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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poem by Denis Martindale
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Arrogance
The lion king posed quietly
Without a single roar,
As if the whole wide world to see,
So they could shout encore!
With arrogance and more to spare,
The lion drew a crowd,
His golden mane a halo there,
No touching was allowed...
Just like the Sphinx, he looked sublime,
A hero through and through,
Yet haughtiness is such a crime,
Yet this was all he knew...
His challengers were forced to run
To save them from their fears,
So many battles had been won,
He left a trail of tears...
No challenge left, he merely posed,
For now he lacked all friends,
His solemn stare as if to boast,
This legend never ends...
But old age came and slowed him down,
His eyes now weak and frail..
And suddenly he lost his crown...
No more the Alpha Male...
Denis Martindale, copyright, February 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Arrogance'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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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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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:
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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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Golden Glow
Amid the golden glow he gazed,
His golden mane aflame,
A mighty lion, highly praised,
Deserving of his fame,
Triumphant in his claims to power,
Majestic to a fault
And when I saw him in that hour,
My search came to a halt...
My camera caught his royal stare,
His glory at that time,
His dignity beyond compare,
So handsome, so sublime...
As conqueror by tooth and claw,
I thought, how could he fail?
Perhaps he'd live ten years or more,
This wondrous alpha male...
To think, he stood there all at ease,
As if there were no harm,
As if he earned some right to peace,
To breathe without a qualm...
Yet he must fight to stay the king,
Each challenge overthrow,
That's why I stood there wondering...
Amid the golden glow...
Denis Martindale, copyright, May 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting by
Stephen Gayford called 'Golden Glow'.
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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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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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:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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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:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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African Monarch
Come, feast your eyes on royalty!
The Lion King and more!
As if God granted some decree
That all observe his law...
For who could doubt the lion lives
As sovereign lord of all?
His one loud roar as proof he gives!
Who can withstand that call?
It causes bravery to crack
And fears are swiftly stirred!
It sends a shiver down your back
The first time that it's heard!
All through his youth, he trains and trains,
Like one in search of prey...
To see him run across the plains
Would take your breath away!
I'd rather stroke a pussycat
Than cuddle close to him...
For if I got as close as that,
I'd be a dead pilgrim!
While it's true, some folks would quibble,
With one called royalty...
To keep a wide berth's sensible...
Quite logical to me...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'African Monarch'.
The Stephen Gayford poems can be viewed 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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Dappled Sunlight
The lion stared with gemstone eyes
And heard with ears erect,
Alert and focussed, sternly wise
At all he could inspect.
No more the cub content to play
Or waste his precious time,
For suddenly there came the day,
They saw him in his prime...
The world had changed, new thoughts were born,
He hunted with the rest,
He stood as high as golden corn,
Content he'd passed each test...
The future grants a destiny
Each lion must embrace,
With royalty and majesty
Throughout his adult days...
Dappled sunlight caressed his brow,
Did more than keep him warm,
It showed us all how he looked now,
In stature and in form.
Dappled sunlight caressed his coat,
To show each forehead frown,
As if to show each line God wrote
Upon his noble crown.
Denis Martindale, copyright, August 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Dappled Sunlight'.
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:
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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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:
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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:
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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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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:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
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:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
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:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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