Morning Glory
Before the sunshine starts to boil,
The creatures greet the day.
Though sunshine makes night eyes recoil,
Their sleep must melt away...
A new day dawns, a billion yawns
And weary legs arise...
Each antelope then swings his horns,
Each crocodile then cries...
The insect armies rally round,
For new food must be sought
And many stir beneath the ground
Where battles must be fought...
The lions rise up from their sleep
With focused eyes once more,
A constant vigil now to keep,
As if they're keeping score.
Gaze now upon each noble face
That lions wear with pride,
The grace we see can quite amaze,
Despite our fears inside!
The big cats mesmerise us all,
With utmost majesty!
When they stand up, they're six feet tall
And that's too tall for me!
Like us, the lions live on Earth
Beneath the sun and moon,
Each generation has its birth,
Replaced by others soon...
But while we're here, our turn to live,
We seek the common good.
Our stewardship helps us to give
And do the things we should.
The lions share their portion, too...
Each lion has his story
And to conclude, I say to you,
Let's share the morning glory...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Morning Glory'.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Together
Two lions lounged without a care...
For neither had a qualm...
This was a moment they could share
And both enjoyed the calm...
This was a time when they could bond
Without the need to fight,
Without the need to hunt beyond
For creatures out of sight...
Two lions lounged, as time ticked by...
With other lions near,
Beneath the sky where eagles fly
And vultures may appear.
And higher still, the sun shone down
Upon the good and bad,
To make some smile, to make some frown,
Yet mostly light to add.
And higher still, God watched it all
Unfolding patiently...
A billion prayers He could recall
From folks like you and me...
Yet He observes the lions, too,
And grants each one a name...
He knows what life would make them do
As life goes on the same.
We only see through human eyes,
Yet God knows everything...
One of these lions will be wise...
He'll grow to be a king...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Together'.
The Stephen Gayford poems can be viewed here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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The Lion King
Two lions fought beneath the sun...
Their teeth as sharp as nails
And when their fight was truly done,
One lion tipped the scales.
The other lion fled the scene
And no more would return.
Though savage, wounded, no more keen
The mightier to learn.
The undefeated lion stood
And watched the loser leave.
He didn't think himself as good
And yet he didn't grieve.
This was their way for centuries,
Their ancient remedy.
Their battles for supremecies
Would end each mystery.
They'd never choose alternatives,
Their code they'd never flout.
No matter if one dies, one lives...
They'd fight to end the doubt.
Thus courage burns within their veins...
Volcanoes borne of rage.
Only the winner truly gains
The right to centre stage.
In truth, the winner takes it all.
The loser has no pride.
Although once mighty, doomed to fall,
Then to be cast aside.
Two lions fought beneath the sun...
For them, it was too late,
For soon, there'd only be the one
Who'd live to celebrate.
Each battle scar that's brought to mind,
Reminds him of this day...
The courage he was forced to find...
The price he had to pay...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'The Lion King'.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Young Explorers
Two young lions surveyed the land
And paused to take it in,
As if the future could be planned,
So they would always win.
With hiding places here and there,
Shade from the burning sun
And danger spots they must beware,
Yet spaces they could run...
Life wasn't always hide and seek,
Life wasn't always bright...
For soon the day would pass its peak
And fade into the night...
Two young lions with lots to learn,
Exploring now and then.
When hunting, they must twist and turn
To help them catch again.
For now, they stood with dignity
And with a sense of pride...
Majestically and mightily,
As brothers, side-by-side.
Two young lions must carry on
The legacy of life,
Aware, they, too, will soon be gone,
Though battling to survive.
Their journey started years ago
When they were cubs at play...
Not knowing who was friend or foe,
Until they found their way...
Two young lions, aware, astute...
At one with Nature's Laws...
To children's eyes, they may look cute,
Yet watch those teeth and claws!
The young explorers hold no grudge
When things are fair and square.
Most of the time, they don't ask much...
They'll take the lions' share...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Young Explorers'.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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White Prince
White lions are a rarity,
You won't see one each day...
Your eyes will stare till clarity
Assures you it's OK...
And there he is, this pure white prince,
This diamond in the rough...
He's looking cute with winsome grins,
As if something to love.
Yet he has teeth and he has claws...
And soon his hunger starts...
And then you find he breaks all laws
And disappoints our hearts.
Don't stand too close! Don't stroke his ears!
Don't look him in the eyes!
Or else your smiles will turn to tears...
You won't find him so nice!
He doesn't dance! He doesn't sing!
No cartoon cat is he!
This prince won't be your underling...
This lion was born free!
As long as you stay out of sight
And he stays on his own...
Purrhaps you might live till tonight
And then walk home alone...
The wise man knows that lions run
Much faster than he does!
Likewise, it's hard to catch someone...
Way over here.... like us!
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'White Prince'.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Royalty
Consider creatures great and small
That live upon this Earth...
In fact, we cannot count them all
Or estimate their worth...
Yet here they are, they have their place,
Like birds that fill the skies!
Like fish that swim with gentle grace,
In tropic seas so nice!
On land, we find the lion rules,
A true majestic lord!
We learn of him within our schools...
How can he be ignored?
Untamed, unchanged, defiant still,
His roar sounds far and wide!
It makes the bravest hearts to chill,
That cannot be denied...
He always keeps us pondering,
The second he is seen.
This creature has been called a king...
The lioness, his queen...
As long as lions have their place,
His kingdom carries on...
Until we can no longer trace
These big cats... then it's gone...
It must be said, he looks the part!
Behold his majesty!
So bold he looks a work of art!
Like proper royalty!
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Royalty'.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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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? '.
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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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:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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African Evening
'Isn't this nice? ' the lioness said,
'A summer breeze and day near dead
And crystal clear enough to search,
To hunt again, if I've the urge.
Of course, I might just have a snooze...
For now, I'm fine, nothing to lose.
No cubs to crush this quiet time...
The day's gone well, in fact, sublime.
So belly down and front paws stretched,
To watch the sky this day has sketched...
To gaze serenely without cares
And look at clouds pass by in pairs.
Life's not so bad, still lots to learn.
I'll find a mate, when it's my turn.
There's no rush yet - this year, next year.
I'm quite content just lying here...
I've got no stomach pains today -
No cause to kill or hunt new prey.
No need to see death haunt the eyes
As suddenly my next meal dies...
For now, it's peaceful as can be -
There's no sign here of misery...
There's just the sun... and clouds above...
And, somehow, these things seem enough.
No thirst have I, as evening calls,
No lions here, no evening brawls,
No lions roaring back and forth,
Just nothing south, east, west and north.
This land is mine and mine alone -
A greater peace I've never known.
I'm getting sleepy in this sun,
Yet glad to know my work is done.
So sleep it is... just lying down...
To rest again, take off the crown,
To put aside one's majesty...
To savour life, as one born free...'
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'African Evening'.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Were I A Lion King
Were I a lion king of the pride how proud a lion I'd be
To think that other lions for miles around are very scared of me
In the stillness of the African night I would roar aggressively
I would not be kind to other lions or in ways act neighbourly
Of the prey the lionesses did kill I would be first to eat
The other members of the pride would have to wait for their share of the meat
The male lion who has compassion will never rule a pride
Of any honour in his life by his attitude self denied
If I were a lion king of the pride the lionesses for me would kill the prey
But if's an obstacle that always does get in the way
Human beings need some aggression in life for to succeed
The timid like the timid lion are not destined to lead
Were I a lion king in the African night I'd give a mighty roar
That would be heard by other lions for two miles distant or more.
poem by Francis Duggan
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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:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Little Jewel
Lioness cub, you look so cool,
Despite the hot sunshine.
Lioness cub, you little jewel,
So calm as you recline...
You take your ease! Yes, settle there...
You've not got much to do...
And if you did, you wouldn't care.
You'd rest the whole day through.
Can't blame you, though! It's flaming hot!
It's something I can't stand!
That's why I'm rooted to the spot...
Let others puff and pant!
Today's the day I'll take it slow...
Like you, I'll take my time...
There's no point being on the go...
Stay still... it's not a crime.
They say that lions are born free,
So who am I to scoff?
Do you feel guilty, just like me?
I've tried to shake it off...
But, no, you're right. Let's both relax...
No need to play the fool...
Let's lie flat out, upon our backs,
Like you... you little jewel...
Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Little Jewel'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
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:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
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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A Regal Pose
One lioness stood out a mile
And thus in stature grows,
As though she had a sense of style,
Possessed a regal pose...
Had she observed some ancient rules
To win such fervent stares?
Did she have eyes like limpid pools
To catch some in her snares?
One lioness transcended all
And others knew their place,
She held the lions in her thrall
Through dignity and grace...
Her hunting skills unbeaten here,
She shifted moods to suit
And chief of all, she knew no fear,
Not foolish, just astute...
One lioness still in her prime,
A prize if courted well,
A noble queen, if given time,
Yet who there could foretell?
A regal pose if seen by Man
Could target her one day,
To steal from her that noble plan
To live her life her way...
Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'A Regal Pose'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Keeping Watch
The zebras stood there in a line
And almost side-by-side.
Their eyes were staring for a sign
That could serve as a guide.
If dangers lurked, then eyes and ears
Would warn them when to run...
Their instincts helped them through the years,
Yet they must fight the sun...
For up above, it blasted down
With heat beyond belief...
To melt the blue, the green and brown
And linger like a thief...
Just one mistake and some would die
And so they stood and chewed...
And watched each hour pass them by,
In their long solemn mood...
No false alarms had happened yet
And so they stood their ground...
United in each other's debt
For anything they found...
A sudden stirring chilled their blood!
In seconds, they had gone!
Like cavalry, their hooves would thud,
As lions stood alone...
This battle won, the zebras lived
To see another day...
With vigilence their greatest gift,
They chewed and chewed away...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Keeping Watch'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
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'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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What we Think of
Walking round our cages like the lions at the
Zoo,
We think of things that we have done, and things
we mean to do :
Of girls we left behind us, of letters that are due,
Of boating on the river beneath a sky of blue,
Of hills we cUmbed together — not always for the
view.
Walking roimd our cages Uke the lions at the Zoo,
We see the phantom faces of you, and you, and
you,
Faces of those we loved or loathed — oh every one
we knew !
And deeds we wrought in carelessness for happi-
ness or rue.
And dreams we broke in folly, and seek to build
anew, —
Walking round our cages like the lions at the Zoo.
poem by Frederick William Harvey
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