Wild animals from start to end,
Two wolves worked as a team,
Combining strength, that fatal blend,
In ways Man calls extreme.
When hunger comes, they think ahead,
Regardless of the cost,
Survival means they must get fed,
Though other lives get lost.
Was it from such as these wild ones
That breeds of dogs arose?
How fast the racing greyhound runs
As that is what Man chose.
So many breeds and sizes, too,
In black and white and brown,
Across the whole wide world to view,
Almost in every town.
Yet wolves still roam by day and night,
Untamed, unfettered still,
No little leads to hold them tight
As they howl on a hill.
No throwing sticks or treats supplied,
No tinned food fresh or stale,
No muzzled mouths their teeth to hide,
No freedoms to curtail.
Denis Martindale. May 2022.
The poem is based on the magnificent wildlife
painting of two wolves, entitled The Wild Ones,
by Stephen Gayford. Google search my poems
using the search phrase Stephen Gayford.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem