Thirteen Wolves Dancing

“a Blank Slate” (first attempt at a comic)

grenwulf — Sun, 07 Oct 2007 00:38:07 +0000

grenwulf — Fri, 07 Sep 2007 19:48:53 +0000

A Crow
A Dove
Thirteen poets learning to love.

A chance
A choice
The howling wolf finds a voice,

A choice
A chance
The running wolf learns to dance.

Doves and crows spread wings to the sky,
Wolves and poets learn to fly.

No Words

grenwulf — Mon, 06 Aug 2007 02:06:06 +0000

There are no words

a look in the eye
your skin against mine
my lips on your neck

there are no words

my hands exploring
the finer details
of your silhouette

there are no words

the shared smell
of lilies and sun screen
you left on my clothes

there are no words

shared laughter
sharing the sidewalk
on warm quiet nights

there are no words

the many places my lips have found
the silent conversations of hands and feet
holding you, touching you, every kiss is different
poetry has left my imagination,
the feeling has left my vocabulary
you are right there
I don’t have to write it down
I get to breathe you
smell you
touch you
hold you
taste you
the greatest poem to ever grace this boys senses
I can’t write you down

there are no words.

Goodnight

grenwulf — Tue, 10 Jul 2007 19:12:18 +0000

An intention shot into space,
received and accepted,
and returned with love.
I could say good bye to you every minute
if it meant kissing you goodnight.

This boy looks for other reasons to meet your lips.
An explorer, inventor and a poet,
You can have it all…if for one more reason,
to meet your lips, to taste your smile,
to kiss you goodnight

Mask of Words

grenwulf — Wed, 13 Jun 2007 05:58:13 +0000

what metaphor shall i wear across my face,

what subtle innuendo disguises my intention

what joke hides my name

what words shall i wear today

String of Pearls

grenwulf — Wed, 06 Jun 2007 03:27:04 +0000

What I wouldn’t give to be your string of pearls.
To caress your neck.
To be absentmindedly played with between your gentle fingers.
To meet your lips in moments when no one is looking.
To rest peacefully as I fall between your perfect breasts.
To move with you as you walk through the room,
catching the eyes of ones like me, who only wish to be,

your string of pearls.

Carying Icebergs, a haiku (they are fun :P)

grenwulf — Mon, 04 Jun 2007 00:17:38 +0000

Carying icebergs
back and forth towards a goal
will he drop this load?

Rose Leaves

grenwulf — Mon, 04 Jun 2007 00:15:39 +0000

Eyes like rose leaves
a deeper gaze beyond her look
they are telling you a story of a light and a word

a single rose,
a focused beauty
inspiration and intention

even her thorns are beautiful.

Thirteen Wolves Dancing

grenwulf — Mon, 04 Jun 2007 00:10:31 +0000

Thirteen Wolves Dancing
This poem comes from 6 directions. thank you Ian Wallice
~
Thirteen wolves dancing, Screaming feral poetry to the god of light. preying on an audience of faceless strangers. My mask is broken and my pen is bleeding. leaving forgotten daisies in our wake we run to godless towers climbing the spiral staircase to shout our war cry, we tear the throats from wall builders and erect ladders from their screams of ecstacy. Fucking life fucking death, fucking music, fucking festival of fallen voices, we love it all.

Freedom of motion, screams of joy and pain. Freedom to walk backwards on crowded city streets. We live on abomination, absurdity is our birth right. Building our faces with tinker toys and salvation army lost souls of wool and polyester. I learn to sew with duct tape and leave broken needle and thread behind.

Green red yellow blue beige and indigo. There is no black and white. Fuck isms, fuck anities, fuck ologys. The wolf wears a red nose and floppy shoes. We find ourselves in the moment where our paws are planted and our snout is facing one step at a time. There are no paths, only footsteps and trodden ground.

The pack plays, we eat, we fuck. Do what you will and harm none. Live with life and its lessons, feel, cry, laugh, scream, but always feel, Never give it back, never stifle a yawn, never mute a fart, look them in the eye till you see there soul and let them see yours, it’s the most precious and beautiful accessory you own. Don’t be afraid to wear it on your sleeve for the world to see.

We wolves, we messengers of the gods, we fools, we happy fools. the woods are our circus, the moon our ring master. We go fourth and feed on laughter, quench our thirst in salty tears, and bathe in their roar of applause. We run with our eyes closed, screaming our feral poetry to a starry sky.
~

Dance by Fires Light (a piece from a few of years back)

grenwulf — Mon, 04 Jun 2007 00:02:40 +0000

A bead of sweat rolls down the back of my neck, I brush the hair out of my eyes with my free hand, the flame is hot, I fell the warm light dancing from my torch, I am your light as you take the stage, the drums slow to a low jangle, I am holding you in my light as I watch your dance, your slow poetry of motion is caressing my senses, part of me is in love with the beauty of your movements, the way you taste the air with your hips, sensuality, femininity, grace, dignity, you become the dance, I become the flame, my mind isn’t the only thing absorbing this moment, lower parts of me are in love with your skin, your golden hair, your curves, your body isn’t the pictures I look at late at night alone in the dark, it’s real, it has weight, you look comforting, soft, I could loose myself in your shape, you remind me of the women made immortal by long dead painters, earthly beauty one might call it, my Easter. The music picks up and you back out of the light as I realize it is time for me to take the stage, part of me wishes to just stay there and absorb the moment, but the audience came to see flame, I give them a fire, you may be out of the light but you gave me fuel, an energy I never knew I had, I embrace it, it becomes a part of me, even if you never step into the light of my flame again…………..you made my light brighter for a short while…….I hope I did the same.