Intangible Tigers
There's a moral in this: tho' I own that the preaching
Of moral and maxim in season and out
Grows stale; yet these days of depressions far-reaching
Demand any means to put worry to rout.
So in that menagerie now populated
By home-coming chickens and wolves upon mats
Consider, when finally doubt's dissipated
How often our tigers turn out to be cats.
Three-fourths of our troubles some Frenchman has told us,
But seldom occur. Tho' the ills of the mind
Loom forth as fierce tigers while doubts yet unfold us,
They turn into cats once we've put them behind.
How often the dread of some darkened tomorrow
Has ruined today; till, at Time's urgent call,
Tomorrow's false fears become yester's small sorrow
Innocuous cats, and not tigers at all.
So, here is the moral - just take it or leave it.
It doesn't much matter, you'll scorn it, no doubt.
Yet here is a truth and, if men don't receive it
I've still done my duty in pointing it out.
False troubles, false tigers engender false fearing;
So use the grey matter close under your hat
And, as you fare forth thro' life's dark forests peering,
Go armed against tigers - but still expect cats.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Dark Forests
Dark forests...Northern...Sourthern Mountains,
Fierce tigers circle around the villages in broad daylight.
...To The red dawn of twilight
The skies shine bright
Protecting what is theirs
In the magic of the night
The tigers roam everywhere taking lives for food.
The Majesty of the tigers power,
The prey dare not make a sound.
The new kin tiger sprout every year
In the valleys low.
Male and female tigers come up and down the mountains in large groups.
There is a village near the tigers’ dens in the valley,
Where tigers often come and eat the villagers’ brown calves.
Rich young men dare not shoot the arrows at the tigers.
The Majesty of the Tiger lives forever
The Majesty of the Tiger
They only pretend to check for the tigers’ tracks in the forests.
poem by Peter LeBuhn
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Menacing
White tigers roam where Man permits,
Endangered even now...
That's why they have to use their wits
Before their final bow...
Extinction's waiting in the wings,
Another cat to claim!
While Man's still doing shameful things,
This world can't stay the same.
As time moves on, the cats die out...
And yet Man doesn't care!
He's menacing without a doubt,
He's this world's worst nightmare!
The tigers look like pussycats
When they're compared to him...
He treats all life like welcome mats,
Whenever he acts dim...
A hundred years will soon pass by...
Survivors, who can say?
For now... look in the tiger's eye...
Today's the day to pray...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Menacing'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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White Haven
Even white tigers have to bathe
Though they're as white as snow,
That's why an hour they will save
For streams that overflow...
On winsome days, when winds are calm
And sunlight shines above,
White tigers will not hunt or harm
While their hearts beat with love...
The waters let white tigers chill
Like little lambs at play..
A haven here that can instill
A reason to delay...
Life isn't always running round
So frantic in the sun,
Sometimes the simple things astound,
When nothing much gets done.
This was that time, when time relaxed,
When tiny sounds were heard...
When muscles were no longer taxed
And all white tigers purred...
Who knows how long these cats survive?
This century? No more?
Be glad today that they're alive...
For no-one can be sure...
Denis Martindale, copyright, July 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'White Haven'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot.com
poem by Denis Martindale
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False Truth
False truth
Just like a word that says
Love will always find the way
No matter how hard
No matter how much
I want to hear what i want
I want to see what i like
As simple as that
Yet it's impossible to be done
Because it's just a false truth
That would never be found
A personal satisfaction within
Called ''Happiness''
Let it slide
Begone for tomorrow
Because when it's the time
You'll learn and see
That truth is just a truth
A fact that simply
Without false
And without doubt…
poem by Alva Cross
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Catnap
The tiger looked with expert eyes,
Content to see for miles...
And in his own eyes he was wise,
His black heart full of wiles...
There was no doubt within his mind,
This was the time to choose...
A better time he wouldn't find
For him to have a snooze...
He stretched his awesome long legs out,
Then curled up in a ball...
Quite sure there was no-one about,
His catnap came to call...
His eyelids drooped, like weary tails,
Their blackness dead ahead...
And nothing short of fearsome gales
Could open them instead...
Deep breaths and he was on his way,
To where all tigers go,
When big cats' dreams they must obey
And this each one must know...
His whiskers flopped like withered strings,
No longer tight and taut...
So much for tigers thought as kings,
If by his dreams, he's caught...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Catnap'.
The Stephen Gayford poems can be viewed here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Tissue Tigers (The Arguers)
I shout this,
You shout that,
The clouds are coming over looking awful black.
Its all hot air.
You say go,
I say stay,
Clear blue sky goes sheffield grey.
Its all hot air.
Ive grown immune to your claws,
Pussycat, I know...
All your threats are tissue tigers,
Crawling across the table to me.
All your threats are tissue tigers,
Ripping em up is easy for me now.
I shout this,
You shout that,
An eye for heart and a tit for a tat.
You easy tear.
Think your stripes,
Are yellow and black,
I can only see the yellow one down your back,
You easy tear.
Ive grown immune to your claws,
Pussycat, I know...
All your threats are tissue tigers,
Crawling across the table to me.
All your threats are tissue tigers,
Ripping em up is easy for me now.
We argue all life long,
Youd swear that black was wrong,
Throw tantrums like queen kong,
Ive trapped you in my song.
All your threats are tissue tigers,
Crawling across the table to me.
All your threats are tissue tigers,
Ripping em up is easy for me now.
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tissue Tigers
I shout this,
You shout that,
The clouds are coming over looking awful black.
It's all hot air.
You say go,
I say stay,
Clear blue sky goes sheffield grey.
It's all hot air.
I've grown immune to your claws,
Pussycat, i know...
All your threats are tissue tigers,
Crawling across the table to me.
All your threats are tissue tigers,
Ripping 'em up is easy for me now.
I shout this,
You shout that,
An eye for heart and a tit for a tat.
You easy tear.
Think your stripes,
Are yellow and black,
I can only see the yellow one down your back,
You easy tear.
I've grown immune to your claws,
Pussycat, i know...
All your threats are tissue tigers,
Crawling across the table to me.
All your threats are tissue tigers,
Ripping 'em up is easy for me now.
We argue all life long,
You'd swear that black was wrong,
Throw tantrums like queen kong,
I've trapped you in my song.
All your threats are tissue tigers,
Crawling across the table to me.
All your threats are tissue tigers,
Ripping 'em up is easy for me now.
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Follow The Leader
Two tigers traipsed the river's edge,
The leader heard a noise...
When entrusted with this knowledge,
Both tigers had no choice...
Two tigers traipsed beneath the sun
With one cold thought in mind,
Two heads much better than the one,
With so much strength combined...
In silent mode, they took their time,
Each stealthful step so slow...
While undetected, each new crime
Meant victims sensed no foe...
Suffice to say, their moment came,
The frantic prey ran wild,
The tigers chased like burning flame,
No longer meek and mild...
Though it didn't happen often,
The tigers had to pause...
For failure dogged them once again,
Their prey escaped their claws...
The starving tigers felt dismay,
The next meal had to wait...
With luck, they'd last another day
With cause to celebrate...
Denis Martindale, copyright, December 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Follow The Leader'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Tigernation
Within the land where tigers roam,
Some people spot their stripes
And on their PCs while at home
Perhaps they share their Skypes,
Perhaps they upload photographs,
Or videos they've made,
Beyond their times when they've had laughs
From some new escapade...
Some share their tiger images
Online for all to see!
For zoos and schools and colleges,
For fans like you and me...
And software then comes into play,
Identifying cats,
As they go prowling day-by-day...
Like they're aristocrats!
Thus tigernation's website grows
With images galore,
So many that one hardly knows
How many tigers roar!
The tigerfacts and articles
Are there, so please peruse,
Just pause a while as each enthralls
And share your points of views...
When you find each tiger's profile,
Will you check stripes and stare?
Will tigernation make you smile
At creatures oh so rare?
Will you support the work they do?
Will you support the team?
Will you help tigers, now so few,
Not simply think and dream?
If tigernation stirs your soul
And somehow warms your heart,
Perhaps it's time to take control
And try to do your part...
If tigernation helps you learn,
Please visit now and then...
Such is the tale of their concern,
They'll welcome you again!
Denis Martindale, copyright, September 2012.
Website:
tigernation-dot-org for news and views,
what you do then, is yours to choose...
poem by Denis Martindale
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7 Cats of the Cobblestone
7 cats came calling.
7 cats they be.
7 cats came calling
for
a
spot
of
tea.
7 cups
7 saucers
berries
brie
and
clotted cream.
A light fare for 7 cats
7 cats they be.
7 cats
7 names
introduced to us.
One was black and white
the other calico.
Two tabbies sat at the hearth
three more we will get to know.
Lagging behind
we did find
peculiar
ginger cat.
Next to stroll in
cat named Vincent Van Gogh
and Siam,
white as fallen snow.
Kit Kat
Chi Chi
took milk with tea.
Miss Cleo and Rosy savoring dessert.
Duke of course
curious sort
sat out
upon
the stoop.
With no warning
came storming in
last to introduce.
After tea
and light fare
cat nap they did sleep.
7 cats came calling
7 cats we keep.
7 cats of the Cobblestone
7 cats they be.
poem by Gary Kedron
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Peace And Propriety
in the name of propriety
to cats we must be cats too
you know what happens when
we show to the cats that we
are really dogs in feelings and
actions,
there will be a chase of course,
and chaos, and there will be war
and there will be losers and
winners,
and in this matter
and manner of speaking we choose
to be dogs to assure that we win
but that is not always the case
the cats have advanced in their feline
technology and breeding
so my dear, let us just be proper
to cats we shall be cats
and make this world a happy place
for all.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Silent Vigil
White tigers are conspicuous,
They stand out from the crowd!
So not to be ridiculous,
They're silent and not loud...
That's why they stare and sit and stare
Or lay and stare awhile...
So other beasties aren't aware
Of such a high profile...
White tigers can get bleary-eyed
If they lounge there too long
And yet take such things in their stride,
Although they know it's wrong...
To compensate, they walk about,
To stretch their legs and such,
Then they lie down, with paws stretched out,
But then, they don't do much...
White tigers have been known to roar,
Then watch the others run!
White tigers snigger, laugh, guffaw,
When things like that are done!
Their silent vigils that were here
Soon disappear, God knows...
It makes their day to instil fear,
The naughty so-and-sos!
poem by Denis Martindale
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Dictators ride to and fro upon tigers which they dare not dismount. And the tigers are getting hungry.
quote by Winston Churchill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cheek To Cheek
Two tigers wandered to and fro,
Like restless tigers do,
Until they chose to take things slow
Just like the chosen few...
Let others pounce and leap for joy,
Explore for all they're worth,
But these two tigers played it coy
And settled on the earth...
Thus side-by-side and cheek-to-cheek
They nestled 'neath the sun,
Content merely to pause and peek
At others having fun...
As if to say, 'You go for it!
We'll stay here keeping guard...
Conserve your strength, keep fighting fit,
Just don't you play too hard! '
While others every joy embrace
As if Hell-bent on thrills,
Some tigers simply spend their days,
Like statues watching hills...
They look like bookends on the shelves,
Now rooted to the spot!
Wise tigers learn to pace themselves!
That sun is too darned hot!
Denis Martindale, copyright, April 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Cheek To Cheek'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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For Jane
225 days under grass
and you know more than I.
they have long taken your blood,
you are a dry stick in a basket.
is this how it works?
in this room
the hours of love
still make shadows.
when you left
you took almost
everything.
I kneel in the nights
before tigers
that will not let me be.
what you were
will not happen again.
the tigers have found me
and I do not care.
poem by Charles Bukowski
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Cattitude for M'Lady Ernestine
She tells her kittens this and that
Like any feline mother would
and she makes sure they’ve understood
Just what it means to be a cat...
For cats can trace their ancestry
much farther back than humans can
They are superior to man
although humans may not agree.
There was a time when humans knew
the feline race was born to rule.
The race of man was just a tool
cats used to do what they must do.
The menial tasks of every day
beneath a felines dignity.
A cats place was to oversee
that men did their work properly.
But times have changed and now today
Cats are seen by men as pets
but no true cat ever forgets.
That they will rule again one day.
Mean while cats have to rule by guile
A wise cat always gets her way
it is a role cats have to play.
Though cats may vary in their style.
Cats make the men provide our food
and somewhere warm and dry to sleep
Cats do not need to earn their keep.
There is no reason why we should.
That’s what men were created for.
Although they claim authority
they misperceive reality.
They’re born to worship and adore.
Perhaps cats will reward them when
Cats can assume their rightful place
as rulers of the human race.
The wheel is sure to turn again.
8-Feb-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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A Copying Cat
A day / A night
A pet / A sight
Paws / Thy Claws
Fur white / Hellkite
Small teeth / Thy Jaws
Red, brown? White, grey? Born stark?
At night all cats are dark
Bear crown? Without way? No marque?
In the dark all cats' labels are park
All cats are cat, at night,
No doubts about their power, their might,
Let none question the fear they incite,
'Cause for advantage they have cat's spite,
And night is quite the cat's best site,
For proven the fact, which strangeness is quite,
That is at the dark where cat's do their flight,
And none's is worst than a very cat's bite
For none can be a cat's copycat,
And no cat can avoid copying cats
poem by by unknown author
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Tigers And Goats
Tigers and goats,
And the tigers ate up the goats;
But they will get the signals when the church bell rings,
And like Medo-Persia, Greece and Rome!
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Cats Eye Resurrection
Cats ~ cats ~ cats
Eye
Cats ~ cats ~ cats
Splashing on my walls ~ my walls
In the field the bodies are tied
To the their crosses hair hanging down
The blood is rolling down their
Arms to the waiting dogs
Bad ~ bad ~ bad
Doctors
Bad ~ bad ~ bad
Counting the meat on the tables
In the field the bodies are tied to the
Altar the popes mule sings a song of
Freedom from his majesty-the pope
Nazi ~ nazi ~ nazi
Butchers
Nazi ~ nazi ~ nazi
Waving their tongues in the air
Cats-cats-cats-bad-bad-bad-cats eye
Resurrection
song performed by by Rob Zombie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Little Black Sambo
Little Black Sambo
Dance Sambo Dance!
You knoe you are a pancake!
The little black sambo ran around the tigers,
until they blended into batter.
Ewe see it does it matters.
Dance Sambo Dance!
You knoe you are a pancake!
If you even make just one mistake,
the tigers they will eat you.
Dance Sambo Dance!
You knoe you are a pancake!
Unless you can out race them,
the tigers are so fast.
We would rather that you eat them.
Dance Sambo Dance!
Prance and add the butter to the better batter there.
What could also be much better so much neater.
Dance Sambo Dance!
The tigers are just pancakes.Sambo is the eater.
Sambo Danced.
poem by Charles Hice
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