a-sleeping
I – only I
The vigil, the night-vigil
Am making:
And I
And only I
Will my reward receive
For I
And only I
Am seeing
For I
And only I
Am hearing
And I
And only I
Am feeling!

How strange how sere
The feeling!
How from the clear night
The mist of sudden riseth!
And from afar
Past ten long fields
The cemetery is burning
With the pale light
Of the swift moon
That fall
On every wall
This long, long night!

It seems
It seems
That the cemetery’s open:
And yet
And yet
There is no noise
No sound
But from the yews
A soundless sound
Is coming:
A restless sound
Like souls
This night all-aching
And restless
Restless
At some thing
I am not hearing!

Ha! We on earth
Make prisons
And lodge
Bodies – human bodies in them:
And we on earth
Make cemeteries
And lodge
Bodies – human bodies in them
And the long night
Under the light
Of heaven
How waning-blue
And tight
Is coming!

So:
At long last
We fall into a prison
If not the one
In fine to the other
And at the last
And in the last
We enter our last prison:
And in the night
The long and lonely night
The cemetery is shining!

poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
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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
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Cold winter night

It was a cold winter night.
All was deadly still.
My guts so tight
I must kill!

The cry of a wolf enters my head
Like a train whistle that echoes far away.
Can it be…something lives on this winter night?
Follow the sound and pray
It does not go away.

My hunger juices flowing; I go.
I and the wolf both now know
Neither is alone in the land of snow.
Oh, how I wish I had his sight
On this cold winter night

The north wind moved in the night before.
The ground all snow and bitter cold…so bitter cold.
The sky filled with stars.
The snow grows old.
My guts so tight
What a cold, cold winter night!

The wolf stays hidden from my sight
With it’s furry coat of gray and white.
He glides across the snow without sound
Like a ballerina tiptoeing over the ground.
My guts so tight
On this bitter cold winter night

I with my blood running slow
My hands burning cold; my face red glow
Driven by the pain in my gut
On this cold-cold bitter winter night

I must kill
To make the night still
So the hunger pains
Will be gone again

I hear nothing on this cold winter night
My hair stands up on the back of my neck
I fear the wolf knows
I turn
Crutch to spring
His fangs showing white; my knife in my hand
We circle like two roosters in a pen.
For one this will be the end.
The pain in my gut is still tight
I will kill but not for the trill
On such a killing bitter cold winter night

With the grace of a cat he springs to flight
My throat his aim on this cold winter night
My knife hits his heart…he hunches in pain;
His fangs rip my throat cutting the jugular vein.
The snows now stain on this cold winter night.

Blood and flesh flung upon the snow
Cries of pain, moans of death…soon will go
From this bitter cold ground
All is still on winter’s playground.

The wolf dances no more
My lips move but there is no sound.
My gut is still tight
I feel alright
No more time to fight
On this bitter cold winter night

Wind and snow now fill the air.
The wolf has an empty den.
The snow will be tracked no more.

Twinkle, twinkle little star
Genocide complete
In a galaxy so far

poem by Ronald Brissette
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Sound Of Lost Love

*Heart sound*
An Indian’s drum
Thunder in the sky
The bass in a song

*Heart sound*
The sound of love
*Heart sound*

*Heart sound*
Gunshots through the air
Bumps on the road
Sticks of dynamite