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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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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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
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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
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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
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Winter Finery
The lone wolf stared upon the hill,
Upbeat, for all to see,
As if to watch him was a thrill
In Winter finery,
With coat so thick, it kept him warm,
Against the Winter wind,
So he survived the swirling storm
And simply howled and grinned...
The other creatures weren't so blessed,
With gritted teeth, no smiles
And jealous that he was well dressed
With strength to run for miles...
Life isn't fair to one and all
And yet who could they blame?
They merely stared and watched snow fall...
So random without aim...
The wolf would last the Winter through,
Just one day at a time,
By doing what he had to do,
Though some think that's a crime...
Survival tactics, hunting skills,
Tenfold tenacity,
No conscience anytime he kills...
There, my friends, the pity...
Denis Martindale, copyright, June 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Winter Finery'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
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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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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Lobo
Not one wolf here on Earth forgives
When his next meal gets lost...
The moon shines down on each that lives
Regardless of the cost...
The lobo's hunger must remain,
As if to drive him wild,
As if to drive him quite insane,
Such that his soul's defiled...
As he looks now, he looks serene,
Quite calm and self-composed,
But this is just the in-between,
No victim's death to boast...
I know he looks so beautiful,
Beguiling in a way...
But sometimes wolves can be so cruel...
With others easy prey...
Behold the wolf that stares ahead,
His features so distinct,
Without a single trace of dread,
Awareness interlinked...
With eyes that focus here and there
And ears than scan for sound,
This lobo's up for any dare,
While food's somewhere around...
Denis Martindale, copyright, January 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Lobo'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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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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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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Arctic Sun
Wrapped up within his blanket fur,
The white wolf looks serene,
The arctic sun makes him a blur,
Pristine and oh so clean...
And while he's there, not here with you,
You're safe as safe can be,
To zoom in through your camera's view,
To see what you can see...
He looks like Lassie painted white,
Quite harmless, don't you think?
He looks refined and most polite,
But wait until you blink...
For in a moment, he can stand
And run from there to here...
And suddenly, he'll shake your hand
And shake your heart with fear....
Appearances deceive us all,
Sometimes you just can't tell...
It's only when you hear wolves call,
That beauty casts no spell...
It's then that Nature's rules enforce
Her laws by night and day...
To tell us, who has teeth and claws,
The hunter or the prey?
Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2009.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Arctic Sun'.
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 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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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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Watching From Cover
The wily wolf was all alone,
Content to be that way
And like a statue made of stone,
He waited for his prey...
Watching from cover, laid on snow,
His soul was stained by crime,
Upon the path he chose to go,
As snowflakes marked the time...
Though silence was his only friend,
He knew it wouldn't last,
For soon it would be at an end
As his next meal walked past...
Till then he waited patiently,
No energy was lost...
Until fate chose his destiny,
No matter what the cost...
He strained to keep his head held high,
His eyes and ears so cold,
As lonesome hours waved goodbye
With nothing to be told...
But suddenly, he heard snow crunch,
His prey was in his sights,
Suffice to say he'd found his lunch,
Despite the wrongs or rights...
Denis Martindale, copyright, April 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Watching From Cover'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
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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Snow Spirit
The snow leopard crouched on the ground,
As silent as the grave...
And there he paused without a sound,
Another meal to crave...
His empty belly told him straight,
This was the perfect time,
Be vigilant, endure the wait...
No higher must you climb.
Beyond him was a subtle stone,
A boulder nothing more...
Yet shaped as though now not alone,
His camouflage felt sure.
The trap was set... his eyes alert,
His ears tuned in for clues...
His legs like springs to sprint and spurt
And chase away the blues.
An hour passed without a word,
No rustling on the breeze...
No song tune from a flying bird,
No buzzing from the bees.
Then all at once, quite sudden like,
A broken twig went crack!
He moved as if a lightning strike,
His brand new prey to track!
With leaps and bounds and sudden swerves,
The leopard lunged and pounced!
Yes, patience is a skill that serves
When hunger is announced.
Without new prey, the leopard dies...
The big cat feeds once more...
To some, this truth is never nice,
Yet such is Nature's Law...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Snow Spirit'.
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 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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Mountain Splendour
Snow leopards look at snow all day!
It's here, there, everywhere!
It hardly ever goes away!
It's white beyond compare!
It's dazzling white, it's total white,
It really, really is!
It's safe to say that it's too bright!
It's not something they'd miss...
Snow leopards sit the whole day long
On snow, snow, snow, snow, snow...
It's sometimes nice, don't get me wrong,
But doesn't that stuff glow! ?
It's freezing cold, no good at all...
And bores them all to tears...
They hate it when new snowflakes fall
And tickle both their ears!
Snow leopards wait for food to eat...
They wait, wait, wait, wait, wait...
They take things slow, they tap their feet...
And think life's just great!
They can't hum tunes like humans do...
Remembering each rhyme...
They just sit down, enjoy the view...
And... while... away... the... time...
Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Mountain Splendour II'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Arctic Wanderer
The arctic wastelands numb the bones
And wolves aren't yet immune,
Upon the winds you'll hear their groans
And moans that won't end soon...
For arctic wastelands test the souls
Of all who wander near,
As if to find out what controls
Their every thought and fear...
The arctic winds feel no remorse
As they go howling by,
They simply blow, maintain their course,
While all God's creatures sigh...
The wolf must wander like the wind
Along some unknown path,
For come the day he's left behind,
They'll write his epitaph...
For now, he lives, to face the storm,
To battle through each hour...
Remembering he once was warm,
But now he's feeling sour...
So woe betide whatever's found
That he can eat today!
His heart's turned cold, just like the ground
That hides what he calls prey...
Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Arctic Wanderer'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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