the flames dance in thy bright eyes
For Ray's Wolfy Tales Challenge

hollow eyes stare out of the gloom, but no move does the lean hunter make
the fire crackling beneath venison on the spit
a lone meal for me and mine own cub, we are hungry too,
reduced in our desperate state to feed on carrion with the crows.
did thine mother never teach thee to hunt, wastrel wolfling?
...
did she never lead you a merry chase across the tundra
snapping at the heels of a mighty caribou herd?
come warm thyself at the fire, motherless pup,
let the flames dance in thy bright eyes and
feed upon our scraps, for we are poor but not hard hearted.
About the Creator
John Cox
Twisted teller of mind bending tales. I never met a myth I didn't love or a subject that I couldn't twist out of joint. I have a little something for almost everyone here. Cept AI. Aint got none of that.



Comments (23)
I was excited as soon as I saw the title and remembered which piece this was. Love it all. It feels prose-like, but still with a poetic flourish to it that elevates it. Feels like some story passed by oral tradition (think I may have said similar to that effect in my oriignal comment). So, I'm torn now. lol. Thank you for sharing it and putting it forward as a submission. Love it, sir!
An unusual and fiercely beautiful brushstroke of poetry. A cry for compassion and unity within the family and society at large. :)
Oh how vivid this piece was. I like how you set the scene in the first stanza. I could see the venison on the spit and imagine the desperate state of feeding on carrion. And how amazingly smooth these words sound together ‘feeding on carrion’ ‘dance in thy bright eyes’ so many lines that I love, impossible to pick a favourite. It was a great choice to make this your title. Allowing the motherless pup to feed upon the scraps — poor but not hard hearted. My heart is warmed, I really love the ending 👏🏽👌🏽
Whoa! What a next-level poem surprise John!
Well-wrought! I suppose the closest I come to this in the city is leaving some leftover bread out for the squirrels, though I wouldn't say they lack for sustenance!
not hard hearted! sharing, I love it!!
Your imagery here is amazing!
Positively magical, Paul - the scene truly comes alive with each line and detail. Love the warm invitation of the hunter! This could be the origin story for domestication of wolves/beginning of dogs!
Wow! I loved the last line, it's an excellent and wise ending to it!
It's like a legend come to life. So atmospheric too. I think it's the use of "thine" but it's the crackling fire too, the dark before domestication. Nice one, John. I loved it.
Rugged but so rich, John!! Loved how it’s an address to the”wastrel wolfling” really well done!
A haunting, tender, evocative scene. ⚡💙⚡
Awww, this touched my heart so much! It made me so emotional and I freaking loved it!
Love anything wolfy
This feels like a Robert Service poem. A Great Canadian, poet. It has this feel of one who has lived in the north and witnessed the wild first hand.
Oh I love it!
A vivid scene… the crackling fire & hungry trio… heart warming conclusion ✅.
This is such a beautiful account of that first shared meal, it brought a tear to my eye. Truly magical and really well done. Loved the choice of painting to illustrate too. I will be looking through some of Kowalski-Wierusz's work to see if it can generate some ideas for a Legends Rewritten tale. Thanks so much for the introduction.
This poem is an entire story, and a beautiful one at that. Well done, John.
You've done it again. As beautiful as it is brilliant. I could feel the warmth.
Komal is right...this was deeply moving, sir! I love when you write in classical style - it elevated this simple and succinct little piece to something bigger and deeper, yet still intimate. You set everything up so perfectly from that first line to the last. It was so easy to visualise everything, true, but also to feel it all to the core. Well done, John!
This feels like a whispered legend by firelight, ancient and wild. The old-world phrasing and primal struggle pull me right into the frozen night. That final line? Chilling and tender at once. A wolf’s mercy—rare, yet real.
What a captivating story poem and loved the image you used. Good job for I could see the action.