Forest Glade
White tigers like to rest and so
They find a gentle spot
And there, they stay, just laying low,
As they like that a lot.
As if their strength of great renown
Had disappeared from view,
They stretch their paws, their frowns droop down
And muscles relax, too.
White tigers get their lazy moods,
The wise do not disturb.
You can't tempt them with juicy foods,
For appetites they curb.
They know it's time they should be still,
So why do other things?
There's nothing like the silent thrill
That warm contentment brings
White tigers, please leave them alone,
Don't try to chase them off.
Especially not the ones full grown
That feel they've had enough.
Just live and let live, give them space.
Don't say you're unafraid!
Let them enjoy their gentle pace
Within the forest glade.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Silent Vigil
White tigers are conspicuous,
They stand out from the crowd!
So not to be ridiculous,
They're silent and not loud...
That's why they stare and sit and stare
Or lay and stare awhile...
So other beasties aren't aware
Of such a high profile...
White tigers can get bleary-eyed
If they lounge there too long
And yet take such things in their stride,
Although they know it's wrong...
To compensate, they walk about,
To stretch their legs and such,
Then they lie down, with paws stretched out,
But then, they don't do much...
White tigers have been known to roar,
Then watch the others run!
White tigers snigger, laugh, guffaw,
When things like that are done!
Their silent vigils that were here
Soon disappear, God knows...
It makes their day to instil fear,
The naughty so-and-sos!
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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White Haven
Even white tigers have to bathe
Though they're as white as snow,
That's why an hour they will save
For streams that overflow...
On winsome days, when winds are calm
And sunlight shines above,
White tigers will not hunt or harm
While their hearts beat with love...
The waters let white tigers chill
Like little lambs at play..
A haven here that can instill
A reason to delay...
Life isn't always running round
So frantic in the sun,
Sometimes the simple things astound,
When nothing much gets done.
This was that time, when time relaxed,
When tiny sounds were heard...
When muscles were no longer taxed
And all white tigers purred...
Who knows how long these cats survive?
This century? No more?
Be glad today that they're alive...
For no-one can be sure...
Denis Martindale, copyright, July 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'White Haven'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot.com
poem by Denis Martindale
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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
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cheek To Cheek
Two tigers wandered to and fro,
Like restless tigers do,
Until they chose to take things slow
Just like the chosen few...
Let others pounce and leap for joy,
Explore for all they're worth,
But these two tigers played it coy
And settled on the earth...
Thus side-by-side and cheek-to-cheek
They nestled 'neath the sun,
Content merely to pause and peek
At others having fun...
As if to say, 'You go for it!
We'll stay here keeping guard...
Conserve your strength, keep fighting fit,
Just don't you play too hard! '
While others every joy embrace
As if Hell-bent on thrills,
Some tigers simply spend their days,
Like statues watching hills...
They look like bookends on the shelves,
Now rooted to the spot!
Wise tigers learn to pace themselves!
That sun is too darned hot!
Denis Martindale, copyright, April 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Cheek To Cheek'.
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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Dark Forests
Dark forests...Northern...Sourthern Mountains,
Fierce tigers circle around the villages in broad daylight.
...To The red dawn of twilight
The skies shine bright
Protecting what is theirs
In the magic of the night
The tigers roam everywhere taking lives for food.
The Majesty of the tigers power,
The prey dare not make a sound.
The new kin tiger sprout every year
In the valleys low.
Male and female tigers come up and down the mountains in large groups.
There is a village near the tigers’ dens in the valley,
Where tigers often come and eat the villagers’ brown calves.
Rich young men dare not shoot the arrows at the tigers.
The Majesty of the Tiger lives forever
The Majesty of the Tiger
They only pretend to check for the tigers’ tracks in the forests.
poem by Peter LeBuhn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Follow The Leader
Two tigers traipsed the river's edge,
The leader heard a noise...
When entrusted with this knowledge,
Both tigers had no choice...
Two tigers traipsed beneath the sun
With one cold thought in mind,
Two heads much better than the one,
With so much strength combined...
In silent mode, they took their time,
Each stealthful step so slow...
While undetected, each new crime
Meant victims sensed no foe...
Suffice to say, their moment came,
The frantic prey ran wild,
The tigers chased like burning flame,
No longer meek and mild...
Though it didn't happen often,
The tigers had to pause...
For failure dogged them once again,
Their prey escaped their claws...
The starving tigers felt dismay,
The next meal had to wait...
With luck, they'd last another day
With cause to celebrate...
Denis Martindale, copyright, December 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Follow The Leader'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tissue Tigers (The Arguers)
I shout this,
You shout that,
The clouds are coming over looking awful black.
Its all hot air.
You say go,
I say stay,
Clear blue sky goes sheffield grey.
Its all hot air.
Ive grown immune to your claws,
Pussycat, I know...
All your threats are tissue tigers,
Crawling across the table to me.
All your threats are tissue tigers,
Ripping em up is easy for me now.
I shout this,
You shout that,
An eye for heart and a tit for a tat.
You easy tear.
Think your stripes,
Are yellow and black,
I can only see the yellow one down your back,
You easy tear.
Ive grown immune to your claws,
Pussycat, I know...
All your threats are tissue tigers,
Crawling across the table to me.
All your threats are tissue tigers,
Ripping em up is easy for me now.
We argue all life long,
Youd swear that black was wrong,
Throw tantrums like queen kong,
Ive trapped you in my song.
All your threats are tissue tigers,
Crawling across the table to me.
All your threats are tissue tigers,
Ripping em up is easy for me now.
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tissue Tigers
I shout this,
You shout that,
The clouds are coming over looking awful black.
It's all hot air.
You say go,
I say stay,
Clear blue sky goes sheffield grey.
It's all hot air.
I've grown immune to your claws,
Pussycat, i know...
All your threats are tissue tigers,
Crawling across the table to me.
All your threats are tissue tigers,
Ripping 'em up is easy for me now.
I shout this,
You shout that,
An eye for heart and a tit for a tat.
You easy tear.
Think your stripes,
Are yellow and black,
I can only see the yellow one down your back,
You easy tear.
I've grown immune to your claws,
Pussycat, i know...
All your threats are tissue tigers,
Crawling across the table to me.
All your threats are tissue tigers,
Ripping 'em up is easy for me now.
We argue all life long,
You'd swear that black was wrong,
Throw tantrums like queen kong,
I've trapped you in my song.
All your threats are tissue tigers,
Crawling across the table to me.
All your threats are tissue tigers,
Ripping 'em up is easy for me now.
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Adoration
When two white tigers felt such peace
In their own company,
Tranquillity had brought them ease,
So pleasing now to see...
No fighting here, no growls, no scowls,
No sneers that chill the heart,
No argument that quickly fouls,
No hate to keep apart...
For now, as true friends, side-by-side,
There's harmony and more,
Serenity and smiles so wide
That each one knows the score...
A gentleness has come to stay,
Refreshing and sublime,
They seem almost to be at play,
Like children lost in time...
When humans learn to live as one,
Their hearts entwined with love,
What wondrous things will then be done,
As God's grace proves enough...
If two white tigers can enlist
True love beyond compare,
Such adoration must exist
For folks like us to share...
Denis Martindale, copyright, August 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Adoration II'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Forest Tracker
White tigers track the forest floor,
Like this one did one day,
Steadfast and with his tightened jaw,
He went along his way...
Sometimes to pause and listen well,
Then one step at a time,
To catch a glimpse, some sign to tell,
To perpetrate his crime...
The villain of the piece was he,
Of that there was no doubt,
Though just a stroll it seemed to be,
Watch out! Watch out! Watch out!
I wouldn't snap a twig or two,
If I were walking near,
In fact, I think I'd be like you,
Just paralysed with fear!
I'd watch that tiger walking past,
While I stood still unseen...
If he saw me, then I'd run fast,
'Cos tigers can get mean!
For now, he's like some cuddly cat,
Ol' Blue Eyes, all alone...
And yet, please don't be fooled by that,
You see, he's fully grown!
Denis Martindale, copyright, February 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Forest Tracker'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In Deepest Shadow
White tigers live until their time,
Yet, uptil then, behold...
For each was born to look sublime,
Like silver, not like gold...
The Bengal tigers aren't like these,
Black stripes against the white...
As if created just to please,
Inspire and delight...
There's such a blessing in their eyes
That stare with topaz blue,
Like tanzanite or pale sapphires
Each time they look at you...
Respect for them just grows and grows,
As if that's meant to be...
Not that you'd want to stand too close,
To gaze on royalty...
Behold the magic that they cast,
In deepest shadow's spell...
As dusk approaches till it's past
And daytime bids farewell...
Beneath the moon, their eyes shine on,
Like beacons in the night!
Until the next day's sun has shone,
Revealing black and white...
Denis Martindale, copyright, October 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'In Deepest Shadow'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Snow Tigers
The tigers nestled in the snow,
Oblivious to cold,
Content within the twilight glow,
So wondrous to behold...
With light enough to take their ease,
Before the night set in
And grant the cubs a sense of peace
Among their kith and kin...
United in their Shangri-La,
The royal family
Reflected how they'd come so far,
This very night to see...
The stars a distant twisting scroll,
The moon a crescent curl,
A single cloud out on patrol,
A pale white circling pearl...
With tigers' eyes as witnesses
As if to testify,
There was joy in all God blesses
On Earth and in the sky...
Snow tigers felt this joy inside
With every heartbeat made.
If they could roam the whole world wide,
Their joy would never fade...
Denis Martindale, copyright, October 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Snow Tigers'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
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The white tiger
In the wildness the white tiger is so rarely found
Having a very white colored fur with black deep stripes
It’s a solitary genre wanting no one around
With its retractable claw the white tiger the prey gripes.
It is born from Bengal tiger having round deep blue eyes
Because the Bengal tiger has genes for white coloring
It may be complete white, but may not be different in size
At night it hunts some pigs, cattles and deers for eating.
These double recessive allele in their genetic code
Are the cause for turning up once in every thousand births.
The Bengal tiger becomes white in this natural mode
A great potential for excellence is found in its strengths.
In small areas with concentrated prey it survives
White tigers in the wild live about ten or fifteen years
It learns to be a swimmer when in the water it dives
And runs to catch any prey that in its sight appears.
Maharajah Shri Martand Singh hunted in the jungle
He saw a tigress with four cubs and one of them was white.
With drum beat and trumpet blast he ought fires to juggle
Next day he searched it but no tigress appeared in his sight.
At night the tiger vision is six times better than ours.
Tiger scratches on trees serve as territorial marker.
The stripes help the tiger to stay hidden many hours
And sometimes it fights a new territory to conquer.
The white tiger stripes are always like human fingerprint;
No two tigers have the same pattern of stripes on their fur
Female takes cubs to kill or in prey their teeth to imprint
But before this they are all blind and weigh two or three pounds.
MCN: CR291-J5UEC-PBN4L
© copyright Wed Feb 16 01: 31: 45 UTC 2011 - All Rights Reserved
poem by Marieta Maglas
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Jim Corbett
Jim Corbett great stories of maneaters told
For some tigers become maneaters when they grow old
For a frail or injured tiger a Human Being is easier prey
But for killing a Human a tiger with his or her life has to pay.
To a tiger a Human Being is something it can eat
As a tiger is a meat eater so it needs meat
A Human Being or a buffalo to him the same
It kills because it has to without remorse or shame.
Jim Corbett who killed many a maneater has a park in India named in his name
And his stories of hunting maneaters they brought him great fame
But tigers only kill because they have a need to
And the tiger to it's nature is only being true.
Jim Corbett wrote of man eating tigers and of how he tracked them down
And his stories have earned him a place in renown
But for the most part a tiger has to be either very old or ill
Before a Human Being it will bother to kill.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Restful
White tigers haven't much to say,
When flat out on the chin...
'It's been a long, long, long, long day...
I'm pooped! It's done me in! '
So there he was, eyes almost closed,
Quite restful... dozing off...
And now no longer quite disposed
To act as if a toff!
Aristocrats must also sleep,
When into beds they climb...
To yawn again and breathe in deep,
When it's their beddy-time!
White tigers may be very rare,
But they can't beat the clock!
A tiger's eye can stare and stare
Till moonshine it must block...
Tomorrow's just another day,
Who knows what it might bring?
For now the big white cat must lay,
Like any other king...
I've never heard a tiger snore...
I'd never get that near!
But if I did, I'd shake his paw
And scarper, never fear!
By day, to him, I'd raise my hat
And meekly gently bow...
Good night, you furry fluffy cat!
You're not so mighty now...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Restful'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Eyes Of The Forest
When tigers pause, their eyes stare deep,
Across each forest scene...
To scan for creatures that can creep,
No matter, mild or mean...
This tiger searches high and low,
His eyes pan left to right...
And as they wander to and fro,
The tension starts to bite!
In seconds, everything could change,
A false alarm or what?
A broken twig or something strange
To put him on the spot?
That's why his paws are prone to pause,
Sometimes to poise mid-air...
Until his eyes have learnt the cause,
They'll dangle, dainty, there...
Those precious paws hold claws within,
So he can hold his own.
If he must fight, he won't give in...
His heart is cold as stone!
The gentle cub is long since gone,
This adult heart beats now...
Survival instincts carry on,
To them, each soul must bow...
He knows that one mistake and then,
They'll write his epitaph!
Now safe, he treads the ground again...
And carries on his path...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Eyes Of The Forest'.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dictators ride to and fro upon tigers which they dare not dismount. And the tigers are getting hungry.
quote by Winston Churchill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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White Menace
The bright white tiger stood his ground,
Surveying here and there...
His forehead looked as if he frowned,
So tense and full of care.
Like Indians with warpaint on,
His face was one to fear.
Like fur with tattoos etched upon,
He'd won his stripes, my dear...
This wondrous creature made me pause...
As if to memorise...
As if forgetting teeth and claws
And only seeing eyes...
Those eyes, like circles of the soul...
Like marbles of the mind...
Those eyes, like sapphires, dark as coal...
And yet what lurked behind?
While beauty glorified this beast,
I knew his nature well.
I'd seen him hunt, I'd seen him feast...
The tales that I could tell!
For now, I watched him silently,
Because he didn't know.
If he found out, then certainly,
That was the time to go.
How long would tigers like him last?
So wondrous to behold!
Ferocious, feisty and so fast,
With callous heart so cold.
Not one of us is meant to stay...
We're born, we live, we die.
To live and let live, that's my way.
Let others judge, not I...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'White Menace'.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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