Lazy Afternoon
Two little lions closed their eyes,
So tired in the sun...
No longer now the cool wise guys,
So spritely, full of fun.
Plum-tuckered out, as is the way,
As afternoons take hold...
Then little lion heads will sway
As their neck muscles fold...
Their parents grin from ear-to-ear
To watch them fall asleep...
As sunbeams gently, softly steer
Them to their dreams so deep...
At first, they gamely stay awake,
Refusing to submit...
Then suddenly, all strength to take,
The battle's lost, that's it!
Then little lion heads must fall,
For forty winks again...
As if obedient to that call
That even masters men...
I know they tried to do their best,
But now they're sleeping sound.
Their floppy heads with closed eyes rest,
To doze on dusty ground...
Denis Martindale, copyright, January 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Lazy Afternoon'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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That Time Already?
The lion is a busy beast
Until he feels fatigue...
When doziness has then increased
With sleepytime to seek...
It's then his heavy head weighs most
Upon his weary neck
And he no longer stares engrossed,
Like saying, 'What the heck? '
So tiny teeny tired eyes
No longer look alert,
And he no longer looks as wise
Or like a racing cert...
For all at once he weighs a ton
And flops down to the ground
And pretty soon his day is done
And he is sleeping sound...
Do lions snore? I cannot say.
I've never got that close!
I'm not inclined to walk his way
And stir him from repose...
So I'll stay here and he'll stay there!
Yes, that seems fine to me!
But you can wake him, if you dare,
While I watch from that tree...
Denis Martindale, copyright, April 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'That Time Already? '.
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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:
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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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Drowsy
Sometimes the lion king roars loud
For everyone to hear!
But there are times he's not too proud
And hardly one to fear...
We all feel drowsy now and then
And can't avoid a yawn...
Sometimes we can't count up to ten
And look somewhat forlorn...
This lion king feels drowsy now,
His kingdom slips away...
His weary head begins to bow
As stronger forces play.
To stay awake is such a chore!
His weakness is confessed.
He breathes much deeper than before,
Admitting he must rest.
So sleepy-time approaches him
And so his eyelids droop...
His eyesight fast approaches dim
As he departs the group...
Let others guard the lion pride,
Let others look around,
This lion king that yawned and sighed
Is gently sleeping sound...
Denis Martindale, copyright, February 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Drowsy'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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Battle Scars
The lion's eyes looked dead ahead,
No smile or smirk in sight,
Just sending out a sense of dread
That others may take flight...
Why fight if you can run away?
Escape the pain and strife...
Born free to see another day,
Another day of life...
The lion's mouth concealed his teeth,
Small daggers every one,
So sharp they'd cause you instant grief
Before the battle's won...
And 'neath his dainty-looking paws,
So gentle, silky-soft,
He hid his vicious callous claws
In wait for those who scoffed...
It's true that he had battle scars,
Yet he had learnt his trade,
No longer thinking it a farce,
A game that lions played...
One lion wins, it can't be two...
One lion takes the prize!
That's why he'll do what he must do...
Look deep into his eyes....
Denis Martindale, copyright, June 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Battle Scars'.
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poem by Denis Martindale
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Exhausted
To say the sun was way too hot
Was simply not enough.
To think, that tiny golden dot
Was burning bright above.
The lion cub had spent his strength,
Just playing with his friends
And now, he laid down, stretched full length,
Exhausted as day ends...
The adult lions stared amused,
Yet knew one day he'd learn.
To pace himself, for there's no boost
And there's no second turn...
The slightly older cubs still played,
While he laid motionless...
They'd learnt some wisdom and obeyed,
Without the need to guess.
The lion cub could hear them still
And gazed through weary eyes,
For he'd lost both the strength and will...
To join the other guys...
Plum tuckered out! All on his Todd!
He couldn't pounce or creep...
And since no-one gave him a prod,
He gently went to sleep...
'Poor thing! ' the adults all agreed,
Acknowledging their sorrow...
And promised they'd help him succeed,
'We'll feed him up... tomorrow...'
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Exhausted'.
More Stephen Gayford poems can be read here:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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Wild At Heart
The lion listened as the breeze
Passed gently on each side
And on the ground he took his ease,
Enjoying all supplied,
As if this hour was a gift,
A time-out if he stayed,
As if to give his heart a lift
As long as he delayed...
Though wild at heart and strong and brave
And fast upon his feet,
He took the gift that God then gave
For peace like this seemed sweet...
A shift from darkness to the light,
Contentment deep within,
Such that for now this time felt right,
Enough to make him grin...
The lion listened, heartbeat slow,
His muscles not so tense,
Beneath the sunshine's gentle glow
With all its dividends...
Then suddenly, he roared aloud,
Reminding us at length,
That he, of course, was mighty proud
And still quite full of strength!
Denis Martindale, copyright, June 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Wild At Heart'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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Danger
The lion lowered length-to-length,
With danger on his mind
And so he girded all his strength,
His purpose now defined...
His crinkled wrinkled brow felt tight,
His eyes glared to and fro,
Against each danger he must fight
And overcome each foe...
Survival was his only thought,
Adrenalin, his friend,
He'd either catch or he'd be caught,
To win or meet his end...
The sun above had seen it all,
Yet did not stir to save,
Why would it care if he should fall
Or fight so fierce and brave?
The lion's courage made him stay,
He didn't turn and run,
He didn't whimper like a stray
Unhelped by anyone...
His heart was beating oh so fast!
Then suddenly he leapt!
He lived with scars that never passed,
Yet his one life he kept...
Denis Martindale, copyright, September 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Danger'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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Son Of The Father
The lion lay upon the rock,
His son beside him now...
As if the two were taking stock
Of what God would allow...
The kingdom stretched across the land,
Across the hills and plains,
Across the rivers God had planned
And all else that remains...
Their eyes surveyed the creatures, too,
That God had brought to be,
While some were ancient, some were new,
By air and land and sea...
The lions breathed the sweet warm air
Swept by a newborn breeze,
And humbly settled, gently there,
As if to take their ease...
No words were shared to summarise
Their friendship at that time...
For what was there to realise,
Except it was sublime?
Son of the father, future king,
Behold your destiny...
Remember God made everything,
Yes, even you and me...
Denis Martindale, copyright, February 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Son Of The Father'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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Triplets
Depending on your point of view,
If you think they're first rate,
We know what lion cubs can do,
But triplets can be great!
Yes, lion cubs are little tykes!
Three rascals can be fun...
With each cub doing as he likes,
Till he sleeps in the sun...
They're nodding off... plum tuckered out...
Yet they don't want to snooze!
They'd rather pounce and jump about,
With cunning, cruise and bruise...
They'd rather scratch and bite and roar,
Cause chaos for a while...
Than simply, merely, humbly snore...
And lose all sense of style.
The other cubs aren't tired yet,
They slowly bide their time...
For some revenge they'll swiftly get
And won't that feel sublime?
The triplets haven't got a prayer!
They've got to go to sleep!
The other cubs are well aware...
As they, their vigil, keep!
Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Triplets'.
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:
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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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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:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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Lazy Bones
That's it! He'd had enough today!
The tiger faced the facts.
He let his body pause and sway
Then flopped down to relax...
His muscles melted suddenly,
No strength within him now
And all his frowns felt fancy free
Upon his droopy brow...
His tensed-up whiskers soon laid low
As tweety birds gave song,
He knew he hadn't far to go,
The call to sleep felt strong...
His eyelids battled for a while,
Still blinking at the sun,
While those that watched him had to smile,
For he was almost done...
Don't think that he was all fatigued
From running to and fro,
Or from exhaustion he had peaked,
The little so-and-so...
He let the others do that stuff!
Such feats filled him with groans...
He'd rather do the things he'd love,
The shameless LAZY BONES!
Denis Martindale, copyright, April 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Lazy Bones'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
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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:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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The Journey Home
The elephant was on her way,
Her calf was close nearby,
You should've seen their bodies sway,
Both marching, heads held high!
'Keep up with me! Left, right! Left, right! '
The calf was telling Mum,
The two of them were quite a sight,
Since so far had they come...
For many miles, the calf endured,
Without a thought to stop,
But Mum, of course, was quite assured,
His legs would flip and flop...
His trunk would droop and trail the ground,
His pace no longer fast,
With barely strength to make a sound,
As even more miles past...
And sure enough, she heard those words,
That parents often get...
The journey home, it's for the birds!
'Hey, Mum, are we there yet! ? '
'A few miles more! ' she told him straight...
He moaned and groaned, of course...
It's just right then, though life was great,
He'd rather be a horse!
Denis Martindale, copyright, October 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'The Journey Home'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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The Old Campaigner
The lion king had lived life well,
Fought battles and he'd won
And now he paused to rest a spell,
To muse on all he'd done.
Inflicting wounds on lesser foes,
Reminding them who's boss,
Yes, face-to-face and nose-to-nose,
Yet never facing loss...
To these, he was the alpha male,
The lion king and more,
The lion who could never fail
To settle every score.
To these, he was the champion,
As if he were ordained,
The one they were relying on
Because of all he'd gained...
The old campaigner stood his ground,
Defiant to the last,
The lion king who was self-crowned,
Whose life had almost past...
But while he strode his sovereign land,
He ruled with just a stare...
For who would challenge one so grand,
Whose stature said, 'Beware! '?
Denis Martindale, copyright, April 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'The Old Campaigner'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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Lion Cub
To study him, as he was now,
You'd think that he looked swell.
This lion cub with wrinkled brow
Was known to cast a spell...
Your first impressions are misled,
For he's no gentle soul...
Just tired out, with weary head,
Till he regains control...
Once back on form, he's set to pounce!
He's on all fours again!
As if on springs, he'll leap and bounce
Before he counts to ten!
This little jewel is known to prowl
And ambush suddenly...
He even makes his Mother growl,
While Dad stares solemnly...
But does he care, displaying shame?
Does he observe their rules?
They've never known him to be tame!
He treats them all as fools!
But one day soon, he'll stand and fight,
No matter what this brings!
Yes, one day soon, with all his might,
He'll join the lion kings!
Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Lion Cub'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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Cool Dreams
A slippery seal laid on the ice,
Not far from dreams, it's true,
He twitched his whiskers once or twice,
There's not much else to do...
For when sleep comes and yawns begin
And drooping eyelids fall,
It's then you know you just can't win,
You've got no chance at all...
Your neck slumps down, your muscles flop,
Your breathing changes speed,
Until your mind knows it must stop,
For sleep is what you need...
So off you go, you sleepyhead,
You silly so and so...
There's nothing more that should be said,
Sweet dreams as you breathe slow...
You take your time, flat out, like that,
You know you've done your best,
Keep smiling like the Cheshire cat,
You're bound to wake refreshed!
Beneath the sun, beneath the moon,
Beneath the stars that shine,
Because we know we need sleep soon,
God bless your dreams... and mine...
Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Cool Dreams'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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My Hero
The lion cub was mighty proud
As he stared up above
And heard his father roar so loud,
For he was truly tough!
Adorned with wondrous golden mane
That circled like a ring
With all his coat like golden grain
And every inch a king...
The lion cub looked at his jaw,
Like granite, chiselled stone,
Commanding solemn silent awe,
For he was fully grown...
Yet there he stayed, composed, serene,
As if the world was his.
The alpha male, the sovereign,
No greater dream than this...
The lion cub would grow in time...
His father knew it well.
Their destiny was so sublime,
It caused his heart to swell.
That's why he let the cub stay close,
To learn what must be done...
For who knows all the lion knows,
How best to love his son?
Denis Martindale, copyright, September 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'My Hero'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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