Winter Sun
His weary eyes were everywhere,
To track each tiny sound,
The hungry wolf beyond his lair
Trod softly on the ground.
For somewhere near or somewhere far
His next meal had to be.
If not, no midnight, moon or star
His weary eyes would see...
His stomach churned each step he took,
Yet Death was patient still...
His jaws were like an open book,
As he surveyed the hill.
How many hills had he climbed now?
A dozen, maybe more,
With all past strength God could allow
He fought the final war...
His prey escaped a sudden death...
His loss and yet their gain...
Life is a journey, breath by breath,
His offspring to remain...
He couldn't find a single crumb
Of comfort for this phase.
He didn't know his time had come...
This was the end of days...
Denis Martindale, copyright, October 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Winter Sun'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
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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'.
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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:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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Winter Repose
A lone Siberian tiger
Was resting on a hill,
All dressed in white and golden fur,
Reclining, oh, so still...
Accepting all that Fate had thrown,
Resigned to come what may...
Yes, there he was all on his own,
Just taking in the day...
He couldn't see a soul for miles
And nothing flew above...
And every day he faced new trials,
He met no-one to love...
The lonely figure looked around
At all his eyes surveyed...
And there, he didn't hear a sound
And so, felt quite dismayed...
Without true love, what have we got?
It's true, God only knows...
We know that it can't be a lot,
Like tigers in repose...
Yet hope abides in tigers, too,
And so they persevere...
Yes, they must do what we must do,
Until true love is here...
Denis Martindale, copyright, December 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Winter Repose'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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Snow Wolf
Distinctive markings on his coat
Disguise the snow wolf well,
As if the snow had kissed his throat
So that we couldn't tell...
Yet close up through binoculars,
We see that canine face
And suddenly our memory jars
With warnings we can trace...
This is no gentle friend of Man,
In whom we'd grant our trust,
But rather one we'd choose to ban,
Because we simply must...
Each creature that survives on Earth
Has something new to say...
And wildlife paintings prove their worth
Each time we gaze their way...
He's not a trophy that I'd choose
To grace my hearth and home,
Yet at a painting I'd peruse,
Just like I'd read a poem...
We know he can be terrible
And frightening, night or day...
Yet isn't he quite beautiful?
Majestic in a way...
Denis Martindale, copyright, October 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Snow Wolf'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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With Intent
The lonely leopard forced to find
His next meal now and then,
Walked with intent, with single mind,
With one thought yet again...
To hunt alone, with none to blame
If something should go wrong,
Just basic skills that stayed the same,
That's why he must stay strong...
He passed the time reserving power,
Till his next meal arrived,
Perhaps within this coming hour,
Based on the plans contrived...
His eyes looked left, his eyes looked right,
Surveying all there was,
Perhaps to see something take flight
Then chase or suffer loss...
The lonely leopard sleek and fast
And ruthless, come what may,
Reflected on his solemn past,
The trail of fallen prey...
He lived the life that Nature gave,
To kill yet not repent...
Like predators who daily crave,
He now walked with intent...
Denis Martindale, copyright, May 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'With Intent'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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Dignified
The wolf watched everything in sight
While he heard every sound,
For soon he'd run with all his might
Across the unturned ground...
No farmer ploughed across this land,
The wolf was on his own,
No creature there to understand
His hunger that had grown...
So there he stayed before his crime,
As if quite dignified,
So statuesque, so cute, sublime,
Yet starving deep inside...
Of course, he'd done this all before...
That's how he still survived,
But, oh, my goodness, what a chore,
Till his next meal arrived...
He licked his lips, let out a sigh,
Then breathed in long and slow...
For all day long beneath God's sky,
He stayed, nowhere to go...
But that wise wolf survived again,
Another moon to see...
That's why we'll hear him howl again,
All night, till half-past-three...
Denis Martindale, copyright, September 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Dignified'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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That Time Already?
The lion is a busy beast
Until he feels fatigue...
When doziness has then increased
With sleepytime to seek...
It's then his heavy head weighs most
Upon his weary neck
And he no longer stares engrossed,
Like saying, 'What the heck? '
So tiny teeny tired eyes
No longer look alert,
And he no longer looks as wise
Or like a racing cert...
For all at once he weighs a ton
And flops down to the ground
And pretty soon his day is done
And he is sleeping sound...
Do lions snore? I cannot say.
I've never got that close!
I'm not inclined to walk his way
And stir him from repose...
So I'll stay here and he'll stay there!
Yes, that seems fine to me!
But you can wake him, if you dare,
While I watch from that tree...
Denis Martindale, copyright, April 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'That Time Already? '.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
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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:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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Winter Finery
The lone wolf stared upon the hill,
Upbeat, for all to see,
As if to watch him was a thrill
In Winter finery,
With coat so thick, it kept him warm,
Against the Winter wind,
So he survived the swirling storm
And simply howled and grinned...
The other creatures weren't so blessed,
With gritted teeth, no smiles
And jealous that he was well dressed
With strength to run for miles...
Life isn't fair to one and all
And yet who could they blame?
They merely stared and watched snow fall...
So random without aim...
The wolf would last the Winter through,
Just one day at a time,
By doing what he had to do,
Though some think that's a crime...
Survival tactics, hunting skills,
Tenfold tenacity,
No conscience anytime he kills...
There, my friends, the pity...
Denis Martindale, copyright, June 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Winter Finery'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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The Journey Home
The elephant was on her way,
Her calf was close nearby,
You should've seen their bodies sway,
Both marching, heads held high!
'Keep up with me! Left, right! Left, right! '
The calf was telling Mum,
The two of them were quite a sight,
Since so far had they come...
For many miles, the calf endured,
Without a thought to stop,
But Mum, of course, was quite assured,
His legs would flip and flop...
His trunk would droop and trail the ground,
His pace no longer fast,
With barely strength to make a sound,
As even more miles past...
And sure enough, she heard those words,
That parents often get...
The journey home, it's for the birds!
'Hey, Mum, are we there yet! ? '
'A few miles more! ' she told him straight...
He moaned and groaned, of course...
It's just right then, though life was great,
He'd rather be a horse!
Denis Martindale, copyright, October 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'The Journey Home'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Follow The Leader
Two tigers traipsed the river's edge,
The leader heard a noise...
When entrusted with this knowledge,
Both tigers had no choice...
Two tigers traipsed beneath the sun
With one cold thought in mind,
Two heads much better than the one,
With so much strength combined...
In silent mode, they took their time,
Each stealthful step so slow...
While undetected, each new crime
Meant victims sensed no foe...
Suffice to say, their moment came,
The frantic prey ran wild,
The tigers chased like burning flame,
No longer meek and mild...
Though it didn't happen often,
The tigers had to pause...
For failure dogged them once again,
Their prey escaped their claws...
The starving tigers felt dismay,
The next meal had to wait...
With luck, they'd last another day
With cause to celebrate...
Denis Martindale, copyright, December 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Follow The Leader'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
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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:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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Bright Eyes
He really doesn't have a clue,
He's still too young to know!
He does what little lions do,
He's always on the go...
He's scratching backs, he's biting tails!
He's pouncing now and then!
He's challenging the other males!
He wins four out of ten!
His tiny teeth aren't up to much!
His smooth young claws are stubs!
His awesome ears keep him in touch
With antics of the cubs!
He dribbles and he's got no shame!
He's often known to drip...
Though every lion has his fame,
He's hardly cool or hip!
But he'll get better every day
Because he's keen to learn...
That's how great lions find their way,
In time, respect to earn!
One day and his courageous heart
Will grant him everything...
One day, he'll really look the part,
One day, he'll be a king!
Denis Martindale, copyright, July 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Bright Eyes'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot.com
poem by Denis Martindale
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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:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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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
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Forest Tracker
White tigers track the forest floor,
Like this one did one day,
Steadfast and with his tightened jaw,
He went along his way...
Sometimes to pause and listen well,
Then one step at a time,
To catch a glimpse, some sign to tell,
To perpetrate his crime...
The villain of the piece was he,
Of that there was no doubt,
Though just a stroll it seemed to be,
Watch out! Watch out! Watch out!
I wouldn't snap a twig or two,
If I were walking near,
In fact, I think I'd be like you,
Just paralysed with fear!
I'd watch that tiger walking past,
While I stood still unseen...
If he saw me, then I'd run fast,
'Cos tigers can get mean!
For now, he's like some cuddly cat,
Ol' Blue Eyes, all alone...
And yet, please don't be fooled by that,
You see, he's fully grown!
Denis Martindale, copyright, February 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Forest Tracker'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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Bush Master
No more the lion cub is he,
Now full grown in his prime
And gone is all timidity
Because this is his time...
Prepared for such a day as this,
His eyes survey the land,
His destiny won't go amiss,
In truth, his life is planned.
This season changes everything,
He walks as if he rules,
As if he were their only king,
Adorned with gold and jewels.
It's true that lions should be feared,
It's true that they are fierce,
Yet openly they are revered
By men and all their peers.
Bush masters live, take life and die,
With cubs to take their place,
Without the need to question why,
As if no shame to face...
If left alone, they may endure
A thousand years or more...
If not, extinction, death for sure,
Gone with one final roar...
Denis Martindale, copyright, February 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Bush Master'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
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poem by Denis Martindale
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The Watchers
Two wily wolves were waiting there
For something new to see,
Beyond investing time to stare
At endless scenery...
It didn't matter, his or hers,
Full stomachs now were gone
And deep within, where hunger stirs,
Reminders rumbled on...
Familiar thoughts had thus returned
To haunt them once again,
Recalling lessons both had learned
Which helped them now and then.
They licked their lips like hunters do,
Though nothing was in sight,
Yet sensing there was something new
About to get a fright!
The watchers chose their lucky spot,
Their waiting game to play...
Four starving eyes checked every dot
That flew or walked their way...
At last, their next meal sauntered by,
Quite calm and fancy free...
And since he had no wings to fly,
The rest is history...
Denis Martindale, copyright, August 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'The Watchers'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot.com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Evening Sun
The white wolf stood and stared a while...
The water soothed his feet.
Perhaps he'd search another mile
For food that he could eat.
The sunshine faded, night approached,
A sudden chill was felt...
The silvered twilight moon encroached
And darkness soon was dealt...
The evening sun bid all farewell,
Its time had come and gone,
Replaced by stars that cast their spell
As moonlight carried on...
The stuff of legends now took hold,
He howled his hunger out...
Who knew what wonders would unfold,
What fears to cause men doubt?
Now all his instincts forced his pace,
For he, too, must survive,
Against all odds, through nights and days,
Perchance to stay alive...
It's true that wolves have wily schemes
To brave the midnight storm,
Yet pet dogs dream their pampered dreams,
In comfort, calm and warm...
Denis Martindale, copyright, September 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Evening Sun'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Adorable II
The cheetah cub was spotted there,
For all the world to see,
Yet didn't seem to have a care
Or brag, 'Just look at me! '
Content beneath the golden sky,
While in the prime of health,
It humbly watched the day go by,
No pride within itself...
If only we were just like that,
No ego and no wiles.
Just peaceful like that purrfect cat,
Content with just our smiles...
Laid back, no worldly woes at all,
Just basking in the sun...
Adorable and wonderful
And problems, no, not one...
But truth be told, such times take hold
Then quickly melt away...
That's why we treasure them like gold
And plead with them to stay...
Yet they must visit others, too,
To share dreams beautiful...
For other folks... like me... like you...
Like things adorable...
Denis Martindale, copyright, October 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Adorable II'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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