In Hunters Skin
I stumbled upon the
Valley of the wolves.
I knew it was that hollow
Where that thirsty pack hid.
Because I saw blood red
Soaking their teeth and their claws
And the clothes of the dead.
I followed the impressions
In the snow retreating
From the door the wolves were
Knocking on. I followed
The tracks true, afraid for you,
And the omen these beasts would
Cast with their howl to the moon.
June 4th, 2011
At the House of the Wolf
The hunter’s gun would soon
Protrude where it did not
Belong. Although not virgin
To its touch, the valley
Did shiver and the wolves
Came out to sing to the moon.
Their lullaby’s howl could
Not find a shallow in
The rage of the man with
The gun. His murky heart’s
Depths would bubble and
Boil in upset turmoil.
And never let the valley
Of the victims find rest.
June 4th 2011
Fall of The Wild
The King of cats
Now rests on Hercules’
Shoulders. And the Queen
Of the hive has wasted
Her sting on the hands
That would steal from
Her honey-comb cradle.
The place where the King
Once reigned and the
Queen did flirt with her flowery
Grounds has been shaken and taken
By Mans march to the drum.
The slave trade hauled away
The queen in chains and the
Cowardly king won’t spring today
Through hoops of fire to save her.
Now concrete and steel
Converge on natures Royalties.
Man constructed and stole,
Dethroning the lions and the bees.
June 4th, 2011
The Island
I wake up on the island
Shores as white and piercing as an elephant tusk.
Graceful palm trees erupting against dusk.
I trace imprints on the island sand
Boars of the forests trample by,
A sign to the left says Go or Die.
I smile to the islands sky
And calm water comes in tiny waves
Across the colours of the sand in rainbow shades.
I stay awhile on the island.
April 16/ 10
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