Arctic Sun

Wrapped up within his blanket fur,
The white wolf looks serene,
The arctic sun makes him a blur,
Pristine and oh so clean...
And while he's there, not here with you,
You're safe as safe can be,
To zoom in through your camera's view,
To see what you can see...
He looks like Lassie painted white,
Quite harmless, don't you think?
He looks refined and most polite,
But wait until you blink...
For in a moment, he can stand
And run from there to here...
And suddenly, he'll shake your hand
And shake your heart with fear....
Appearances deceive us all,
Sometimes you just can't tell...
It's only when you hear wolves call,
That beauty casts no spell...
It's then that Nature's rules enforce
Her laws by night and day...
To tell us, who has teeth and claws,
The hunter or the prey?


Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2009.


The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Arctic Sun'.

The Stephen Gayford poems can be viewed here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com

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Arctic Wanderer

The arctic wastelands numb the bones
And wolves aren't yet immune,
Upon the winds you'll hear their groans
And moans that won't end soon...
For arctic wastelands test the souls
Of all who wander near,
As if to find out what controls
Their every thought and fear...

The arctic winds feel no remorse
As they go howling by,
They simply blow, maintain their course,
While all God's creatures sigh...
The wolf must wander like the wind
Along some unknown path,
For come the day he's left behind,
They'll write his epitaph...

For now, he lives, to face the storm,
To battle through each hour...
Remembering he once was warm,
But now he's feeling sour...
So woe betide whatever's found
That he can eat today!
His heart's turned cold, just like the ground
That hides what he calls prey...


Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2010.

The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Arctic Wanderer'.

More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com

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Lords Of The Arctic

Two snow wolves stayed on pure white snow,
Like two rocks side-by-side...
As if they had no home to go,
No warm place to abide...
Yet heat can't feed the wolves by day
Or nurture them by night,
That's why the wolves must hunt for prey,
Before their food takes flight.

Two wolves await what God allows
To cross their paths once more...
For now, the hungry wolves must browse,
No movement to ignore...
No sound can stir without their ears
Locating that new source,
For even wild wolves have their fears,
As Nature takes its course.

Lords of the Arctic, yes, indeed...
Survivors striving still,
Their hunger pangs help them succeed,
We know they always will.
For who seeks hunger for a friend?
Or thirst that aches within?
That's why, the hunt can never end,
While they've got hope to win...


Denis Martindale, copyright, February 2011.

The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Lords Of The Arctic'.

More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com

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Arctic Apparition

The white wolf waited wilfully
With what would pass for guile,
So long it seemed eternity
I looked at his profile...
Yet in my quest to photograph
This untamed creature there,
He hardly moved along the path
And seemed content to stare...

Until his prey was seen or heard,
He breathed in and breathed out,
As if a statue, never stirred,
To leave me full of doubt...
But finally, he heard a sound
And like a ghost he flew,
As up he sprang, one single bound,
The hunter through and through...

My camera clicked as he streaked by,
Like lightning left-to-right,
An apparition leaping high
And such an awesome sight...
I have his pictures to this day,
Still mounted on the wall...
'The white wolf hunting for his prey! '
What memories I recall...


Denis Martindale, copyright, February 2012.


The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Arctic Apparition'.

More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com

I found the picture on the Osborne-Allen website:

osborne-allen-dot-co-uk

Search for Stephen Gayford prints.

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Mountain Splendour

Snow leopards look at snow all day!
It's here, there, everywhere!
It hardly ever goes away!
It's white beyond compare!
It's dazzling white, it's total white,
It really, really is!
It's safe to say that it's too bright!
It's not something they'd miss...

Snow leopards sit the whole day long
On snow, snow, snow, snow, snow...
It's sometimes nice, don't get me wrong,
But doesn't that stuff glow! ?
It's freezing cold, no good at all...
And bores them all to tears...
They hate it when new snowflakes fall
And tickle both their ears!

Snow leopards wait for food to eat...
They wait, wait, wait, wait, wait...
They take things slow, they tap their feet...
And think life's just great!
They can't hum tunes like humans do...
Remembering each rhyme...
They just sit down, enjoy the view...
And... while... away... the... time...


Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2010.


The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Mountain Splendour II'.

More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com

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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

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Arctic Sun II

The white wolf danced at break of day
With sunshine beating down,
Upon the snow to melt away
Old Mother Nature's gown...
The hunting hadn't gone so well,
But Spring was in the air!
Good riddance to cold Winter's spell
And to its sad despair...

Roll on the lengthening of hours
That sunshine would impart
And precious strengthening of powers
That stirred within his heart!
Begone the biting storms and winds!
Let gentle breezes blow!
Be glad, all creatures! Now begins
The seasons waters flow!

The white wolf danced with utmost glee!
Goodbye to loneliness!
And so he frolicked, fancy free,
His new hopes to caress!
And as he danced on yonder hill,
I danced right there and then!
He stared amazed to see such skill
And howled and danced again!


Denis Martindale, copyright, October 2010.


The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Arctic Sun II'.

More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com

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Little Jewel

Lioness cub, you look so cool,
Despite the hot sunshine.
Lioness cub, you little jewel,
So calm as you recline...
You take your ease! Yes, settle there...
You've not got much to do...
And if you did, you wouldn't care.
You'd rest the whole day through.

Can't blame you, though! It's flaming hot!
It's something I can't stand!
That's why I'm rooted to the spot...
Let others puff and pant!
Today's the day I'll take it slow...
Like you, I'll take my time...
There's no point being on the go...
Stay still... it's not a crime.

They say that lions are born free,
So who am I to scoff?
Do you feel guilty, just like me?
I've tried to shake it off...
But, no, you're right. Let's both relax...
No need to play the fool...
Let's lie flat out, upon our backs,
Like you... you little jewel...


Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2010.


The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Little Jewel'.

More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com

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Winter Perfection

They say the dog is Man's best friend,
His buddy, through and through...
You can depend he will defend,
So credit where it's due...
Yet from the wild wolf he was tamed
And brought into the home,
Where he plays free and unashamed,
Wherever he may roam...
To think, the wolf once crossed the globe,
The forests, plains and hills...
And every valley Man could probe,
The wild wolf hunts and kills.
Beyond the cities, Nature rules
The hunter and the prey...
When Summer dies, the Autumn cools,
Then Winter haunts each day.
The blinding snow falls to the ground
And freezes far and wide...
It's then the white wolf roams around
And has no need to hide.
His camouflage is perfect now,
Successful hunts ensue...
The truth is harsh, yet fates allow
The things the wolf must do...


The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Winter Perfection'.

The Stephen Gayford poems can be viewed here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com

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Rarity

Across the plains my Jeep went well,
Yet something slowed me down,
As if I were within a spell
So far away from town...
Binoculars were by my side,
I raised them to my eyes,
For I beheld a lion's pride
And then a great surprise...

White lions here? Yes, I felt blessed!
I got my camera out...
Who could have known? Who could have guessed?
And yet there was no doubt.
I snapped some pictures there and then,
Because I needed proof...
For who among the wisest men
Would trust me with the truth?

But then I paused... Should I pass on
These pictures to Mankind?
My heart said yes, before they're gone,
Their beauty left behind...
Now all the world can celebrate
White lion cubs born free,
To watch them grow and think they're great!
God bless such rarity...


Denis Martindale, copyright, February 2011.

The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Rarity'.

More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com

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Lion Cub

To study him, as he was now,
You'd think that he looked swell.
This lion cub with wrinkled brow
Was known to cast a spell...
Your first impressions are misled,
For he's no gentle soul...
Just tired out, with weary head,
Till he regains control...

Once back on form, he's set to pounce!
He's on all fours again!
As if on springs, he'll leap and bounce
Before he counts to ten!
This little jewel is known to prowl
And ambush suddenly...
He even makes his Mother growl,
While Dad stares solemnly...

But does he care, displaying shame?
Does he observe their rules?
They've never known him to be tame!
He treats them all as fools!
But one day soon, he'll stand and fight,
No matter what this brings!
Yes, one day soon, with all his might,
He'll join the lion kings!


Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2010.

The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Lion Cub'.

More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com

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Lobo

Not one wolf here on Earth forgives
When his next meal gets lost...
The moon shines down on each that lives
Regardless of the cost...
The lobo's hunger must remain,
As if to drive him wild,
As if to drive him quite insane,
Such that his soul's defiled...

As he looks now, he looks serene,
Quite calm and self-composed,
But this is just the in-between,
No victim's death to boast...
I know he looks so beautiful,
Beguiling in a way...
But sometimes wolves can be so cruel...
With others easy prey...

Behold the wolf that stares ahead,
His features so distinct,
Without a single trace of dread,
Awareness interlinked...
With eyes that focus here and there
And ears than scan for sound,
This lobo's up for any dare,
While food's somewhere around...


Denis Martindale, copyright, January 2012.

The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Lobo'.

More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com

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The Attack

The tiger knew each second counts
As he went on the prowl...
Split-second timing for that pounce
Or else he'll pause to scowl...
Success or failure, win or lose,
Eat well or starve today,
That's why the moment he must choose
As he hunts for his prey.

He climbed up trees to scout the land,
He lied in silent wait,
He thought ahead with schemes well planned
So he could celebrate...
But he must play the waiting game...
While starving in the sun,
Or else he'll have himself to blame
When this long day was done.

I watched him through binoculars,
Aware of what could be,
While I chewed on some chocolate bars,
The tiger stared at me...
Let Nature take its course, I said...
So safe within my jeep.
That day, another victim bled...
Before he went to sleep...


Denis Martindale, copyright, February 2011.

The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'The Attack'.

More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com

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Focussed

All senses now are focussed well,
Survival calls again,
The lioness obeys its spell
That haunts both beasts and men...
The hunger gnaws within us all,
It comes and will not budge
And why, united by its thrall,
We serve, yet with a grudge...

The lioness now stalks her prey...
With eyes and ears alert,
With nostrils flared for scents that stray
Within the land of hurt...
For here it is that death draws near,
As Mother Nature knows...
And all at once, peace turns to fear,
Till life comes to a close...

The lioness may look refined,
Defiant, noble, brave,
Yet hunger leads to thoughts unkind,
With few around to save.
Her prey is fast, the chase is on!
Escape is rare, so rare...
Yet suddenly the prey has gone...
And leaves her fuming there...


Denis Martindale, copyright, July 2010.


The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Focussed'.

More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot.com

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Burning Bright

Oh, how brilliant is the legend
In oranges and blacks.
You look and then your breath suspend...
The tiger nothing lacks!
With stripes so strong, so debonair,
So vibrant in the sun!
How dominant, beyond compare,
A vision that can stun!

Take in the stance, the mouth, the teeth,
The claws in paws of gold...
They keep their secrets there beneath,
For they must not be told!
But come the time the tiger stalks
The prey that's dead ahead...
Those claws aren't merely just for walks...
I'm sure you've guessed! Nuff said...

The tiger tempts nobody close,
He growls contempt for all...
For now, he merely strikes a pose,
As if his curtain call...
Endangered species come and go!
His legend's burning bright!
Yet how long for, no man can know...
Please pray again, tonight...


Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2011.

The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Burning Bright'.

More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com

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Young Guns

Two lions lingered, both at rest,
As if they had all day...
All deadly thoughts had been suppressed,
For hunting and for prey...
This was their time, the sun was kind,
A gentle breeze drew near
And so, together, they reclined,
Without one trace of fear...

A slow abiding trust had formed
That blessed each lion's heart...
And friendship grew and then it warmed,
A strong bond to impart...
They knew each other through and through,
Each mood, each train of thought,
Each planning what the two could do,
If prey was to be caught...

This bond would stand the test of time,
No matter, day or night,
This miracle they called sublime
And sensed that it was right...
So they survived the lean, mean years,
Endured them, come what may...
To gain respect from all their peers...
Together, all the way...


Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2010.


The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Young Guns'.

More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com

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Comrades

What can be said of wolves as friends,
As comrades, chums or mates,
As each one on his pal depends
And with him celebrates?
Like criminals in cold cahoots,
As callous as they come,
We'll always know them by their fruits,
Yes, all of them, not some...

Yet there they stand, no shame in sight,
No guilt for evil deeds,
Just grins that signal their delight
When either wolf succeeds...
Their partnership was borne of guile,
Now they walk toe-to-toe,
Together for a long, long while,
No matter where they go...

Beware of such as these, beware,
Their hearts are black as coal,
Such that they hunt and fail to care
For any life or soul...
Though they appear like dogs so tame,
They wouldn't hurt a fly,
If you meet them, then you're to blame
If you stand idly by...


Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2012.


The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Comrades'.

More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com

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White Treasures

White tigers like their privacy,
It keeps their young cubs calm,
There's nothing like tranquillity
To ease off thoughts of harm...
Their blood flows at a gentle pace
In neighbourhoods serene
And pretty soon they like the place,
As if they've always been...

It's no surprise that parents feel
The need for some reprieve,
Some solitude, some time to heal,
Yes, even if it's brief...
Some call these golden moments yet
They're worth much more than that!
It's very hard to purr and fret,
It's true, ask any cat...

White tigers should be left alone,
To wind down, tails at rest,
To find a peace that's rarely known
Is how best to be blessed...
Don't say a word or point your hand,
Just crouch down and observe...
But if they chase us, quickly stand...
And run for all you're worth!


Denis Martindale, copyright, February 2012.

The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'White Treasures'
which is found on gayfordgallery-dot-com

More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com

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Sunlit Family

The wolf cubs looked to see what's what,
Beside the water's edge,
Beneath God's sun that shone so hot,
In service to His pledge,
To shine on all that lived on Earth,
The evil and the good,
So that each one could prove his worth,
Within his neighbourhood...

Those tiny cubs had no defence
Against much larger foes
And Nature offers no pretence
And to no-one it owes...
While wolves are hunters through and through,
They live from meal-to-meal,
To do whatever they must do...
Survival is that real...

And so their mother stood on guard,
As they prepared to drink,
Protectively with one good heart,
No matter what some think...
She's a huntress! She won't give in!
Her family's unique!
Consider her their heroine,
Defender of the weak...


Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2011.

The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Sunlit Family'.

More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com

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Snow Wolf

Distinctive markings on his coat
Disguise the snow wolf well,
As if the snow had kissed his throat
So that we couldn't tell...
Yet close up through binoculars,
We see that canine face
And suddenly our memory jars
With warnings we can trace...

This is no gentle friend of Man,
In whom we'd grant our trust,
But rather one we'd choose to ban,
Because we simply must...
Each creature that survives on Earth
Has something new to say...
And wildlife paintings prove their worth
Each time we gaze their way...

He's not a trophy that I'd choose
To grace my hearth and home,
Yet at a painting I'd peruse,
Just like I'd read a poem...
We know he can be terrible
And frightening, night or day...
Yet isn't he quite beautiful?
Majestic in a way...


Denis Martindale, copyright, October 2010.


The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Snow Wolf'.

More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com

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Indian Jewel

Up close, the tiger looks quite fierce,
He's in your face, just so...
He'll stare at you with eyes that pierce,
That's just to let you know...
He's no pushover, get that straight!
Don't twiddle with his tail!
Don't climb aboard or aggravate
Or he'll make you go pale...
Your blood will fall from brawn and brain,
You'll gulp to clear your throat,
You'll never be the same again...
Be warned and please take note...
A tiger's not a friendly pet
That you pat on the head!
In fact, on this, I'd take a bet,
You'd run away instead...
This Indian jewel like amber shines,
Black diamonds set the tone...
White pearls for teeth and whiskered lines
Tell us, leave him alone...
Majestic though he seems to be,
The tiger's rough and tough!
So right here's where I'll look and see...
My camera zoom's enough...


The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Indian Jewel'.

The Stephen Gayford poems can be viewed here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com

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