Play Fighting
Two tiger cubs fought tooth and nail
Regardless of the cost,
Each chewing on the other's tail
Such that both tigers lost!
With claws extended to the max,
Ferocious growls to boot,
Then climbing on each other's back
While striving to look cute!
Their little ears were throbbing pain
From scratches and from bites,
The cubs retreated, rushed again,
Determined in their fights...
The other cubs looked on with glee,
Far off and out of range,
As if they'd lost the novelty,
While these two wouldn't change!
Two tiger cubs now nose to nose,
Up close and personal,
Content that they fought blows for blows,
Until one had to fall...
Yet these two cubs would find respect
Within each other's eyes,
Though others thought them incorrect!
Surprise, surprise, surprise!
poem by Denis Martindale
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Playtime
The lion cubs approached with guile,
Each facing off with glee,
Behind their growls each had a smile
That only friends could see...
To strangers, they looked mighty mad
And ready for a fight,
Yet both their parents seemed quite glad,
Restrained and quite polite...
So neither parents intervened
As these two cubs began.
They circled round and schemed and schemed
As if each had a plan...
The clueless cubs, if truth be told,
Were practicing at best...
Pretending they were strong and bold,
Yet neither was impressed!
They knew their place, as young cubs do,
So fighting turned to play!
So growling switched to 'I like you,
No matter what I say...'
The lion cubs had found a truce
And war had turned to peace...
Three cheers for that! At last, good news!
Will wonders never cease! ?
poem by Denis Martindale
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Triple Trouble
Two tiger cubs were laying low,
Until he came along...
Like someone you don't want to know,
Who's always doing wrong!
He cosied up, then he attacked!
He caught them unawares!
The scaredy-cats had to react,
Because they hated scares!
They pounced on him and bit his ears!
They squashed his swishing tail!
Their mother watched her little dears
As each one gave a wail...
Three tiger cubs in one mad fight!
She'd seen it all before...
And though she knew this was her plight,
She soon laid down the law!
The cubs submitted, just like that!
Went quiet... for a while...
The two cubs jumped and made him scat!
And showed they still had guile...
Cub number three, would strike again!
He'd catch them from behind!
He'd find another moment when
Revenge was on his mind!
He licked his tail, his twisted tail,
His poor tail hurt him so...
'Next time! ' he said, ' I must not fail...
I'll match them blow for blow! '
The rogue male never learnt to love...
He learnt to live alone...
He learnt to live life in the rough...
His heart had turned to stone...
Don't be like him! He lost his way!
He thought that he was cool...
Remember always, when you play...
Be kind and never cruel!
If every one would seek the good,
There'd be less pains that sting!
If only siblings understood
What purr-fect peace can bring...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Triple Trouble'.
poem by Denis Martindale
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The Old Fox
Vixen was a cunning old fox
her wits had kept her alive
she'd move around a lot
doing anything to survive.
All her cubs had moved out
so now she travelled alone
scavenging along the way
scraps and a bit of meat on a bone.
But she wasn't getting any younger
and her fur was shades of Grey
so she did her hunting at night
and slept throughout the day.
When her cubs came to visit
she was amazed at how they'd grown
but they didn't stay around for long
so once again she was on her own.
She ended up in an old foxes home
with her once red fur completely white
and all her claws and teeth fell out
so she couldn't scratch or even bite.
Her hunting days were now over
and with her cubs now by her side
she told them to keep strong
and closed her eyes and then died.
poem by Kevin Halls
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Just Friends (Intro)
One day, David Attenborough came across some tigers!
And... here, we see, two white tiger cubs...
And... for what it's worth, they can see us as well.
There they are, together, side-by-side,
Seemingly without a care in the world...
And... rightly so, with their parents close by.
For in their eyes, we are the intruders,
Simply because they were here first...
And... who are we to disagree
With their two adult white tigers,
So near, yet, thankfully, so far away?
The day began with a scout around,
With the cubs at each other's tails...
Just friends, yet preparing themselves,
Their eyes firmly set on the future,
The years ahead, the joys and sorrows
Of tomorrows yet to be...
Their tails flicking up high like cobras,
Trying to avoid the next friendly bite...
Sibling rivalry, starting young, starting today,
Perhaps lasting for a few more of their years,
Perhaps no serious disaster to intervene...
Just friends encroaching on each other's space,
Nothing too alarming, just whippersnappers at play.
Not exactly innocent, yet not exactly guilty either.
Just friends, young-at-heart, competitive,
Just tail chewers and chompers having at it...
Watching the day go by, just like little cubs do...
Denis Martindale, copyright, February 2011.
This is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Just Friends'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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My pat line about the Cubs and payroll is that the amount of merchandise the Cubs would sell off a world series championship would more than cover for a big payroll.
quote by Billy Corgan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Inquisitive
Two tiger cubs were curious,
Inquisitive to boot!
It's true that they looked glorious
And throw in kinda cute!
But woe to those that walked close by
Much smaller than these two...
These cubs were on the prowl, that's why,
And naughty things they'd do!
Yes, naughty things! Without a doubt!
These scamps were rogues at heart!
They weren't adverse to thump and clout
And pull things all apart!
What makes that tick? How does that move?
They'd ask the live-long day,
As if they'd got something to prove,
Like scientists at play...
Inquisitive by day and night,
They drove their parents mad!
They'd pester poor old Mum, too right,
Yet kept clear of their Dad!
'It's just a phase! ', the others said,
'Let's wait a little while...'
Yet secretly they'd go to bed,
Then giggle, smirk and smile...
Denis Martindale, copyright, October 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Inquisitive II'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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The white tiger
In the wildness the white tiger is so rarely found
Having a very white colored fur with black deep stripes
It’s a solitary genre wanting no one around
With its retractable claw the white tiger the prey gripes.
It is born from Bengal tiger having round deep blue eyes
Because the Bengal tiger has genes for white coloring
It may be complete white, but may not be different in size
At night it hunts some pigs, cattles and deers for eating.
These double recessive allele in their genetic code
Are the cause for turning up once in every thousand births.
The Bengal tiger becomes white in this natural mode
A great potential for excellence is found in its strengths.
In small areas with concentrated prey it survives
White tigers in the wild live about ten or fifteen years
It learns to be a swimmer when in the water it dives
And runs to catch any prey that in its sight appears.
Maharajah Shri Martand Singh hunted in the jungle
He saw a tigress with four cubs and one of them was white.
With drum beat and trumpet blast he ought fires to juggle
Next day he searched it but no tigress appeared in his sight.
At night the tiger vision is six times better than ours.
Tiger scratches on trees serve as territorial marker.
The stripes help the tiger to stay hidden many hours
And sometimes it fights a new territory to conquer.
The white tiger stripes are always like human fingerprint;
No two tigers have the same pattern of stripes on their fur
Female takes cubs to kill or in prey their teeth to imprint
But before this they are all blind and weigh two or three pounds.
MCN: CR291-J5UEC-PBN4L
© copyright Wed Feb 16 01: 31: 45 UTC 2011 - All Rights Reserved
poem by Marieta Maglas
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Cheetah Haven
The mother cheetah settled there,
With two cubs still in tow.
This was the time to shed her care,
Her tension and her woe.
The cubs looked timid, as did she,
Yet danger wasn't near.
In time, they found serenity
And lost all sense of fear.
Their hearts were beating gently now...
They nestled, sunshine-blessed...
Content to be at peace, somehow,
And thankful for the rest...
Togetherness makes life complete,
A morsel to enjoy...
A portion that makes life more sweet,
If wisdom we employ.
For life deserves a change of mood,
Not busy, draining power.
What creature always hunts for food
With every passing hour?
That's why the cheetahs found this place,
This haven in the sun,
This miracle they could embrace
Until the day was done...
Let others run and swim and fly,
Let others walk or crawl...
The cheetahs watched the day go by,
Spectators of it all.
The cubs were pleased, the day went well,
They must do this again...
This secret they must never tell...
Just visit... now and then...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Cheetah Haven'.
poem by Denis Martindale
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Bookends
Two tiger cubs had claimed a tree
As if it were their own
And guarded it with dignity,
As if they were full-grown!
They glared at those that ventured near,
With stern-stared loathsome looks,
As if they hoped to instil fear,
Like proper gangster crooks!
They arched their backs, their necks held high
With awesome jawsome jowls,
As if to give the evil eye
Backed up with fearsome scowls...
The gruesome twosome joined by oath
To fight with all their strength!
The passersby ignored them both!
Just sauntered by at length...
Two tiger cubs had claimed a tree,
Their castle for the day...
Like bookends in a library,
Determined, all the way...
Each little rebel with a cause,
Defiant to the last!
Their tiny claws inside their paws,
Though harmless, were quite fast...
Denis Martindale, copyright, April 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Bookends'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Leopard Sunset
The leopard lingered in the sun
Almost at close of day,
With all its hours almost done
And fast to ebb away...
The leopard let his memories
Remind him now and then,
Because he knew each day must cease
When moonlight shone again.
This day had seen new life, new death,
That's how time passes by...
We understand while we draw breath
Until our final sigh...
The leopard knew his time was near,
Just like the sun above,
Yet leopards are not prone to fear,
That's why they still share love...
His cubs were waiting down below,
As he watched like a king...
To see time like a river flow
To outlive everything...
Some day his cubs would watch in turn,
As their cubs played a while...
With each new day something to learn...
Some joy to raise a smile...
(July 2011/The poem is based on the
magnificent painting by Stephen Gayford
called 'Leopard Sunset'.)
poem by Denis Martindale
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Family Values
Father And Mother, I Love You!
That spells out F.A.M.I.L.Y.
And God bless if it's oh, so true,
The way that He blessed me!
It's like that painting that I've seen,
Two cubs, one lioness...
On Family Values I'm so keen,
For love brings happiness!
We know that lion cubs aren't tame,
Yet they still fool around!
And everything's to them a game,
No matter what they've found...
The lionesses gather near
To grant a helping hand,
For while their love stays crystal clear,
Who knows what cubs have planned?
When evening comes, they settle down
And peace arrives at last!
Their Mother doesn't wear a frown
Or look at them aghast!
With one eye open, one eye closed,
The cubs are close to sleep...
Why is it now she loves them most?
She doesn't hear a peep...
Denis Martindale, copyright, October 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Family Values'.
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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Unless you enter the tiger's den you cannot take the cubs.
When the Bear Comes Back Again
Oh, the scene is wide an’ dreary an’ the sun is settin’ red,
An’ the grey-black sky of winter’s comin’ closer overhead.
Oh, the sun is settin’ bloody with a blood-line on the snow,
An’ across it to the westward you can see old Bruin go;
You can see old Shaggy go,
You can see the brown Bear go,
An’ he’s draggin’ one leg arter, an’ he’s travellin’ pretty slow.
We can send a long shot arter, but he doesn’t seem to know—
There’s a thin red line behind him where it’s dripped across the snow;
He is weary an’ he’s wounded, with his own blood he’s half-blind,
He is licked an’ he’s defeated, an’ he’s left some cubs behind;
Yes, he’s left some cubs behind;
Oh, he’s left some cubs behind;
To the tune of sixty thousand he has left some cubs behind.
Oh, they’ve pulled him by the nose-ring and they’ve baited him in pits,
An’ they bluffed him, an’ they bruised him, an’ they mostly gave him fits;
But he hugged ’em badly one time when they tried him in his den—
An’ he’ll make it warm for someone when he comes back East again;
When the Bear comes back again,
When he’s lopin’ round again,
There’ll be lively times for Jacko when the Bear comes back again.
Oh, we chased him out of Turkey—I don’t know for what idea,
It took two dogs an’ a lion for to beat him in Crimea;
He’s goin’ home to lick his wounds, he’s goin’ to his den,
But he’ll make it warm for someone when he comes South-East again,
When the Bear comes back again,
When old Bruin comes again,
He will make some dead to die on when he comes back from his den.
Keep a sharp look-out behind you, every way you turn, my lad,
It don’t matter who you might be, for you bet the Bear is mad;
Keep a sharp look-out to Nor’ard, to the South an’ West an’ East,
For he mostly always finds you where you most expect him least;
Where you most expect him leastest,
Where you most expect him least,
Oh, you’ll catch him grabbin’ for yer where you most expect him least.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Cannibal and Dhieu
Lion cannibal came
With three cubs
In evening to Dhieu home
Hide in shade of cattle byre
When wife took cooked bean to
Dhieu In byre
Cannibal attacked her
She poured down bean
She cried
Dhieu came out of byre
Cannibal attacked him too
Within three minutes Dhieu and
His wife were dead
Villagers rushed in
Cannibal and three cubs ran away
In dry season
Rainmaker was called in
To make rain
Rain poured that night
In morning, villagers moved out
In forest for big hunt for cannibal
Villagers moved for three hours in
Forest until they found
Claw prints in mud of cannibal and cubs
They followed claw prints for four hours
In hedge, found lion and cubs
Men killed cubs
But father lion ran away
Villagers chased him for six hours
Lion went got tired on Nyangdit pond
Entered hedge
Men surrounded Nyangdit
Moved in to kill lion
They never found him
Searched hedge on pond
And never found any traces
Of cannibal lion
When men about to leave
One man saw big non poisonous
Ghoor snake, He said ‘’ isn’t lion
that change Like this’’ and
he hit one eye of
Ghoor snake off
Snake eye watered down
But he didn’t kill snake
Because it non poison’s
In fact, it’s lion that metamorphosed
In snake
After men left lion metamorphosed
Back to lion and left for Juba town
When he saw men from Dhieu’s village
He sang
‘’ I destroy home of Dhieu by bit cunning
I attack wife, she poured down bean
I ate wife and husband by by bit cunning’’
When people put down ears to hear
He changed song and sang
‘’ my triplets remained at Nyangdit pond
My brothers
I am childless’’
poem by David Aoloch Bion
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Song of the Stygian Naiades
Proserpine may pull her flowers,
Wet with dew or wet with tears,
Red with anger, pale with fears;
Is it any fault of ours,
If Pluto be an amorous king
And come home nightly, laden
Under his broad bat-wing
With a gentle earthly maiden?
Is it so, Wind, is it so?
All that I and you do know
Is that we saw fly and fix
'Mongst the flowers and reeds of Styx,
Yesterday,
Where the Furies made their hay
For a bed of tiger cubs,
A great fly of Beelzebub's,
The bee of hearts, which mortals name
Cupid, Love, and Fie for shame.
Proserpine may weep in rage,
But ere I and you have done
Kissing, bathing in the sun,
What I have in yonder cage,
She shall guess and ask in vain,
Bird or serpent, wild or tame;
But if Pluto does 't again,
It shall sing out loud his shame.
What hast caught then? What hast caught?
Nothing but a poet's thought,
Which so light did fall and fix
'Mongst the flowers and reeds of Styx,
Yesterday,
Where the Furies made their hay
For a bed of tiger cubs,
A great fly of Beelzebub's,
The bee of hearts, which mortals name
Cupid, Love, and Fie for shame.
poem by Thomas Lovell Beddoes
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29 What Is Denning?
The helicopter hovered
above the wolf lair
machinegunning
the mammals
from the air
*****
AllCreatures site say:
What is denning?
A helicopter hovers outside a wolf den in Alaska because of Sarah Palin's
scofflaw creation of a loophole in the federal law.banning the
aerial hunting of wolves, moose, bears or their cubs.
14 mother and father wolves were gunned down... landing the helicopter
found 28 cubs and shot each in the head
poem by O. Anna Niemus
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tiger
Tiger with coat of dissimilar stripes,
When he’s angry, tiger swipes,
Tiger cautious, guarding his lair,
Danger lurking, tiger aware.
Tiger hungry so he hunts,
Facing quarry, tiger confronts.
Tiger waiting, being sly,
Undercover, no tiger espy.
Tiger detects, now he purrs,
Hunger pangs, tiger stirs.
Tiger quick, must now surprise,
Here we have one tiger, wise.
Tiger from his throat he roars,
Stretching out those tiger claws.
Tiger moving, stealthy pelt,
Expiration, by tiger dealt.
Tiger now with belly filled,
Anger passed, one tiger stilled.
Tiger sleeping, with the Pride,
Craving gone, tiger satisfied.
Tiger such a majestic sight,
Near extinction, tiger fight.
Tiger beautiful and fine,
You’re such a leonine feline.
Tiger we must have respect, ,
For your great tiger intellect.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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