Stealth
The tiger's tail swished left and right, to signal his concern.
The easy prey was in his sight, if startled, it would turn...
The tiger's whiskers twitched as well, with tension-troubled verve.
He stood transfixed, as in a spell, as if he'd lost his nerve.
By stealth, at first, the hunt began - his wild eyes stared ahead
And step-by-step, he formed his plan, in case his victim fled.
Escape routes noted, here and there, the obstacles nearby...
The times to leap up in the air and for a short time fly...
All his skills and his behaviour meant conscience was denied...
All the odds seemed in his favour. The fates seemed on his side.
He stood alone, no-one to blame, his burden, win or lose...
His heart was stone, his eyes aflame, the moment, his to choose...
The time was near, one minute more, the countdown now in force...
His every heartbeat keeping score, like tremblings in his paws...
What happened next was just a blur... A total pantomime...
All he could do was simply grrr! 'Cos he messed up, big time!
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Stealth'.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Silent Waters
The wise white tiger eased his way
Through the silent waters
And with such stealth he proved that day
Just how much he taught us...
For he was such a wily soul,
With cunning so sublime,
Content to maintain self-control,
Content to take his time...
The minimum of noise was made
As he swam dead ahead,
Yet then with gentle paws to wade,
As if a thoroughbred...
Determination drove him on
Towards his destiny...
Another life would soon be gone,
Who knows what it could be?
For now, there were no sudden thrills,
He drifted like a log...
The silence helped his hunting skills,
As if he were a dog...
Yet no dog stared with eyes like his,
Two sapphires burning bright...
Like two gas flames and each flame is
A symbol of his might!
Denis Martindale, copyright April 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Silent Waters'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Snow Leopard
The snow leopard stared intently,
At all things near and far...
While at times, he looked quite friendly,
You know how wild cats are.
A tiny cat can mew meow
And people say, how cute!
Yet time goes on, then fates allow
That cat to be a brute!
The snow leopard stood serenely,
His paws poised on the pulse...
With his eyes surveying keenly,
As in all leopards' skulls...
While his heart was beating slowly...
His mind was thinking fast.
Though his hunting skills weren't holy,
He didn't look downcast.
Survival favours those that eat
A hearty meal each day,
Enduring both the cold and heat,
Outwitting all their prey.
That's why the leopard had to learn
That patience is the key...
And why, he, too, must wait his turn,
For breakfast, lunch and tea...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Snow Leopard'.
The Stephen Gayford poems can be viewed here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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The Attack
The tiger knew each second counts
As he went on the prowl...
Split-second timing for that pounce
Or else he'll pause to scowl...
Success or failure, win or lose,
Eat well or starve today,
That's why the moment he must choose
As he hunts for his prey.
He climbed up trees to scout the land,
He lied in silent wait,
He thought ahead with schemes well planned
So he could celebrate...
But he must play the waiting game...
While starving in the sun,
Or else he'll have himself to blame
When this long day was done.
I watched him through binoculars,
Aware of what could be,
While I chewed on some chocolate bars,
The tiger stared at me...
Let Nature take its course, I said...
So safe within my jeep.
That day, another victim bled...
Before he went to sleep...
Denis Martindale, copyright, February 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'The Attack'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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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
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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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Treading Water
The tired tiger made his way
Until he found the stream,
The sight of it had made his day,
It truly was supreme...
His whiskers twitched at newborn scents
That stirred within the mud
And yet he felt the recompense
As water cooled his blood...
This is the life! No doubt at all,
Just walking here and there
And further on, the waterfall,
A sight beyond compare...
Just treading water, nothing more,
Content to rest therein,
With oozing mud between each claw,
Enough to make him grin...
The tired tiger gently breathed,
His heartbeat calmed as well,
His shoulder muscles now relieved
As Nature cast its spell...
God makes the sunshine then the rain,
Then streams upon the land,
So tired tigers can't complain
When times like these are planned...
Denis Martindale, copyright, December 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Treading Water'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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The Prowler
The prowler lurks, the prowler stalks, the prowler softly treads.
The tiger smirks, the tiger walks, the tiger tension spreads.
The forest king intently stares... he feels the prey is close.
With every step, he shows he cares, for suddenly he knows.
It's time for him to concentrate, to focus with his mind.
For soon he must accelerate, to catch up from behind.
His muscles poised, his eyes alert, his ears now tuning in.
In seconds, he may quickly spurt, to race and then to win.
His heart beats wildly for the chase his instincts have foretold.
His prey will feel his warm embrace and yet it's cruel and cold...
He salivates for memories now come to his recall.
They torture him as if they tease, for who knows if he'll fall?
He doesn't always win the game that Nature makes him play.
Each hunt's unique and not the same, sometimes they get away...
He's hungry now... the forest king, the prowler on the path...
The ruler not the underling, who kills on his behalf.
Beware this mighty fiercesome one, he's not afraid of you...
If you see him, it's time to run... I know that's what I'd do...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'The Prowler'.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Cool Place
The tiger's paws were very hot
As he stepped on the ground,
Yet he recalled a shady spot
Was nearby to be found...
So off he went in search of peace,
Just one step at a time...
Content that there he'd find release,
A cool place, so sublime...
At last, he reached his gentle rest,
Away from all that glare...
And all at once, he felt quite blessed,
As if without a care...
His tender tootsies throbbed no more,
He splashed his paws about,
The ripples went from shore-to-shore...
A cool place, without doubt...
Then suddenly his body stopped,
Submerged up to his chin,
His tensed-up muscles simply flopped,
To utter joy gave in...
The tiger smiled a winsome smile,
A sigh of sweet relief
And there he rested for a while,
Now cool beyond belief...
Denis Martindale, copyright, July 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'A Cool Place'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot.com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Mesmeric
White tiger eyes, white tiger eyes,
So mesmeric in blue,
Are they to cut me down to size
So that I might fear you?
Or are they there to gain my trust
That friendship grows and grows?
If so, then why am I nonplussed,
Can't move my legs, feet, toes?
White tiger eyes, white tiger eyes,
If only you would blink!
I'd get a chance to realise!
I'd get a chance to think!
What lessons could you teach my soul?
What blessings for my heart?
Or would you quickly take control
And then tear me apart?
White tiger eyes, white tiger eyes,
What secrets lay behind?
What wonders lay in dark surprise
To captivate my mind?
Despite your gracious majesty,
You're getting on my wick!
First chance I get, I must break free,
Turn tail and scarper quick!
Denis Martindale, copyright, February 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Mesmeric'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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In Pursuit
The cheetah checked the sudden sound,
His neck streamlined and sleek,
His eyes surveying all around,
His hunting skills unique...
His claws now arched, each step was soft,
He gently sniffed for scent,
If unsuccessful, others scoffed
At time unwisely spent...
The cheetah chose the likely path
To stalk the prey ahead,
With chances better than a half
That he would soon be fed.
His next meal moved not far away,
Oblivious, at ease...
Yet this would be its final day,
From then on, rest in peace...
The cheetah cheered when all went well,
A textbook hunt in truth...
Not bad, he thought, then slept a spell,
In hiding, quite aloof.
He simply, slowly, inhaled breath
And exhaled just the same...
Without a thought of life or death...
No conscience, guilt or shame...
Denis Martindale, copyright, August 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'In Pursuit'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot.com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Catnap
The tiger looked with expert eyes,
Content to see for miles...
And in his own eyes he was wise,
His black heart full of wiles...
There was no doubt within his mind,
This was the time to choose...
A better time he wouldn't find
For him to have a snooze...
He stretched his awesome long legs out,
Then curled up in a ball...
Quite sure there was no-one about,
His catnap came to call...
His eyelids drooped, like weary tails,
Their blackness dead ahead...
And nothing short of fearsome gales
Could open them instead...
Deep breaths and he was on his way,
To where all tigers go,
When big cats' dreams they must obey
And this each one must know...
His whiskers flopped like withered strings,
No longer tight and taut...
So much for tigers thought as kings,
If by his dreams, he's caught...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Catnap'.
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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Intense
His hunger was simply intense!
This comes to leopards, too...
And till that empty gnawing ends,
He'll hunt the whole day through...
Only the starving understand
The desperate days he's known,
When cruel Fate withholds her hand,
As her heart turns to stone...
Each step, each stride, each newborn chase,
They sap his strength, of course,
Though once he had a noble face
And was a tour de force!
He now looks feeble, not on form,
A shadow of himself...
No longer feeling quite the norm,
He must rely on stealth.
He lies in wait, for prey to come,
With hardly strength to cope,
With breathing slow, now playing dumb
And nothing left but hope...
Suffice to say, Fate sends a meal...
His torment meets an end...
Enough to let his body to heal
And he's soon on the mend...
Denis Martindale, copyright, July 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Intense'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot.com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Indian Sanctuary
The tiger rested in the sun
Without a single care...
Without the need to hunt or run,
This sense of peace was rare.
The tiger wasted none of this,
It just went with the flow...
Partaking of its share of bliss
And in its afterglow.
The afternoon was on its way,
No danger and no qualm.
No enemies to keep at bay,
No reason for alarm.
The tiger didn't understand
This sudden change of pace,
This Shangri-La, this Wonderland,
This blessing or this grace.
Why question what seemed meant to be?
Why fret when all goes well?
Be thankful for serenity,
Enjoy it for a spell.
The tiger's heart was tranquil, too.
Its rhythm matched the mood.
As if in safety in a zoo
Where Man provides the food.
You could call this a sanctuary,
A dream within a dream...
A pleasant place that's fancy free
Where nothing is extreme...
The tiger thought it Paradise
It knew it couldn't keep...
And so it simply closed its eyes,
Thanked God and went to sleep...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Indian Sanctuary'.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Eyes Of Warning
The tiger stared with full intent,
With focus, dead ahead,
With firm resolve not to repent,
Despite the sense of dread...
For in the battle he must fight,
Just one would walk away,
So he must move with all his might
Upon this fateful day...
The challenger was also strong,
His courage matched his own
And if they fought the whole day long,
By this, each would be known...
One victor only thus declared,
One victim of his wrath,
To die or live if he were spared,
Perchance to walk it off...
The tiger stared, with warning eyes,
Gave one last chance to run...
Before the wounds, the scars, the sighs,
Before this day was done...
The challenger dismissed the threat,
Two Titans fought head on...
And at the end, while both had bled,
The challenger had gone...
Denis Martindale, copyright, April 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Eyes Of Warning'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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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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Three Sentries
They also serve who stand and wait...
And meerkats know this well,
For them, well, life's just great, just great,
As if you couldn't tell.
It's funny that they'll stare and stare
And watch the day go by...
From predators they must beware,
For some can even fly!
Their little noses twitched away
Mid whiskers to and fro...
While they kept poses, come what may,
No matter what the foe!
Like shepherds guarding flocks by night,
They simply stood their ground...
While one looked left and one looked right
And one looked round and round...
Three sentries stood the test of time,
Comparing now and then,
Their loyalty was quite sublime,
Enough to shame some men!
With throbbing tootsies they stood tall,
Defiant, unafraid...
As if each were a sentinel
That God Himself had made...
Denis Martindale, copyright, August 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Three Sentries'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot.com
poem by Denis Martindale
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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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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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Jungle Prince
Fresh-made prints of the Jungle Prince,
A tiger, to be sure!
The sight of these could well convince
With every new-laid paw...
Perhaps he was a mile away
Or maybe up a tree,
Content to stay, content to lay,
Perhaps in wait for me!
I paused and gulped, a tad distraught...
But just a tad, mind you...
I wasn't scared or overwrought,
But did what I must do...
I stayed subdued yet stayed alert...
I looked both left and right
And to make sure I wasn't hurt,
I ran with all my might!
Then, suddenly, the tiger stood
As if to block my path...
As if he owned the neighbourhood
And thought he'd have a laugh!
He glared at me, I stared at him...
Oh, dear, he did look vexed!
I must have feinted! Things looked grim!
God knows what happened next...
Denis Martindale, copyright, March 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Jungle Prince II'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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