Intense
His hunger was simply intense!
This comes to leopards, too...
And till that empty gnawing ends,
He'll hunt the whole day through...
Only the starving understand
The desperate days he's known,
When cruel Fate withholds her hand,
As her heart turns to stone...
Each step, each stride, each newborn chase,
They sap his strength, of course,
Though once he had a noble face
And was a tour de force!
He now looks feeble, not on form,
A shadow of himself...
No longer feeling quite the norm,
He must rely on stealth.
He lies in wait, for prey to come,
With hardly strength to cope,
With breathing slow, now playing dumb
And nothing left but hope...
Suffice to say, Fate sends a meal...
His torment meets an end...
Enough to let his body to heal
And he's soon on the mend...
Denis Martindale, copyright, July 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Intense'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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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:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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Focussed
All senses now are focussed well,
Survival calls again,
The lioness obeys its spell
That haunts both beasts and men...
The hunger gnaws within us all,
It comes and will not budge
And why, united by its thrall,
We serve, yet with a grudge...
The lioness now stalks her prey...
With eyes and ears alert,
With nostrils flared for scents that stray
Within the land of hurt...
For here it is that death draws near,
As Mother Nature knows...
And all at once, peace turns to fear,
Till life comes to a close...
The lioness may look refined,
Defiant, noble, brave,
Yet hunger leads to thoughts unkind,
With few around to save.
Her prey is fast, the chase is on!
Escape is rare, so rare...
Yet suddenly the prey has gone...
And leaves her fuming there...
Denis Martindale, copyright, July 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Focussed'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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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:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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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:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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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:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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Jungle Apparition
At first, the tiger merely strolls
The jungle paths he knows,
As if he has no plans, no goals,
Till inner hunger grows...
It's then another hunt begins,
It's then he's most alert,
It's then his instincts must convince
That now's the time to hurt...
He stalks new prey, perchance to live,
As carnivores before,
He seeks to steal and not to give,
As if it were a chore...
Yet Nature chooses what must be,
For lions, tigers, bears...
And each must serve his destiny,
His dreams and his nightmares...
He's a ghostly apparition,
His colours help him blur...
He won't find an intermission,
Till things were as they were...
With tricks like these, the tiger strolls,
The jungle paths he knows,
Yet now with plans, yet now with goals,
As inner hunger grows...
Denis Martindale, copyright, July 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Jungle Apparition'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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Winter Sun
His weary eyes were everywhere,
To track each tiny sound,
The hungry wolf beyond his lair
Trod softly on the ground.
For somewhere near or somewhere far
His next meal had to be.
If not, no midnight, moon or star
His weary eyes would see...
His stomach churned each step he took,
Yet Death was patient still...
His jaws were like an open book,
As he surveyed the hill.
How many hills had he climbed now?
A dozen, maybe more,
With all past strength God could allow
He fought the final war...
His prey escaped a sudden death...
His loss and yet their gain...
Life is a journey, breath by breath,
His offspring to remain...
He couldn't find a single crumb
Of comfort for this phase.
He didn't know his time had come...
This was the end of days...
Denis Martindale, copyright, October 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Winter Sun'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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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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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:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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With Intent
The lonely leopard forced to find
His next meal now and then,
Walked with intent, with single mind,
With one thought yet again...
To hunt alone, with none to blame
If something should go wrong,
Just basic skills that stayed the same,
That's why he must stay strong...
He passed the time reserving power,
Till his next meal arrived,
Perhaps within this coming hour,
Based on the plans contrived...
His eyes looked left, his eyes looked right,
Surveying all there was,
Perhaps to see something take flight
Then chase or suffer loss...
The lonely leopard sleek and fast
And ruthless, come what may,
Reflected on his solemn past,
The trail of fallen prey...
He lived the life that Nature gave,
To kill yet not repent...
Like predators who daily crave,
He now walked with intent...
Denis Martindale, copyright, May 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'With Intent'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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In Pursuit
The cheetah checked the sudden sound,
His neck streamlined and sleek,
His eyes surveying all around,
His hunting skills unique...
His claws now arched, each step was soft,
He gently sniffed for scent,
If unsuccessful, others scoffed
At time unwisely spent...
The cheetah chose the likely path
To stalk the prey ahead,
With chances better than a half
That he would soon be fed.
His next meal moved not far away,
Oblivious, at ease...
Yet this would be its final day,
From then on, rest in peace...
The cheetah cheered when all went well,
A textbook hunt in truth...
Not bad, he thought, then slept a spell,
In hiding, quite aloof.
He simply, slowly, inhaled breath
And exhaled just the same...
Without a thought of life or death...
No conscience, guilt or shame...
Denis Martindale, copyright, August 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'In Pursuit'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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The Watchers
Two wily wolves were waiting there
For something new to see,
Beyond investing time to stare
At endless scenery...
It didn't matter, his or hers,
Full stomachs now were gone
And deep within, where hunger stirs,
Reminders rumbled on...
Familiar thoughts had thus returned
To haunt them once again,
Recalling lessons both had learned
Which helped them now and then.
They licked their lips like hunters do,
Though nothing was in sight,
Yet sensing there was something new
About to get a fright!
The watchers chose their lucky spot,
Their waiting game to play...
Four starving eyes checked every dot
That flew or walked their way...
At last, their next meal sauntered by,
Quite calm and fancy free...
And since he had no wings to fly,
The rest is history...
Denis Martindale, copyright, August 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'The Watchers'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot.com
poem by Denis Martindale
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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:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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Flat Out
The sun was mighty warm today!
The lioness concurred...
She found a pleasant rock to lay,
A spot that she preferred...
And then she sort of melted there...
And with that rock was one,
Such that she simply didn't care
About that sizzling sun...
Her heavy eyelids flickered still,
Some consciousness to keep,
As if a final act of will
Before she slipped to sleep...
Her breathing in and breathing out
Were simply not the same
And should there be a single doubt,
She'd swear, the sun's to blame!
Flat out, she was, her tail as well,
Like one long stretch of string...
As if the victim of a spell,
She couldn't do a thing!
The mighty huntress met her match!
Flat out, for all to see...
And there she stayed, some sleep to snatch,
From noon till half-past-three...
Denis Martindale, copyright, July 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Flat Out'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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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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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:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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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:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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Close Encounter
And there he was, like mercury,
Dressed in his leathered skin,
The elephant that looked at me
And knew that he would win!
While I stood still with mounting dread
And in one of those jams,
His tusks were pointing dead ahead!
Just like battering rams!
I could run left, I could run right,
A nearby tree to climb,
Then hold on tight with all my might
As we two passed the time...
Then suddenly he walked away!
He left me standing still...
Perhaps I'd live another day,
Though right then I felt ill...
I gulped and walked away real slow...
Quite gingerly at first,
Then scarpered off, now on the go
And running at full burst!
The elephant let out a roar!
He bellowed loud and clear!
I kept on running all the more,
Like you would, too, my dear!
Denis Martindale, copyright, July 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Close Encounter'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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Winter Repose
A lone Siberian tiger
Was resting on a hill,
All dressed in white and golden fur,
Reclining, oh, so still...
Accepting all that Fate had thrown,
Resigned to come what may...
Yes, there he was all on his own,
Just taking in the day...
He couldn't see a soul for miles
And nothing flew above...
And every day he faced new trials,
He met no-one to love...
The lonely figure looked around
At all his eyes surveyed...
And there, he didn't hear a sound
And so, felt quite dismayed...
Without true love, what have we got?
It's true, God only knows...
We know that it can't be a lot,
Like tigers in repose...
Yet hope abides in tigers, too,
And so they persevere...
Yes, they must do what we must do,
Until true love is here...
Denis Martindale, copyright, December 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Winter Repose'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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In Hot Pursuit
The tiger rested, gently laid,
Now in a placid mood,
Until his belly sighed dismayed
In hopes of some fresh food...
So up he stood and stretched a while,
His hunting ears alert
And gone that tiger's placid smile,
For main course and dessert...
He slowly trod the ground he walked
With one intent in mind,
For his next meal would soon be stalked,
As he sneaked up behind...
The chase was on! He saw his prey!
His coat was now a blur!
His next meal mustn't get away!
No, no! That can't occur!
So like the wind that strikes the earth
With storms of utmost rage,
In hot pursuit his mighty girth
Sped to its fastest stage!
Then in the blinking of an eye,
The dirty deed was done!
To stave off each new starving sigh...
One fed, he heard not one...
Denis Martindale, copyright, October 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'In Hot Pursuit'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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