Poem -
Vargtimmen
for August Arps: you inspired these lines and make me want to be a better poet
4 ante meridian: vargtimmen ~ the wolf hour
the wolf cares nothing for the mouse
lest he is hungry ... and
even then would rather
something bigger something meatier something
more
the owl will prowl the skies
the stench of winged death
upon her breath and
the wisdom of the raptor in her
TALONS
but the wolf...the wolf
wants more
to hunt to stalk to devour
the wolf wants a god any god will do
the god cannot evade the huntings of the wolf
for the wolf
hunts with the
wisdom of the
Pack
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Comments
You made me Smile.....your words....interesting write......Excellent....a little of all of us in this.....thx
Thanks Lorris.
?;)
Really like this one!! The way you arranged and phrased everything makes it very intense! I love how you put the words in bold it makes them jump out with extra purpose. All stars!! :)
xxxLily
Thank you, Lily. I very much appreciate it.
You should read August's poem A Book in a Drawer...; an infinitely more intriguing and complex work, which inspired this pale penumbra.
J x
I'll go check it out now! :)
xxxLily
I love it Jason, it's very primal and raw xxx?
Great write Jason.....Very different style for you....Cool dedication !
Mick.
Thanks Mick.
Good to see you back again. You come bearing poetic gifts, I trust!!
If you haven't already...treat yourself to some of August's work...he's fantastic!
J ;)
Hi J Great write I like the way you formatted it with
the bold lettering making those words stand out
It gives a sense of you conveying the wisdom of the Wolf
and also an underlying message saying that hunting in a pack
he the wolf would probably not go without a feed (just my thoughts as I read ):-)
Enjoyed ! Best wishes Debs x
Thanks Debs.
Glad you enjoyed it.
J x
exquisite ink Sire J!
Ah, Lady DARKLY! With so few words...you raise my spirits so high!!
Much humble thanks, Lovely Lisa.
J xxx
Another Moon For Lycanthropes
so you have a wolf inside
and you've never had a toothache in your life
but you keep tomorrow's sun at bay, moon fiendish in the twilight of a lack of grace.
you harbor hope. you pool blood in the atmosphere like shards of glass
that never forgets.
i know you by the star in your hand, but you never look me in the eye
when you deny it.
were just moving furniture.
not all men have a wolf in them
some just have a dog
a dog who bites the hand that feeds it
a wolf will feast on the arm
and the leg
and later...
much later...
come back for
the arse
hunger does the strangest things
even to the most noble of creatures...and there ain't many of those about...
but a lycanthrope is cursed with a different kind of
HUNGER
one which will never be sated
one which cannot be filled
the chasm
no ... the abyss...
the abyss between animal and man ... a hole of our making ... our digging
cannot be filled...not now...it's too far gone...
too wide...too much blood...bad blood...too much bad blood
as the old men would say...those old odd men with their sticks and their pipes and their smiles which scream of despair and a life dreaming of the enticements of the forest but never leaving the churchyard until it's too late to learn anything other than names and dates and not ... faces
as they should have learned in boyhood
the faces of trees and the names of the wolves
instead they learned names of saints...
Write On !