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old werewolves talking

could i ever change
did we dream it
i remember
running claws fierce teeth
cold now in the winter
the moon used to be brighter didnt it
i remember
the smells blood was warm and coppery and deer
i remember
deer would almost let you catch them they understood the play
of predator and prey
deer we never hunted deer husbands wives lovers children
it was all pray all food but the taste of your own flesh and blood
was sweeter
i remember
it was killing yourself that was sweeter loss made it sweet
i remember
night cold howls i cant hear any more
are they there
was i there
i remember
the cold earth under my feet
i remember
dreams of night



( 7 comments — Leave a comment )
Oct. 26th, 2004 11:34 pm (UTC)
too close for comfort...
Your words are too close to how I am currently feeling.
Oct. 27th, 2004 12:25 am (UTC)
Re: too close for comfort...
Less vague recollections of blood, I hope?
Oct. 27th, 2004 06:38 am (UTC)
Ah, very interesting!
Here's the only halfway decent poem I ever wrote:

Wolf, Running

By Chaka Wolf

Cool grass, brown earth
Flow like water beneath my paws.
I have run from fear,
I have run to hunt,
Today I run for joy!
Flowing past me,
The wind tells me its tales.
Stories both of life,
And of death.
The evening deepens
I am nearing my den.
Soon I will sleep,
And dream of running.
The sun sets
The moon rises
I run on
In the cooling night.


Nov. 11th, 2004 02:57 pm (UTC)
thats a really good poem :-)
Nov. 13th, 2004 01:08 am (UTC)
Thanks! Have we met?
Nov. 13th, 2004 11:27 am (UTC)
nah we haven't
Nov. 13th, 2004 01:09 am (UTC)
Wait, UK, probably not :)
( 7 comments — Leave a comment )