“I appreciate what you do,” Hoda said to me while I was writing, then she started to walk away. “Wait!” I said. “Please tell me what sorts of things you do.” Hoda teaches university-level computer science, a fact that led us to a conversation about robotics and girls in STEM. (I googled her later—she is seriously impressive). I learned through our talk that Hoda is from Persia, one of the countries that gave birth to the stories of the Arabian Nights, which I am working into a novel. “For my next writing project, I think I am completely bastardizing one of your country’s greatest stories,” I told her.
The Stranger: Hoda
The Word: Wolf
The poem I wrote:
As always when they
come to the night
with their tails
and their noises,
we are alone.
Each wolf each one
of us, waiting at
the bottom
of the sky
for that thing that
makes the heart go.
The Challenge: Do you have a poem in you on this word? Write one here.
November 14, 2018 at 12:11 pm
This Getting Older
My bones creak
muscles slack
movement slows
The wolf waits outside the door
I use the back exit
November 16, 2018 at 11:22 am
Grimmer Fairy Tales and Fables
Little pig, little pig, let me come in.
The wolf is at the door.
No, not by the hair on my chiny chin chin.
He keeps coming back for more.
Then I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house in
Big, bad wolf is getting sore.
Piggy’s shotgun’s gonna do him in.
The blowhard gets whatfor.
Grandpa, what big teeth you’ve got!
My dear, the better for my wolfish grin.
Things do not seem as they ought
You stink of blood and gin.
No, I’ll not sit upon your lap.
I don’t want massage.
You touch me you’ll get a slap.
Broken bones will need triage.
On the corner, ‘neath the street light glow,
A wolf stands in his cheap clothing.
The girl passes, red cape in flow,
Thinking thoughts of loathing.
Hey there, Red, you’re looking good.
I could use a kiss.
That’s not even a likelihood.
Steel flashes. Get a kiss of this!
The boy cried, “Wolf!” Again, he touts.
In the distance the wolf pack howls.
Soon, tongues lick blood from snapping snouts
As bones go crunch between their jowls.
Too many times he cried in jest.
Townsfolk came a runnin’.
Ha, ha, ha, you’ve passed the test.
I was only funnin’!
Since Sylvia’s suicide,
Wolves cry mourning at the Zoo.
Howls and laughter, there abide.
You can hear the jackals, too.
Owl’s talons clenched her heart.
Do not follow Sylvia’s path.
Despondency tore her apart.
Lupine beasts expressed their wrath.
Listen to them, the children of the night.
What music that they make!
Gathered ‘neath the argent light,
In preparing for the take.
We must shelter and hide
From Dracula’s camarilla in chorus
Their thirst for blood won’t be denied.
Run! They’re coming for us!
Two little twin boys, sons of Mars
And a vestal virgin,
Abandoned to an avatar,
A she-wolf in mythic version.
Boys with wolfish appetites
Often engage in disputation
Remus died of fratricide.
Romulus founded the Roman nation.
November 17, 2018 at 9:30 am
South on Oregon 101
It looked like a wolf,
or maybe his shadow
that crossed the highway
to say
“Freedom is near”
You could smell it
You wanted to howl
ten miles below
Coos Bay.
It’s what you came for,
to leave the highway,
Walk into wolf weeds
and shore grass.
So full of freedom,
So much like seeing
a sneaker wave,
rising in rage,
coming for you…
And you, hoping
it will be enough
November 19, 2018 at 8:56 pm
Now for the Wolf
Now the wolf is gone from the door
To find a warmer lair. The ducks
Of winter paddle for the shore.
Elgar’s violin sonata
Holds my mind at rest an hour:
The tale I cannot bear to tell,
Cannot forget—the cost of war—
Lifts for a time. It will come back
With the wolf, who will restore
The unease we need to stay on guard
And make the shepherd post her dogs,
While I wait alone outside the door.
November 23, 2018 at 8:07 am
lost in sheep clothing
the wolf hidden in the folds
howls to be displayed
November 23, 2018 at 8:08 am
lost in sheep clothing
the wolf hidden in the folds
howls to be displayed