Dark Forests
Dark forests...Northern...Sourthern Mountains,
Fierce tigers circle around the villages in broad daylight.
...To The red dawn of twilight
The skies shine bright
Protecting what is theirs
In the magic of the night
The tigers roam everywhere taking lives for food.
The Majesty of the tigers power,
The prey dare not make a sound.
The new kin tiger sprout every year
In the valleys low.
Male and female tigers come up and down the mountains in large groups.
There is a village near the tigers’ dens in the valley,
Where tigers often come and eat the villagers’ brown calves.
Rich young men dare not shoot the arrows at the tigers.
The Majesty of the Tiger lives forever
The Majesty of the Tiger
They only pretend to check for the tigers’ tracks in the forests.
poem by Peter LeBuhn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Chinese New Year (Tiger Year Living Tiger Life)
When a tiger kills a man
it is called ferocity
without any mercy.
When a man kills a tiger
it is called hunting
in which he takes pride and boasting.
For Chinese people, tiger symbolises luck.
Right! the tiger products bring a big buck.
Chinese people think the tiger year will prosper.
But the tigers will have more suffer.
The number of tiger is dwindling,
they are near extinction.
Leave the Tigers alone in the Wood,
so that they can have many tigresses in good mood.
Jim Corbett
Jim Corbett great stories of maneaters told
For some tigers become maneaters when they grow old
For a frail or injured tiger a Human Being is easier prey
But for killing a Human a tiger with his or her life has to pay.
To a tiger a Human Being is something it can eat
As a tiger is a meat eater so it needs meat
A Human Being or a buffalo to him the same
It kills because it has to without remorse or shame.
Jim Corbett who killed many a maneater has a park in India named in his name
And his stories of hunting maneaters they brought him great fame
But tigers only kill because they have a need to
And the tiger to it's nature is only being true.
Jim Corbett wrote of man eating tigers and of how he tracked them down
And his stories have earned him a place in renown
But for the most part a tiger has to be either very old or ill
Before a Human Being it will bother to kill.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Light In The Tigers Eyes
Sometime I cannot imagine the difference
Between you and the blackest night
You know those nights when only tigers stalk
And lie waiting for the sound of your breath
The faintest reflecting backlight is in their eyes
So I can only say one thing in your defence
You have laid with tigers
You have their scent
You know how they stalk and what they sense
I do not
And so I am terrified to lay in the thicket
And wait
---------
Have you seen a tigers foot
Stare at it soft and silent
Able to tread with no sound
On the leaf strewn floor of its jungleI
It can kill quickly without fuss and song
Except of course for its victims
Noises of dying
On a dark night I am scared
Of you in the same way
You with that tigers breath
And stealth that terrifies me so
Please I will beg
Please don't
---------
Growls snarls and ferocity
Are just conversation
To you and the tiger
Your cigar at the end of dinner
Your confidence in terrifying
The bridle you have on me
My fear is the peg
Your look is the rope
Attached to my collar
Staking me out
To wait
In the silenced black night
To wait
For you and the tiger
To pounce
poem by Geoffrey Fafard
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Dictators ride to and fro upon tigers which they dare not dismount. And the tigers are getting hungry.
quote by Winston Churchill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Silent Vigil
White tigers are conspicuous,
They stand out from the crowd!
So not to be ridiculous,
They're silent and not loud...
That's why they stare and sit and stare
Or lay and stare awhile...
So other beasties aren't aware
Of such a high profile...
White tigers can get bleary-eyed
If they lounge there too long
And yet take such things in their stride,
Although they know it's wrong...
To compensate, they walk about,
To stretch their legs and such,
Then they lie down, with paws stretched out,
But then, they don't do much...
White tigers have been known to roar,
Then watch the others run!
White tigers snigger, laugh, guffaw,
When things like that are done!
Their silent vigils that were here
Soon disappear, God knows...
It makes their day to instil fear,
The naughty so-and-sos!
poem by Denis Martindale
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Save the deer
Tigers are there; deer are there.
Tigers eat deer and deer exist.
Guilt is the tiger and adultery, the deer.
Adultery will not go extinct.
25.03.2000, Palakkad
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Intangible Tigers
There's a moral in this: tho' I own that the preaching
Of moral and maxim in season and out
Grows stale; yet these days of depressions far-reaching
Demand any means to put worry to rout.
So in that menagerie now populated
By home-coming chickens and wolves upon mats
Consider, when finally doubt's dissipated
How often our tigers turn out to be cats.
Three-fourths of our troubles some Frenchman has told us,
But seldom occur. Tho' the ills of the mind
Loom forth as fierce tigers while doubts yet unfold us,
They turn into cats once we've put them behind.
How often the dread of some darkened tomorrow
Has ruined today; till, at Time's urgent call,
Tomorrow's false fears become yester's small sorrow
Innocuous cats, and not tigers at all.
So, here is the moral - just take it or leave it.
It doesn't much matter, you'll scorn it, no doubt.
Yet here is a truth and, if men don't receive it
I've still done my duty in pointing it out.
False troubles, false tigers engender false fearing;
So use the grey matter close under your hat
And, as you fare forth thro' life's dark forests peering,
Go armed against tigers - but still expect cats.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Tigernation
Within the land where tigers roam,
Some people spot their stripes
And on their PCs while at home
Perhaps they share their Skypes,
Perhaps they upload photographs,
Or videos they've made,
Beyond their times when they've had laughs
From some new escapade...
Some share their tiger images
Online for all to see!
For zoos and schools and colleges,
For fans like you and me...
And software then comes into play,
Identifying cats,
As they go prowling day-by-day...
Like they're aristocrats!
Thus tigernation's website grows
With images galore,
So many that one hardly knows
How many tigers roar!
The tigerfacts and articles
Are there, so please peruse,
Just pause a while as each enthralls
And share your points of views...
When you find each tiger's profile,
Will you check stripes and stare?
Will tigernation make you smile
At creatures oh so rare?
Will you support the work they do?
Will you support the team?
Will you help tigers, now so few,
Not simply think and dream?
If tigernation stirs your soul
And somehow warms your heart,
Perhaps it's time to take control
And try to do your part...
If tigernation helps you learn,
Please visit now and then...
Such is the tale of their concern,
They'll welcome you again!
Denis Martindale, copyright, September 2012.
Website:
tigernation-dot-org for news and views,
what you do then, is yours to choose...
poem by Denis Martindale
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Snow Tigers
The tigers nestled in the snow,
Oblivious to cold,
Content within the twilight glow,
So wondrous to behold...
With light enough to take their ease,
Before the night set in
And grant the cubs a sense of peace
Among their kith and kin...
United in their Shangri-La,
The royal family
Reflected how they'd come so far,
This very night to see...
The stars a distant twisting scroll,
The moon a crescent curl,
A single cloud out on patrol,
A pale white circling pearl...
With tigers' eyes as witnesses
As if to testify,
There was joy in all God blesses
On Earth and in the sky...
Snow tigers felt this joy inside
With every heartbeat made.
If they could roam the whole world wide,
Their joy would never fade...
Denis Martindale, copyright, October 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Snow Tigers'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Cheek To Cheek
Two tigers wandered to and fro,
Like restless tigers do,
Until they chose to take things slow
Just like the chosen few...
Let others pounce and leap for joy,
Explore for all they're worth,
But these two tigers played it coy
And settled on the earth...
Thus side-by-side and cheek-to-cheek
They nestled 'neath the sun,
Content merely to pause and peek
At others having fun...
As if to say, 'You go for it!
We'll stay here keeping guard...
Conserve your strength, keep fighting fit,
Just don't you play too hard! '
While others every joy embrace
As if Hell-bent on thrills,
Some tigers simply spend their days,
Like statues watching hills...
They look like bookends on the shelves,
Now rooted to the spot!
Wise tigers learn to pace themselves!
That sun is too darned hot!
Denis Martindale, copyright, April 2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Cheek To Cheek'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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For Jane
225 days under grass
and you know more than I.
they have long taken your blood,
you are a dry stick in a basket.
is this how it works?
in this room
the hours of love
still make shadows.
when you left
you took almost
everything.
I kneel in the nights
before tigers
that will not let me be.
what you were
will not happen again.
the tigers have found me
and I do not care.
poem by Charles Bukowski
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Little Black Sambo
Little Black Sambo
Dance Sambo Dance!
You knoe you are a pancake!
The little black sambo ran around the tigers,
until they blended into batter.
Ewe see it does it matters.
Dance Sambo Dance!
You knoe you are a pancake!
If you even make just one mistake,
the tigers they will eat you.
Dance Sambo Dance!
You knoe you are a pancake!
Unless you can out race them,
the tigers are so fast.
We would rather that you eat them.
Dance Sambo Dance!
Prance and add the butter to the better batter there.
What could also be much better so much neater.
Dance Sambo Dance!
The tigers are just pancakes.Sambo is the eater.
Sambo Danced.
poem by Charles Hice
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Tissue Tigers (The Arguers)
I shout this,
You shout that,
The clouds are coming over looking awful black.
Its all hot air.
You say go,
I say stay,
Clear blue sky goes sheffield grey.
Its all hot air.
Ive grown immune to your claws,
Pussycat, I know...
All your threats are tissue tigers,
Crawling across the table to me.
All your threats are tissue tigers,
Ripping em up is easy for me now.
I shout this,
You shout that,
An eye for heart and a tit for a tat.
You easy tear.
Think your stripes,
Are yellow and black,
I can only see the yellow one down your back,
You easy tear.
Ive grown immune to your claws,
Pussycat, I know...
All your threats are tissue tigers,
Crawling across the table to me.
All your threats are tissue tigers,
Ripping em up is easy for me now.
We argue all life long,
Youd swear that black was wrong,
Throw tantrums like queen kong,
Ive trapped you in my song.
All your threats are tissue tigers,
Crawling across the table to me.
All your threats are tissue tigers,
Ripping em up is easy for me now.
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tissue Tigers
I shout this,
You shout that,
The clouds are coming over looking awful black.
It's all hot air.
You say go,
I say stay,
Clear blue sky goes sheffield grey.
It's all hot air.
I've grown immune to your claws,
Pussycat, i know...
All your threats are tissue tigers,
Crawling across the table to me.
All your threats are tissue tigers,
Ripping 'em up is easy for me now.
I shout this,
You shout that,
An eye for heart and a tit for a tat.
You easy tear.
Think your stripes,
Are yellow and black,
I can only see the yellow one down your back,
You easy tear.
I've grown immune to your claws,
Pussycat, i know...
All your threats are tissue tigers,
Crawling across the table to me.
All your threats are tissue tigers,
Ripping 'em up is easy for me now.
We argue all life long,
You'd swear that black was wrong,
Throw tantrums like queen kong,
I've trapped you in my song.
All your threats are tissue tigers,
Crawling across the table to me.
All your threats are tissue tigers,
Ripping 'em up is easy for me now.
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tigers And Goats
Tigers and goats,
And the tigers ate up the goats;
But they will get the signals when the church bell rings,
And like Medo-Persia, Greece and Rome!
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Adorable
The white tiger cub had blue eyes!
He looked adorable!
The sight of him was some surprise,
The day he came to call...
He had a swagger in his stride,
A special confidence!
Just like a lion full of pride,
This tiger had few friends!
The other tigers envied him!
You see, he looked too cute!
Filled up with beauty to the brim
And his horn first to toot!
'Hey, look at me! ' He seemed to say!
'Admit it, I look cool! '
That made the tigers walk away...
And he felt such a fool!
When wisdom slowly filtered through,
He quickly changed his style.
And stopped the things he used to do...
He didn't even smile...
Now humbled, he walked all alone...
Unloved, unliked, unsure...
Nobody even shared a bone...
It shook him to the core!
One tiger showed him pity, then...
His loneliness to end...
Humility's the moment when
You're thankful for a friend...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Adorable'.
poem by Denis Martindale
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Tigers Cry, too
Where's my fierce, fluffy tiger? I'm back from the outside and I just want him to take over my insides; i want to feel his arms, hot blood rushing in as his skin meets my skin that soaks every bit of him in, eagerly. Fierce as a tiger, but his eyes gleam like a baby's. Warm, and cuddly...what more could my rain beaten soul ask for, besides a cup of hot cocoa? Fierce as a tiger, but wounded- just a little bit- and wants a lamb to kiss the pains away. Fierce as a tiger, but tigers have tears and I have tears, too, and arms, hope, love waiting...for the tiger with the blu-dye fur; i'd give it sooner, but he's got to ask. I know that's hard cuz, he's a tiger and i'm a lamb, but i'll still wait...
Forest Glade
White tigers like to rest and so
They find a gentle spot
And there, they stay, just laying low,
As they like that a lot.
As if their strength of great renown
Had disappeared from view,
They stretch their paws, their frowns droop down
And muscles relax, too.
White tigers get their lazy moods,
The wise do not disturb.
You can't tempt them with juicy foods,
For appetites they curb.
They know it's time they should be still,
So why do other things?
There's nothing like the silent thrill
That warm contentment brings
White tigers, please leave them alone,
Don't try to chase them off.
Especially not the ones full grown
That feel they've had enough.
Just live and let live, give them space.
Don't say you're unafraid!
Let them enjoy their gentle pace
Within the forest glade.
poem by Denis Martindale
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Nikkita: Last Of The Thousand Novembers
I mosey
Around the livid halls
Of a thousand Novembers.
But Nikkita,
Let me tell you something.
This is the last of it.
I am bereft of life,
But in this
Plush death,
I have never been so alive
In the burning
Hours
Of a thousand Novembers.
A thousand Novembers
That gave a thousand more
Deaths.
The wind rushes
In a dash of daggers
As you make love
To the rancid tigers.
This is what you are.
A farce.
A trickster in the form
Of a tulip with thorns.
A ballerina who dances
And tiptoes through fire.
You are the
Burning ember outside
The window that wails
With the night’s tail.
So here,
With all the love
I had
That was never enough,
With all the
Prattle that I have heard
Your whereabouts,
Your new liaisons,
I don’t care.
Let time tell you
Of your own travails.
Let the motions of the clocks
Grant you your
Drudgery.
You are betrothed to
The night’s cantankerous
Soiree of tigers.
You are the tiger’s muse.
But not so much
A tiger’s prowess.
And so to a thousand Novembers,
My death
Wants verve.
And so to the
Tiger who took you,
And you let him take you
To his lair
Of rancorous disdain,
Putrid affection,
Petrified howls,
And sullied fangs,
Slowly puncture
Through her skin,
Mad tiger.
You are as mad
As her crazed tempest.
And to Nikkita,
You are the last
Of a thousand
Novembers,
And mine too,
In a thousand Novembers,
I am your last.
I am the last.
poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr
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