THE ENCOUNTER

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THE ENCOUNTER!

There is something in the distance, I can see the glow of yellow eyes;

Solemn and knowing, waiting, oh how his eyes did shine!

As my headlights hold his steady gaze, though I cannot yet make out its kind.

He begins to move slowly in a crouch low to the ground;

Soon, it pounces effortlessly, remarkably without a sound.

He appears as large as a St. Bernard!

And remains 10 feet away, perched upon a rock, as he watches me with a strange regard.

I should back my car up and leave this place;

But the creature calls my attention, by way of his steady gaze!

I am drawn to his solemn stare, I feel him saying he is incredibly lonely;

I want to reach out, but afraid to leave my car, not just me alone, only!

Suddenly! He jumps effortlessly from his perch on the rock;

At this unsuspected action, my heart begins to knock!

He lands on my car’s hood, then through my windshield peers in on me;

I was mesmerized by his grandeur and gentleness, so it seemed.

“What do I do now”, I say to myself;

When this wolf leaps with such stellar and stealth!

I knew he possessed the strength to kill me, yet strangely, I felt only peace;
But just as calmness seemed to take me, the wolf took his leave!

Yet, as he stayed by my car, so I opened my window just enough, and I began to speak;
Hopefully to soothe our fears, and bring us both some calm relief.

I softly called him “sweet one”, and heartily I smiled;
He whined quietly, then moved closer to my car’s side.

He then leaned with his body, and turned his face to mine;
He howled then with longing, or so I did decide!

I wanted to remove our barrier, and reach out to touch his head;
But fear kept me inside my walls, so I spoke to him instead!

The beautiful beast stayed where he was, his glistening gaze followed;
I felt such pain in my heart, wondering why his eyes held such sorrow.

But alas, I knew I could not stay, and I began to back away;
However, the wolf seemed to plead with me, begging me to stay.

They say the wolf is mystical, and yes, I would agree;
For my encounter with this iconic predator, only brought me peace.

Now, a tear slips slowly down my face as I remembered his;
And the indelible mark upon my heart, inscribed when my eyes met his!

 

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THE CRITICAL POET

Being a perfectionist makes poetry writing a never-ending story!

It isn’t that it has to be perfect, so I can receive some kind of glory.

It is something inside of me that can’t leave well enough alone;

Second guessing every word, to find its meaningful home!

I know I’ve always been this way, questioning the value of my worth;

Perhaps in my youth, I was humiliated when I failed to present good work.

Through some act or deed I had failed somehow, and my face went red with shame;

But, I learned that my feelings though hurt, would recover just the same.

My heart has always led my life, destined to be a poet from birth;

I write to right life’s social ills and to fight for ethical worth!

I will continue to critique, though urgency guides this poet’s hand;

There is so much injustice, and little time, please join me and make a stand!

BEHIND THE SCREENED PARTITION

BEHIND THE SCREENED PARTITION

It shouldn’t have taken so long, to recognize the dream;

How can I think myself “enlightened” when there was so much I failed to see!

Safely perched behind my face, partitioned by the screen.

The memory of how you looked at me, as the light of hope left your eyes,

Truth so steeply implanted, we never 

 

WOLVES: THE STORY, THE MYTH AND THE TALES!

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From deep in the bottom of his sleeping bag, in a recessed niche of the Snake River gorge in Idaho, on a cold late fall night, a hunter, warmed by a cozy campfire, slowly melts off to a well earned deep sleep.

The long futile day of hunting, still unable to bag his trophy elk, lends fodder to a dream of the big buck that continues to elude him.

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Subconsciously, the events of the previous evening’s round of campfire storytelling shared by his hunting peers, spilled into his dream.

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As is often the case with dreams, a round of good and believable storytelling by a bunch of guys sitting around a campfire would conjure images around in your subconscious for days! Then, taking into account the stories such as these are honed to a fevered pitch by hundreds of years of historical folklore and myths retold over and over, the story you hear today has no original truth to it!

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The storyteller nonetheless swears to the authenticity of the story, as if the event just happened and testifies he witnessed the hungry, vicious, marauding wolves, and the toll these predators are taking on the elk population, “yes sir, these vermin kill for fun!” “There were carcasses half eaten, blood and gore everywhere-

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Why those poor elk never heard it coming, didn’t have a chance, I tell you!” And then to drive home the point, he proceeds to collaborate further saying, his friends and neighbor ranchers have seen their cattle business take such a financial hit, due to the mass murder of their beloved bovine, because of WOLVES!

So, the stories does what good myths are designed to do, and the hunter’s dream mixes reality and sleep induced delusions into his subconscious, as dreams often do- and he reasons that this surely must explain why he cannot find the elusive buck!……..

The next morning, he rises early as this is his last day of the hunting trip. Today is the day he mutters to himself, I will not let any wolf deprive him of his 5 point rack!

Resolved that he would get his trophy elk, feeling irritated that the gray wolf is decimating herds and his chance at bragging rights!………

 

Whether dreamt, or perceived while wide awake, this is the opinion, testimony, and duty the hunter wears! Then with gusto and providence, he goes forth, spreading the lie that wolves are to blame for EVERYTHING!

I came upon an article posted by Idaho Department of Fish & Game recently. It was about the continued antics of Wildlife Services in Idaho, (division of U.S. Agriculture and Fish and Game). The picture showed a very large grey wolf, being held by its rear legs, head to the ground, a rancher smiling while holding up the dead animal.

The story told of how Wildlife Services would run ads soliciting hunter’s help. The at ask them to report any action people may see in the field of wolf depredation. Telling the hunter or rancher to report any and all dead or injured animals so that Wildlife Services can bring a quick end to problem. Saying, “the wolves would be taken care of!” In other words, killed. No proof needed that the wolf had a depredation! Just report, and leave the science to us!

Once again it seems the ranchers are claiming wolf attacks in order that the wolves will be killed. We all are aware of the brutality against wolves in Idaho.

My opinion is that Wildlife Services are there to kill, oh, wait…let me rephrase! “To control the the problem!”

So, if a rancher calls it depredation, then it is taken at full face value, whether or not their cow was killed by wolves or not! In this particular case, it turned out, they were justified in taking out the whole pack of wolves based on a ranch hand seeing a lone wolf near his property earlier that week, and it must have been what killed his cow! Although, it seems, no other wolves were around, the lone wolf and his family were “culled” in reparation to prevent further loss to the valuable commodity, “the cow”!

We continue to hear of the vast hatred of wolves in all areas. Wyoming continues its wolf hunt in trophy zones although the limit is nearly filled. Only 2 wolves out of 44 holding the death sentence are left for slaughter. Of course in predator zones, the killing continues. Word of mouth and bragging keep the count as it rises. We will not know until April 1, 2018 of exact number of wolf killings. They do keep a running record for predator killings, and hunter killing, but any wolf killed by a rancher or wildlife Services for Fish and Game, but no report will reveal facts until that date. And they will not release any name involved either.

But, I wonder if there isn’t something psychologically deviant to wildlife services work to control wolf populations. Clearly the message to cattlemen and hunters is that there does not need to be any proof that the wolf was to blame for a dead cow. Justification only needs to be a possibility and Wildlife Services can pad the culpability numbers to paint the picture, and the end (of wolves) justifies the means and the war on wolves rages on.

Their participation in “justified culling, or “wolf management” in what little is left of the wild world comes from a willingness to cede control. It’s easy to berate this compelling need to run things. We harness the wind. We control fire. We control wolves. We control elk and deer herds. Or at least we try. All of this seems ridiculous, to the point that the only thing that seems out of control is our attempt to domesticate the biosphere to the level that we ourselves have become domesticated.

Now here we are at the turn of another winter Solstice, an astronomical reality that does not care whether we, as individuals or as a species, continue into the future.

Man’s unbidden presence in this, the “right here and now” has depended to some degree on controlling a universe of wildness agnostic to our existence. Control is part of our animal need to persist and has served us well. But this compulsion to be constantly in command, even the illusion of it, only seems to feed the fire of species genocide, and to extinguish some piece of my animal nature!

So, tonight I’ll follow the music of the untamed wind, while being warmed and comforted at my campfire. I will not be regaled or thrilled by “folklore” stories. I will sleep soundly dreaming of the nobility of the wolf pack, somewhere in the wilderness attending to their own family’s needs of survival. The elk herd hid from the wolf AND the hunter for now.

Hearing a forlorn and long echoing howl cascading through the valley. The melodic cacaphany grows in testimony to the days events.

And I will be comforted and lulled into sleep by the awe inspiring call of the wild, the melodic tempo of distant drums reverberate in a primordial ancient subcontinent, recessed in folds of time and memory, that I am grateful to hear and feel.

Nature speaks often, and only a few of us today are privileged to hear her voice!

Sometimes we just need to let go of controlling the majesty of nature and give thanks instead, for a job well done!

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by Karen LaFountain

CRITICAL POET

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Being a perfectionist makes poetry writing a never ending story!

It isn’t that it has to be perfect, so I can receive some kind of glory.

It is something inside of me that can’t leave well enough alone;

Second guessing every word, to find it’s meaningful home!

I know I’ve always been this way, questioning the value of my worth;

Perhaps in my youth, I was humiliated when I failed to present good work.

Through some act or deed I had failed somehow, and my face went red with shame;

But, I learned that my feelings though hurt, would recover just the same.

My heart has always led my life, destined to be a poet from birth;

I write to right life’s social ills and to fight for ethical worth.

I will continue to critique, though urgency guides this poet’s hand;

There is so much injustice, and little time, please join me and make a stand!

By Karen LaFountain https://Wolvesbelongandwritingwrongs.wordpress.com

 

My Sword Of Passion

MY SWORD OF PASSION

 

 

Sometimes when words are locked in my mind,

And my weapon, the pen finds the paper unlined;

In a fight for life, I must follow the light,

Letting the passion of my sword to take flight.

To right natures wrongs, to ensure blurred lines are redrawn,

I use my pen as a pawn,

For the promise of tomorrows wolf songs.

Then I release the passion that is bottled inside,

Giving strength and devotion to lengthen my stride!

But on occaision a beast circles overhead!

This fire breathing dragon is what I most dread!

The foul acrid air of burnt words and more,

Threaten to bar creativity’s door.

Will I duel with the dragon, and fight fire with fire?

Or will my armor burn, leaving my wings entrenched in quagmire!

It will depend on the dragon’s defense,

I know I must not show fear or relent!

My sword of passion and it’s devotion to wildlife will take care of the rest;

There is so little sence in mans vast expanse!

His actions are unreasonable, greed has placed him in a trance.

To much is at risk to leave the future of wolves and habitat to happenstance.

So I must take up the sword as I have done all my life,

Knowing truth and honor cannot be denied!

Wish me luck!

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BEHIND THE PARTITIONED SCREEN

How can I think myself “enlightened” when there was so much I failed to see!

 

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From safely perched behind my face, partitioned by the screen;

How can I think myself “enlightened” when there was so much I failed to see!

Naive was I to try and save you with just an advocates’ dream.

In my fight to save our fragile connection, I underestimated the enemy.

Choosing to believe the clever lies, the screen would tell my heart.

I did not see the truth so steeply implanted, we were doomed right from from the start!

Now, the memory of how you looked at me, as the light of hope left your eyes,

Comes crashing through my screened partition, and forever haunts my days and nights!