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'.

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Attentive

When meerkats stand and stare and stare,
Attentive they must be,
As if to prove how much they care
For friends and family...
No wonder, then, they gain respect,
From humans far and wide,
As from such duties none neglect
As they stand side-by-side...

Their little eyes are on alert,
Their little minds on guard,
In hopes that none of them get hurt,
For tragedies hit hard...
While other meerkats scampered near
As if life seemed a ball,
Two meerkats stood, no sign of fear,
Merely surveying all...

In time, some others would replace
And give these guys a rest,
For now, they stood there, poker face,
Content to do their best...
Two heroes there, one young, one old,
Four eyes as black as soot
And theirs the story to be told
Because their hearts were good...


Denis Martindale, copyright, April 2012.


The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Attentive'.

More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com

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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:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com

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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

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Making Waves

At last, I've made it here again.
I'm making waves once more!
How long it's been, I can't say when
Because I'm not quite sure...
Us tigers like to strut our stuff,
To wander fancy free...
Enjoying life, enjoying love!
I think most would agree...
As tigers, we can live like lords,
No matter where we are.
Whether it's crossing streams or fords,
We're nobles, near or far!
That's why I'm here, to make it known,
Not hiding out of sight.
I'm not afraid, no need to groan,
No reason now to fight.
I'm making waves, let others stare,
It's time to have some fun!
It's time to show I just don't care...
Perhaps it's too much sun...
When water looks as cool as this
And sparkles crystal clear,
I tell you that it's perfect bliss,
Pure paradise, my dear!
I'm making waves, I'm feeling great,
I'm here to seize the day!
Before the streams evaporate,
Let's take the time to play...
We may not be so blessed next time.
Find time for fun, somehow!
Life needn't be an uphill climb...
Let's take advantage! NOW!


The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Making Waves'.

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Brothers In Arms

Two young tigers stood side-by-side,
Facing the world assured...
With both their jaws now open wide,
With pride, the tigers roared!
The hunters snarled like angry kings
To all in their domain,
As if the rest were underlings
They must remind again...
They shared a sense of destiny,
Born free and yet what for?
To take their part in history!
To fill the world with awe!
To stand united, unafraid,
If challenged, not to fail.
Like living legends, undismayed,
Determined to prevail!
Like champions, to stand their ground,
Defiant to the end...
Two young tigers, the best around
And each the other's friend...
Brothers in arms and warriors,
Tenacious day and night,
Miraculous and glorious,
Both valiant inside.
Two sets of eyes, two sets of ears...
Two hearts that beat as one...
Their loyalty outlasts the years,
Through all that must be done...
Life's sometimes good, life's sometimes bad,
Life's sometimes in-between...
For them, the future's ironclad...
If we don't intervene...


The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Brothers In Arms'.

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Indian Princess

The years were kind to the tigress,
Now seasoned in the sun,
So full of spice and specialness,
A prize meant to be won...
She'd find a mate when time decreed,
Till then, the days felt slow,
Until her destiny was freed,
Alone she had to go.
The miracles of life and love
Must first unite in time...
And while the waiting can be rough,
It helps make them sublime.
As long as fate grants its reward,
New life will grace the land...
The tigers' line will be assured
If good luck lends a hand.
Each generation comes and goes
As if it were the first,
Until extinction overthrows
And then it does its worst.
Endangered species may survive,
If Nature takes its course...
Yet if protected, they will thrive,
According to God's laws...


The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Indian Princess'.

More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com

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White Haven

Even white tigers have to bathe
Though they're as white as snow,
That's why an hour they will save
For streams that overflow...
On winsome days, when winds are calm
And sunlight shines above,
White tigers will not hunt or harm
While their hearts beat with love...

The waters let white tigers chill
Like little lambs at play..
A haven here that can instill
A reason to delay...
Life isn't always running round
So frantic in the sun,
Sometimes the simple things astound,
When nothing much gets done.

This was that time, when time relaxed,
When tiny sounds were heard...
When muscles were no longer taxed
And all white tigers purred...
Who knows how long these cats survive?
This century? No more?
Be glad today that they're alive...
For no-one can be sure...


Denis Martindale, copyright, July 2010.

The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'White Haven'.

More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot.com

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Menacing

White tigers roam where Man permits,
Endangered even now...
That's why they have to use their wits
Before their final bow...
Extinction's waiting in the wings,
Another cat to claim!
While Man's still doing shameful things,
This world can't stay the same.
As time moves on, the cats die out...
And yet Man doesn't care!
He's menacing without a doubt,
He's this world's worst nightmare!
The tigers look like pussycats
When they're compared to him...
He treats all life like welcome mats,
Whenever he acts dim...
A hundred years will soon pass by...
Survivors, who can say?
For now... look in the tiger's eye...
Today's the day to pray...


The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Menacing'.

More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com

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Young Explorers

Two young lions surveyed the land
And paused to take it in,
As if the future could be planned,
So they would always win.
With hiding places here and there,
Shade from the burning sun
And danger spots they must beware,
Yet spaces they could run...
Life wasn't always hide and seek,
Life wasn't always bright...
For soon the day would pass its peak
And fade into the night...
Two young lions with lots to learn,
Exploring now and then.
When hunting, they must twist and turn
To help them catch again.
For now, they stood with dignity
And with a sense of pride...
Majestically and mightily,
As brothers, side-by-side.
Two young lions must carry on
The legacy of life,
Aware, they, too, will soon be gone,
Though battling to survive.
Their journey started years ago
When they were cubs at play...
Not knowing who was friend or foe,
Until they found their way...
Two young lions, aware, astute...
At one with Nature's Laws...
To children's eyes, they may look cute,
Yet watch those teeth and claws!
The young explorers hold no grudge
When things are fair and square.
Most of the time, they don't ask much...
They'll take the lions' share...


The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Young Explorers'.

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Leopard Sunset

The leopard lingered in the sun
Almost at close of day,
With all its hours almost done
And fast to ebb away...
The leopard let his memories
Remind him now and then,
Because he knew each day must cease
When moonlight shone again.

This day had seen new life, new death,
That's how time passes by...
We understand while we draw breath
Until our final sigh...
The leopard knew his time was near,
Just like the sun above,
Yet leopards are not prone to fear,
That's why they still share love...

His cubs were waiting down below,
As he watched like a king...
To see time like a river flow
To outlive everything...
Some day his cubs would watch in turn,
As their cubs played a while...
With each new day something to learn...
Some joy to raise a smile...


(July 2011/The poem is based on the
magnificent painting by Stephen Gayford
called 'Leopard Sunset'.)

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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'.

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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:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com

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White Treasures

White tigers like their privacy,
It keeps their young cubs calm,
There's nothing like tranquillity
To ease off thoughts of harm...
Their blood flows at a gentle pace
In neighbourhoods serene
And pretty soon they like the place,
As if they've always been...

It's no surprise that parents feel
The need for some reprieve,
Some solitude, some time to heal,
Yes, even if it's brief...
Some call these golden moments yet
They're worth much more than that!
It's very hard to purr and fret,
It's true, ask any cat...

White tigers should be left alone,
To wind down, tails at rest,
To find a peace that's rarely known
Is how best to be blessed...
Don't say a word or point your hand,
Just crouch down and observe...
But if they chase us, quickly stand...
And run for all you're worth!


Denis Martindale, copyright, February 2012.

The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'White Treasures'
which is found on gayfordgallery-dot-com

More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com

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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'.

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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

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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'.

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Together

Two lions lounged without a care...
For neither had a qualm...
This was a moment they could share
And both enjoyed the calm...
This was a time when they could bond
Without the need to fight,
Without the need to hunt beyond
For creatures out of sight...
Two lions lounged, as time ticked by...
With other lions near,
Beneath the sky where eagles fly
And vultures may appear.
And higher still, the sun shone down
Upon the good and bad,
To make some smile, to make some frown,
Yet mostly light to add.
And higher still, God watched it all
Unfolding patiently...
A billion prayers He could recall
From folks like you and me...
Yet He observes the lions, too,
And grants each one a name...
He knows what life would make them do
As life goes on the same.
We only see through human eyes,
Yet God knows everything...
One of these lions will be wise...
He'll grow to be a king...


The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Together'.

The Stephen Gayford poems can be viewed here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com

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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

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Sisters

The lionesses rested there,
Two sisters side-by-side...
Both breathing gently, without care,
Yet their eyes open wide...
The day was long, the air was still,
The sun was warm not hot
And clouds sailed by the distant hill,
While they stayed in their spot...
To some, these were of royal birth,
Princesses and revered.
To others, they possessed no worth
And nothing to be cheered...
Yet for each other, there was love,
Affection day-by-day...
A tenderness that proved enough,
No matter, come what may...
As tiny cubs, they'd fooled around,
Rejoicing playfully...
Receiving every sight and sound,
With thanks they'd been born free...
For them, the training ground must wait
Until another time...
The time was now, their adult state,
When they were in their prime...
Each day, their hunting skills combined
To grant them new success
And having dined, they now reclined,
Both comfy, more or less...
They lived their lives, as lions must,
In order to survive...
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust...
Or hunt to stay alive...


The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Sisters'.

The Stephen Gayford poems can be viewed here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com

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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

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