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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Born Leader
Amid the pack, a cub was born
And each wolf watched him grow,
From fragile creature so forlorn
Beneath the moonlight glow...
Yet in the dark nights, courage burned,
White hot to overflow...
Such that their doubts he overturned,
Their scorn to overthrow...
Be wary of this wolf, they thought,
For he's like none before,
In every single battle fought,
He proved he knew the score...
With dominant tenacity,
Cold Winters to endure,
He stood supreme, with dignity,
With strength none could ignore...
To him, survival was the key,
Refusing to be bossed,
With no way out and no mercy,
As if his soul were lost...
Behold his features so distinct,
A wolf not to be crossed,
For destiny and he were linked,
No matter what the cost...
Denis Martindale, copyright, July 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Born Leader'.
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:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
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:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
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:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Locked On Target
He's locked on target, fully primed,
A tiger through and through,
With all his instincts honed and timed,
So credit where it's due...
His enemy is death itself,
Survival proves the key,
It isn't simply food and health,
He has his destiny...
Long life for him's no easy task,
No easy ride each day,
For who of us is he to ask
Some help along the way?
Thus life goes on, his prey ahead,
The ambush has been set,
Despite the cost, the awful dread,
His victim's last regret...
He's locked on target, neck laid low,
Dismissed all thoughts of love,
As if a halo once aglow
Fell down to form a ruff...
A fancy scarf around his throat,
Against the stripes so black,
That match his heart, for soon he'll gloat,
If he can stay on track...
Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Locked On Target'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Snow Wolf
Distinctive markings on his coat
Disguise the snow wolf well,
As if the snow had kissed his throat
So that we couldn't tell...
Yet close up through binoculars,
We see that canine face
And suddenly our memory jars
With warnings we can trace...
This is no gentle friend of Man,
In whom we'd grant our trust,
But rather one we'd choose to ban,
Because we simply must...
Each creature that survives on Earth
Has something new to say...
And wildlife paintings prove their worth
Each time we gaze their way...
He's not a trophy that I'd choose
To grace my hearth and home,
Yet at a painting I'd peruse,
Just like I'd read a poem...
We know he can be terrible
And frightening, night or day...
Yet isn't he quite beautiful?
Majestic in a way...
Denis Martindale, copyright, October 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Snow Wolf'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Lords Of The Arctic
Two snow wolves stayed on pure white snow,
Like two rocks side-by-side...
As if they had no home to go,
No warm place to abide...
Yet heat can't feed the wolves by day
Or nurture them by night,
That's why the wolves must hunt for prey,
Before their food takes flight.
Two wolves await what God allows
To cross their paths once more...
For now, the hungry wolves must browse,
No movement to ignore...
No sound can stir without their ears
Locating that new source,
For even wild wolves have their fears,
As Nature takes its course.
Lords of the Arctic, yes, indeed...
Survivors striving still,
Their hunger pangs help them succeed,
We know they always will.
For who seeks hunger for a friend?
Or thirst that aches within?
That's why, the hunt can never end,
While they've got hope to win...
Denis Martindale, copyright, February 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Lords Of The Arctic'.
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:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Lookout Rock
The Timber Wolf's a wary beast,
As cautious as can be
And this young wolf was mighty pleased
At all that he could see...
His lookout rock gave him full view
Of front, back, left and right,
Conserving strength helped him get through,
That suited him just right...
Not many humans could survive
The coldness in the air,
Fur coats are fine, but who can thrive
With coldness everywhere?
Sometimes the days are twilight times,
The sun's a distant friend,
It's then each wolf more wisely climbs,
Its safety to defend...
The Timber Wolf endures it all,
It lives from day-to-day
And few ignore its mountain call,
Although most stay away...
But those who see it roaming wild,
Stand still and stare direct,
As if by beauty they're beguiled
And show it some respect...
Denis Martindale, copyright, October 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Lookout Rock'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Arctic Apparition
The white wolf waited wilfully
With what would pass for guile,
So long it seemed eternity
I looked at his profile...
Yet in my quest to photograph
This untamed creature there,
He hardly moved along the path
And seemed content to stare...
Until his prey was seen or heard,
He breathed in and breathed out,
As if a statue, never stirred,
To leave me full of doubt...
But finally, he heard a sound
And like a ghost he flew,
As up he sprang, one single bound,
The hunter through and through...
My camera clicked as he streaked by,
Like lightning left-to-right,
An apparition leaping high
And such an awesome sight...
I have his pictures to this day,
Still mounted on the wall...
'The white wolf hunting for his prey! '
What memories I recall...
Denis Martindale, copyright, February 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Arctic Apparition'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
I found the picture on the Osborne-Allen website:
osborne-allen-dot-co-uk
Search for Stephen Gayford prints.
poem by Denis Martindale
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Curious Presence
There was a presence, close to me,
With soft-like sounds no more,
At first, a solemn mystery
Until I could be sure...
And then a lone wolf dead ahead,
From nowhere, now in sight,
Such that there was a sense of dread,
A chill that led to fright...
And yet I sensed the danger passed,
As if there were no harm,
Its curious presence there at last,
No mutual alarm...
No fear from me, no fear from him,
Just co-existence now,
Living souls, with each a pilgrim,
With peace our silent vow...
He looked at me, his coat aglow,
His eyes like dogs I owned,
Perhaps that's why I let him go,
His future life condoned...
With ears on high, transfixed above,
Alert to all around...
Though times were hard and life was tough,
A vision to astound...
Denis Martindale, copyright, August 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Curious Presence'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Phantom Of The North!
Behold the Phantom of the North,
The wild, white wolf of old!
His legends nightly going forth
And in hushed tones are told...
Of how he glides across the snow,
Or leaps to touch the sky!
A ghostly figure none should know
And no need asking why...
Behold the Phantom 'twixt the trees,
One second here, then gone!
Of all the forest's fantasies,
There's much to ponder on...
For like a spectre seen at night,
That chills you to the bone,
Be thankful yet, despite the fright,
That he walks on his own!
Behold the Phantom face-to-face!
Stand fast if courage lets,
Or flee far from that awesome place,
As if without regrets...
The Phantom fears no coward soul,
He's seen them run before!
As long as each one knows his role,
He'll howl forevermore!
Denis Martindale, copyright, October 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Phantom Of The North'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Sheer Class
The regal lion's earnt his fame
As sovereign lord and more,
His golden fur as if aflame,
His gaze forever sure...
His stature none could dare improve,
For his is quite renowned...
His eyes aware of every move,
His ears of every sound...
Aristocratic... every day...
As if the world were his...
As if all others must obey,
Or things would be amiss...
Behold the king, for such is he,
Behold the noble grace,
Behold the royal majesty
That shines upon his face...
The many battles he has fought
Were won beyond all doubt,
His challengers have come to nought,
Retreated, turned about...
Alone, he is the alpha male,
Of this, no need to guess...
How come he makes all others pale?
Sheer class, no more, no less...
Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Sheer Class'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Sunlit Family
The wolf cubs looked to see what's what,
Beside the water's edge,
Beneath God's sun that shone so hot,
In service to His pledge,
To shine on all that lived on Earth,
The evil and the good,
So that each one could prove his worth,
Within his neighbourhood...
Those tiny cubs had no defence
Against much larger foes
And Nature offers no pretence
And to no-one it owes...
While wolves are hunters through and through,
They live from meal-to-meal,
To do whatever they must do...
Survival is that real...
And so their mother stood on guard,
As they prepared to drink,
Protectively with one good heart,
No matter what some think...
She's a huntress! She won't give in!
Her family's unique!
Consider her their heroine,
Defender of the weak...
Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Sunlit Family'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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White Majesty
The white wolf stares at all he sees,
His kingdom to protect
And like all royal majesties,
He, too, commands respect...
So if alone or in a pack,
He does what he must do.
To go without, some food to lack,
That's not his point of view...
The days are cold, the nights are cold,
He must endure them all.
No wonder, then, at night's he's bold,
To howl and fear install.
Condemned to prowl, new meals to find,
He doesn't beg like some.
Such thoughts like these don't come to mind,
Not even for one crumb...
He knows his place upon this Earth,
Beneath the sun and stars
And in his realm, he proves his worth,
Despite the wounds and scars.
For him, there's no sweet home from home,
No comforts meek and mild...
His majesty was born to roam,
To live life in the wild...
Denis Martindale, copyright, January 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'White Majesty II'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Pack Leaders
The two wolves walked, one thought in mind,
Survival was no game,
That's why their two strengths were combined
When hunting was their aim...
Two heads better, as some would say,
That plan had served them well,
For when they chased the fleeing prey,
They all ran close to Hell...
Each time they tried to track new scents...
Their hunger stayed the same,
With no disgust for past events,
No sense of guilt or shame...
That's why they paced themselves this hour
And kept at bay their dread,
Conserving all their dregs of power
For what must lay ahead...
The two wolves sought no friends or fans,
So wild no man could tame,
The world itself was their expanse,
They sought no claim to fame...
Pack leaders come, pack leaders go,
For now, they ruled by might,
A fact that only few would do,
Yet true both day and night...
Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Pack Leaders'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Arctic Sun
Wrapped up within his blanket fur,
The white wolf looks serene,
The arctic sun makes him a blur,
Pristine and oh so clean...
And while he's there, not here with you,
You're safe as safe can be,
To zoom in through your camera's view,
To see what you can see...
He looks like Lassie painted white,
Quite harmless, don't you think?
He looks refined and most polite,
But wait until you blink...
For in a moment, he can stand
And run from there to here...
And suddenly, he'll shake your hand
And shake your heart with fear....
Appearances deceive us all,
Sometimes you just can't tell...
It's only when you hear wolves call,
That beauty casts no spell...
It's then that Nature's rules enforce
Her laws by night and day...
To tell us, who has teeth and claws,
The hunter or the prey?
Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2009.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Arctic Sun'.
The Stephen Gayford poems can be viewed here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Eyes Of Warning
The tiger stared with full intent,
With focus, dead ahead,
With firm resolve not to repent,
Despite the sense of dread...
For in the battle he must fight,
Just one would walk away,
So he must move with all his might
Upon this fateful day...
The challenger was also strong,
His courage matched his own
And if they fought the whole day long,
By this, each would be known...
One victor only thus declared,
One victim of his wrath,
To die or live if he were spared,
Perchance to walk it off...
The tiger stared, with warning eyes,
Gave one last chance to run...
Before the wounds, the scars, the sighs,
Before this day was done...
The challenger dismissed the threat,
Two Titans fought head on...
And at the end, while both had bled,
The challenger had gone...
Denis Martindale, copyright, April 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Eyes Of Warning'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Comrades
What can be said of wolves as friends,
As comrades, chums or mates,
As each one on his pal depends
And with him celebrates?
Like criminals in cold cahoots,
As callous as they come,
We'll always know them by their fruits,
Yes, all of them, not some...
Yet there they stand, no shame in sight,
No guilt for evil deeds,
Just grins that signal their delight
When either wolf succeeds...
Their partnership was borne of guile,
Now they walk toe-to-toe,
Together for a long, long while,
No matter where they go...
Beware of such as these, beware,
Their hearts are black as coal,
Such that they hunt and fail to care
For any life or soul...
Though they appear like dogs so tame,
They wouldn't hurt a fly,
If you meet them, then you're to blame
If you stand idly by...
Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Comrades'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Purposeful
The tiger firmly marched his way
Across the swirling stream,
His tail was swishing near the spray
As he looked in a dream...
As if he had one thought in mind,
As hunger stirred his soul,
For any prey that he could find
As he searched on patrol...
If any creatures saw him there,
No doubt that they stood still,
In hopes that he stayed unaware
And blood he wouldn't spill...
Ignore his fur like honeycomb
As sweet as sweet could be,
He marched as if he had no home,
Just one priority...
How purposeful his life has turned
As hunger growls within...
No measely meal could now be spurned,
If he, this war must win...
For him, the struggle to survive
Is something that annoys,
But all must eat to stay alive,
The tiger has no choice...
Denis Martindale, copyright, April 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Purposeful'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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