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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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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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:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
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:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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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 Pair
The lion and the lioness
Posed like a regal pair,
So noble that they both impress,
So dashing, debonair...
So stately and so statuesque,
Each blessed to be born free,
So quite correct and picturesque
With awesome majesty...
Their eyes are like black diamonds there,
In circles made of gold
And who knows what those eyes could share,
If secrets should be told?
Yet those eyes see much more than land,
Their kingdom they survey
And their domain is mighty grand,
Protected night and day...
So have a care, don't wander near,
Don't think they welcome friends,
Don't stand too close, you'll shake with fear,
Perhaps with no defence...
Binoculars may have to do,
If you must stop and stare...
To tell the truth, I can't blame you...
They're such a regal pair...
Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Regal Pair'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
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:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-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
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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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Indian Gold
This tiger's stripes resemble gold,
In all its finery,
They're truly wondrous to behold...
What awesome majesty!
He strides across the land that's his,
With swaggers, to and fro...
At ease, exuding perfect bliss,
He puts on quite a show!
Let others cower from his stare
That twinkles golden bright...
He's not like those caught unaware
Before their final fight!
No quiet, humdrum life for him!
He's earnt his stripes, indeed!
His life is filled up to the brim
With wisdom to succeed...
As long as he stays number one
And he's the alpha male,
Then you can bet, he's having fun
With stories to regale...
In time, he'll father many more,
With gold stripes of their own...
Perhaps that's what God made him for
And why he's so well-known...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Indian Gold'.
The Stephen Gayford poems can be viewed here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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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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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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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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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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Indian Nobility
The tiger treads the trails once more -
They're all he's ever known...
Nobility he has galore,
Such dignity to own.
He strides across the ancient earth
As Nature's masterpiece...
With every step, he proves his worth,
As everyone agrees.
The tiger's trained himself to fight,
So he can stand his ground...
Not like a coward that takes flight
And then is seldom found...
He bears the scars upon his back,
His glories from his wins -
They're almost hidden in the black
And orange on this prince.
He stood the victor at the end,
The champion of each one...
The conqueror and not the friend,
When all's been said and done...
Who likes to lose, who likes to fail,
Who likes to quit in shame?
Behold him now, this alpha male,
His majesty, his fame...
He needs no crown, no royal ring,
No sceptre shining out...
You look at him and know one thing,
He's regal without doubt.
Who knows how long he can survive
This modern world he shares?
Yet every day he stays alive
Depends upon our prayers...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Indian Nobility'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Guardians Of The Den
Behold the untamed meerkats there
Now side-by-side on guard,
As if the whole wide world to dare,
As if all else were barred...
Each stare's just meant to make it clear,
'Clear off, the lot of you!
There's no-one here who wants you here!
So you know what to do! '
Bravado's such a wondrous thing
In ones as small as these,
As if to leave us wondering,
Can they do as they please?
For each one's a tiny meerkat
And not that tall in height!
So who are they, to make us scat,
To scarper left and right?
To you and I, they're not that strong,
Courageous, yes, but weak,
To fight with them would just seem wrong,
Their faces look so meek...
Let's let them be all they can be,
Just visit now and then,
So we can come back soon to see
The guardians of the den...
Denis Martindale, copyright, December 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Guardians Of The Den'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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In Deepest Shadow
White tigers live until their time,
Yet, uptil then, behold...
For each was born to look sublime,
Like silver, not like gold...
The Bengal tigers aren't like these,
Black stripes against the white...
As if created just to please,
Inspire and delight...
There's such a blessing in their eyes
That stare with topaz blue,
Like tanzanite or pale sapphires
Each time they look at you...
Respect for them just grows and grows,
As if that's meant to be...
Not that you'd want to stand too close,
To gaze on royalty...
Behold the magic that they cast,
In deepest shadow's spell...
As dusk approaches till it's past
And daytime bids farewell...
Beneath the moon, their eyes shine on,
Like beacons in the night!
Until the next day's sun has shone,
Revealing black and white...
Denis Martindale, copyright, October 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'In Deepest Shadow'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
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:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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A Brush With Genius
Before the brush was in his hand,
The artist said a prayer!
For all his friends across the land
With whom he planned to share...
Lions, tigers and bears, oh, my!
The artist sketched them all,
So expertly, for by and by,
Each one would grace his wall...
Each canvas like a photograph,
A treasure to behold,
As if that wasn't quite enough,
Each one was framed in gold...
Each masterpiece was well received
And prints were sold worldwide,
As tributes to what he'd achieved,
Of which he should take pride...
And yet here was a humble man,
Self-taught and yet what skill,
Yet when we do the best we can,
There's bound to be a thrill...
Release your hidden genius
And God will bless you, too!
Like Stephen Gayford can bless us
With paintings old and new...
Denis Martindale, copyright, December 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent paintings by
artist Stephen Gayford of gayfordgallery-dot-com
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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King Of Kings
Behold the son of royal birth,
Aligned by blood, no less,
To ancient kings who proved their worth
And ones God chose to bless.
Consider all that history
Has taught us through the years,
Each miracle, each mystery,
The laughter and the tears...
Consider how each king is raised
From birth to adulthood...
As if like diamonds, well appraised,
Superior not just good...
Reflect on posture that's portrayed
To signify his throne...
That tells you he must be obeyed,
For he is king alone...
Remember all his mighty power,
His strength and bravery.
For he is king and you should cower
At all there is to see.
That majesty, that dignity,
That stare that meets your eyes...
Should grant your soul some clarity
And help you realise...
That here he is, the king of kings...
Perhaps your friend or foe...
In either case, his underlings...
What more is there to know?
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'King Of Kings'.
While this poem is about the lion painting,
the poem is written without any reference
to the lion at all. That's because of the
Christian symbolism of Jesus, the Son of God,
whose royal ancestors meant that He was
called the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords.
The poem ends with the realisation for each soul.
Are you a friend or a foe to the King of Kings?
More Stephen Gayford poems can be viewed here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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