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Wolf Poems

This page is filled with beautiful poems and stories dedicated to the magnificent creature called the Wolf

Poetry is a way for people to express their feelings. It is a very personal thing and is hard to share. Some of the poems on this page have been written by my personal friends and the others, I have found in my travels through the web. I am so pleased to share them all with you.


When will it stop,
this killing of wolves
tell me in truth what they have done,
why must they suffer
and die one and all
just leave them to live in the sun.
Don't you see when they are gone,
and just memories are left
what a sad place the Earth will be
where will it end?
how long will it take?
Please think, and I'm sure you will see.


Will someone please tell me where the wolves have gone? I've heard stories that most have died. It's hard to believe it's by human hands, but I see now that it's not a lie.

Wolf Love

Howling in the night,

A mating call in the wild,

Lone wolves wishing to unite,

Off in the distance,

A willing companion calls.

Running to meet his new love,

His anticipation hurries his stride,

Stopping from time to time,

Making another call,

He is determined to catch his desired.

Distance no longer matters,

Only time to make his mark.

They meet and dance in unison,

Happy to find their mate.

They play and run, jump and dance,

Inviting the other,

To become their life.

Spirit of the Wolf

"He came to me in my dreams"

I will give to you

My cunnings, My hearing

My eyes which to see

That they may lead you

As they have led me.

I give to you my strength

In your heart my voice

Hear me, I will help you

Make the right choice.

So that you don't tire while you

Find much food for your people to eat

I give to you my stamina

My legs and my feet.

Should dangers linger in the air

Brave warrior you will always tell

For next I give to you

My keen sense of smell.

For your love of your people

And the land that we are a part

It is as abiding as mine

So I give to you my heart.

Brave warrior accept me

And all that I give

For forever together

You and I will live.

Awake now brave warrior

And look to the ground

For there will be proof

Of what you've just found.

~ Author Shelly Lapierre, my friend and neighbor ~

Special Thanks Shelly, it is a wonderful poem.

The Cry

He stands alone at the top of the hill
And sings his mournful cry,
His mate and cubs are missing
He's not certain why.

He had been out hunting
Was gone for only a day,
And hurried back with empty jaws
So scarce now was their prey.

He wasn't gone long
Eager to get home,
But the den was cold and empty
And he sensed something was wrong.

The smell of man was everywhere
With footprints in the dirt,
And blood shed from his family
He knew they had been hurt.

He sat and waited day by day
With hopes they would return,
There wasn't much he could do
Except quietly sit and yearn.

Why would man come all this way
To hunt and shoot them down,
To interrupt their quiet lives
When no harm had been done?

Their territory plainly marked
And not once did they stray,
For they would rather starve to death
Than to get in man's way.

The smell of chickens, cows and sheep
Were so tempting at times,
But instincts warned not to hunt them
Or they would lose their lives.

And so they lived a quiet life
Existing on small game,
Careful it was only wildlife
And nothing man had tamed.

So he could find no reason
For the blood shed on that day,
So peacefully they lived here
So far out of man's way.

Maybe they'd be coming back
His cubbies and his mate,
Wolves are mated once for life
So he would sit and wait.

That was many moons ago
And they have not come back,
But he will not stop hoping
For the reunion of his pack.

He now knows men are murderers
But still does not know why,
And every night he climbs his hill
And sings his mournful cry.

By Karen Evans

I'm not alone

Through the heavy fog on a dark winters night, peered haunting blue eyes with their soft glowing light.
The powerful stare with it's brilliance and majesty, brought on a shivering response full of caution and mystery.
They seemed to float through the air with great charm, in an effort to tell you "they meant you no harm."
Yet as ghostly as the movements had tried to be, an eerie feeling abruptly overtook me.
As I fell to the frozen, unforgiving forest floor, I noticed two eyes had been accompanied by two more!
Soon there were three enchanting pairs upon me, watching and listening, hiding in the trees. With one final shiver the dark night became black, I knew as I slept, I would not be coming back. The bright morning sun was the next thing I saw, which was followed by the touch of a rather large paw! and after providing a wet kiss on the nose, the wolf disappeared and I arose, In the snow at my feet, there were paw prints all about, and the surrounding outlines of the bodies, which helped keep the cold out. The howl that followed never seemed to end, conveying the message

Wolves Crying for Help

Running, hunting, trying, surviving, and dying
The wolves have no home anymore, that's why they are crying.
For miles and miles howls are heard discussing their fates.
Humans don't care for this animal; wolves are forgotten then killed.

Humans don't know that a wolf has no hates.
That's why a wolf doesn't end up at Hell's gates.
Dark night color blue; wolves' images are relived on 14 Karat gold plates.
The round moon is the only light that they see.

Humans keep on destroying a beautiful home.
Wolves aren't dumb; they know they have no place to roam.
At night is the call of the wild.
Something pure on this Earth; like a new born child.

Cool air, water, and snow once demolished their fears.
There is nothing out there anymore; nothing but tears.
An innocent dream, turned black in the darkest clear...
For fire now dwells on the western land.

A newborn wolf pup sees his life has been altered.
No soft land to comfort your paws-only land of
concrete and people. Civilization to you.
No home No hope No life; but great
sadness and fear. Why can't the kingdom of
salvation take them home.


The Voice of One Crying
in the Wilderness

Now halt your minds
and listen to their cry
From northern alters
formed of snow and ice,
Beneath celestial curtains
in their sky,
The wolves give evensong
of sacrifice.
All creatures stop-
by somber hymns
Which rise from frozen
mountains to the stars
To one whose understanding
never dims,
Who walked with man
and also bears the scars.
The howling joins the wind
which sweeps the earth
Angelic zephyrs sing
like flute and fife
And reach the ears of one
who from his birth
Has dared deny
the sacredness of life.
This man, now trembling,
sees upon his wall
A young wolf's head he shot-
to his distress,
That prophet's head brings
judgement on us all,
Like one who also cried
in wilderness.
So listen now-
we may not have so long;
Please listen to the crying
voice and care,
And pray that we may never
end the song
Of wolves and wind
that fills the arctic air.


By John Hubbard Bidwell