Forest Haven
The tiger saw me near his home,
His Shangri-La and more...
To him, as sweet as honeycomb,
A place to rest each paw...
'Yes, come on in and join me here,
Without a moment's doubt,
Without a single trace of fear,
For that's what love's about...'
'Just you and I, with no regard
Of past mistakes we've known...
The two of us should now discard
All thoughts to live alone...
No need to fret or fight or flee,
No need to laugh out loud...
Just settle down right next to me...
My soft fur's like a cloud...'
'Don't wear a frown! Don't hesitate...
What have you got to lose?
The sun's so hot... It's getting late...
Let's share this evening's views.
There's no-one else to intervene
To steal this time of bliss...
My forest haven's so serene...
It really, really is...'
(August 2011/The poem is based on the
magnificent painting by Stephen Gayford
called 'Forest Haven'.)
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Resting Place
A fallen tree was found one day
As one young tiger strolled
And that was where he chose to stay
To let tense claws unfold...
The sun was shining, gliding past,
Just like each day before,
Yet there below he found at last
A place to rest each paw.
The tiger's whiskers lowered down,
Like tiny twigs at ease,
While peace began to melt each frown
Amid a soothing breeze...
This was the life! For him, at least:
No hunger, thirst or fear.
Like music to the savage beast,
His thoughts were crystal clear...
A fallen tree, well past its prime,
While sad, still served him well.
To him, a precious place sublime,
Where he could pause a spell...
Let others chase their tails around!
Let others build their nests!
For him, a paradise was found...
No wonder that he rests...
Denis Martindale, copyright, April 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'The Resting Place'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Indian Sanctuary
The tiger rested in the sun
Without a single care...
Without the need to hunt or run,
This sense of peace was rare.
The tiger wasted none of this,
It just went with the flow...
Partaking of its share of bliss
And in its afterglow.
The afternoon was on its way,
No danger and no qualm.
No enemies to keep at bay,
No reason for alarm.
The tiger didn't understand
This sudden change of pace,
This Shangri-La, this Wonderland,
This blessing or this grace.
Why question what seemed meant to be?
Why fret when all goes well?
Be thankful for serenity,
Enjoy it for a spell.
The tiger's heart was tranquil, too.
Its rhythm matched the mood.
As if in safety in a zoo
Where Man provides the food.
You could call this a sanctuary,
A dream within a dream...
A pleasant place that's fancy free
Where nothing is extreme...
The tiger thought it Paradise
It knew it couldn't keep...
And so it simply closed its eyes,
Thanked God and went to sleep...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Indian Sanctuary'.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Going In
The tiger's tail was piping hot
All the live-long day...
And that one tail was all he'd got
To swipe the flies away!
Its twists and turns were quite enough
To signal it was time
To find that place when things got tough...
The stream was so sublime...
So off he went in search of peace,
His own sweet Shangri-La...
Where all his tensions found release
As if it were a spa...
When going in, the soft mud feels
So squelchy there below...
Yet somehow that sensation heals,
As mud slips to and fro...
Now halfway in, with all legs wet,
He stands still there and then...
He loses every frown and fret
And he's refreshed again.
The final part to be revived
Must be his twisting tail
And just as soon as it's arrived,
It quivers without fail...
He's well and truly in it now!
He's cooling down a treat...
Yes, Mother Nature, take a bow!
This river's hard to beat!
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Going In'.
More poems here: denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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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
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Purposeful
The tiger firmly marched his way
Across the swirling stream,
His tail was swishing near the spray
As he looked in a dream...
As if he had one thought in mind,
As hunger stirred his soul,
For any prey that he could find
As he searched on patrol...
If any creatures saw him there,
No doubt that they stood still,
In hopes that he stayed unaware
And blood he wouldn't spill...
Ignore his fur like honeycomb
As sweet as sweet could be,
He marched as if he had no home,
Just one priority...
How purposeful his life has turned
As hunger growls within...
No measely meal could now be spurned,
If he, this war must win...
For him, the struggle to survive
Is something that annoys,
But all must eat to stay alive,
The tiger has no choice...
Denis Martindale, copyright, April 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Purposeful'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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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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Indian Adolescent
The Bengal tiger cub looked fine,
On top form for his age,
Maturing like the finest wine
And not locked in a cage...
As free as birds that fly the sky,
As wily as the rest,
As fast as those that seem so spry,
The tiger cub looked blessed.
Consider everything you know,
Of all the creatures seen,
His fur looks like it's all aglow,
Magnificent, serene...
He's on the prowl, for who knows what?
No longer playing games...
And now he'll give it all he's got,
With newly-focused aims...
He's confident that he must win,
He's steadfast through and through...
So valiant he'll not give in,
He'll do what he must do.
His eyes are like two worlds apart,
Together they're a team...
Yet driven by that tiger's heart,
Who knows what dreams they'll dream?
Denis Martindale, copyright, July 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Indian Adolescent'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot.com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Cool Water
As if cool water called his name,
The tiger had obeyed,
Remaining calm as his first aim,
Thus by cool water laid...
Upon the rocks he flicked his tail
A little less and less,
For beauty spots like this can't fail
To spread some happiness...
The tiger spread his weight around
With tooties to one side,
As if his Shangri-La had found
And here he would abide...
No other creatures dared approach
The growling so-and-so,
Now settled like a real slow coach
Who didn't want to go...
Cool water soothes the savage beast,
That's just the way it is,
Now from the greatest to the least,
Seduced by utter bliss...
Well, good for him! I'll give him time
Before I take my bath...
With patience, it could be sublime
And not my epitaph...
Denis Martindale, copyright, September 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Cool Water'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Serengeti Evening
The tiger looks a noble sort,
I think that you'd agree.
It doesn't really take much thought,
It's there for all to see.
The tiger smoulders in the sun,
Like marmalade on toast -
His orange stripes so crisply done
To stand out uppermost.
His swishing tail, his piercing eyes,
His rippling muscles, too.
His camouflage meant to disguise,
To do what he must do...
Together, how they all impress -
Both young and old take note.
With tigers, there's no need to guess,
You just look at that coat.
His whiskers twitching up and down
And sometimes left and right.
Each forehead stripe just like a frown,
As if he just took fright.
The tiger looks a noble sort,
Determined through and through!
But sadly, I must now report:
Run fast or he'll catch YOU!
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Serengeti Evening II'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Full Attention
The tiger took his merry time
Wading in the water...
Why shouldn't he? It felt sublime,
Perfectly in order...
So he went up and he went down
And he went left and right
And though each stripe looked like a frown,
His joy was at its height...
This is the life, he seemed to say,
Nothing else quite like it!
No hurry to be on his way,
In truth, he must admit!
Up to his neck in Shangri-La,
Nirvana, Heaven, peace...
It wasn't likely he'd go far,
When he could take his ease.
Did it have his full attention?
Yes, he felt comfy there...
Had he lost all apprehension?
He didn't have a care!
No point in leaving for a while...
So he felt mighty glad...
If anything can make you smile,
Like him, get stuck in, lad...
Denis Martindale, copyright, July 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Full Attention'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot.com
poem by Denis Martindale
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A Cool Place
The tiger's paws were very hot
As he stepped on the ground,
Yet he recalled a shady spot
Was nearby to be found...
So off he went in search of peace,
Just one step at a time...
Content that there he'd find release,
A cool place, so sublime...
At last, he reached his gentle rest,
Away from all that glare...
And all at once, he felt quite blessed,
As if without a care...
His tender tootsies throbbed no more,
He splashed his paws about,
The ripples went from shore-to-shore...
A cool place, without doubt...
Then suddenly his body stopped,
Submerged up to his chin,
His tensed-up muscles simply flopped,
To utter joy gave in...
The tiger smiled a winsome smile,
A sigh of sweet relief
And there he rested for a while,
Now cool beyond belief...
Denis Martindale, copyright, July 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'A Cool Place'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot.com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Tiger Pursuit
To some, the tiger looks so cute,
With so much feline charm...
But when the tiger's in pursuit,
Who knows who'll come to harm?
Although the tiger's face looks sweet,
It hides sharp teeth that bite!
He's not a cat to meet and greet
Or bravely choose to fight!
It's true, the tiger loves his friends
And welcomes them with glee...
And yet, that's where all friendship ends -
So I'd prefer to flee!
I'd soon be off, if he were close!
Too close for comfort's sake!
I'd soon be standing on my toes -
I'd run, make no mistake!
Perhaps the tiger could be tamed...
Fried chicken, bacon, chops?
I'm out of those! I could be maimed!
Too late to call the cops!
I'm on my own! I'm on my Todd!
I'm off, without a doubt!
Quite frantic, friends, I'd pray to God!
'Dear Lord! Please help me out! '
I'd not be praying on my knees
Or talking politics...
I'd not be swapping recipes
Or teaching tiger tricks!
I'd not attempt to stroke his fur
And smile with winsome grin!
My little legs would be a blur!
I'd scat to save my skin!
I've never been where tigers hunt
Or sunbathed where they roam!
And frankly, friends, to be quite blunt,
Scared stiff, I'd stay at home!
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Tiger Pursuit'.
poem by Denis Martindale
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
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Companionship
Two wolves were waiting side-by-side,
At peace, they looked serene,
Yet both their eyes were open wide
With hunting skills so keen...
They looked majestic, yes, indeed,
Yet those around weren't pleased,
For soon it would be time to feed
And tensions were increased...
Wise creatures now remained quite still,
No sounds to make at all...
For soon they knew that blood would spill,
In one almighty brawl.
The waiting game went on and on,
With gamblers here and there,
Beneath the brilliant sun that shone
Without a single care...
Companionship is well and good,
As friends can testify,
Yet these two owned the neighbourhood
And creatures that ran by.
To some, these wolves with pristine fur
Looked awesome without doubt,
But oh what frightful things occur
Each time there's food about...
Denis Martindale, copyright, August 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Companionship'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Family Values
Father And Mother, I Love You!
That spells out F.A.M.I.L.Y.
And God bless if it's oh, so true,
The way that He blessed me!
It's like that painting that I've seen,
Two cubs, one lioness...
On Family Values I'm so keen,
For love brings happiness!
We know that lion cubs aren't tame,
Yet they still fool around!
And everything's to them a game,
No matter what they've found...
The lionesses gather near
To grant a helping hand,
For while their love stays crystal clear,
Who knows what cubs have planned?
When evening comes, they settle down
And peace arrives at last!
Their Mother doesn't wear a frown
Or look at them aghast!
With one eye open, one eye closed,
The cubs are close to sleep...
Why is it now she loves them most?
She doesn't hear a peep...
Denis Martindale, copyright, October 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Family Values'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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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
poem by Denis Martindale
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White Majesty
The white wolf stares at all he sees,
His kingdom to protect
And like all royal majesties,
He, too, commands respect...
So if alone or in a pack,
He does what he must do.
To go without, some food to lack,
That's not his point of view...
The days are cold, the nights are cold,
He must endure them all.
No wonder, then, at night's he's bold,
To howl and fear install.
Condemned to prowl, new meals to find,
He doesn't beg like some.
Such thoughts like these don't come to mind,
Not even for one crumb...
He knows his place upon this Earth,
Beneath the sun and stars
And in his realm, he proves his worth,
Despite the wounds and scars.
For him, there's no sweet home from home,
No comforts meek and mild...
His majesty was born to roam,
To live life in the wild...
Denis Martindale, copyright, January 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'White Majesty II'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Tentative
True beauty seems, of course, quite rare,
Somehow that's meant to be,
The tentative white tiger there,
He's untamed, fancy free...
To me, that tiger's all alone,
His wits his own defence,
To most, a giant now full grown,
No others as his friends...
The world he walks, that's all he knows,
His land both night and day
And every single place he goes
Is merely on his way...
Yet now, beside the water's edge,
A new world gets revealed,
He's tentative without knowledge,
Yet seeks what lies concealed...
In time, this world will be his, too,
His second home, to speak,
His special place, forever new,
Each visit quite unique...
To him, the water's wonderful,
True beauty all the time,
Sensational and sensual,
So fluid and sublime...
Denis Martindale, copyright, June 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Tentative'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Shadow in the Jungle
The panther chose to bide his time
Though hunger churned inside...
He had to plan the perfect crime,
Yet not because of pride...
He had one chance and that was all,
One chance to feast today,
One slip up now and in the brawl
His meal would flee away...
If panthers prayed, who would be safe?
Yet panthers say no prayers...
But they've got hopes instead of faith,
For joys and not despairs...
Yet each must hunt to gain the prize,
To pounce when times are right,
Before their victims realise
And like the birds take flight.
The panther gulped, the time was near...
His soft paws eased ahead...
And gone was every trace of fear
And dead all trace of dread.
What happened next, God only knows...
You see, I looked no more.
No longer crouching still, I rose...
And turned, Fate to ignore...
(July 2011/The poem is based on the
magnificent painting by Stephen Gayford
called 'Shadow In The Jungle'.)
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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