Just Friends
To look at them, you'd be amused,
For two white tiger cubs
No longer yawning or confused
Both used their claws as clubs.
They pounced upon each other's back
Some squeal of pain to make...
And then they'd cut each other slack
As if both on a break...
But pretty soon, they'd start again
And chew each other's tail...
They'd calculate the moment when
To make the other wail...
You'd think that they were enemies!
The way they carried on!
The way they tugged on ears then squeeze
Till every sound had gone...
And yet these two enjoyed their fights,
Their squabbles to and fro,
Their constant contests brought delights,
More than you'll ever know...
But as their brand new day soon ends
Their bashing brawls depart...
That's when they lie there, now just friends
With true love in each heart...
Denis Martindale, copyright, February 2011.
This is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Just Friends'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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Mother's Pride
The lion cubs were all laid low
With heavy heads as proof,
Their golden coats were all aglow,
Yet now not one could move...
For there they were, as most cubs are,
When they've run round and round...
With each one thinking he's the star,
Yet now can't make a sound...
Their mother looked at this each day,
No longer quite surprised,
At first, she glared with some dismay,
Until she realised...
Now interlocked, just breathing in,
Not far from dreamland, friends...
With nothing more to prove or win,
Almost as daytime ends...
Their mother looked as eyelids sagged
Then fluttered for a while,
Then sniggered as their hot feet dragged...
Her memories made her smile...
For she was once as young as these,
Now humbled by the sun
And as she watched them take their ease,
She loved them, every one...
Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Mother's Pride'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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Just Friends (Intro)
One day, David Attenborough came across some tigers!
And... here, we see, two white tiger cubs...
And... for what it's worth, they can see us as well.
There they are, together, side-by-side,
Seemingly without a care in the world...
And... rightly so, with their parents close by.
For in their eyes, we are the intruders,
Simply because they were here first...
And... who are we to disagree
With their two adult white tigers,
So near, yet, thankfully, so far away?
The day began with a scout around,
With the cubs at each other's tails...
Just friends, yet preparing themselves,
Their eyes firmly set on the future,
The years ahead, the joys and sorrows
Of tomorrows yet to be...
Their tails flicking up high like cobras,
Trying to avoid the next friendly bite...
Sibling rivalry, starting young, starting today,
Perhaps lasting for a few more of their years,
Perhaps no serious disaster to intervene...
Just friends encroaching on each other's space,
Nothing too alarming, just whippersnappers at play.
Not exactly innocent, yet not exactly guilty either.
Just friends, young-at-heart, competitive,
Just tail chewers and chompers having at it...
Watching the day go by, just like little cubs do...
Denis Martindale, copyright, February 2011.
This is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Just Friends'.
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:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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Devotion
Devotion stirred within her heart,
The lioness looked proud!
Her cub was playful from the start
Whenever folks allowed...
He'd ambush unsuspecting friends,
Close family or not
And bite on every tail that ends
And chew it on the spot!
This biased mother loved her child
Who made the others vexed!
This phase would pass, yet now she smiled
To think what he'd do next!
He was a charmer through and through,
Though some would call him strange...
For chewing tails was nothing new,
No matter how times change.
His tiny teeth would sharpen soon
And folks would bite him back!
His turn would come when he would swoon
Because of their attack!
For now, he thought the world was his!
The little so and so!
Yes, ignorance is sometimes bliss,
But don't chew tails! No, no...
Denis Martindale, copyright, September 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Devotion II'.
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poem by Denis Martindale
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White Lord
The pure white lion chose his spot,
Content that it would do
And there he didn't move a lot,
He just enjoyed the view.
To him, this was another day,
No worries on his mind
And so he let time pass away,
Slow breathing to unwind.
The years had taught him how to live
And if to walk or run
The time to take, the time to give,
The battles to be won.
Of course, by now, the heat was strong,
So why not have a rest?
No point in running all day long,
For who would be impressed?
The white lord in the sky above
Was just like him below,
When that old sun had shone enough,
It gave the moon a go.
Let lion cubs run left and right!
Let lion cubs climb trees!
For now, it was his prime delight
To nestle on his knees.
Denis Martindale, copyright, June 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'White Lord'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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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:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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Bookends
Two tiger cubs had claimed a tree
As if it were their own
And guarded it with dignity,
As if they were full-grown!
They glared at those that ventured near,
With stern-stared loathsome looks,
As if they hoped to instil fear,
Like proper gangster crooks!
They arched their backs, their necks held high
With awesome jawsome jowls,
As if to give the evil eye
Backed up with fearsome scowls...
The gruesome twosome joined by oath
To fight with all their strength!
The passersby ignored them both!
Just sauntered by at length...
Two tiger cubs had claimed a tree,
Their castle for the day...
Like bookends in a library,
Determined, all the way...
Each little rebel with a cause,
Defiant to the last!
Their tiny claws inside their paws,
Though harmless, were quite fast...
Denis Martindale, copyright, April 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Bookends'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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Rarity
Across the plains my Jeep went well,
Yet something slowed me down,
As if I were within a spell
So far away from town...
Binoculars were by my side,
I raised them to my eyes,
For I beheld a lion's pride
And then a great surprise...
White lions here? Yes, I felt blessed!
I got my camera out...
Who could have known? Who could have guessed?
And yet there was no doubt.
I snapped some pictures there and then,
Because I needed proof...
For who among the wisest men
Would trust me with the truth?
But then I paused... Should I pass on
These pictures to Mankind?
My heart said yes, before they're gone,
Their beauty left behind...
Now all the world can celebrate
White lion cubs born free,
To watch them grow and think they're great!
God bless such rarity...
Denis Martindale, copyright, February 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Rarity'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Waiting For Mother
Two tiger cubs with swishing tails
With so much still to learn,
As is the case, with all young males,
Awaited Mum's return...
At first, quite calm, no cause to fret,
No cause to sigh for now,
But soon spurred on by their regret,
Each wore a furrowed brow...
'She won't be long! ' they both agreed,
'No, no, not long at all...'
Could soothing comfort words succeed
When neither heard her call?
Impatiently they tapped their feet
And swished their tails again...
With nothing near or far to greet,
What use to count to ten?
'Oh, come on, Mum! ' they growled aloud!
No longer quite serene,
No longer brave, no longer proud,
Just acting being mean!
'This just won't do! ' But suddenly,
She stood there in plain sight!
'Oh, Mum, we missed you! What's for tea? '
How tactful... How polite!
Denis Martindale, copyright, February 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Waiting For Mother'.
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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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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Bright Eyes
He really doesn't have a clue,
He's still too young to know!
He does what little lions do,
He's always on the go...
He's scratching backs, he's biting tails!
He's pouncing now and then!
He's challenging the other males!
He wins four out of ten!
His tiny teeth aren't up to much!
His smooth young claws are stubs!
His awesome ears keep him in touch
With antics of the cubs!
He dribbles and he's got no shame!
He's often known to drip...
Though every lion has his fame,
He's hardly cool or hip!
But he'll get better every day
Because he's keen to learn...
That's how great lions find their way,
In time, respect to earn!
One day and his courageous heart
Will grant him everything...
One day, he'll really look the part,
One day, he'll be a king!
Denis Martindale, copyright, July 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Bright Eyes'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot.com
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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Bush Master
No more the lion cub is he,
Now full grown in his prime
And gone is all timidity
Because this is his time...
Prepared for such a day as this,
His eyes survey the land,
His destiny won't go amiss,
In truth, his life is planned.
This season changes everything,
He walks as if he rules,
As if he were their only king,
Adorned with gold and jewels.
It's true that lions should be feared,
It's true that they are fierce,
Yet openly they are revered
By men and all their peers.
Bush masters live, take life and die,
With cubs to take their place,
Without the need to question why,
As if no shame to face...
If left alone, they may endure
A thousand years or more...
If not, extinction, death for sure,
Gone with one final roar...
Denis Martindale, copyright, February 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Bush Master'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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King Of The Castle
The tiger strolled alone again...
Unloved for all to see...
A lonely king revered by men
And yet no queen had he...
No tigress roared for him to hear,
No tigress caught his eye,
No tigress brought from far to near
To cause a sovereign's sigh...
The tiger strolled a little more...
His heart a heavy weight...
A lonely king who felt so poor
He couldn't celebrate...
No tigress toured his countryside,
No tigress sought his love,
No tigress thought of him with pride,
So was this life enough?
The tiger strolled another day...
With pining in his soul...
A lonely king he'd have to stay,
Maintaining self-control...
But suddenly he roared and roared!
Until God heard him, too!
God sent a tigress to this lord
Who never said, 'Thank You! '
Denis Martindale, copyright, February 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'King Of The Castle'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Old Scarface
Old Scarface wasn't all that old
But lions tend to age
When grizzled hearts turn freezing cold
Yet burn with white-hot rage!
He stands there, staring, fuming mad!
His teeth like gnarly nails...
A gentle lion now turned bad,
Completely off the rails!
He's lost his friends, he walks alone,
He's always on his guard...
His reputation's so well known
That others call him hard.
He fights to win and always will
Until old age creeps near,
Like others, he has blood to spill,
From scars from ear-to-ear...
Old Scarface, how I pity you...
Not born a butterfly,
Not born a gentle dove, it's true,
Perhaps ashamed to cry...
Your days are filled with fury fights,
Until your days are done...
Then who will care of cold delights
And battles that you've won?
Denis Martindale, copyright, July 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Old Scarface'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot.com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Proud Mother
Within this world of wondrous things,
Snow leopards learn to live...
From gentle cubs, as underlings,
To parents, life to give.
To each his own, that's how it goes,
The male and female breed,
Such that new life within her grows,
Until they, too, are freed...
Then all at once those cubs must learn
What life is all about,
And thus, in time, respect to earn,
No longer rules to flout...
They choose to serve within a team,
Survival to ensure,
No matter if through acts extreme
That shake us to the core...
Their mother is their constant guide
And yet their closest friend.
That's why she looks on them with pride
Until the bitter end...
For she's known love and she's known death
And yearns to stay alive...
Until she breathes her final breath,
She'll help them to survive...
Denis Martindale, copyright, January 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Proud Mother'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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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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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
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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