Musings from the Left Side

Short Stories & Poetry

Howlings at the Moon

Pale is washed over colors bright
As eve drops her velveteen cloak
To steal the detail from our sight

In forest dark and brooding lore
The wolves come to sing
Of hunts and kills and more

Tis the time when Luna pregnant full
Shines with malefic glare and
Moves the darkness of desire with her tidal pull

To harken wild and abandoned to unworded call
The children run and leap
And meet in parapet ‘s gorge to howl in unison all

I hear the baying and longing of lycanthropic desire
Eliciting wet ecstasy from heated loins
Feeling the maiden heat and knowing what the hunger requires

I am the lust rampant carried on their tune
Running naked in heat through forest old
Just one more lost soul howling at the moon


The Slave by Erte