Jungle Gentleman
He bears a grace that few may own,
A regal quality.
Distinguished though he walks alone,
This tiger that I see.
Behold the fellow as he strolls,
Without a single care...
As if he has no urgent goals,
No burdens to beware.
He doesn't crouch as if to pounce...
He doesn't crawl the grounds.
He walks as if he weighs an ounce
And not two hundred pounds.
He's like a dancer, fleet of foot,
Yet this is his day off...
In simple words and humbly put,
He acts as if the toff!
He swaggers, struts and looks so cool
In orange, black and white...
As if he'd stepped out from a pool,
Refreshed and sparkling bright.
His whiskers bristle in the sun...
His twinkling eyes aglow!
This tiger's out to have some fun!
He's going with the flow!
When life is good, when life is great,
Don't let the moment pass!
Take time so you can celebrate!
Don't hide behind the grass!
Come out to play and strut your stuff!
Rejoice in what you are!
Who knows? Today you may find love!
Good luck, 'cos you're a star!
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Jungle Gentleman'.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Portrait Of A Prince
Behold the tiger's face up close,
With all its deep-etched lines.
Like charcoal ridges by his nose,
How clearly each defines.
Behold the tiger's ears erect,
Aware of all that breathes,
With mental filters that select
The rustling of the leaves.
Behold the tiger's eyes that stare,
As if right through your soul,
To challenge you, be wise, beware,
Take care who's in control...
Behold the tiger's nose below,
It tells him distant facts,
Though out of sight, he's in the know,
So watch out if he acts...
Behold the tiger's tight-lipped mouth,
He hides his daggers well...
His top set north, his dropped set south,
What tales those teeth could tell.
Behold the tiger's neck so still
And poised with regal grace,
Portraying here the prince's will,
Despite the human race...
Behold the tiger's sovereign style,
His sense of who he is...
His wicked ways, his covering guile,
His final parting kiss...
Behold the tiger's treachery!
Flee from his handsome grin!
For in a race, I think you'll see,
That tigers always win!
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Portrait Of A Prince'.
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
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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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Jungle Pool
White tiger, while you roam your realm,
Your body heat must rise,
Until it's bound to overwhelm
And you resort to sighs...
It's then that jungle pool seems good
Enough to melt each frown,
Such that you cross the neighbourhood
Till you can settle down...
And there it is! Your sighs are done!
You tread soft mud once more
And squish this like you're having fun,
As if that's what it's for...
At first, a shiver runs your spine,
Your ribs then feel the thrill,
But soon, my word, you're feeling fine
As splashes rise and spill...
A soothing swim, a gentle glide,
Your whiskers part the waves,
Such that your dark soul's satisfied,
For such as this it craves...
A precious peace, mid Paradise,
'Twixt Heaven and God's Earth,
The jungle pool is oh so nice,
Much more than you deserve!
Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Jungle Pool'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Cherished Infant
Hello, white tiger infant cub!
So cherished by the rest!
As if part of a private club
That thinks that it's the best!
Today, you're quite their golden boy,
Their firstborn, full of fun!
I guess you're now their pride and joy,
Their precious number one!
I bet they've got great plans for you!
They're grooming for success...
For now, you haven't got a clue...
Life's full of happiness!
But down the road, you'll earn your keep,
With teeth and claws to match!
Then your weak legs must learn to leap,
To chase... and track... and catch!
Today, you look so cool, so cute!
So sweet and debonair...
One day, you'll turn into a brute
Who simply doesn't care!
A cherished infant here and now,
An innocent today...
No furrowed lines upon your brow,
Just stripes that look OK...
So swish your tail and pause your paws...
Be thankful while you can...
One day, you'll be a tour de force,
A tiger feared by Man!
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Cherished Infant'.
The Stephen Gayford poems can be viewed 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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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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Mesmeric
White tiger eyes, white tiger eyes,
So mesmeric in blue,
Are they to cut me down to size
So that I might fear you?
Or are they there to gain my trust
That friendship grows and grows?
If so, then why am I nonplussed,
Can't move my legs, feet, toes?
White tiger eyes, white tiger eyes,
If only you would blink!
I'd get a chance to realise!
I'd get a chance to think!
What lessons could you teach my soul?
What blessings for my heart?
Or would you quickly take control
And then tear me apart?
White tiger eyes, white tiger eyes,
What secrets lay behind?
What wonders lay in dark surprise
To captivate my mind?
Despite your gracious majesty,
You're getting on my wick!
First chance I get, I must break free,
Turn tail and scarper quick!
Denis Martindale, copyright, February 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Mesmeric'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Watching You
The Royal Tiger was acclaimed
Across the whole world wide
And in great pictures he'd been framed,
With genius and pride...
Distinctive stature has its charm,
Amid the ancient trails
And Man protects him from all harm,
For true love never fails...
Endangered species can't express
Their every daily need
And whether tiger, or tigress,
We know each one must feed...
As long as we've got some control,
Some stewardship at least,
Each Man must look inside his soul,
For beauty and the beast...
That's why the bold white tiger stood,
His old blue eyes aglow,
About to do what tigers should
When hunger starts to grow...
And so the hunt was on again,
For creatures great and small,
Perhaps to feast, survive and then
Be feared by one and all...
Denis Martindale, copyright April 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Watching You'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Snow Cat
The tiger stirred from sweet repose
For hunger grew once more...
Despite the cool, cool ice that froze,
The pain began to gnaw...
His eyes now looked with stern intent
At creatures near and far,
Not one of these could be his friend,
For his sharp claws could scar...
He prowled along, with stealth, with guile,
His eyes like black night coals.
His hidden hunger would defile
His soul with evil goals.
He didn't pine for fruit or grass
Like other creatures would...
If he saw them, he'd merely pass
For he sought something good.
To him, that meant some meat to eat
And nothing else seemed right...
For this, he'd chase and he'd compete
With courage and with might!
He looked so sleek, so fit, so firm,
So proud and quite supreme...
Yet he must serve this Winter term
A prisoner to his dream...
The creatures feared him night and day...
They hid when he came close...
To him, they were his meat, his prey...
To them, his life he owes...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Snow Cat'.
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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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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One For The Road
The tiger's throat was mighty dry
As he walked to the stream,
With water there in sweet supply,
The answer to his dream...
His thirst would soon be at an end,
This time he would survive,
With water as his lifelong friend
To help him stay alive...
The tiger stooped to take a sip,
The water tasted good
Upon the tongue, upon the lip,
Just like he knew it would...
And all the once, the tiger smiled,
For life was going well
And thus enchanted and beguiled,
He chose to stay a spell...
He waded further on then swam,
With water on all sides,
As if he were a playful lamb,
Supported as he glides...
Such wistful times offset the worst,
A lifetime of regrets...
Beyond his great initial thirst
The tiger soon forgets...
Denis Martindale, copyright, May 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'One For The Road'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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The Prowler
The prowler lurks, the prowler stalks, the prowler softly treads.
The tiger smirks, the tiger walks, the tiger tension spreads.
The forest king intently stares... he feels the prey is close.
With every step, he shows he cares, for suddenly he knows.
It's time for him to concentrate, to focus with his mind.
For soon he must accelerate, to catch up from behind.
His muscles poised, his eyes alert, his ears now tuning in.
In seconds, he may quickly spurt, to race and then to win.
His heart beats wildly for the chase his instincts have foretold.
His prey will feel his warm embrace and yet it's cruel and cold...
He salivates for memories now come to his recall.
They torture him as if they tease, for who knows if he'll fall?
He doesn't always win the game that Nature makes him play.
Each hunt's unique and not the same, sometimes they get away...
He's hungry now... the forest king, the prowler on the path...
The ruler not the underling, who kills on his behalf.
Beware this mighty fiercesome one, he's not afraid of you...
If you see him, it's time to run... I know that's what I'd do...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'The Prowler'.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Burning Bright
Oh, how brilliant is the legend
In oranges and blacks.
You look and then your breath suspend...
The tiger nothing lacks!
With stripes so strong, so debonair,
So vibrant in the sun!
How dominant, beyond compare,
A vision that can stun!
Take in the stance, the mouth, the teeth,
The claws in paws of gold...
They keep their secrets there beneath,
For they must not be told!
But come the time the tiger stalks
The prey that's dead ahead...
Those claws aren't merely just for walks...
I'm sure you've guessed! Nuff said...
The tiger tempts nobody close,
He growls contempt for all...
For now, he merely strikes a pose,
As if his curtain call...
Endangered species come and go!
His legend's burning bright!
Yet how long for, no man can know...
Please pray again, tonight...
Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Burning Bright'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Indian Nobility
The tiger treads the trails once more -
They're all he's ever known...
Nobility he has galore,
Such dignity to own.
He strides across the ancient earth
As Nature's masterpiece...
With every step, he proves his worth,
As everyone agrees.
The tiger's trained himself to fight,
So he can stand his ground...
Not like a coward that takes flight
And then is seldom found...
He bears the scars upon his back,
His glories from his wins -
They're almost hidden in the black
And orange on this prince.
He stood the victor at the end,
The champion of each one...
The conqueror and not the friend,
When all's been said and done...
Who likes to lose, who likes to fail,
Who likes to quit in shame?
Behold him now, this alpha male,
His majesty, his fame...
He needs no crown, no royal ring,
No sceptre shining out...
You look at him and know one thing,
He's regal without doubt.
Who knows how long he can survive
This modern world he shares?
Yet every day he stays alive
Depends upon our prayers...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Indian Nobility'.
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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Indian Gold
This tiger's stripes resemble gold,
In all its finery,
They're truly wondrous to behold...
What awesome majesty!
He strides across the land that's his,
With swaggers, to and fro...
At ease, exuding perfect bliss,
He puts on quite a show!
Let others cower from his stare
That twinkles golden bright...
He's not like those caught unaware
Before their final fight!
No quiet, humdrum life for him!
He's earnt his stripes, indeed!
His life is filled up to the brim
With wisdom to succeed...
As long as he stays number one
And he's the alpha male,
Then you can bet, he's having fun
With stories to regale...
In time, he'll father many more,
With gold stripes of their own...
Perhaps that's what God made him for
And why he's so well-known...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Indian Gold'.
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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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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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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