Poem inspired by Gary
Number 26 Hunter (Wolverine)
Some would call me gentle,
others kind. They do not know me. I am wild. I am free. I am
more wolf than human. Some try to tame me, make me obey but my
instinct is strong. I follow the wind. Chase the night scents.
Suckle my young in the warmth of my den. My heart was strong but
men broke it. They chased me over grasslands and forests. Hunted
me down till I was weak. I was never frightened. Many of my kind
perished. They became pelts of warmth in dark days. I survived
but my spirit is wounded. I tread the nights softly now. My mate
was strong with fierce spirit. He disappeared in the long hunt.
Sometimes I think I hear him call when the moon is bright and
the nights are still. I follow the trails of ancient times, try
to seek my own but the wind has changed. There are few of us
left. Sometimes we gather where the trees are many. Call to each
other with the soft whine of wounded souls. There are many tales
to be told and songs still to sing and I will sing them.
A love poem
inspired by Walt Whitman’s “Song of myself”
nothing left now but love.
When the sky
changes from blue to black
he will be with
His head will
rest upon the curves of your breasts.
His lips touch
the nape of your neck.
The tricks of
nature will have misled you
but there is
goodness in the seasons.
Each blade of
grass is measured.
Your hair will
fall like braids of gold upon
and though your seeds will
scatter the earth,
your arms will
never be empty.