Blood of the Wolves

Blood of the Wolves

A Poem by Amanda

Thousands the howls that cold eerie night
The blood of the wolves; it burns so bright
The wolves they cry and moan in pain.
Their blood is washed away by the tears of rain.
They lay there still; they do not make a sound.
Their faces lay cold on the frozen ground.
The blood has run dry; they are gone.
Nevermore will we hear their song.
This is what the man has become.
A savage killer, second to none.
Their blood stay etched in the ground.
A solid reminder of the killers we have found.
In the wind, I can still hear their howls.
At least they are safe from man now.

© 2014 Amanda

My Review

Would you like to review this Poem?
Login | Register

Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


Added on February 19, 2014
Last Updated on February 19, 2014
Tags: wolf, wolves, wolf hunting




The lion isn't sacred when not sleeping near the lamb, it is evil when it eats unless it's feeding from the damned, all the children painted diagrams of God upon their hand, hoping somewhere on this s.. more..

To Love, a Wolf To Love, a Wolf

A Story by Amanda

Arrow Arrow

A Poem by Amanda