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:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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Related quotes
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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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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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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Bright Eyes
He really doesn't have a clue,
He's still too young to know!
He does what little lions do,
He's always on the go...
He's scratching backs, he's biting tails!
He's pouncing now and then!
He's challenging the other males!
He wins four out of ten!
His tiny teeth aren't up to much!
His smooth young claws are stubs!
His awesome ears keep him in touch
With antics of the cubs!
He dribbles and he's got no shame!
He's often known to drip...
Though every lion has his fame,
He's hardly cool or hip!
But he'll get better every day
Because he's keen to learn...
That's how great lions find their way,
In time, respect to earn!
One day and his courageous heart
Will grant him everything...
One day, he'll really look the part,
One day, he'll be a king!
Denis Martindale, copyright, July 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Bright Eyes'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot.com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Mother's Pride
The lion cubs were all laid low
With heavy heads as proof,
Their golden coats were all aglow,
Yet now not one could move...
For there they were, as most cubs are,
When they've run round and round...
With each one thinking he's the star,
Yet now can't make a sound...
Their mother looked at this each day,
No longer quite surprised,
At first, she glared with some dismay,
Until she realised...
Now interlocked, just breathing in,
Not far from dreamland, friends...
With nothing more to prove or win,
Almost as daytime ends...
Their mother looked as eyelids sagged
Then fluttered for a while,
Then sniggered as their hot feet dragged...
Her memories made her smile...
For she was once as young as these,
Now humbled by the sun
And as she watched them take their ease,
She loved them, every one...
Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Mother's Pride'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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My Hero
The lion cub was mighty proud
As he stared up above
And heard his father roar so loud,
For he was truly tough!
Adorned with wondrous golden mane
That circled like a ring
With all his coat like golden grain
And every inch a king...
The lion cub looked at his jaw,
Like granite, chiselled stone,
Commanding solemn silent awe,
For he was fully grown...
Yet there he stayed, composed, serene,
As if the world was his.
The alpha male, the sovereign,
No greater dream than this...
The lion cub would grow in time...
His father knew it well.
Their destiny was so sublime,
It caused his heart to swell.
That's why he let the cub stay close,
To learn what must be done...
For who knows all the lion knows,
How best to love his son?
Denis Martindale, copyright, September 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'My Hero'.
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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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
poem by Denis Martindale
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Golden Silhouette
The tiger met my stare that day,
Two hunters full of life,
Two species searching for their prey,
Each seeking to survive...
And as I stared into his eyes
While he was on patrol,
I slowly came to realise
That he stared at my soul...
He knew we shared a common bond,
With courage day and night,
That fought each battle and beyond
Against all foes in sight...
Yet he and I weren't enemies,
Although we weren't close friends,
Somehow we sensed a solemn peace,
The kind that rarely ends...
While co-existence yet remains,
We knew each had a share
And to this day, he roams the plains,
As if without a care...
Each has his purpose on this Earth
And how could I forget
His strength, his grace, his noble worth,
His golden silhouette?
Denis Martindale, copyright, June 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Golden Silhouette'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Battle Scars
The lion's eyes looked dead ahead,
No smile or smirk in sight,
Just sending out a sense of dread
That others may take flight...
Why fight if you can run away?
Escape the pain and strife...
Born free to see another day,
Another day of life...
The lion's mouth concealed his teeth,
Small daggers every one,
So sharp they'd cause you instant grief
Before the battle's won...
And 'neath his dainty-looking paws,
So gentle, silky-soft,
He hid his vicious callous claws
In wait for those who scoffed...
It's true that he had battle scars,
Yet he had learnt his trade,
No longer thinking it a farce,
A game that lions played...
One lion wins, it can't be two...
One lion takes the prize!
That's why he'll do what he must do...
Look deep into his eyes....
Denis Martindale, copyright, June 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Battle Scars'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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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
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Danger
The lion lowered length-to-length,
With danger on his mind
And so he girded all his strength,
His purpose now defined...
His crinkled wrinkled brow felt tight,
His eyes glared to and fro,
Against each danger he must fight
And overcome each foe...
Survival was his only thought,
Adrenalin, his friend,
He'd either catch or he'd be caught,
To win or meet his end...
The sun above had seen it all,
Yet did not stir to save,
Why would it care if he should fall
Or fight so fierce and brave?
The lion's courage made him stay,
He didn't turn and run,
He didn't whimper like a stray
Unhelped by anyone...
His heart was beating oh so fast!
Then suddenly he leapt!
He lived with scars that never passed,
Yet his one life he kept...
Denis Martindale, copyright, September 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Danger'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Handsome
To think that the adult lion
Was once a tiny thing.
So his mother kept her eye on
This one who would be king.
She knew that he was full of life,
Vivacious, full of fun!
Yet he must learn to conquer strife
And fight until he's won.
No easy street, no gentle road,
No straight smooth path ahead...
For him, there was a higher code,
Just like a thoroughbred...
Each day would be a battlefield,
Pretenders for his throne,
Contenders waiting still concealed
Until they are full grown...
For now he was a handsome beast
With tiny hidden scars...
Aware that others never ceased,
He dare not let them pass...
He met each challenge with a sneer
And then a grisly growl...
Yet knowing he would win and jeer
And hear his loser howl...
It's Nature's way... it's raw, it's wild,
It's life and death, my friend...
No place for those so meek, so mild,
With no thought to defend...
This handsome lion knows his worth,
His offspring know it, too...
His mother knew it from his birth...
A winner through and through!
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Handsome'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Son Of The Father
The lion lay upon the rock,
His son beside him now...
As if the two were taking stock
Of what God would allow...
The kingdom stretched across the land,
Across the hills and plains,
Across the rivers God had planned
And all else that remains...
Their eyes surveyed the creatures, too,
That God had brought to be,
While some were ancient, some were new,
By air and land and sea...
The lions breathed the sweet warm air
Swept by a newborn breeze,
And humbly settled, gently there,
As if to take their ease...
No words were shared to summarise
Their friendship at that time...
For what was there to realise,
Except it was sublime?
Son of the father, future king,
Behold your destiny...
Remember God made everything,
Yes, even you and me...
Denis Martindale, copyright, February 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Son Of The Father'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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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
poem by Denis Martindale
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Arrogance
The lion king posed quietly
Without a single roar,
As if the whole wide world to see,
So they could shout encore!
With arrogance and more to spare,
The lion drew a crowd,
His golden mane a halo there,
No touching was allowed...
Just like the Sphinx, he looked sublime,
A hero through and through,
Yet haughtiness is such a crime,
Yet this was all he knew...
His challengers were forced to run
To save them from their fears,
So many battles had been won,
He left a trail of tears...
No challenge left, he merely posed,
For now he lacked all friends,
His solemn stare as if to boast,
This legend never ends...
But old age came and slowed him down,
His eyes now weak and frail..
And suddenly he lost his crown...
No more the Alpha Male...
Denis Martindale, copyright, February 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Arrogance'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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White Knight
As if washed clean and left to dry,
The lion looked supreme!
His mane like snowflakes floating by
To shimmer gleam by gleam...
The light shone down with highlights there,
So picturesque, so fine...
With close-up detail, hair by hair,
Majestic, line by line...
His eyes observed the land he ruled,
His lion cubs at play...
He knew that soon each would be schooled
To hunt the local prey...
His lioness was nearby, too,
To fill his heart with pride...
Together they'd found pastures new...
He felt real good inside...
He was her knight, her champion,
Her friend without a doubt...
With cubs, new life to carry on,
When adults must bow out...
Each lion leaves a legacy
That's always action-packed!
God grants each cub a destiny
That Man must leave intact...
Denis Martindale, copyright, September 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'White Knight'.
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
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Bookends
Two tiger cubs had claimed a tree
As if it were their own
And guarded it with dignity,
As if they were full-grown!
They glared at those that ventured near,
With stern-stared loathsome looks,
As if they hoped to instil fear,
Like proper gangster crooks!
They arched their backs, their necks held high
With awesome jawsome jowls,
As if to give the evil eye
Backed up with fearsome scowls...
The gruesome twosome joined by oath
To fight with all their strength!
The passersby ignored them both!
Just sauntered by at length...
Two tiger cubs had claimed a tree,
Their castle for the day...
Like bookends in a library,
Determined, all the way...
Each little rebel with a cause,
Defiant to the last!
Their tiny claws inside their paws,
Though harmless, were quite fast...
Denis Martindale, copyright, April 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Bookends'.
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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