Lion Cub Playing
The cute and cuddly lion cub
Was dazzling black and white!
As if he'd joined the Zebra Club,
Outstanding, what a sight!
Was this a ploy that Nature tried
To stop them in their tracks?
He's one of us! No need to hide!
He won't jump on our backs!
The lion cub was unaware
Of what the zebras thought...
He didn't know that he was rare,
That they would be his sport.
That some time soon he'd chase them hard
Across the placid plains,
To hunt the ones that weren't on guard
Against these sudden strains...
It's true that he looked innocent!
It's true that he looked calm!
It's true to some he'd be a friend
And not chew off an arm...
But zebras didn't stand a chance,
They'd better run real fast!
Though he's got looks that quite entrance,
His innocence won't last!
Denis Martindale, copyright, September 2010.
The poem is based on the canvas artwork
called 'Lion Cub Playing' available with
other canvas art animal scenes from
tinyurl-dot-com-slash-printnineart
My Stephen Gayford poems are here:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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Thirst Quencher
Both young and old, the zebras came,
To dare to drink again.
Not one of these would know God's Name,
Yet He had sent the rain...
So while the zebras drank their fill,
From empty to the brim,
Not one of these possessed the skill
To offer thanks to Him...
The sizzling sun shone in the sky
Providing heat and light,
Yet none of these could question why
Each owned the gift of sight...
The cool, cool breeze began to blow...
To grant them some relief,
Yet none of these would ever know
True faith or true belief...
Yet there was love within their hearts,
As they stood side-by-side.
This precious gift that never parts,
For conscience is its guide...
While water brings both joy and strife,
Without it, love would end...
May God help zebras to survive,
With water as their friend...
Denis Martindale, copyright, September 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Thirst Quencher'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
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Regal
Within that blaze of golden frame
The regal lion glared,
For everybody knew his name
And everybody stared...
For there he was, in majesty,
Their sovereign king and more,
The master of their destiny,
Of that you can be sure...
He held their very lives at hand,
One bite could bring a halt..
It's true, in stature, he looked grand,
Yet ruthless to a fault.
Those eyes had seen each war he'd won,
Each battle as it raged..
Though now, beneath that gentle sun,
His wrath seemed somehow caged...
Behold this awesome mighty beast,
His handsome lion face,
Kings claim the most and not the least,
The lion's share embrace,
You may be strong, you may succeed,
Your will may never bend!
But while he's king and king indeed,
Beware, take care, my friend...
Denis Martindale, copyright, July 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Regal'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
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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'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
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White Knight
As if washed clean and left to dry,
The lion looked supreme!
His mane like snowflakes floating by
To shimmer gleam by gleam...
The light shone down with highlights there,
So picturesque, so fine...
With close-up detail, hair by hair,
Majestic, line by line...
His eyes observed the land he ruled,
His lion cubs at play...
He knew that soon each would be schooled
To hunt the local prey...
His lioness was nearby, too,
To fill his heart with pride...
Together they'd found pastures new...
He felt real good inside...
He was her knight, her champion,
Her friend without a doubt...
With cubs, new life to carry on,
When adults must bow out...
Each lion leaves a legacy
That's always action-packed!
God grants each cub a destiny
That Man must leave intact...
Denis Martindale, copyright, September 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'White Knight'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
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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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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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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:
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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:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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African Radiance
Behold the lion's golden mane,
His stature and his stance,
As if he stalks through golden grain,
A vision to entrance...
Such poise, such grace, such confidence,
Such priceless majesty,
Such wondrous, thunderous elegance,
Such precious sovereignty...
Behold the lion's state of mind,
Without one trace of love,
As if he'd left that far behind
When times were getting tough...
His mane was gold, his heart was black,
Just outer radiance...
The hunt was on, no turning back,
No change of sentiments...
Behold the lion's sombre stare,
Fixated on his prey...
As if no mercy left to spare,
Regardless night or day...
He looks determined, without doubt,
As if the end is nigh,
As if his prey had no way out,
No time to wonder why...
Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'African Radiance'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-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:
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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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Innocent
White tiger cubs are harmless guys,
He's got no need to kill...
He's cute and cuddly with blue eyes
That draw you closer still...
His Daddy knows he's innocent,
His Mummy knows it, too...
To everyone, he's just a friend...
He'll be a friend to you...
His Daddy knows he's quite the lad,
His Mummy looks so proud...
His Brother thinks he's not so bad...
He does what he's allowed...
His Sister's way too self-involved
To give him any mind,
Yet she admits he's quite resolved
To leave all cares behind...
His Daddy watches all he does,
His Mummy dotes as well...
His Brother doesn't really fuss,
His Sister, who can tell?
His family! That's all he knows!
With them, he hopes to stay...
He's innocent... until he grows...
But then, WATCH OUT! OK?
Denis Martindale, copyright, September 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Innocent'.
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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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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White Heritage
White lion cubs are very rare,
Yet how are they to know?
Nobody tells them that we care
And thank God that they grow!
Across the world our children learn
Of creatures on this Earth...
Those lion cubs don't know we yearn
For them to prove their worth...
The little cubs are weak today,
Just fragile balls of fluff...
Yet childhood soon must fly away,
Although this time we love...
Their friendships form strong bonds for life,
To bless each heart and mind...
Togetherness helps them survive,
This truth you'll always find...
We cherish them for what they are...
We wonder what they'll do.
As each one wanders near and far,
Exploring all things new...
Each bears a noble heritage,
As princes of renown.
The future years will form a bridge -
Each king will wear his crown...
Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'White Heritage'.
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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Edge Of The Night
The lion lurks as daylight dims
Still draped with golden mane,
Subservient now to hunter's whims
From which he won't refrain.
For hunger grows from deep within,
His life is on the line
And so his hunting must begin,
With cold skills to refine...
His eyes adjust to black night views,
His ears hear near and far...
No tiny meal could he refuse,
No creature could he bar...
The darkness hangs there like a shroud,
Engulfing all below...
The only light God has allowed
Is moonlight still aglow...
Its moonshine lends night victims hope,
The chance to run and hide,
The chance to flee, survive and cope
With fear, eyes open wide...
The lion's strong, the lion's fast,
Determined to succeed,
That's why before this night has passed,
He'll feast through stealth and speed...
Denis Martindale, copyright, February 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Edge Of The Night'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
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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:
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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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Partners
The lion and the lioness,
Together, side-by-side,
Like a Duke next to his Duchess,
Surveying all with pride...
To them, this land was all they had
Beneath the stars above,
Except for all the joys they had,
Like others who'd found love...
As partners now, the world was theirs,
As long as each would live,
As long as they preserved their shares
And had so much to give...
No longer living selfishly,
As each one played their part
Towards their greater destiny
That beats in each rare heart...
They stood as one, they thought as one,
With wisdom now defined,
For this is how it must be done,
United, heart and mind...
The lion and the lioness,
Together, as a team
And so majestic, I confess,
Together, they're supreme...
Denis Martindale, copyright, July 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Partners'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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