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Mark Wanless Nov 2020
the timber of my wolf voice
scares me

i cannot back it up yet
i keep howling

i hear just words from lips
thought to be wise

my own voice included
in the nothing

what came before now
is imaginary

i know i am just here
i howl
The wolf looks at his companion
Thinking, "I'll be her champion."
Dazed by her beauty and majesty
He can't help but to howl, so loud as to shake the bowels of Hell,
Or perhaps to ring a bell
How else should he tell her what's inside
Or maybe it's beside?
The wolf knows not where it resides
He knows only how it feels as she unknowingly heals his broken soul
She heals with her wolf and he knows
The wolf finishes his serenading song
Thinks does the wolf, to himself,
"Now it should not be long until she knows all meanings in this bellowing song."
When a wolf hunts at night the moon lights his path, not knowing that he seeks an offering to his beloved
Search and search does the wolf, for his prey to fill up her tray, with food and jewels
As the wolf finishes his hunt, he sets a table for a guest he hopes will come
For he desires her lovely fluorescent glow
She peaks out from behind the clouds to watch her wolf and how he's grown
The wolf sees her and can't help but to serenade her with the song of his howl
Cries out does the wolf, 'Come here, I promise not to growl!'
The moon, she accepts as the stars dance behind her eyes
The wolf knows what her heart desires and says in promise, 'My love for you shall never expire!'
Marco Aug 2020
Here, starry, open road
   the promise of finding God or Yahweh or Buddha
   on the highway,
the roof down, wind in our hair and dirt,
   red sand of the canyon vast around us, setting sun and personal American dream,
   drifting further into your arms and our souls mile by mile,
the burning blue of the sky ahead, inflamed by all the reds and oranges the dying sun can
    possibly bleed,
and my hand, drifting on the driving wind,
   finds its way into your heat-swept hair, soft and dark and handsome,
   all memory of cold end of '47 erased in the face of your warmth
as we fly down the street -
   I'm sorry I only gave us six decades,
   I would have aimed for more if I'd known about your untimely nightfall…
-but this Cadillac is stolen, fast, free and green;
   wheels burning hot in their devotion to carry us anywhere,  
   the leather backseat our warm and welcome marital bed,
for this, surely, is our honeymoon -
Yes, indeed, we got engaged in that small cot in Harlem,
   said "I do" on the cool, cracked asphalt of some nightly Texan road.
You promised me forever,
   swore me eternal love & friendship in your own voice,
  with your own words -
     the sweet, darkest-soul-illuminating true Western twang of your blue-eyed,
     full-and-clear-hearted vow.
What of it now?
   Where your voice? Where your face, your knees, your hands -
   Where your shoulders made strong by carrying all of
   America?
   Where your feet glued to gas pedals and roadside sand,
   where your soles -
Where your soul but up in Heaven, surely?
   Up in Heaven…

And us - him, me, her -
   left behind, to drown in ***** or go mad with longing,
   to be forgotten by the dead.
And nothing of you now
   but highway ashes and lovesick poems, black-and-white camera roll…
inspired by Allen Ginsberg's writings about Neal Cassady
Chandan Shersia Jul 2020
Captivated by the moon
Ignoring what surrounds her she stood
Under the midnight moonlight
Her silhouette shining across the lake
Longing for the moon
She howled to the night sky
Soon a ray of white light travels
Gold rays melting the lilac sky
Streaks of amber spreading through
As the shimmering sun rose high
There was no darkness
All the stars faded from the sky
And just like stars
She fades away gently and softly
As sunshine takes hold of the air
Gerald Jun 2020
You can throw me to the wolves, they won't hurt me. The wolves know my scent. We howl at the moon together.

You can take me to the demons, they don't terrify me. The devil knows my name. We spend nights together.

You can give me up to ghosts so they haunt me. Oh! How they like it; this void in my chest, where my heart used to be.
Poetic T Jun 2020
You were my little snowdrop,
             but with every howl
finding courage
to become a
                   blizzard

           of  transparent strength.
Dvali Taytem Apr 2020
I do not know how many years I was terrified of the Titan
It spit in my face the stink of ancient beer
Clogged my nostrils with smoke and massive fingers
As if to rip off my nose
As if to crush my bendy bones in its fists
All the while hollering
For more
And less
And itself

I only know that now
I have seen other
Things
Than it
Things with far more power than it
Things that howl louder than
The Titan
I have risen to meet them
I have looked in their eyes
As I brought
     them
To kneel before
     me
Have brought them
To know fear

Soon I shall make battle again
With the great beast from some hell of its own
It does not yet know
To be afraid
Written around 7:00 AM, 4/19/20.
Edits around 10:00 AM.
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