Cautious
The white wolf wasn't all too keen
To challenge anyone.
He heard a noise, his heart turned mean,
Beneath the fading sun...
When cautious instincts made him wait,
His eyes scanned high and low.
In seconds, he would learn his fate...
To stay here or to go...
The lone wolf listened for some clues
Of movement left or right.
Another noise was more bad news...
Yet he was born to fight!
The minutes melted silently...
Yet nothing more was heard...
Now drained of curiosity,
He took a chance and stirred.
With leaps and bounds, he crossed the plains,
Escaping dangers there.
The cautious white wolf broke the chains
That he was forced to bear.
The path ahead was open wide
And so new life begins...
New confidence helped him decide,
Throw caution to the winds...
His heartbeat calmed beside the stream...
He drank his fill... time passed...
In time, this day would seem a dream...
For now, he slept... at last...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Cautious'.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lookout Rock
The Timber Wolf's a wary beast,
As cautious as can be
And this young wolf was mighty pleased
At all that he could see...
His lookout rock gave him full view
Of front, back, left and right,
Conserving strength helped him get through,
That suited him just right...
Not many humans could survive
The coldness in the air,
Fur coats are fine, but who can thrive
With coldness everywhere?
Sometimes the days are twilight times,
The sun's a distant friend,
It's then each wolf more wisely climbs,
Its safety to defend...
The Timber Wolf endures it all,
It lives from day-to-day
And few ignore its mountain call,
Although most stay away...
But those who see it roaming wild,
Stand still and stare direct,
As if by beauty they're beguiled
And show it some respect...
Denis Martindale, copyright, October 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Lookout Rock'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Survivor
The cold white wolf cautiously crept,
Feeling starvation grow...
The crisp white snow crunched as he stepped,
That's why he moved so slow...
Conserving his energy, waiting,
Sometimes slipping along...
His dark eyes anticipating
The things that could go wrong.
A rock that blocked his hunting path,
A hole that gave escape...
Each one could be his epitaph,
The final sour grape...
His empty belly warned him still...
The time for games had passed.
For soon, in hours, he'd be ill...
Perhaps to breathe his last.
He gulped saliva, nothing more...
He walked with heavy heart.
The ache inside began to gnaw...
And stabbed him like a dart.
Yet on he searched, 'twixt life and death...
'Twixt this world and the next.
Aware that every passing breath
Caused him to be perplexed.
What was this hell? What use was snow?
Was this his time to die?
To tell the truth, he didn't know.
There seemed no reason why.
His instincts led him to his prey...
He heard a scratching sound.
In seconds he was on his way,
To find it underground.
He chased it hard and off it ran
Across the land ahead...
And pretty soon, by Nature's plan...
One lived and one was dead.
The wily white wolf played the game
That helped him to survive...
To us, it's still a crying shame...
Yet don't begrudge him life...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'The Survivor'.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hidden Observer
The lone gray wolf sat still once more,
Next to another tree...
As if to tap his frozen paw,
In time, impatiently...
The snow had stopped, the breeze was cool,
He sighed another sigh...
And there he sat, as if a fool,
For something to pass by...
An hour vanished like the sun
That clouds had blocked from sight.
Yet there was nothing to be done,
Waiting in that twilight...
Starvation haunts the carnivores
When snow sets on the ground.
The lone gray wolf can't rest indoors
When there's no food around...
Then drooping ears pricked up at last!
A rustling sound was heard...
The lone gray wolf then ran so fast
To catch the helpless bird!
The ancient battle then ensued,
The hunter and the prey...
This time, the wolf had won the fued
And food was on its way...
The ancient rules must still apply...
For Nature's Laws must serve her...
That's why, beneath the twilight sky,
He's the hidden observer...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Hidden Observer'.
The Stephen Gayford poems can be viewed here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Arctic Beauty
The wily wolf deserves respect.
Some children think it's cute...
But most of us, I would suspect,
Are somewhat more astute!
The wolf is wild, no fast-formed friend,
Untamed by modern man.
It doesn't seek to comprehend
What humans want to plan...
The wolf is wary all the time,
To every sound it hears.
Its instincts are, of course, sublime,
Whenever danger nears!
The wolf survives cold Winter's spell...
Determined day-by-day...
To bide its time, then howl, 'Farewell! '
When Spring is here to stay!
The wolf delights in Summer's heat
With all that this entails -
For then, its speed is hard to beat,
In fact, it rarely fails.
The wolf is known to howl at night,
To serenade the moon...
This wailing noise can cause us fright
And some of us to swoon...
The wolf won't change to suit Mankind...
It's lived without his aid.
A wilder creature's hard to find.
The legends never fade.
The wolf is callous to the core,
Like any hunting beast.
Each bloodied tooth, each bloodied claw
Proves hunting hasn't ceased.
The wily wolf has cubs to feed,
The future to preserve...
It doesn't kill for hate or greed...
Just life upon this Earth...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Arctic Beauty'.
The Stephen Gayford poems can be viewed here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hunter's Moon
Beneath the silver-speckled moon,
That floated like the clouds,
The wild wolf smiled, for he would soon
Dispel all nearby crowds.
For he could howl, upon his hill,
Enough to chill your bones,
Enough to make a brave man ill
And fill his throat with groans...
This wily wolf could howl all night!
He sat still unafraid...
He grinned from ear-to-ear all right,
Then what a noise he made!
All ears for miles were tuned in now!
He sniggered, then he paused...
With one huge breath, he howled and how!
And, oh, what fear that caused!
Then three quick howls to pile it on!
Then silence, just for fun...
And just when folks had thought he'd gone,
He proved he wasn't done!
Beneath the hunter's moon above,
His body shook with glee...
He howled as they screamed, 'Lay it off! '
'You can't get rid of me! '
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Hunter's Moon'.
The Stephen Gayford poems can be viewed here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Born Leader
Amid the pack, a cub was born
And each wolf watched him grow,
From fragile creature so forlorn
Beneath the moonlight glow...
Yet in the dark nights, courage burned,
White hot to overflow...
Such that their doubts he overturned,
Their scorn to overthrow...
Be wary of this wolf, they thought,
For he's like none before,
In every single battle fought,
He proved he knew the score...
With dominant tenacity,
Cold Winters to endure,
He stood supreme, with dignity,
With strength none could ignore...
To him, survival was the key,
Refusing to be bossed,
With no way out and no mercy,
As if his soul were lost...
Behold his features so distinct,
A wolf not to be crossed,
For destiny and he were linked,
No matter what the cost...
Denis Martindale, copyright, July 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Born Leader'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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White Hunter
Starvation festers deep within, just like a burning coal
And to that hunger each gives in, that hole that's in the soul.
The wolf, like lions, tigers, bears, must hunt for food to live
And just like them, he truly shares the need to take not give.
White hunter wolf is on the prowl, as predator not friend,
Intentions cruel and callous, foul, another life to end.
With no pure white, no impure black, no middle ground that's grey,
The hunger forces him to track, to find food night or day.
Against the snow, invisible, except for piercing eyes.
While his smile hides fangs that cripple and cut foes down to size.
His claws await their destiny, their moments in his plan.
Fulfillment of their infamy, since hunting first began.
This time, he hunts, yet all alone, no other wolf in sight,
And so his heart is cold as stone and dark as deadly night.
Condemned to forage for himself, the vicious victim preys,
His cunning, running, speed and stealth, from these he never strays.
Beware the white wolf's wicked stare, he hunts without remorse.
His is no game of truth or dare, it's life or death... of course...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'White Hunter'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dignified
The wolf watched everything in sight
While he heard every sound,
For soon he'd run with all his might
Across the unturned ground...
No farmer ploughed across this land,
The wolf was on his own,
No creature there to understand
His hunger that had grown...
So there he stayed before his crime,
As if quite dignified,
So statuesque, so cute, sublime,
Yet starving deep inside...
Of course, he'd done this all before...
That's how he still survived,
But, oh, my goodness, what a chore,
Till his next meal arrived...
He licked his lips, let out a sigh,
Then breathed in long and slow...
For all day long beneath God's sky,
He stayed, nowhere to go...
But that wise wolf survived again,
Another moon to see...
That's why we'll hear him howl again,
All night, till half-past-three...
Denis Martindale, copyright, September 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Dignified'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lone Wolf
I am a lone wolf
I always was and will be
I feel fine, I am resigned to this
I am a lone wolf
I am a lone wolf
Got my cares
Wrapped up all nice and neat
In my suitcase
Ill take it down the street
To a place with plenty of space for me
I am a lone wolf
I am a lone wolf
It blows my mind
That people wanna try to get inside my tired head
I am a lone wolf
I am a lone wolf
I am a lone wolf
Nobody needs to get too close to me
Youll only see this truth
I am a lone wolf
song performed by by Eels
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Forest Stream
The lonesome tiger waded through
The forest stream one day.
I'd watched him, though he had no clue,
With equal stealth to stay.
I saw the tiger tread his path,
Suspecting everything.
This was no peaceful, joyful bath...
Who knows what life can bring?
The hunter knows what trees can hide...
He dare not make mistakes.
And so he stares, eyes open wide...
When crossing streams and lakes.
His ears are scanning left and right...
His life depends on these.
He needs them every day and night,
With sudden noise he'll freeze.
His senses span the spectrum's range
And profit from their news.
Detecting every second's change,
Exchanging points of views.
Reflexes spark the sudden chase,
When prey seeks to escape.
When all at once, it's one mad race
And then the hunt takes shape.
For now, the tiger wades the stream,
Defensive at this time...
For me, it's like I'm in a dream...
To see him in his prime...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Forest Stream'.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wolf Trail
How gingerly the wolf leg hangs,
Now poised there in mid-air...
As he fights back the hunger pangs
That could lead to despair.
Each gulp reminds him of his pain,
Each footstep costs him time...
Yet on the trail he hunts again,
No longer in his prime.
He thinks about the coming feast,
If luck is on his side.
If Nature serves the starving beast
With some new soul supplied...
For him to live, another won't,
That's just the way it is...
Today wolves hunt, while others don't.
Will his plans go amiss?
The hunt went well, at least for him...
His victim breathes no more.
The wolf survives, his chances slim...
Somehow he must endure.
He leaves no legacy behind
Beneath God's sun so bright...
Yet seeks no pity from Mankind,
No prayers from us at night...
Denis Martindale, copyright, January 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Wolf Trail'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Something Stirred
Something stirred and it stopped him still...
Tiger ever ready.
For him, this was no pleasant thrill...
Ears alert and steady.
Survival starts inside the heart...
Dramatically it screams!
Impulsive thoughts then shout, 'Depart! ',
To flee as fast as dreams!
For now, he waits a second noise,
So he can find its source.
He seems defenceless, without choice,
But he's a tour de force!
A single leap, then he'll be gone!
Try then to track him down!
His camouflage goes on and on,
Those stripes of great renown...
His eyes stare out like focused fire,
Like lazer beams ahead!
To any beasts that would conspire
To plan to see him dead!
Something stirred and his stripes must stay,
Exactly where he is...
It's not the time to run away,
As if life's hit and miss.
His instincts, raw as rattlesnakes,
Tell him to stand his ground...
He doesn't care how long it takes.
He waits that second sound!
Then, suddenly, it's to his right!
He leaps towards escape!
And all at once, he's out of sight!
No more a solid shape!
As fast as lightning cross the sky,
The tiger speeds away!
The wily one has passed Death by...
To live another day!
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Something Stirred'.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Curious Presence
There was a presence, close to me,
With soft-like sounds no more,
At first, a solemn mystery
Until I could be sure...
And then a lone wolf dead ahead,
From nowhere, now in sight,
Such that there was a sense of dread,
A chill that led to fright...
And yet I sensed the danger passed,
As if there were no harm,
Its curious presence there at last,
No mutual alarm...
No fear from me, no fear from him,
Just co-existence now,
Living souls, with each a pilgrim,
With peace our silent vow...
He looked at me, his coat aglow,
His eyes like dogs I owned,
Perhaps that's why I let him go,
His future life condoned...
With ears on high, transfixed above,
Alert to all around...
Though times were hard and life was tough,
A vision to astound...
Denis Martindale, copyright, August 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Curious Presence'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Evening Sun
The white wolf stood and stared a while...
The water soothed his feet.
Perhaps he'd search another mile
For food that he could eat.
The sunshine faded, night approached,
A sudden chill was felt...
The silvered twilight moon encroached
And darkness soon was dealt...
The evening sun bid all farewell,
Its time had come and gone,
Replaced by stars that cast their spell
As moonlight carried on...
The stuff of legends now took hold,
He howled his hunger out...
Who knew what wonders would unfold,
What fears to cause men doubt?
Now all his instincts forced his pace,
For he, too, must survive,
Against all odds, through nights and days,
Perchance to stay alive...
It's true that wolves have wily schemes
To brave the midnight storm,
Yet pet dogs dream their pampered dreams,
In comfort, calm and warm...
Denis Martindale, copyright, September 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Evening Sun'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Silent Waters
The wise white tiger eased his way
Through the silent waters
And with such stealth he proved that day
Just how much he taught us...
For he was such a wily soul,
With cunning so sublime,
Content to maintain self-control,
Content to take his time...
The minimum of noise was made
As he swam dead ahead,
Yet then with gentle paws to wade,
As if a thoroughbred...
Determination drove him on
Towards his destiny...
Another life would soon be gone,
Who knows what it could be?
For now, there were no sudden thrills,
He drifted like a log...
The silence helped his hunting skills,
As if he were a dog...
Yet no dog stared with eyes like his,
Two sapphires burning bright...
Like two gas flames and each flame is
A symbol of his might!
Denis Martindale, copyright April 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Silent Waters'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Night Watchman
The leopard's eyes scanned left and right,
As sunshine faded fast,
For soon would come the moon and night,
When one more day had past
And eyes must now be on alert
With instincts borne to bear,
In case there was a need to spurt,
Escaping fast elsewhere...
The leopard's eyes were cooling down
As twilight gathered close,
As clear blue skies turn somewhat brown
And brilliant sunshine goes...
The air has felt a sudden chill
That creatures know full well...
The moon ascends on yonder hill
And casts its silver spell...
The leopard's eyes observe the scene,
The scene he's seen before,
The coming of the in-between,
The timing ever sure...
Night watchman, waiting, instincts taut,
Aware of everything,
Avoiding dangers as he ought,
That's how he's stayed the king...
Denis Martindale, copyright, September 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Night Watchman II'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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