African Sun
African sun, behold him there...
One lion, nothing more.
He's lying down without a care,
No yearning to explore...
Perhaps his paws are hot as coals
And he's plum tuckered out...
Exhausted by his long patrols,
He just can't move about...
It's all your fault! Yes, you're to blame!
You've paralysed a king!
You might have well have made him lame!
Now he can't do a thing!
No longer can he stalk or creep
To quickly catch his prey!
I bet he'll soon be fast asleep
Until the end of day!
For shame, I say! Have pity soon!
He hasn't even roared!
In minutes, it will be high noon,
Please let him be restored...
If not, I'll have to pray for rain
And then he'll get upset!
He hates damp grass across the plain,
His fur all soaking wet!
Of course, I'll leave it up to you...
God help you to decide...
Five minutes more! Then say, 'Adieu! '
Let conscience be your guide!
I bet his eyelids weigh a ton!
I bet you're proud of that!
African sun, look what you've done!
He's like a pussycat!
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'African Sun'.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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African Monarch
Come, feast your eyes on royalty!
The Lion King and more!
As if God granted some decree
That all observe his law...
For who could doubt the lion lives
As sovereign lord of all?
His one loud roar as proof he gives!
Who can withstand that call?
It causes bravery to crack
And fears are swiftly stirred!
It sends a shiver down your back
The first time that it's heard!
All through his youth, he trains and trains,
Like one in search of prey...
To see him run across the plains
Would take your breath away!
I'd rather stroke a pussycat
Than cuddle close to him...
For if I got as close as that,
I'd be a dead pilgrim!
While it's true, some folks would quibble,
With one called royalty...
To keep a wide berth's sensible...
Quite logical to me...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'African Monarch'.
The Stephen Gayford poems can be viewed here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Exhausted
To say the sun was way too hot
Was simply not enough.
To think, that tiny golden dot
Was burning bright above.
The lion cub had spent his strength,
Just playing with his friends
And now, he laid down, stretched full length,
Exhausted as day ends...
The adult lions stared amused,
Yet knew one day he'd learn.
To pace himself, for there's no boost
And there's no second turn...
The slightly older cubs still played,
While he laid motionless...
They'd learnt some wisdom and obeyed,
Without the need to guess.
The lion cub could hear them still
And gazed through weary eyes,
For he'd lost both the strength and will...
To join the other guys...
Plum tuckered out! All on his Todd!
He couldn't pounce or creep...
And since no-one gave him a prod,
He gently went to sleep...
'Poor thing! ' the adults all agreed,
Acknowledging their sorrow...
And promised they'd help him succeed,
'We'll feed him up... tomorrow...'
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Exhausted'.
More Stephen Gayford poems can be read here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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African Radiance
Behold the lion's golden mane,
His stature and his stance,
As if he stalks through golden grain,
A vision to entrance...
Such poise, such grace, such confidence,
Such priceless majesty,
Such wondrous, thunderous elegance,
Such precious sovereignty...
Behold the lion's state of mind,
Without one trace of love,
As if he'd left that far behind
When times were getting tough...
His mane was gold, his heart was black,
Just outer radiance...
The hunt was on, no turning back,
No change of sentiments...
Behold the lion's sombre stare,
Fixated on his prey...
As if no mercy left to spare,
Regardless night or day...
He looks determined, without doubt,
As if the end is nigh,
As if his prey had no way out,
No time to wonder why...
Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'African Radiance'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Drowsy
Sometimes the lion king roars loud
For everyone to hear!
But there are times he's not too proud
And hardly one to fear...
We all feel drowsy now and then
And can't avoid a yawn...
Sometimes we can't count up to ten
And look somewhat forlorn...
This lion king feels drowsy now,
His kingdom slips away...
His weary head begins to bow
As stronger forces play.
To stay awake is such a chore!
His weakness is confessed.
He breathes much deeper than before,
Admitting he must rest.
So sleepy-time approaches him
And so his eyelids droop...
His eyesight fast approaches dim
As he departs the group...
Let others guard the lion pride,
Let others look around,
This lion king that yawned and sighed
Is gently sleeping sound...
Denis Martindale, copyright, February 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Drowsy'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Regal
Within that blaze of golden frame
The regal lion glared,
For everybody knew his name
And everybody stared...
For there he was, in majesty,
Their sovereign king and more,
The master of their destiny,
Of that you can be sure...
He held their very lives at hand,
One bite could bring a halt..
It's true, in stature, he looked grand,
Yet ruthless to a fault.
Those eyes had seen each war he'd won,
Each battle as it raged..
Though now, beneath that gentle sun,
His wrath seemed somehow caged...
Behold this awesome mighty beast,
His handsome lion face,
Kings claim the most and not the least,
The lion's share embrace,
You may be strong, you may succeed,
Your will may never bend!
But while he's king and king indeed,
Beware, take care, my friend...
Denis Martindale, copyright, July 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Regal'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot.com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Golden
'That's it! I'm pooped! ' the lion said,
'I'm just a cub, that's all! '
And so he laid his heavy head
With no more strength to crawl...
'I've done the lot! ' he said with pride,
'I've jumped, I've pounced, I've chewed! '
And having yawned, now bleary-eyed,
He sighed, a worn-out dude...
'I know it's only half-past-three!
But I'm plum-tuckered now!
Did you see my sister chase me?
All I can say is wow!
She's run me ragged all day long,
As if she had it planned!
She bit my tail, that's simply wrong!
She's getting out of hand! '
The lion cub complained again,
'She's safe for now, I know,
But I'll get back at her and then,
I'll teach that so-and-so! '
Then all at once his eyes shut tight,
All golden rules to flout,
In dreams he schemed with all his might,
'I'll sort that missy out! '
Denis Martindale, copyright, August 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Golden'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Lazy Afternoon
Two little lions closed their eyes,
So tired in the sun...
No longer now the cool wise guys,
So spritely, full of fun.
Plum-tuckered out, as is the way,
As afternoons take hold...
Then little lion heads will sway
As their neck muscles fold...
Their parents grin from ear-to-ear
To watch them fall asleep...
As sunbeams gently, softly steer
Them to their dreams so deep...
At first, they gamely stay awake,
Refusing to submit...
Then suddenly, all strength to take,
The battle's lost, that's it!
Then little lion heads must fall,
For forty winks again...
As if obedient to that call
That even masters men...
I know they tried to do their best,
But now they're sleeping sound.
Their floppy heads with closed eyes rest,
To doze on dusty ground...
Denis Martindale, copyright, January 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Lazy Afternoon'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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African Giant
Across the plains of Africa, elephants come and go,
There lives this mighty superstar, that most have come to know.
This is no small thing you can pet or treat as if a child...
For he's as tall as you can get and sometimes he gets wild!
If he runs at you all at once, don't stand there, waiting, friend!
Don't wave to him and act the dunce, for soon, your life will end!
This creature's one you won't forget! He'll dance upon your grave!
To run away, that's your best bet, if your life you would save!
African giant, please stay there! Let's keep things peaceful now.
You're big enough to show some care, to let me live somehow...
I won't approach your giant frame or challenge you to fight...
Let common wisdom be our aim and please, let's stay polite!
The plains are big enough for us... The sun is way too hot...
And running's such an awful fuss and in the end, for what?
You'd be upset! I'd be upset! And each would look the fool...
No need for us to build a sweat... Let's choose to play it cool.
Relax! Calm down! OK, alright! Breathe in and out. That's good.
You're doing great! It's out of sight. You see, I knew you could!
I'm not the kind to hurt a fly... Let's settle down, OK?
Let's watch each moment pass us by... Let's both enjoy the day...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'African Giant'.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Savannah Slumber
Sometimes a lioness must sleep
Despite her cubs in-tow,
Into the Land of Nod to creep,
With eyelids hanging low...
And long deep breaths soon come around
To signal her retreat,
Until she hears a purring sound
From one cub small and sweet...
She almost made it! Both eyes closed!
'What now! ? ' she thinks once more,
Yet her young scamp has just imposed,
So how can she ignore?
Can't someone else please help her out?
They look the other way...
Alas, there's not one friend about!
How typical today!
She still pretends she's fast asleep!
But he's a pesky pest!
Despite the fact she's like a heap,
I don't think he's impressed!
So up she gets, left paw, right paw,
Then back legs follow suit...
Now's not the time to sleep and snore!
'Hey, Mum, don't I look cute! ? '
Denis Martindale, copyright, October 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Savannah Slumber'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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African King
It's rare to see your lion face
For most would stay away,
Yet if you don't give me the chase,
I'd see your mane like hay...
Ten thousand strands of fine-formed fur
Adorn your majesty...
Gold ribboned bands that somehow stir
My sense of chivalry.
Yes, royal blood flows through your veins,
Enough to warm my heart...
Till I recall what vicious pains
As sovereign you'll impart.
African king, yet savage beast,
You rule your world with fear.
While in your eyes I seem the least,
I'm not all I appear.
For I'm a hunter, born and bred,
A carnivore like you.
I'll throw my spears till I get fed...
Most times, my aim stays true...
I've seen your glowing eyes at night,
Your silhouette so close...
I've seen the fearful birds take flight,
As tension overflows...
As long as I respect your space
And you respect what's mine,
We'll each survive by God's good grace
And we'll both get on fine.
There's room enough and game enough
To live our whole lives through...
So if you let me do my stuff,
I'll keep away from you...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'African King'.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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King Of Kings
Behold the son of royal birth,
Aligned by blood, no less,
To ancient kings who proved their worth
And ones God chose to bless.
Consider all that history
Has taught us through the years,
Each miracle, each mystery,
The laughter and the tears...
Consider how each king is raised
From birth to adulthood...
As if like diamonds, well appraised,
Superior not just good...
Reflect on posture that's portrayed
To signify his throne...
That tells you he must be obeyed,
For he is king alone...
Remember all his mighty power,
His strength and bravery.
For he is king and you should cower
At all there is to see.
That majesty, that dignity,
That stare that meets your eyes...
Should grant your soul some clarity
And help you realise...
That here he is, the king of kings...
Perhaps your friend or foe...
In either case, his underlings...
What more is there to know?
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'King Of Kings'.
While this poem is about the lion painting,
the poem is written without any reference
to the lion at all. That's because of the
Christian symbolism of Jesus, the Son of God,
whose royal ancestors meant that He was
called the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords.
The poem ends with the realisation for each soul.
Are you a friend or a foe to the King of Kings?
More Stephen Gayford poems can be viewed here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Triplets
Depending on your point of view,
If you think they're first rate,
We know what lion cubs can do,
But triplets can be great!
Yes, lion cubs are little tykes!
Three rascals can be fun...
With each cub doing as he likes,
Till he sleeps in the sun...
They're nodding off... plum tuckered out...
Yet they don't want to snooze!
They'd rather pounce and jump about,
With cunning, cruise and bruise...
They'd rather scratch and bite and roar,
Cause chaos for a while...
Than simply, merely, humbly snore...
And lose all sense of style.
The other cubs aren't tired yet,
They slowly bide their time...
For some revenge they'll swiftly get
And won't that feel sublime?
The triplets haven't got a prayer!
They've got to go to sleep!
The other cubs are well aware...
As they, their vigil, keep!
Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Triplets'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Back To Back
Back to back, there stood two meerkats,
Just staring into space,
As if they looked like scruffy brats
Who had no poise or grace...
Yet each meerkat found affection
And mutual respect,
To gaze off in each direction
With peace you can't neglect.
As they leaned against each other,
Just taking in the day,
Were these two father and mother
To little ones at play?
Perhaps they stood there tired out,
Without the strength to move...
Plum-tuckered out to run about
And now stuck in a groove...
Suffice to say, they made me smile...
Life's no long drawn out thrill.
Sometimes you need to rest a while
And just take time to chill...
It's nice to let the world go by,
Watch fluffy clouds sail past...
You'll never hear a meerkat sigh
Who's found true love at last...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Back To Back'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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African Sunset
As the sun was setting slowly,
The lion settled down...
Forewarned, majestic and holy,
Adorned in golden brown...
Without a qualm, without a care,
At peace with all he knew,
Just calmly breathing in the air
Beneath the sky so blue...
The hot, hot sun had soothed his mind,
All signs of rage had gone
And as it left the day behind,
The moon must carry on...
Night creatures stirred within the soil,
Yet few would sense his power...
Nor think of him that he was royal
And over them he'd tower...
The birds approached him without fear,
They knew that he was old...
They taunted him as they drew near,
Delighting to be bold...
The sunset of his life was now,
When midnight comes to call...
He bore no frown upon his brow...
You see, he'd done it all...
Denis Martindale, copyright, August 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'African Sunset'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot.com
poem by Denis Martindale
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The Master
The lion stands his ground again,
Reflecting on his fate,
Remembering his youth and when
Nobody thought him great...
He proved them wrong, defiantly,
Determined, come what may,
As if it all were meant to be,
His destiny, his way...
Contenders sought to take him on,
To test his strength and guile,
His legend, thus, was built upon
His power, speed and style...
He made them wince, he made them groan,
He made them turn and run,
Until as King, he took the throne,
His battles truly done...
Behold the lion, standing there...
Take note with true regard,
He may look noble, debonair,
But sentiment discard...
If you've got doubts, stop wondering...
He'll make you understand...
For he's the Master, Lord and King,
The Ruler of this land...
Denis Martindale, copyright, August 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'The Master'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Sheer Class
The regal lion's earnt his fame
As sovereign lord and more,
His golden fur as if aflame,
His gaze forever sure...
His stature none could dare improve,
For his is quite renowned...
His eyes aware of every move,
His ears of every sound...
Aristocratic... every day...
As if the world were his...
As if all others must obey,
Or things would be amiss...
Behold the king, for such is he,
Behold the noble grace,
Behold the royal majesty
That shines upon his face...
The many battles he has fought
Were won beyond all doubt,
His challengers have come to nought,
Retreated, turned about...
Alone, he is the alpha male,
Of this, no need to guess...
How come he makes all others pale?
Sheer class, no more, no less...
Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Sheer Class'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Flat Out
The sun was mighty warm today!
The lioness concurred...
She found a pleasant rock to lay,
A spot that she preferred...
And then she sort of melted there...
And with that rock was one,
Such that she simply didn't care
About that sizzling sun...
Her heavy eyelids flickered still,
Some consciousness to keep,
As if a final act of will
Before she slipped to sleep...
Her breathing in and breathing out
Were simply not the same
And should there be a single doubt,
She'd swear, the sun's to blame!
Flat out, she was, her tail as well,
Like one long stretch of string...
As if the victim of a spell,
She couldn't do a thing!
The mighty huntress met her match!
Flat out, for all to see...
And there she stayed, some sleep to snatch,
From noon till half-past-three...
Denis Martindale, copyright, July 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Flat Out'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Pillow Talk
When meerkats taunt their predators,
They lounge upon the ground...
As if to say, 'You can't catch us!
We each hear every sound...
And we've got eyes that see for miles,
Each day from east to west...
You'll always see us full of smiles,
As we know we're the best! '
That's why the meerkats feel so close
And cuddle up real tight...
They know it aggravates their foes,
From whom they soon take flight!
'Yeah, bring it on! Come, on, just try!
Just see how far you get!
We're feeling great! We're feeling spry!
We're really not upset! '
The meerkats smirked as meerkats do,
To them, it's one long laugh!
They take the longterm point of view
And don't do things by half...
Together now, they're quite a team,
All cosy lying there...
They're proud to be living the dream,
With sunshine everywhere...
Denis Martindale, copyright, October 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Pillow Talk'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Wild At Heart
The lion listened as the breeze
Passed gently on each side
And on the ground he took his ease,
Enjoying all supplied,
As if this hour was a gift,
A time-out if he stayed,
As if to give his heart a lift
As long as he delayed...
Though wild at heart and strong and brave
And fast upon his feet,
He took the gift that God then gave
For peace like this seemed sweet...
A shift from darkness to the light,
Contentment deep within,
Such that for now this time felt right,
Enough to make him grin...
The lion listened, heartbeat slow,
His muscles not so tense,
Beneath the sunshine's gentle glow
With all its dividends...
Then suddenly, he roared aloud,
Reminding us at length,
That he, of course, was mighty proud
And still quite full of strength!
Denis Martindale, copyright, June 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Wild At Heart'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Forest Splendour
White tigers try to keep awake,
Yet keep on dozing off!
So ultra cool, for goodness sake,
They think that others scoff...
Look at him now, he's not that strong,
Sleep's beaten him again!
Plum tuckered out, he can't last long...
Bet he can't count to ten!
White tigers like to do their best...
They show off every day!
They're happy most when they've impressed
And not just thought okay!
The strain soon wears, fatigue comes back
And nobody's immune...
And all at once their muscles slack,
About late afternoon...
This white tiger's now flat out,
All restful, suddenly...
Wondering how that came about -
It's quite a mystery!
He's run around and feasted well...
He's warmed up by the sun...
I think he'll stay there for a spell...
Don't wake him, anyone!
Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Forest Splendour'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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