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Wolves in winter


Jan 8, 2012, 12:43:53 PM by ~OmegaWolfOfWinter
Journals / Personal




Nocturn and Elora dug their teeth into the carcass of a freshly killed deer, dragging it into the trees before tearing at the tough skin, tasting the red meat inside. the two wolves had not eaten in 3 days, but this was often the way of things for wolves in the far north. they had hidden from the invading two-legs, furless cowards who attacked them from afar. the deer had wandered too far from the herd and was easily brought down by the wolves. Nocturn looked at his mate, a wild look in his eyes as blood dripped from his white fangs. he found himself engulfed in the instincts that caused them to mate. so close to the fresh ****, they satiated the hungers of their bodies. the snow around them stunk of wolf, multiple fluids casting scents about them, along with the metallic smelling blood and the smell of pine. they ate of the deer once again, staining their fur with blood. the blizzard
was building up and the wind threw off the scents of everything, including the strong bear scent Coming from behind the wolves. the bear growled deep in its throat and roared, charging the wolves and challenging them for the carcass. the bear barreled through them, knocking elora aside with a strike of its claws, knocking her into a tree with deep gashes in her shoulder. nocturn growled and jumped onto the bear's back, sinking his fangs into the bear's neck and scratching at the heavy fur. the bear grabbed nocturn by the scruff of his neck and threw him against a tree, knocking his head against the trunk wwith a dull thunk. nocturn saw stars and then nothing.
*  *  *
when nocturn woke up, he heard the soft whimpering cries of his mate and he jumped to his feet, searching desperately for her. he found her, half buried in snow and bleeding. nocturn dug her out frantically, seeing how she shivered against the blizzard winds. he whimpered and pressed up against her, lending as much body heat as possible. "leave... me... nocturn.."
he looked at her, fear plastered on his face.
"I'll never leave you, youre all i have." he nuzzled against her and whimpered again.
"the bear... broke something inside... inside me... i wont survive the night..." her voice was weak and shaky. her white fur was ******, and he cared not that his own black fur was covered in it as well. "i'll never leave you, elora. we are mates, you and i."
elora smiled slightly before coughing, the most painful cough as blood sprayed from her maw. "when i die... return to the pack and let them know..."
"elora..."
"its... time..."
"please dont leave me..."
"search for me... in the stars... my love..." her eyes began to close.
"elora. please... dont go..."
"i love you..." her eyes shut completely, and she breathed her last breath.
"elora?... elora!!" he nudged her body helplessly. "elora..." he stood slowly, staring at his paws,"this shouldnt have happened..."
he raised his head and howled, long and slow,mourning the loss of his mate. when the storm cleared, a single star shone brighter than the rest
2 months later, nocturn stumbled into the middle of his old pack, insane and ******. his eyes were dilated and his muscles quivered. he kept whispering, "i found him, elora... i found him... i killed him, for you, elora... for you...." a trail of blood followed him, and when the trackers followed it, it led straight to the shredded carcass of a grizzly. over the next few months, nocturn's insanity faded, but he hardly talked. however, every night, he howled long and soft, as if he were mourning. when the alpha asked, nocturn replied, "i wish the grizzly had killed me too... it shouldnt have happened... not to her... it should have been me..."

"it should have been me..."

2 years passed and still. nocturn howled every night in mourning. yet this night, he felt something strange. he sniffed the air and smelled the sweet scent of his lost mate. he whimpered and followed the scent, crying out. "elora! elora!" he ran, as fast as his paws would carry him. he stopped only when he saw her, a ghostly white form of her, waiting for him. he ran to her, crying, "please, elora! take me with you! i have missed you so!"
elora responded, "it has taken a while for me to get here, nocturn. i have misssed you also. it gladdens me that you've not forgotten me."
"i could never forget you, my love. take me, and together we can dance among the stars for eternity!"
elora smiled, then licked his cheek, "then come, we have been apart long enough."
nocturn howled once and disappeared, along with elora, whisped away in a breeze. many wolves looked, but none found him. though they often heard a wolf couple howling far in the distance. theres even a legend saying that if you look close enough, that you can see the couple. dancing among the stars for eternity.
Duke Thompson Jan 2015
open the floodgates
water now broken
dead stone weight escapes
breath never drawn
mother's tears
let me hold It
stillborn nocturn
broken refrain
Master of the murmuring courts
    Where the shapes of sleep convene!—
Lo! my spirit here exhorts
    All the powers of thy demesne
    For their aid to woo my queen.
       What reports
    Yield thy jealous courts unseen?

  Vaporous, unaccountable,
    Dreamland lies forlorn of light,
Hollow like a breathing shell.
    Ah! that from all dreams I might
    Choose one dream and guide its flight!
       I know well
    What her sleep should tell to-night.

  There the dreams are multitudes:
    Some that will not wait for sleep,
Deep within the August woods;
    Some that hum while rest may steep
    Weary labour laid a-heap;
       Interludes,
    Some, of grievous moods that weep.

  Poets’ fancies all are there:
    There the elf-girls flood with wings
Valleys full of plaintive air;
    There breathe perfumes; there in rings
    Whirl the foam-bewildered springs;
       Siren there
    Winds her dizzy hair and sings.

  Thence the one dream mutually
    Dreamed in bridal unison,
Less than waking ecstasy;
    Half-formed visions that make moan
    In the house of birth alone;
       And what we
    At death’s wicket see, unknown.

  But for mine own sleep, it lies
    In one gracious form’s control,
Fair with honourable eyes,
    Lamps of a translucent soul:
    O their glance is loftiest dole,
       Sweet and wise,
    Wherein Love descries his goal.

  Reft of her, my dreams are all
    Clammy trance that fears the sky:
Changing footpaths shift and fall;
    From polluted coverts nigh,
    Miserable phantoms sigh;
       Quakes the pall,
    And the funeral goes by.

  Master, is it soothly said
    That, as echoes of man’s speech
Far in secret clefts are made,
    So do all men’s bodies reach
    Shadows o’er thy sunken beach,—
       Shape or shade
    In those halls pourtrayed of each?

  Ah! might I, by thy good grace
    Groping in the windy stair,
(Darkness and the breath of space
    Like loud waters everywhere,)
    Meeting mine own image there
       Face to face,
    Send it from that place to her!

  Nay, not I; but oh! do thou,
    Master, from thy shadowkind
Call my body’s phantom now:
    Bid it bear its face declin’d
    Till its flight her slumbers find,
       And her brow
    Feel its presence bow like wind.

  Where in groves the gracile Spring
    Trembles, with mute orison
Confidently strengthening,
    Water’s voice and wind’s as one
    Shed an echo in the sun.
       Soft as Spring,
    Master, bid it sing and moan.

  Song shall tell how glad and strong
    Is the night she soothes alway;
Moan shall grieve with that parched tongue
    Of the brazen hours of day:
    Sounds as of the springtide they,
       Moan and song,
    While the chill months long for May.

  Not the prayers which with all leave
    The world’s fluent woes prefer,—
Not the praise the world doth give,
    Dulcet fulsome whisperer;—
    Let it yield my love to her,
       And achieve
    Strength that shall not grieve or err.

  Wheresoe’er my dreams befall,
    Both at night-watch, (let it say,)
And where round the sundial
    The reluctant hours of day,
    Heartless, hopeless of their way,
       Rest and call;—
    There her glance doth fall and stay.

  Suddenly her face is there:
    So do mounting vapours wreathe
Subtle-scented transports where
    The black firwood sets its teeth.
    Part the boughs and look beneath,—
       Lilies share
    Secret waters there, and breathe.

  Master, bid my shadow bend
    Whispering thus till birth of light,
Lest new shapes that sleep may send
    Scatter all its work to flight;—
    Master, master of the night,
       Bid it spend
    Speech, song, prayer, and end aright.

  Yet, ah me! if at her head
    There another phantom lean
Murmuring o’er the fragrant bed,—
    Ah! and if my spirit’s queen
    Smile those alien prayers between,—
       Ah! poor shade!
    Shall it strive, or fade unseen?

  How should love’s own messenger
    Strive with love and be love’s foe?
Master, nay! If thus, in her,
    Sleep a wedded heart should show,—
    Silent let mine image go,
       Its old share
    Of thy spell-bound air to know.

  Like a vapour wan and mute,
    Like a flame, so let it pass;
One low sigh across her lute,
    One dull breath against her glass;
    And to my sad soul, alas!
       One salute
    Cold as when Death’s foot shall pass.

  Then, too, let all hopes of mine,
    All vain hopes by night and day,
Slowly at thy summoning sign
    Rise up pallid and obey.
    Dreams, if this is thus, were they:—
       Be they thine,
    And to dreamworld pine away.

  Yet from old time, life, not death,
    Master, in thy rule is rife:
Lo! through thee, with mingling breath,
    Adam woke beside his wife.
    O Love bring me so, for strife,
       Force and faith,
    Bring me so not death but life!

  Yea, to Love himself is pour’d
    This frail song of hope and fear.
Thou art Love, of one accord
    With kind Sleep to bring her near,
    Still-eyed, deep-eyed, ah how dear.
       Master, Lord,
    In her name implor’d, O hear!
At the barren heart of midnight,
When the shadow shuts and opens
As the loud flames pulse and flutter,
I can hear a cistern leaking.

Dripping, dropping, in a rhythm,
Rough, unequal, half-melodious,
Like the measures aped from nature
In the infancy of music;

Like the buzzing of an insect,
Still, irrational, persistent . . .
I must listen, listen, listen
In a passion of attention;

Till it taps upon my heartstrings,
And my very life goes dripping,
Dropping, dripping, drip-drip-dropping,
In the drip-drop of the cistern.
Glenn Sentes Jan 2013
When the eyes could no longer hold what’s brimming
and the fingers do nothing
but spread it on to what’s wrinkling.

When the voice is a strange thing
for the continuous vowels are worn out…shrieked at himself.

Then the narcissistic grin is all that gratifies the soul
which no one has ever come in contact with.
They speak of it when they’re broke
yet it’s broke too.

Escape is but a word.
You run,
but
the
eyes
of
the
rotten
follow.

To feed is luscious.
Just one night
when the god is asleep.

Let me feed.
kaitlyn-marie Mar 2016
This is the part where life cracks open.
The final lap around the Sorry board,
the moment where a German man
chokes you on the Subway.
Your throat closes but your heart opens up
and there are bees in there.
General Mills was wondering where they went.

Skin kisses skin
crossing cheeks, pecking noses.
The breadth between ‘be my shadow’ and ‘enough for now.’

Blow out the candles if you’re listening God,
we need a little flicker here.
kaitlyn-marie May 2016
This could be your final lap around the Sorry board.
The moment when the German man chokes you on the Acela Express.
Skin kisses skin
crossing cheeks, pecking noses.
Before your vision blackens,
you see the blurring of blues and greens:
Live action bruising for the eggshell queen.
Perig3e Sep 2012
Mornings,
The blessed shroud of sleep lifts,
Ones usesless limbs
Have filled in the nocturn hours with mercury,
Not swift Olympian Mercury,
But the toxic fluid metal
That nearly weighs the same as lead.
A new day,
A new day
Weighs in
Without volitional choice.
Vadim Bravo May 2010
How old are you my child?
I said im twenty one.
She said she likes us wild,
She said she likes us young.

She said that every morning,
Before her beauty dies,
She stands in from of mirrors,
Looks at herself and cries.

She told me that one night,
When she was just 18,
She thought she was the light,
She was the nocturn queen.

Same night she met, she told me
A man she didn't know,
He told her all must die,
"Your beauty'll have to go".

Hello, I am the devil,
Wishmaster of the night,
Don't cry my little sister,
I'll make it all go right.

But I need you to help me,
One soul of yours I need.
Imagine every night,
You'll be again 18.

How old are you my lady?
She said she's 51,
And I saw something shining
At corners of her eyes.

I said "I'll meet you some day"
"Not day", she said, "some night
A beauty with no soul
Is shamed to see the light".
(c) Vadim Bravo 2002
anthony Brady Mar 2019
I think on you when the dark hours arise,
You appear before me, invoking Paradise,
arousing  Eros the whole night through:
moonglow revealing our passions so true.

Slowly, scenes I dreamed of appear as real,
desires tempt my thoughts but cannot steal
your arms  drawing  my body close to yours.
Fantasy's keys unlock Venus's secret doors.

A healing tenderness flows from your hands,
complete is my submission to Love's demands;
Your sweet breath on my face is a sealing kiss,
O, what ecstasies we enjoy in hours of bliss!

No sense of guilt intrudes, it lacks the power
to deny this rapture, or vandalize each hour;
so we revel in rhapsody - 'til dawn opens its door
to let daytime sun rays  awaken us once more.

TOBIAS
Industrial Death Dec 2017
In a crypt where suffering knows no bounds.
Breaking minds to splinter to insanity
For all who enter such a torturous device,
Ye shall know the vice of
"inhumanity."

Drugged to will your damnation
To the bowels of Satan's secret lair.
The underbelly of earth where hydra's dwell.
Drug from heavens realm:
No man lives to tell.

In queue of many delirious fed,
From pots of boiled flesh.
A fermented smell of acid seers their lungs.
Cut from sight, taste, and smell,
Drunk from the searing taste on their tongues.

Beyond sight, in the grey mist ahead.
The decapited from sense, sojourn into
The nocturn abyss.
Within. Squelched screams of millions
Mask the air.
A final moment for living souls.
Drowned in utter woe and despair.

Involuntary suicide as
Satan mocks the scorn of millions.
A massive acid bath ****
Of melting flesh
Awaits them on the other side.

To be passed into pots, for the stomachs Of the next batch
Of a beguiled mass of man.
Scar Oct 2016
Dear Joanna,
I am drunk.

And halogen lights threaten suffocation.
I think I'm going blind. Really, this time.
Do you recall a day spent craving defective
Melodies in our high school hallway?
And really, do you remember what you
were wearing the night spent too close
to the teepee? Green. Your arms, organic,
and your fingertips clean. You know what
I mean? We once raced up the mountain and
watched the world spin slow beneath trees.  
When I think of snow flakes forging down to
Mother Earth, I taste cheap whisky sugar water
--- (the kind we stole from your father).
Tell me you remember that night. The first
evening spent alone, side by side. Falling hard
for each other's coats. Screaming out to oblivion -
I swear to you, we'll write a book.

I swear to you, we'll write a book.

Dear Joanna,
I am drunk.

My head feels hollow and my bed feels heavy.
I keep dreaming of asphyxiation, and I am
terrified. I wish we all crashed our cars in
the high school parking lot all those years ago.
Nothing can reignite my soggy, stagnant vertebrae.
Your breath was in my lungs when you were born
far from city lights. I listen to the music radiating
from your Shins. And I wish we just crashed our cars
into each other or something. Can you gift me a few
sleeping lessons? Or has the nocturn taken your
tiny hands, placed you in the haze of a night's blue
middle? Kissing lipless kids on street corners, we were
both murdered by the ghost boys in the dark parts of
our collective, electric skulls. Jesus Christ, Joanna.
We were kazoo babies in sweaters, and **** it,
We Were Kind. You suggested we murdered time.
And you know what? You were right.
matin

mini boon
got you
so soon
this lit'l
boo to
suit and
end the
blues with
petunias that
bloom with
smoke in
their room
and nocturn
with owl
matin was
in the
red house
vogel Nov 2020
Sleep, smooth as a glassy tide,
Eternal problems resolved,
Simplified and glorified,
Politics, pure fantasy, unresolved;

But the tide, that swell of the unknown,
Waiting for that fateful daily pause,
As the myriad of airy sprays are blown
Over earth's face, with all her ancient flaws;

As air swirl like muslin, in sea's spray's,
Give me your hand, and let us rest,
In moon's caress and soft rays,
With the night's nocturn's unstressed;

Life’s cruel, with no vintage from other shores,
To fire my tired and jaundiced heart,
Limp hands and flickering eyes without shine,
A body strain’ng to grasps those floating air's parts;

Alas let’s not forget to hope, discreetly,
Our heart, of each of us stays intent and learns,
Dur'ng those calm nights, as moon's rays shine sweetly,
While air and nature fight, fierce and taciturn;

While she's prudent and wise, but's an enemy,
Never show'ng victory, only steel and distant toils,
Fickle in the winter's time, chilly, yet full of serenity,
That air, contrived, unseen, holding my destiny and joy?

Nightly air, brooding, as it floats in moons fading glare, without care.

— The End —