Wild Wolf, Waiting

[image from google]

At Real Toad's, Fireblossom Friday's prompt was to write about the inner animal. This poem is more of an outer animal who lives within my heart and spirit. It's what came,so I will post it, though it isnt exactly what was suggested.

There is a wild wood.
In my den I stir
as the new morning
wakes me.
I sniff the wind
and sense your pain.
It breaks me,
for I'm forced to forge
a path
you cant yet
follow,
and I know
this leaves you
feeling
rather hollow.

I am a wild wolf.
To be with you,
I always had to
keep it tethered.
Now I can throw off
all my bindings
without minding,
not forgetting all the years                 
we spent together.

I am a wild thing,
but my heart
returns to watch you
when you're sleeping,
rest my nose upon your bed
and whuff a greeting,
though you are asleep
and never feel us meeting.

How can a heart be
wild and tame,
together?                                 
We forged a bond
nothing in life
can sever.
A bridge between
our two wild hearts
we traveled;
a bond that tight
can never be
unraveled.

I had to leave you,
but I never wanted to
and I am circling
the forest waiting for
your heart
to find me.
Listen for my call,
you are not far
behind me.

reposted for Poets United's Poetry Pantry March 24, 2013

Waiting for the Magic

[image from google]

for the Real Toads prompt: All the World's a Stage

All the World's a Stage,

with me bumbling
about on it,

like Ms. Magoo,

tripping over my feet,

slapping myself

upside the head,

muttering to myself.

Curtains get stuck

on the draw-ropes,

opening and closing

at random moments,

dust thick

in the old theatre.

The audience

grows restless,

coughing,

shuffling their feet,

and rattling

their programs.

They are

waiting for

the magic

to begin.

Me, too!

Walls

[Response to Poets United Think Tank Prompt #14 - Walls]

The walls came up
so high
no man
could climb over
them,
even with
their cleated shoes,
even with their
manly determination,

but my friends did.
By waiting gently outside,
watering the blooms
and weeds
around
my front gate,
waiting for me to
feel safe enough
to open the door,
to pass through the gate,
to walk with them
side by side
down the
winding path.