Running With Wolves

 

 

 

Inspired by and based upon Joe Carnahan’s motion picture, The Grey.

 

 

 

Listen to Live Reading

 

 

 

Listen to Suggested Audio

 

Marc Streitenfeld “Live or Die”

 

 

 

Faster!
They’re gaining ground
Must have picked up the scent
I can sense their dissent
Must have wandered too close to their den
I can smell their disgustful intent as they sniff at the tears in my tracks
Wagging tails as they take to the trail
Quickening pace as they cut to the chase

 

Stalking their game
Only thought to assail
Like gray mist they drift beneath insolent vail
Whispering of sorrow’s tale
Waiting for the sun to pale
Preying on the weak, the frail
The lost and the delirious
Not nearly as forthcoming
Less they spot their quarry running
Even then, they favour cunning
Lead charade so stubbornly mysterious

 

Making sullen those encountered
As the alpha prowls perimeter
Scowling these inquisitors of all unwelcome visitors
Considered in their every move
With only one point left to prove
That justice will be rough and crude
Cries of mercy misconstrued
All they see are bones to chew
Just to feel the rush, the chase
Clench incisors
Lunge and flay
Adjudicating paths of stray
While ruminating rasping fate
Every final gasp declared fair game

 

Far too wild to tame and will parade such unashamedly
Brazenly persuasive while unusually evasive
When the prey they seek is meek and mild through choice, not minor weakness
May not be so feeble and defeated

 

Live and die on this day
To be straight
It could go either way
May be the last fight that I’ll ever know
Ergo
Once more into the fray

 

Should I die on this day
Then tomorrow the truth shall prevail
True to form, all the wolves shall recede
Prepare for their next scheduled feed
For such is simply nature of the beast
And this saddens me

 

So handsome these creatures
Such romancing features
Such sadness resides in the blacks of their eyes
As they spill ashen tears in the tracks left behind
Running from shadows
The anxious wolves cry
But not I
Live or die
I shall stand tall and proud on this day
And should fortune not favour the brave on this day
Then angels of undying favour shall honour my grave
Pray for the lost souls that wandered astray

 

 

 

 

 

Richard Charles Stevens

 

Keeper of The Crimson Quill

 

 

 

 

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© Copyright: Rivers of Grue™ Shadow Spark Publishing™

 

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