Something Stirred
Something stirred and it stopped him still...
Tiger ever ready.
For him, this was no pleasant thrill...
Ears alert and steady.
Survival starts inside the heart...
Dramatically it screams!
Impulsive thoughts then shout, 'Depart! ',
To flee as fast as dreams!
For now, he waits a second noise,
So he can find its source.
He seems defenceless, without choice,
But he's a tour de force!
A single leap, then he'll be gone!
Try then to track him down!
His camouflage goes on and on,
Those stripes of great renown...
His eyes stare out like focused fire,
Like lazer beams ahead!
To any beasts that would conspire
To plan to see him dead!
Something stirred and his stripes must stay,
Exactly where he is...
It's not the time to run away,
As if life's hit and miss.
His instincts, raw as rattlesnakes,
Tell him to stand his ground...
He doesn't care how long it takes.
He waits that second sound!
Then, suddenly, it's to his right!
He leaps towards escape!
And all at once, he's out of sight!
No more a solid shape!
As fast as lightning cross the sky,
The tiger speeds away!
The wily one has passed Death by...
To live another day!
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Something Stirred'.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sudden Movement
The tiger's eye was on it fast!
A sudden movement seen!
Now on his feet, he stood at last,
His mind alert and keen...
His body leapt ten feet ahead
And landed with a crunch!
Of course, the reason that he sped
Was what he hoped was lunch!
The creature that he tracked was close,
Somewhere within the snow...
That's why he sniffed with downward nose
As low as he could go...
The creature stopped, no sound was heard...
A silence met his ears.
Then all at once, the creature stirred
And dashed to join his peers...
The tiger's eye was left and right
And saw the creature run
And all at once, the bird took flight...
And nothing could be done!
The tiger's sigh was long and drawn...
No lunch for him today!
When he laid down, he paused to yawn...
And there he chose to stay...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Sudden Movement'.
The Stephen Gayford poems can be viewed here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Serengeti Evening
The tiger looks a noble sort,
I think that you'd agree.
It doesn't really take much thought,
It's there for all to see.
The tiger smoulders in the sun,
Like marmalade on toast -
His orange stripes so crisply done
To stand out uppermost.
His swishing tail, his piercing eyes,
His rippling muscles, too.
His camouflage meant to disguise,
To do what he must do...
Together, how they all impress -
Both young and old take note.
With tigers, there's no need to guess,
You just look at that coat.
His whiskers twitching up and down
And sometimes left and right.
Each forehead stripe just like a frown,
As if he just took fright.
The tiger looks a noble sort,
Determined through and through!
But sadly, I must now report:
Run fast or he'll catch YOU!
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Serengeti Evening II'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Locked On Target
He's locked on target, fully primed,
A tiger through and through,
With all his instincts honed and timed,
So credit where it's due...
His enemy is death itself,
Survival proves the key,
It isn't simply food and health,
He has his destiny...
Long life for him's no easy task,
No easy ride each day,
For who of us is he to ask
Some help along the way?
Thus life goes on, his prey ahead,
The ambush has been set,
Despite the cost, the awful dread,
His victim's last regret...
He's locked on target, neck laid low,
Dismissed all thoughts of love,
As if a halo once aglow
Fell down to form a ruff...
A fancy scarf around his throat,
Against the stripes so black,
That match his heart, for soon he'll gloat,
If he can stay on track...
Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Locked On Target'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Indian Adolescent
The Bengal tiger cub looked fine,
On top form for his age,
Maturing like the finest wine
And not locked in a cage...
As free as birds that fly the sky,
As wily as the rest,
As fast as those that seem so spry,
The tiger cub looked blessed.
Consider everything you know,
Of all the creatures seen,
His fur looks like it's all aglow,
Magnificent, serene...
He's on the prowl, for who knows what?
No longer playing games...
And now he'll give it all he's got,
With newly-focused aims...
He's confident that he must win,
He's steadfast through and through...
So valiant he'll not give in,
He'll do what he must do.
His eyes are like two worlds apart,
Together they're a team...
Yet driven by that tiger's heart,
Who knows what dreams they'll dream?
Denis Martindale, copyright, July 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Indian Adolescent'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot.com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Cherished Infant
Hello, white tiger infant cub!
So cherished by the rest!
As if part of a private club
That thinks that it's the best!
Today, you're quite their golden boy,
Their firstborn, full of fun!
I guess you're now their pride and joy,
Their precious number one!
I bet they've got great plans for you!
They're grooming for success...
For now, you haven't got a clue...
Life's full of happiness!
But down the road, you'll earn your keep,
With teeth and claws to match!
Then your weak legs must learn to leap,
To chase... and track... and catch!
Today, you look so cool, so cute!
So sweet and debonair...
One day, you'll turn into a brute
Who simply doesn't care!
A cherished infant here and now,
An innocent today...
No furrowed lines upon your brow,
Just stripes that look OK...
So swish your tail and pause your paws...
Be thankful while you can...
One day, you'll be a tour de force,
A tiger feared by Man!
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Cherished Infant'.
The Stephen Gayford poems can be viewed here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Early Spring
The tiger rested on the snow
That early Spring had thawed...
And caused some new snowdrops to flow,
As slowly they were poured...
The tiger knew from years gone by,
The season's signs increased,
When creatures stirred without a sigh
And patience was appeased...
The tiger rested all alone,
Content to take his time,
His heart was still as cold as stone
And lacked all thoughts sublime...
But give him space to dream a while...
Of tigresses' soft paws...
And then you'll see that tiger smile,
As Nature takes its course...
From this day on, the sun would shine
A little more each day...
And each would seek a Valentine
With whom they hoped to stay!
When birds made nests in trees above
And tigers roamed the land,
In search of what's described as love,
As if these things were planned...
Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Early Spring'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tiger Stare
Intimidation is the game, as any tiger knows.
Infuriation is the aim, before it comes to blows.
The tiger stare, with ears erect, the lowered jaw in tune,
The teeth to bear, for bold effect! All say, 'I'll fight you soon! '
If not, the tiger stare is used to focus on the prey...
Before all energy's enfused and it gets clean away...
Or else a future mate is seen, with him truly smitten...
Wide-eyed, the alpha male is keen to meet the little kitten...
If not, some new scent's in the air... his basic instincts rise.
He breathes in deep... his nostrils flare... as danger he defies.
He bides his time before he acts, while time is on his side,
But come the time he finds the facts, no conscience comes to guide.
Sometimes a tiger stands alone! It's him against the rest!
Gone are the brothers he has known, now he must do his best!
No more the tiger cub of old, no more the little one...
He's seen the seasons which unfold beneath the golden sun!
The tiger stare is what he does... portraying who he is...
Who knows what it will mean for us? A quick death or a kiss?
And yet we stare, breathtaken, too, till fear has been increased...
At just how big this big cat grew.... at beauty and the beast...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Tiger Stare'.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Purposeful
The tiger firmly marched his way
Across the swirling stream,
His tail was swishing near the spray
As he looked in a dream...
As if he had one thought in mind,
As hunger stirred his soul,
For any prey that he could find
As he searched on patrol...
If any creatures saw him there,
No doubt that they stood still,
In hopes that he stayed unaware
And blood he wouldn't spill...
Ignore his fur like honeycomb
As sweet as sweet could be,
He marched as if he had no home,
Just one priority...
How purposeful his life has turned
As hunger growls within...
No measely meal could now be spurned,
If he, this war must win...
For him, the struggle to survive
Is something that annoys,
But all must eat to stay alive,
The tiger has no choice...
Denis Martindale, copyright, April 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Purposeful'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When I'm Ready!
The tiger climbed his favourite hill
To find his favourite spot,
Somehow that tiger got a thrill,
Up there, though feeling hot...
It wasn't in the shade, that's true,
But, oh, what scenery!
So when, for him, not much to do,
Friends knew where he would be...
'He's off again! ' they'd all observe,
The young 'uns saw him leave,
Some tigers thought, 'He's got a nerve,
We've hardly time to breathe! '
He gave no thought to what they thought,
He wouldn't change his mind!
He was aloof, somewhat self-taught,
In fact, the lonesome kind...
So he stretched out on granite rock,
Content to see the sights...
Why not? He'd never seen a clock,
Especially at these heights...
The hours passed, he stayed flat out,
'Come down, you so-and-so! '
'When I'm ready! ' they heard him shout,
'Till then, I'll stay not go! '
Denis Martindale, copyright, October 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'When I'm Ready'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Burning Bright
Oh, how brilliant is the legend
In oranges and blacks.
You look and then your breath suspend...
The tiger nothing lacks!
With stripes so strong, so debonair,
So vibrant in the sun!
How dominant, beyond compare,
A vision that can stun!
Take in the stance, the mouth, the teeth,
The claws in paws of gold...
They keep their secrets there beneath,
For they must not be told!
But come the time the tiger stalks
The prey that's dead ahead...
Those claws aren't merely just for walks...
I'm sure you've guessed! Nuff said...
The tiger tempts nobody close,
He growls contempt for all...
For now, he merely strikes a pose,
As if his curtain call...
Endangered species come and go!
His legend's burning bright!
Yet how long for, no man can know...
Please pray again, tonight...
Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Burning Bright'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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White Menace
The bright white tiger stood his ground,
Surveying here and there...
His forehead looked as if he frowned,
So tense and full of care.
Like Indians with warpaint on,
His face was one to fear.
Like fur with tattoos etched upon,
He'd won his stripes, my dear...
This wondrous creature made me pause...
As if to memorise...
As if forgetting teeth and claws
And only seeing eyes...
Those eyes, like circles of the soul...
Like marbles of the mind...
Those eyes, like sapphires, dark as coal...
And yet what lurked behind?
While beauty glorified this beast,
I knew his nature well.
I'd seen him hunt, I'd seen him feast...
The tales that I could tell!
For now, I watched him silently,
Because he didn't know.
If he found out, then certainly,
That was the time to go.
How long would tigers like him last?
So wondrous to behold!
Ferocious, feisty and so fast,
With callous heart so cold.
Not one of us is meant to stay...
We're born, we live, we die.
To live and let live, that's my way.
Let others judge, not I...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'White Menace'.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Young Hopeful
There comes a time when tigers sense
A pattern in their lives,
Of being born, of making friends
And adulthood arrives.
From that day on, life's journey turns
To take on one more quest...
When everything inside them yearns
To always do their best.
The playful games seem foolish now...
They feel so out of touch...
To them, they bid a final bow,
Though they were loved so much.
It's time to stand, eyes open wide.
It's time to learn to track.
It's time to hunt at father's side.
It's time to watch his back.
It's time to know what teamwork means
And not just running fast...
That's why this tiger looks alert.
He's found his place at last.
Young hopeful, who knows what's ahead?
Life grants no certainty!
For now, give thanks each time you're fed...
Enjoy your family...
One day, perhaps, you'll find a mate,
With offspring of your own...
And with her you can celebrate...
The greatest joy that's known...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Young Hopeful'.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tiger Fury
The image of the pussycat,
So playful, without care...
Was gone in seconds, just like that,
When fury made him stare...
And all at once, the mood had changed
And tension killed the calm...
The trembling tiger looked deranged,
Intent on deadly harm.
His body language said it all -
You've stepped across the line!
How dare you think that you're so tall
That you can take what's mine!
Your very life hangs by a thread!
For you, there's no escape!
I'll scratch you till your blood has bled,
Then crush you like a grape!
You'll never see the stars again,
Nor silver moon at night...
For I'll teach you a lesson, then
You'll feel one final bite!
My fury takes my fear away...
I'll win with no remorse!
If I were you, I wouldn't stay,
But you must stay, of course!
For fury echoes in your heart
Enough to match my own -
You've too much pride, you won't depart,
Yet soon I'll stand alone...
Yes, one must live and one must die...
The countdown tracks the time!
Two furies fight and fur must fly...
Till one fury lasts sublime...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Tiger Fury'.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Indian Sentinel
The tiger stared as tigers do
Across his own domain,
A remnant of the chosen few
On Earth who still remain...
When Winter comes and times are hard,
As hard as frozen snow,
The tiger's always on his guard,
No matter, high or low...
The seasons pass and daylight's short
And eyes must stay alert,
For any creature to be caught
And dangers that may hurt...
The tiger's seen these days before
And yearns for Spring's return,
Then Summer to appear once more
And sunshine's heat to burn...
For now, survival's game is played
And hunger takes its toll...
And though at times he looks dismayed,
He's brave within his soul...
Endurance and tenacity,
These strengths have served him well...
He hopes another year to see...
Yet of this, who can tell?
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Indian Sentinel'.
The Stephen Gayford poems can be viewed here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Focussed
All senses now are focussed well,
Survival calls again,
The lioness obeys its spell
That haunts both beasts and men...
The hunger gnaws within us all,
It comes and will not budge
And why, united by its thrall,
We serve, yet with a grudge...
The lioness now stalks her prey...
With eyes and ears alert,
With nostrils flared for scents that stray
Within the land of hurt...
For here it is that death draws near,
As Mother Nature knows...
And all at once, peace turns to fear,
Till life comes to a close...
The lioness may look refined,
Defiant, noble, brave,
Yet hunger leads to thoughts unkind,
With few around to save.
Her prey is fast, the chase is on!
Escape is rare, so rare...
Yet suddenly the prey has gone...
And leaves her fuming there...
Denis Martindale, copyright, July 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Focussed'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot.com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cautious
The white wolf wasn't all too keen
To challenge anyone.
He heard a noise, his heart turned mean,
Beneath the fading sun...
When cautious instincts made him wait,
His eyes scanned high and low.
In seconds, he would learn his fate...
To stay here or to go...
The lone wolf listened for some clues
Of movement left or right.
Another noise was more bad news...
Yet he was born to fight!
The minutes melted silently...
Yet nothing more was heard...
Now drained of curiosity,
He took a chance and stirred.
With leaps and bounds, he crossed the plains,
Escaping dangers there.
The cautious white wolf broke the chains
That he was forced to bear.
The path ahead was open wide
And so new life begins...
New confidence helped him decide,
Throw caution to the winds...
His heartbeat calmed beside the stream...
He drank his fill... time passed...
In time, this day would seem a dream...
For now, he slept... at last...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Cautious'.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Forest Stream
The lonesome tiger waded through
The forest stream one day.
I'd watched him, though he had no clue,
With equal stealth to stay.
I saw the tiger tread his path,
Suspecting everything.
This was no peaceful, joyful bath...
Who knows what life can bring?
The hunter knows what trees can hide...
He dare not make mistakes.
And so he stares, eyes open wide...
When crossing streams and lakes.
His ears are scanning left and right...
His life depends on these.
He needs them every day and night,
With sudden noise he'll freeze.
His senses span the spectrum's range
And profit from their news.
Detecting every second's change,
Exchanging points of views.
Reflexes spark the sudden chase,
When prey seeks to escape.
When all at once, it's one mad race
And then the hunt takes shape.
For now, the tiger wades the stream,
Defensive at this time...
For me, it's like I'm in a dream...
To see him in his prime...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Forest Stream'.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ready To Pounce
When every single second counts,
The cougar bides his time...
Above the rock, ready to pounce,
His skills are quite sublime...
He has no choice, it's Nature's way...
He starves or eats again...
This solemn truth he must obey
And has since God knows when...
His father did as he does now,
His son will do the same...
The hunt goes on and must, somehow,
In search of life to claim...
He can't escape what must be done,
For him, there's no way out...
The hunter waits, hid by the sun,
With hungry eyes that scout.
Is that his next meal over there?
Or must he starve some more?
The pain inside is hard to bear,
Yet soon he'll know the score...
Above the rock, ready to pounce,
His skills are quite sublime...
When every single second counts,
The cougar bides his time...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Ready To Pounce'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Portrait Of A Prince
Behold the tiger's face up close,
With all its deep-etched lines.
Like charcoal ridges by his nose,
How clearly each defines.
Behold the tiger's ears erect,
Aware of all that breathes,
With mental filters that select
The rustling of the leaves.
Behold the tiger's eyes that stare,
As if right through your soul,
To challenge you, be wise, beware,
Take care who's in control...
Behold the tiger's nose below,
It tells him distant facts,
Though out of sight, he's in the know,
So watch out if he acts...
Behold the tiger's tight-lipped mouth,
He hides his daggers well...
His top set north, his dropped set south,
What tales those teeth could tell.
Behold the tiger's neck so still
And poised with regal grace,
Portraying here the prince's will,
Despite the human race...
Behold the tiger's sovereign style,
His sense of who he is...
His wicked ways, his covering guile,
His final parting kiss...
Behold the tiger's treachery!
Flee from his handsome grin!
For in a race, I think you'll see,
That tigers always win!
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Portrait Of A Prince'.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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