The Wolf
The smell of the forest Excites my blood.
The wetness of the leaves freshen the air.
The damp earth beneath my paws lift my spirit.
My hot breath comes out as puffs of mist in the Arctic air.
I watch the silent forest for danger.
I lift my head and let my song lift into the starry sky.
One by one my family join till we are one voice.
By Crystalin Patrick 6/13/2009
06-27-2009
Poetry is what is lost in translation.
Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
|---|---|---|
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
| Lost in Translation | 0 | 12/04/2011 |
| Midnight Awakening | 3 | 11/01/2009 |
| I gave it all away | 0 | 08/08/2009 |
| My World | 6 | 06/27/2009 |
| In the Dark I will wait for you | 4 | 07/09/2009 |
| Vampire | 5 | 06/27/2009 |
| Holding on to Hope | 1 | 06/27/2009 |
| love my flaws | 2 | 06/24/2009 |
| lost | 2 | 06/24/2009 |
| Cold December | 1 | 06/24/2009 |
| Cool Morning Mist | 2 | 06/24/2009 |
| Infernal machine | 1 | 06/27/2009 |
| Burning Love | 1 | 06/27/2009 |
| The Wolf | 1 | 06/27/2009 |
| The Preditor | 2 | 06/27/2009 |
Please login or register
You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
Login or Registerleave comments/feedback and rate this poem.