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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Related quotes
Night Prowler
Somewhere a clock strikes midnight
And theres a full moon in the sky
You hear a dog bark in the distance
You hear someones baby cry
A rat runs down the alley
And a chill runs down your spine
Someone walks across your grave
And you wish the sun would shine
No ones gonna warn you
And no ones gonna yell attack
And you dont feel the steel
Till its hanging out your back
Chorus:
Im your night prowler, asleep in the day
Im your night prowler, get out of my way
Look out for the night prowler, watch you tonight
Im the night prowler, when you turn out the light ...
Too scared to turn your light out
cos theres something on your mind
Was that a noise outside your window?
Whats that shadow on the blind?
As you lie there naked
Like a body in a tomb
Suspended animation
As I slip into your room
Chorus
Solo
Chorus
Im your night prowler, break down your door
Im your night prowler, crawling cross your floor
Im your night prowler, make a mess of you, yes I will
Night prowler, and I am telling this to you
There aint nothing you can do
(shazbot nunu nunu)
song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Renegade
See the outlaw stands alone beneath the burning sun
The raging badlands now is his home
Theres no sign of victory, he lost his liberty
And the only woman that he loved
An outlaw chasing outlaws, a runner in the night
By the radiant moon he will strike
The seeker of all dangers has come to take his toll
From the dead of night he will arise
Renegade, renegade
Committed the ultimate sin
Renegade, renegade
This time the prowler will win
He stalks in shadow lands, soundless, with gun in hand
Striking like a reptile, so fierce
No chance to get away, no time for your last prayer
When the prowler sneaks up from behind
An outlaw chasing outlaws, the hunter takes his pray
The law of the jungle he obeys
Craving for the danger to even out the scores
Face to face, once and for all
Renegade, renegade
Committed the ultimate sin
Renegade, renegade
This time the prowler will win
On through the night he rides, on his raging horse made of steel
Nothing can save you now, before the renegade you will kneel
Renegade, renegade
Committed the ultimate sin
Renegade, renegade
This time the prowler will win
Renegade, renegade
Committed the ultimate sin
Renegade, renegade
This time the prowler will win
song performed by by Hammerfall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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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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Eyes Of The Forest
When tigers pause, their eyes stare deep,
Across each forest scene...
To scan for creatures that can creep,
No matter, mild or mean...
This tiger searches high and low,
His eyes pan left to right...
And as they wander to and fro,
The tension starts to bite!
In seconds, everything could change,
A false alarm or what?
A broken twig or something strange
To put him on the spot?
That's why his paws are prone to pause,
Sometimes to poise mid-air...
Until his eyes have learnt the cause,
They'll dangle, dainty, there...
Those precious paws hold claws within,
So he can hold his own.
If he must fight, he won't give in...
His heart is cold as stone!
The gentle cub is long since gone,
This adult heart beats now...
Survival instincts carry on,
To them, each soul must bow...
He knows that one mistake and then,
They'll write his epitaph!
Now safe, he treads the ground again...
And carries on his path...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Eyes Of The Forest'.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Jungle Apparition
At first, the tiger merely strolls
The jungle paths he knows,
As if he has no plans, no goals,
Till inner hunger grows...
It's then another hunt begins,
It's then he's most alert,
It's then his instincts must convince
That now's the time to hurt...
He stalks new prey, perchance to live,
As carnivores before,
He seeks to steal and not to give,
As if it were a chore...
Yet Nature chooses what must be,
For lions, tigers, bears...
And each must serve his destiny,
His dreams and his nightmares...
He's a ghostly apparition,
His colours help him blur...
He won't find an intermission,
Till things were as they were...
With tricks like these, the tiger strolls,
The jungle paths he knows,
Yet now with plans, yet now with goals,
As inner hunger grows...
Denis Martindale, copyright, July 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Jungle Apparition'.
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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Splash!
The tiger strolled quite merrily,
As if without a qualm
And those that watched could plainly see
That he was mighty calm.
It was as if the stream was his,
To do with as he pleased.
It was a sight no-one should miss,
As tiger tension eased...
So there he was, content to play,
As kittens often do
And suddenly to splash away,
As if this game were new.
The fish were off, they scattered fast,
They had no furry friends.
The tiger didn't feel downcast,
Why should he take offence?
The day was young, he was there first,
The others had to wait...
This was his time to quench his thirst...
Next time, they won't be late.
Splash here, splash there, splash everywhere.
Who cares if it annoys?
As long as he had time to spare,
The pebbles were his toys.
He moved them left, he moved them right,
He flicked one so it flew.
Some birds above him soon took flight,
For all at once fear grew.
The tiger grinned to see such fun.
He knew they were perplexed.
That's when he flicked another one,
Amused that they were vexed.
He strolled along then slowly drank...
He sipped it like champagne.
Then in deep waters slowly sank
Till he was clean again...
When he was through, he left it all...
The sun would dry him soon.
Then through the tall grass he would crawl
And hunt that afternoon...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Splash'.
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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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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In Hot Pursuit
The tiger rested, gently laid,
Now in a placid mood,
Until his belly sighed dismayed
In hopes of some fresh food...
So up he stood and stretched a while,
His hunting ears alert
And gone that tiger's placid smile,
For main course and dessert...
He slowly trod the ground he walked
With one intent in mind,
For his next meal would soon be stalked,
As he sneaked up behind...
The chase was on! He saw his prey!
His coat was now a blur!
His next meal mustn't get away!
No, no! That can't occur!
So like the wind that strikes the earth
With storms of utmost rage,
In hot pursuit his mighty girth
Sped to its fastest stage!
Then in the blinking of an eye,
The dirty deed was done!
To stave off each new starving sigh...
One fed, he heard not one...
Denis Martindale, copyright, October 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'In Hot Pursuit'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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King Of The Castle
The tiger strolled alone again...
Unloved for all to see...
A lonely king revered by men
And yet no queen had he...
No tigress roared for him to hear,
No tigress caught his eye,
No tigress brought from far to near
To cause a sovereign's sigh...
The tiger strolled a little more...
His heart a heavy weight...
A lonely king who felt so poor
He couldn't celebrate...
No tigress toured his countryside,
No tigress sought his love,
No tigress thought of him with pride,
So was this life enough?
The tiger strolled another day...
With pining in his soul...
A lonely king he'd have to stay,
Maintaining self-control...
But suddenly he roared and roared!
Until God heard him, too!
God sent a tigress to this lord
Who never said, 'Thank You! '
Denis Martindale, copyright, February 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'King Of The Castle'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Huntress
Oh the tantalizing tiger
You make me feel on fire
Why must you be so pretty and aloof
The huntress is just a big goof
The tiger is caught by another
Another, better suited I presume
To capture the tiger and keep as her own
And yet the huntress feels the tiger’s groan
How can it still be, that in the wild there could be
An attraction, to shoot down the prey
In mid-stride, the tiger taunts the huntress
The huntress stares yet shows not the emotion
The want, the craving of the tiger’s gaze
To catch a vibe would be all she would need
Yet, the huntress knows there will be defeat
The tigress triumphs and trumps them all
The heart of her tiger is stronger than the fall
It’s not for one to know nor assume
Yet obsession seems to loom
Like the freak, the huntress merely stumbles.
Falling and hitting hard she’s now humbled.
poem by Jessica Thomas
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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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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Lying In Wait
The tiger played the waiting game...
His heartbeat cool and calm.
No doubts, no fears, no guilt, no shame
And no sense of alarm.
For all was still, sublime, serene,
So tranquil and at ease...
Apart from him, so cruel, so mean,
Despite his golden fleece.
The tiger strained his stretched back ears
While hunger caused him grief...
God only knows what noise he hears
Behind his gritted teeth.
The aching burden carried on,
Tormenting deep within,
As hunger's slave, his pride had gone,
Yet he must not give in.
The tiger sneered at such delays
So unpredictable...
And groaned at Nature's wily ways
So unreliable...
But come the evening, all went well,
He'd had his fill once more...
What tragic tales this beast could tell,
So cold in tooth and claw...
Denis Martindale, copyright, October 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Lying In Wait II'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
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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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Afternoon Dip
Yes, the stream sure looked exciting
And pleased the tiger's eyes,
With his memories delighting,
He ran to Paradise!
He squelched his way on soft warm mud
And leapt into the air,
To part the waters with a thud
That made the birdies stare!
'He's back! ' they said in unison...
'We'll never get him out! '
They watched him while he had his fun
As he splashed all about...
'He's acting like a cub again!
Just like he did last week!
You'd never guess that he was ten
And simply past his peak! '
The tiger paused, looked up a spell...
'What's that! ? ' he growled aloud!
The birdies trembled, silence fell...
The tiger felt right proud!
The birdies gulped, as birdies do,
And shut their beaks real tight.
The tiger sniggered for he knew
His power and his might!
Denis Martindale, copyright, October 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Afternoon Dip'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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