Elusive
Elusive is his middle name...
He is so hard to catch.
In fact, this is his claim to fame,
That few big cats can match.
You may find one, or maybe two,
Or three, or four or more,
If you can search the whole day through
And you can bear the chore...
Yet this is when the magic starts,
But then it takes control
And burns a memory in men's hearts,
Each spirit and each soul...
Find your spot, then keep safe distance...
To see him in his prime,
As if he were a noble prince,
With whom to share your time.
Beyond the beauty Nature gives,
Add speed and strength and style.
Once you have seen the way he lives,
Add to these, grace and guile.
Behold his features, how he moves,
The way he interacts,
His hunting skills, as he improves,
According to the facts.
Consider quickly, while you can,
For soon he will be gone...
He does not live as long as Man,
Whose legacy lives on...
Elusive creatures do their best,
Surviving day-by-day...
If what he does, leaves you impressed,
Leave him to live... OK?
The poem is based on the magnificent 'big cat' painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Elusive'.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
A Regal Pose
One lioness stood out a mile
And thus in stature grows,
As though she had a sense of style,
Possessed a regal pose...
Had she observed some ancient rules
To win such fervent stares?
Did she have eyes like limpid pools
To catch some in her snares?
One lioness transcended all
And others knew their place,
She held the lions in her thrall
Through dignity and grace...
Her hunting skills unbeaten here,
She shifted moods to suit
And chief of all, she knew no fear,
Not foolish, just astute...
One lioness still in her prime,
A prize if courted well,
A noble queen, if given time,
Yet who there could foretell?
A regal pose if seen by Man
Could target her one day,
To steal from her that noble plan
To live her life her way...
Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'A Regal Pose'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Portrait Of A Prince
Behold the tiger's face up close,
With all its deep-etched lines.
Like charcoal ridges by his nose,
How clearly each defines.
Behold the tiger's ears erect,
Aware of all that breathes,
With mental filters that select
The rustling of the leaves.
Behold the tiger's eyes that stare,
As if right through your soul,
To challenge you, be wise, beware,
Take care who's in control...
Behold the tiger's nose below,
It tells him distant facts,
Though out of sight, he's in the know,
So watch out if he acts...
Behold the tiger's tight-lipped mouth,
He hides his daggers well...
His top set north, his dropped set south,
What tales those teeth could tell.
Behold the tiger's neck so still
And poised with regal grace,
Portraying here the prince's will,
Despite the human race...
Behold the tiger's sovereign style,
His sense of who he is...
His wicked ways, his covering guile,
His final parting kiss...
Behold the tiger's treachery!
Flee from his handsome grin!
For in a race, I think you'll see,
That tigers always win!
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Portrait Of A Prince'.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Royalty
Consider creatures great and small
That live upon this Earth...
In fact, we cannot count them all
Or estimate their worth...
Yet here they are, they have their place,
Like birds that fill the skies!
Like fish that swim with gentle grace,
In tropic seas so nice!
On land, we find the lion rules,
A true majestic lord!
We learn of him within our schools...
How can he be ignored?
Untamed, unchanged, defiant still,
His roar sounds far and wide!
It makes the bravest hearts to chill,
That cannot be denied...
He always keeps us pondering,
The second he is seen.
This creature has been called a king...
The lioness, his queen...
As long as lions have their place,
His kingdom carries on...
Until we can no longer trace
These big cats... then it's gone...
It must be said, he looks the part!
Behold his majesty!
So bold he looks a work of art!
Like proper royalty!
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Royalty'.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
King Cheetah
Untamed, he roams the world he owns,
This land of hopes and dreams...
Where every hunting skill he hones
With perfect-timing schemes...
Intelligence beyond the norm,
Instincts that serve as guide...
There's beauty in his face and form
That cannot be denied...
This cheetah's fast as lightning, too.
In seconds, flying fur...
A rocket barely still in view,
From head-to-tail, a blur...
Perhaps that's why I call him king
At everything he does...
He flies like birds upon the wing,
No hassle and no fuss!
To me, he's got an athlete's style,
Trimmed-back, machine-like grace...
He's fit to run that extra mile
For every single chase!
Such speed, of course, is rarely found,
That's why I'm so impressed...
Of all the big cats still around,
This king's one of the best!
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'King Cheetah'.
The Stephen Gayford poems can be viewed here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
White Prince
White lions are a rarity,
You won't see one each day...
Your eyes will stare till clarity
Assures you it's OK...
And there he is, this pure white prince,
This diamond in the rough...
He's looking cute with winsome grins,
As if something to love.
Yet he has teeth and he has claws...
And soon his hunger starts...
And then you find he breaks all laws
And disappoints our hearts.
Don't stand too close! Don't stroke his ears!
Don't look him in the eyes!
Or else your smiles will turn to tears...
You won't find him so nice!
He doesn't dance! He doesn't sing!
No cartoon cat is he!
This prince won't be your underling...
This lion was born free!
As long as you stay out of sight
And he stays on his own...
Purrhaps you might live till tonight
And then walk home alone...
The wise man knows that lions run
Much faster than he does!
Likewise, it's hard to catch someone...
Way over here.... like us!
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'White Prince'.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ready To Pounce
When every single second counts,
The cougar bides his time...
Above the rock, ready to pounce,
His skills are quite sublime...
He has no choice, it's Nature's way...
He starves or eats again...
This solemn truth he must obey
And has since God knows when...
His father did as he does now,
His son will do the same...
The hunt goes on and must, somehow,
In search of life to claim...
He can't escape what must be done,
For him, there's no way out...
The hunter waits, hid by the sun,
With hungry eyes that scout.
Is that his next meal over there?
Or must he starve some more?
The pain inside is hard to bear,
Yet soon he'll know the score...
Above the rock, ready to pounce,
His skills are quite sublime...
When every single second counts,
The cougar bides his time...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Ready To Pounce'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sisters
The lionesses rested there,
Two sisters side-by-side...
Both breathing gently, without care,
Yet their eyes open wide...
The day was long, the air was still,
The sun was warm not hot
And clouds sailed by the distant hill,
While they stayed in their spot...
To some, these were of royal birth,
Princesses and revered.
To others, they possessed no worth
And nothing to be cheered...
Yet for each other, there was love,
Affection day-by-day...
A tenderness that proved enough,
No matter, come what may...
As tiny cubs, they'd fooled around,
Rejoicing playfully...
Receiving every sight and sound,
With thanks they'd been born free...
For them, the training ground must wait
Until another time...
The time was now, their adult state,
When they were in their prime...
Each day, their hunting skills combined
To grant them new success
And having dined, they now reclined,
Both comfy, more or less...
They lived their lives, as lions must,
In order to survive...
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust...
Or hunt to stay alive...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Sisters'.
The Stephen Gayford poems can be viewed here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
White Lord
The pure white lion chose his spot,
Content that it would do
And there he didn't move a lot,
He just enjoyed the view.
To him, this was another day,
No worries on his mind
And so he let time pass away,
Slow breathing to unwind.
The years had taught him how to live
And if to walk or run
The time to take, the time to give,
The battles to be won.
Of course, by now, the heat was strong,
So why not have a rest?
No point in running all day long,
For who would be impressed?
The white lord in the sky above
Was just like him below,
When that old sun had shone enough,
It gave the moon a go.
Let lion cubs run left and right!
Let lion cubs climb trees!
For now, it was his prime delight
To nestle on his knees.
Denis Martindale, copyright, June 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'White Lord'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Vote! | Copy!
My Elusive Dreams
by Curly Putman and Billy Sherrill
(added 10/25/97, thanks to Pauline Buchanan)
You followed me to Texas, you followed me to Utah,
We didn't find it there so we moved on.
Then you went with me to A-la-bam',
Things looked good in Birmingham,
We didn't find it there so we moved on.
I know you're tired of fol-low-ing
My elusive dreams and schemes
For they're only fleeting things,
My elusive dreams.
You had my child in Memphis then I heard of work in Nashville,
But we didn't find it there so we moved on.
To a small farm in Nebraska, to a gold mine in Alaska,
We didn't find it there so we moved on.
I know you're tired of fol-low-ing
My elusive dreams and schemes
For they're only fleeting things,
My elusive dreams.
Now we've left A-las-ka because thewas no gold mine,
But this time only two of us moved on.
And now all we have is each other and a little memory
To cling to and still you won't let me go on alone.
I know you're tired of following
My elusive dreams and schemes
For they're only fleeting things,
My elusive dreams.
song performed by by Tom Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Polar Prince
The polar bear was not too pleased
That it was freezing cold...
And that it hardly ever eased
The second it took hold...
It seemed he lived his whole life long
With ice beneath his feet,
Which makes him think, 'This is so wrong! '
And 'Who stole all the heat? '
Complaining never changes things...
His teeth just shivered more
And polar bears have not got wings
To find some sunny shore...
And so the polar prince stayed there,
His paw prints on the ice...
The cold he simply had to bare,
Just like the other guys...
Poor soul, I sympathise, of course,
No electricity,
No coal, no gas and God ignores,
Like it was meant to be...
'Why me! ? ' The polar bear exclaimed!
'I'm f.f.f.freezing every day!
Sometimes I think that I've been framed! '
He could be right! Oi, vay...
Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent FRAMED painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Polar Prince'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In His Prime
The lion strode with confidence,
As if the world were his,
He had no call for eloquence,
What more was there than this?
He felt that he was truly blessed,
Fulfilling destiny...
So far he knew he'd passed each test
And proved supremacy.
Bold courage stirred within his veins,
Fuelled by his valiant heart...
So he surveyed the golden plains,
Where he must play his part.
He'd honed his skills for several years,
He was no amateur...
He felt no need to live with fears
For things that might occur...
He had his own might to withstand
The rigours of his foes
And strategies that he had planned,
If their threats came to blows...
He relished each new minute,
Each moment of his time!
Yes, he was in it to win it...
While he was in his prime...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'In His Prime'.
More Stephen Gayford poems can be viewed here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Leaders Of The Pack
At first, the two wolves look the same
As others in the pack,
Yet in their hearts there burns a flame
That flares when they attack,
For Nature calls upon each one
To hunt when hunger strikes,
Then wolves beneath the setting sun
Do what nobody likes...
Survival's played out day and night
Beneath the sun and moon
That watch on high while creatures fight
And leave their bodies strewn,
Yet those that live must strive again
For hunger soon returns
And leaders know the moment when
The flame inside them burns...
The savage beasts outlive the doomed,
The helpless and the frail,
And though successes aren't assumed,
The leaders rarely fail,
For such as these are born not made
And conscience holds no sway,
For wolves are wolves when all is weighed
And all the world's their prey...
Denis Martindale, copyright, March 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Leaders Of The Pack'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Beauty
The leopard looked and listened, too,
While seated on the ground...
Observing from its point of view
Then suddenly spellbound...
For while with beauty of its own,
It felt life's beauty shared...
You'd have to have a heart of stone
To say you've never cared...
The leopard looked at all there was,
At sights both near and far,
As if it never came across
The beauty of a star,
The beauty of a waterfall...
The beauty of the plains,
The beauty of both great and small
And life that still remains...
The leopard looked and purred with praise
As if a saint reborn,
Content to live its final days,
No need to feel forlorn.
You see, it knew, we live our time,
Our share in history...
And blessed are those that call sublime
God's greatest gift: beauty...
Denis Martindale, copyright, February 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Beauty'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Siberian Snow
To some, the snow's a wondrous thing
That casts its magic spell,
Beguiling both the clown and king,
Before it bids farewell...
Yet to the tiger, freezing cold,
It's not held in regard...
For though it's lovely to behold,
It makes his hunting hard.
The snow gets inbetween his toes
And freezes on his coat,
Into his face it blows and blows
And there's no antidote...
It makes his whiskers sensitive
To every single touch!
He's got all this to put up with...
It really is too much!
He bravely bears the cold, cold day...
This to his heart he vowed:
He's found his spot and here he'll stay,
Defiant and so proud!
The snow continued all day long!
That he did not expect...
Yes, even tigers get things wrong!
Their pride completely wrecked!
Denis Martindale, copyright, October 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Siberian Snow'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Doting Parent
The Mother penguin gazed upon
The gift God gave to her
And there they stayed as God's light shone
On all that could occur...
Togetherness now warmed their hearts,
Just like the sun above,
Because that's how all friendship starts...
It's purely based on love...
That's why they stared without a word
Into each other's eyes,
As if God's truth inside them stirred
So that they'd realise...
That love was all we need to give,
Beyond it nothing more,
For it endures the life we live,
So steadfast and so sure...
The winds may blow, the snow may fall,
The storms may rage all day,
Yet when true love makes its first call,
You know it longs to stay...
That's why the little one we see
Will one day share love, too,
With its own child that's yet to be,
Both thinking, 'I love you! '
Denis Martindale, copyright, January 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Doting Parent'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Sublime
The leopard left his sleep behind,
Arose and walked around
And with that walk his waking mind
Was glad at what he found...
The sun was shining in the sky,
A wondrous breeze drew near
And yet not once did he ask why
Such blessings should appear...
And yet this world is so sublime,
In every single part
And blessed are they that spend their time
In painting perfect art...
Think of all creatures... great and small...
That artists sit and paint,
Yet Stephen Gayford, he stands tall,
To some, he is a saint...
He captures insights when on tour,
He gets each detail done
And then he thrills us to the core
And shares his sense of fun...
From meerkats to the giant cats,
Fantastic dolphins, too!
He paints them like aristocrats...
Sublime... each time... for you...
Denis Martindale, copyright, August 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'The Sublime'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!