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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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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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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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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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:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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Polar Prince
The polar bear was not too pleased
That it was freezing cold...
And that it hardly ever eased
The second it took hold...
It seemed he lived his whole life long
With ice beneath his feet,
Which makes him think, 'This is so wrong! '
And 'Who stole all the heat? '
Complaining never changes things...
His teeth just shivered more
And polar bears have not got wings
To find some sunny shore...
And so the polar prince stayed there,
His paw prints on the ice...
The cold he simply had to bare,
Just like the other guys...
Poor soul, I sympathise, of course,
No electricity,
No coal, no gas and God ignores,
Like it was meant to be...
'Why me! ? ' The polar bear exclaimed!
'I'm f.f.f.freezing every day!
Sometimes I think that I've been framed! '
He could be right! Oi, vay...
Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent FRAMED painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Polar Prince'.
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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:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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Just Friends
To look at them, you'd be amused,
For two white tiger cubs
No longer yawning or confused
Both used their claws as clubs.
They pounced upon each other's back
Some squeal of pain to make...
And then they'd cut each other slack
As if both on a break...
But pretty soon, they'd start again
And chew each other's tail...
They'd calculate the moment when
To make the other wail...
You'd think that they were enemies!
The way they carried on!
The way they tugged on ears then squeeze
Till every sound had gone...
And yet these two enjoyed their fights,
Their squabbles to and fro,
Their constant contests brought delights,
More than you'll ever know...
But as their brand new day soon ends
Their bashing brawls depart...
That's when they lie there, now just friends
With true love in each heart...
Denis Martindale, copyright, February 2011.
This is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Just Friends'.
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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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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Full Attention
The tiger took his merry time
Wading in the water...
Why shouldn't he? It felt sublime,
Perfectly in order...
So he went up and he went down
And he went left and right
And though each stripe looked like a frown,
His joy was at its height...
This is the life, he seemed to say,
Nothing else quite like it!
No hurry to be on his way,
In truth, he must admit!
Up to his neck in Shangri-La,
Nirvana, Heaven, peace...
It wasn't likely he'd go far,
When he could take his ease.
Did it have his full attention?
Yes, he felt comfy there...
Had he lost all apprehension?
He didn't have a care!
No point in leaving for a while...
So he felt mighty glad...
If anything can make you smile,
Like him, get stuck in, lad...
Denis Martindale, copyright, July 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Full Attention'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot.com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Siberian Snow
To some, the snow's a wondrous thing
That casts its magic spell,
Beguiling both the clown and king,
Before it bids farewell...
Yet to the tiger, freezing cold,
It's not held in regard...
For though it's lovely to behold,
It makes his hunting hard.
The snow gets inbetween his toes
And freezes on his coat,
Into his face it blows and blows
And there's no antidote...
It makes his whiskers sensitive
To every single touch!
He's got all this to put up with...
It really is too much!
He bravely bears the cold, cold day...
This to his heart he vowed:
He's found his spot and here he'll stay,
Defiant and so proud!
The snow continued all day long!
That he did not expect...
Yes, even tigers get things wrong!
Their pride completely wrecked!
Denis Martindale, copyright, October 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Siberian Snow'.
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:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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Young Guns
Two lions lingered, both at rest,
As if they had all day...
All deadly thoughts had been suppressed,
For hunting and for prey...
This was their time, the sun was kind,
A gentle breeze drew near
And so, together, they reclined,
Without one trace of fear...
A slow abiding trust had formed
That blessed each lion's heart...
And friendship grew and then it warmed,
A strong bond to impart...
They knew each other through and through,
Each mood, each train of thought,
Each planning what the two could do,
If prey was to be caught...
This bond would stand the test of time,
No matter, day or night,
This miracle they called sublime
And sensed that it was right...
So they survived the lean, mean years,
Endured them, come what may...
To gain respect from all their peers...
Together, all the way...
Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Young Guns'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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White Treasures
White tigers like their privacy,
It keeps their young cubs calm,
There's nothing like tranquillity
To ease off thoughts of harm...
Their blood flows at a gentle pace
In neighbourhoods serene
And pretty soon they like the place,
As if they've always been...
It's no surprise that parents feel
The need for some reprieve,
Some solitude, some time to heal,
Yes, even if it's brief...
Some call these golden moments yet
They're worth much more than that!
It's very hard to purr and fret,
It's true, ask any cat...
White tigers should be left alone,
To wind down, tails at rest,
To find a peace that's rarely known
Is how best to be blessed...
Don't say a word or point your hand,
Just crouch down and observe...
But if they chase us, quickly stand...
And run for all you're worth!
Denis Martindale, copyright, February 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'White Treasures'
which is found on gayfordgallery-dot-com
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:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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African Sunset
As the sun was setting slowly,
The lion settled down...
Forewarned, majestic and holy,
Adorned in golden brown...
Without a qualm, without a care,
At peace with all he knew,
Just calmly breathing in the air
Beneath the sky so blue...
The hot, hot sun had soothed his mind,
All signs of rage had gone
And as it left the day behind,
The moon must carry on...
Night creatures stirred within the soil,
Yet few would sense his power...
Nor think of him that he was royal
And over them he'd tower...
The birds approached him without fear,
They knew that he was old...
They taunted him as they drew near,
Delighting to be bold...
The sunset of his life was now,
When midnight comes to call...
He bore no frown upon his brow...
You see, he'd done it all...
Denis Martindale, copyright, August 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'African Sunset'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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Eye To Eye
I like most elephants I've seen,
I like them, yes, I do...
I like it when they don't act mean,
I like how they swim, too...
I like the way that each one grins,
I like their tusks like nails...
I like their wrinkled leather skins,
I like their swishing tails...
I like it that they look so wise,
I like their marching troop...
I like the twinkles in their eyes,
I like their ears that droop...
I like the way they walk along,
I like their patient grace...
I like it most that while they're strong,
Thank God, they know their place...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Eye To Eye'.
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:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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White Haven
Even white tigers have to bathe
Though they're as white as snow,
That's why an hour they will save
For streams that overflow...
On winsome days, when winds are calm
And sunlight shines above,
White tigers will not hunt or harm
While their hearts beat with love...
The waters let white tigers chill
Like little lambs at play..
A haven here that can instill
A reason to delay...
Life isn't always running round
So frantic in the sun,
Sometimes the simple things astound,
When nothing much gets done.
This was that time, when time relaxed,
When tiny sounds were heard...
When muscles were no longer taxed
And all white tigers purred...
Who knows how long these cats survive?
This century? No more?
Be glad today that they're alive...
For no-one can be sure...
Denis Martindale, copyright, July 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'White Haven'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot.com
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:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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