The Cheetah
The sweet sightful moves of an African cheetah
Swooping across the boilling sand of mid-africa
The sun continues to roast the warm fur coat of the feline
As it continues to stride through Africa devine.
It lays down on a rather heated up rock
The cheetah claimed it's resting area
But the reasons of its stop
Was its escape from Malaria
Coming to another increase in speed
The cheetah strolls the farmers of weed
It's green and has an escents of an unfirmiliar smell
But all it knows, was it was grown well.
Passing the various sites of note
The cheetah felt a tad of pain in its throat
The problem was, it couldn't investigate
about the rather dangerous thing it ate.
poem by N.C. Cusack
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cheetah Glow
With those distinctive tear-stained eyes
The cheetah looked around,
With ears alert to realise
Each sudden nearby sound...
In hunting mode, the cheetah sensed
Each second one-by-one,
Alone, aloof and without friends
Beneath the burning sun...
The sizzling light shone down all day,
Upon the cheetah's fur,
To warm its cold heart all the way,
Whatever must occur...
For cheetahs want to stay alive,
Regardless of the cost...
They fight a war so they survive,
Until the war is lost...
This cheetah's stare looked left and right,
For something unaware,
Before the creature's taken flight
On land or in the air...
As fast as cheetah legs can run,
Starvation is the foe,
Beneath the ever-burning sun
That makes the cheetah glow...
Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Cheetah Glow'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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A Cheetah
By some seen as the kitten of wild cat family,
but it is no joke
when at a speed of
one hundred and ten kilometre per hour
a meter and half long Cheetah
of sixty kilograms comes racing at you
with bared teeth and outstretched piercing claws
and the yellow-brown coat with black spots
shimmers and you can see
the breast muscles retracting in power
and while on patrol, you are ready to shoot it down
but frozen like the Bushman tracker
its final direction averted me from shooting
with the powerful light machinegun
and in parts of a second
the cheetah flashed past
going at speed for the impala
that I did not notice before
of which the eyes were open wide with terror
and in a moment the cheetah tripped it,
with jaws locked around its throat
in a cloud of red-brown dust
pulled it down and laid there motionless
until the antelope stopped struggling.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Sunset
The cheetah rested, there to stay,
So statuesque and still...
Just gently taking in the day...
To mellow and to chill.
Life isn't always running round,
All frantic, to and fro...
Sometimes it's settling on the ground
Or simply walking slow.
Sunset would soon be here once more...
The daylight dimmed to black.
The moonlight shining to restore
The golden glow we lack...
The cheetah watched the changing pace
The cooling breeze must bring,
Before each midnight from deep space
God's stars start sparkle-ing...
Staring skyward, the cheetah knew
The future that must be...
It doesn't matter what we do,
Each sunset sets us free...
Yes, some will sleep while others wake,
Yet each lives for a time...
Till something comes our lives to take...
Yet life goes on sublime...
Our children face the future fields
And they will question why
Another crop each grows and yields
And never seems to die...
The cheetah rested patiently...
Appointments he had none...
He only felt tranquillity
Beneath the gentle sun...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Sunset'.
Gayford poems on denis-martindale(dot) blogspot(dot) com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Cheetah
When I was her and she was me
We got along till we became ourselves
When she was me and I was her
We got along till we became ourselves
And trampled in this rut divide our stuff,
Were breaking up
.
You cant believe
How much pain callin
My mama everyday
When I calmed down and saw the sun
Put down the bottle, put down the gun
Ive had enough,
Divide our stuff were breaking up
.
Were breakin up!
Cheetah?
Were breakin up!
Cheetah?
song performed by by Live
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cheetah (Studio Version)
when I was her and she was me
we got along till we became ourselves
when she was me and I was her
we got along till we became ourselves
and trampled in this rut divide our stuff,
we're breaking up
.
you can't believe
how much pain callin'
my mama everyday
when i calmed down and saw the sun
put down the bottle, put down the gun
i've had enough,
divide our stuff we're breaking up
.
we're breakin' up!
cheetah?
we're breakin' up!
cheetah?
song performed by by Live
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sunset (Second Version)
The cheetah rested, there to stay,
So statuesque and still...
Just gently taking in the day...
To mellow and to chill.
Life isn't always running round,
All frantic, to and fro...
Sometimes it's settling on the ground
Or simply walking slow.
Sunset would soon be here once more...
The daylight dimmed to black.
The moonlight shining to restore
The golden glow we lack...
The cheetah watched the changing pace
The cooling breeze must bring,
Before each midnight from deep space
God's stars start sparkle-ing...
Staring skyward, the cheetah knew
The future that must be...
It doesn't matter what we do,
Each sunset sets us free...
Yes, some will sleep while others wake,
Yet each lives for a time...
Till something comes our lives to take...
Yet life goes on sublime...
Our children face the future fields
And they will question why
Another crop each grows and yields
And never seems to die...
Yet those that swim, fly, walk and run
All perish soon enough,
As if one task must yet be done -
To fall in love with love...
The cheetah rested patiently...
Appointments he had none...
He only felt tranquillity
Beneath the gentle sun...
The version of the poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Sunset'.
Gayford poems on denis-martindale(dot) blogspot(dot) com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cheetah Vigil
The cheetah vigil first began
When hunters searched for game,
With rifles hanging from each man
Until they each took aim...
Then friends and foes were near to death,
As they fell one-by-one,
Upon the ground to fight for breath,
Before their lives were done...
The sound of guns would spook the birds
That settled in the trees.
The elephants were lost for words,
As death crept by degrees...
The orphaned remnant left behind
Escaped while they had time,
With grief still stirring in each mind
At such a ghastly crime.
What magic would men think of next?
What callous acts would come?
The cheetah paused, looked back perplexed,
Like others feeling numb...
Who gave these men the right to kill
For souvenirs not food?
To stand and fire guns at will
In this calm neighbourhood?
The cheetah sighed with great dismay
That chilled his very soul,
Yet kept his vigil through that day
With utmost self-control...
Tenacity can change the heart,
Turn good folks into bad,
These hunters came and wouldn't part
Till they'd got what was had...
From this day forth, the rules had changed,
The cheetah knew that well...
For now, no peace could be arranged
Within this newborn Hell.
The vigilant may yet survive,
Forewarned with time to hide...
To stay the fastest cat alive
Despite the grief inside...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Cheetah Vigil'.
More Stephen Gayford poems:
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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Ever Watchful
As the ever watchful cheetah
Was resting on the ground,
She believed no-one could beat her
While listening for each sound,
Yet her eyes could see much further
Than pricked ears could relay
And so her eyes would serve her,
Protecting her each day.
A mother's love is diligent
And seeks the common good...
Her eyes are always vigilant
To scan her neighbourhood...
So watch out, fellow predator,
This cheetah's wide awake...
And be wise, don't seek to hurt her...
Your life could be at stake...
If left alone, her family
Will last for many years,
Yet ever watchful she must be,
Diminishing their fears...
It may be sunny overhead,
With gentle breezes, too...
Yet all God's creatures must be fed
And don't care what or who.
Compassion's limits she knows well,
Yet love still has its place...
If you look hard, then you can tell...
Her love shows on her face...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Ever Watchful'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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The Pride To Be An African
My Africa My Africa My Africa
My Africa of which everybody imitates
My Africa of which culture exceed the Greek
My Africa of which everyone is jealous of
My Africa My Africa My Africa
My Africa of enormous natural endowment
My Africa of Non-Violence
My Africa of Amorous populates
My Africa My Africa My Africa
My Africa of patriot men and women
My Africa of shelter and vintage hospitality
My Africa of great ancestral mythology
My Africa My Africa My Africa
My Africa that bore fruits of black diamonds
My Africa which is a gift to the whole world
My Africa of great leadership
My Africa My Africa My Africa
My Africa of learned youths
My Africa of a bright generation
My Africa true tradition
My Africa My Africa My Africa
My Africa of black pageant women
My Africa of strong men
My Africa from who we all hail from
For every African deserves a Nobel Prize in
Existence.
poem by Fasan paul
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King Cheetah
Untamed, he roams the world he owns,
This land of hopes and dreams...
Where every hunting skill he hones
With perfect-timing schemes...
Intelligence beyond the norm,
Instincts that serve as guide...
There's beauty in his face and form
That cannot be denied...
This cheetah's fast as lightning, too.
In seconds, flying fur...
A rocket barely still in view,
From head-to-tail, a blur...
Perhaps that's why I call him king
At everything he does...
He flies like birds upon the wing,
No hassle and no fuss!
To me, he's got an athlete's style,
Trimmed-back, machine-like grace...
He's fit to run that extra mile
For every single chase!
Such speed, of course, is rarely found,
That's why I'm so impressed...
Of all the big cats still around,
This king's one of the best!
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'King Cheetah'.
The Stephen Gayford poems can be viewed here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Cheetah Haven
The mother cheetah settled there,
With two cubs still in tow.
This was the time to shed her care,
Her tension and her woe.
The cubs looked timid, as did she,
Yet danger wasn't near.
In time, they found serenity
And lost all sense of fear.
Their hearts were beating gently now...
They nestled, sunshine-blessed...
Content to be at peace, somehow,
And thankful for the rest...
Togetherness makes life complete,
A morsel to enjoy...
A portion that makes life more sweet,
If wisdom we employ.
For life deserves a change of mood,
Not busy, draining power.
What creature always hunts for food
With every passing hour?
That's why the cheetahs found this place,
This haven in the sun,
This miracle they could embrace
Until the day was done...
Let others run and swim and fly,
Let others walk or crawl...
The cheetahs watched the day go by,
Spectators of it all.
The cubs were pleased, the day went well,
They must do this again...
This secret they must never tell...
Just visit... now and then...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Cheetah Haven'.
poem by Denis Martindale
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Close Comfort
Two cheetah cubs stood unafraid
Together side-by-side,
Thus harmony was well portrayed
And thus personified,
Love's treasure trove, tranquillity,
Too precious to neglect,
Made manifest for all to see,
With mutual respect...
We savour peace while it remains,
Like sunshine from above
That gently warms the dusty plains
As if God smiles with love...
The cheetah cubs breathe in, breathe out
And not much more gets done,
What need have they to run about
Beneath that sizzling sun?
Their hearts beat gently, life goes on,
Contentment overflows...
Their sibling rivalry has gone,
But how long for, who knows?
Yet while peace nestles in each heart
And love indwells each mind,
Tranquillity can thus impart
Good reasons to be kind...
Denis Martindale, copyright, July 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Close Comfort'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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I just use my muscles as a conversation piece, like someone walking a cheetah down 42nd Street.
quote by Arnold Schwarzenegger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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savannah game
cheetah zips past zebras
for an antelope
haiku by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Color Change
from known to known
fear moves
in a circle, like a cheetah;
a jounery starts
from shivers to shivers –
when it was pouring
the taste of sting
ascending
loosening beside
between the lips
a word strieks,
terror spills from a naked eye,
you move inward
peel off the face
the eternal shame
of mankind, a hunger will miss
the date with a chameleon
poem by Satish Verma
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Africa and Africa’s
Have seen little of history unfold
I know that one thing will always be
Africa will be,
But what is Africa’s may never be
White man came
Green lands began to dry
So did rivers and streams
Even oceans and seas
Whatever the white man sees
Seems to vanish from Africa
Like dews do in his singeing summers
When he sees peace… there! Gone
The white man said he’d in Africa invested
In actual sense he had Africa infested
Looting without shame
Claiming England is Object; Africa its subject
There was gold, grandpa says
We fight over our own
Lacerate throats and disembowel ours
Man in white fuels it dressed in black
We choose our way
Dos, don’ts, and embargoes stay
When we invent, they endear us
Purporting supervision, yet looting
What is Africa’s one day will be
And shall remain African and Africa’s
What should unite Africa is Africa’s
It will never split Africa into Africas
poem by David Munene wa Kimberly
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Felines
Look at the leopard. He is all peppered
with spots from his head to his toe.
His body is sleek and his eyes do shine
and he's ferocious when stalking his foe.
Look at the lion. He's no dandelion.
In the jungle he's King of the beasts.
He's courageous and strong and prowls like a cat
to find his food and then feasts.
Look at the tiger. He can spring higher
than most of the cats you'll see.
His coat is all tawny or sometimes stark white
with stripes that are black ebony.
Look at the cheetah. Be fast or he'll eat ya.
You won't have much time to escape.
He's faster than lightning with legs that are long.
It seems that he's always in shape.
Look at the panther. He's not any fancier
than the rest of the cats that there are.
But the coat that he wears is midnight black,
a black that's the color of tar.
Look at the cat that lives where you are,
the one that can purr and can mew.
They say he has nine lives and I doubt that he does.
But, the one that he lives is for you.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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African Spirit
Unfortunately, I will not stop,
Across Africa, I will travel with this African face,
My African pride,
And my African story.
I saw your face in Zimbabwe;
Then I saw it again in South Africa.
You smiled at me in Malawi,
Why were you surprise to see me again in Angola?
I carry the African song,
Listen to soulful rhythems from within.
I have an African heart,
With lots of love and pain, it won't part.
Your African face smiles at me with inspiration,
Across Africa and the world, give me an ear;
I speak an African language.
Someday you will know my love,
Someday you will sing my song,
Someday you will hold my heart;
Someday you will cry the same tears in my eyes.
Someday you will relieve my pain,
One day you will understand me.
Someday you will join my fight an we'll make Africa our pride.
poem by Peter Phiri
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Into South West Africa
It was on a summer day
that a pair of camouflage coloured
Mig-21 fighters sneaked from Angola,
into South West Africa
and one turned back
and the other continued at 36000 feet
heading southeast.
Although they were tracked by radar
no Mirage or Cheetah fighters
intercepted them
and running out of fuel,
Lt Domingos José de Almeida Vinez
made a dead stick landing
on a farm near Otjivarongo.
The uninjured pilot
surrendered his pistol
to the Police
and in minutes,
was a prisoner
of the SADF.
This incident happened
months after the Cuban Mig-23 attack
on the Calueque dam
and to this day I wonder,
if Vinez and his wingman
was sent on a mission
to check the SAAF’s
interception abilities?
poem by Gert Strydom
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