The last wolf stands
with burning gaze,
amber eyes
full of moon glow.
His face tilts to the wind,
wise and true,
body and soul.
Waiting for the sunrise,
his solitude well chosen.
This born warrior
from a lost tribe-
this storm from the underworld,
searching for higher climbs.
Holding the hilltop
in silent vigil.
Looks down on hollow valleys
with roaming mists.
Greets the morning air
with mellow tones,
echoing age and loneliness
I don't wish to bring this one down butI can't get the hound of the Baskervilles out of my mind! Oh. I have just brought it down, sorry. win x
I have read this many times Sian, and you always have a way of constructing different ideas into your poems.
I also agree with what TC says... very mystical feel to it ; )
Francine x
The key here in surely the "last" wolf?
There is an element of the passing of one thing into another, a changeling perhaps. Renewal I think, in clever allegorical prose. I might be wrong but this is different stuff Sian, and much deeper and thoughtful. I like your new work. Graham.
I've always felt you have a lot of the Wolf spirit energy about you, as you know.
Beautifully written. x
A great poem, Sian. I love North American mythology, with its spiritual connection to all living things, especially animals. Perhaps you do too. Mind you, I like MYTHOLOGY period, but especially that of the First Peoples of N.A.
<Deleted User> (7164)
Mon 7th Dec 2009 16:19
I own a picture/poster of a lone wolf which this poem bears a lot of resemblance to. I was instantly drawn to the image while reading it.
Thankyou.
<Deleted User> (7073)
Mon 7th Dec 2009 13:06
I love this, it has a mystical feel to it, like an echo from a magical age.
TC ;-) X
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Jeff Dawson
Sat 26th Dec 2009 11:44
Hi Sian, I dare say you get a few wolves around your way, great writing as always, best wishes Jeff X