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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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
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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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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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Tiger
Tiger in trouble
Poaching infighting
Accident oldage -
Reasons.
No wayout to save.
Tiger- symbol
Heroes and braveries.
Tiger in trouble
Only crocodile tears
We have.
Wait to see
Tigers total extinction
Wait to see
Our own
Culmination.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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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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A Tiger
Life as a tiger would be prowling around
Hunting swiftly without making a sound
Black and orange stripes falls across his skin
Little do you know about the roar it has within
The tiger quickly moves upon to his feet
Searching the jungle looking for something to eat
The lion might be king of the jungle
But the tiger kills and they still stay humble
The rare colours of orange and the black
If He sees pray he’s sure to attach
There eyes in night time can see twenty twenty
Black is the colour of death and it has killed plenty
People see tigers as quite violent creatures
But if you dig deep inside you’ll find some peaceful features’
The tiger tooth is white and pointed all around
The lion is called the king but the tiger should be crowned
So when you see a tiger
And you don’t feel very prepared
Just have a read of this poem
Then you wont feel that more scared
By Chizom Okpara and my freind Sami Amusan
poem by Chizom Okpara
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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...
Restful
White tigers haven't much to say,
When flat out on the chin...
'It's been a long, long, long, long day...
I'm pooped! It's done me in! '
So there he was, eyes almost closed,
Quite restful... dozing off...
And now no longer quite disposed
To act as if a toff!
Aristocrats must also sleep,
When into beds they climb...
To yawn again and breathe in deep,
When it's their beddy-time!
White tigers may be very rare,
But they can't beat the clock!
A tiger's eye can stare and stare
Till moonshine it must block...
Tomorrow's just another day,
Who knows what it might bring?
For now the big white cat must lay,
Like any other king...
I've never heard a tiger snore...
I'd never get that near!
But if I did, I'd shake his paw
And scarper, never fear!
By day, to him, I'd raise my hat
And meekly gently bow...
Good night, you furry fluffy cat!
You're not so mighty now...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Restful'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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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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Lions And Tigers (Oh My)
When the tiger sleeps, the coward growls,
While the lion naps, the hyaena howls.
When the tiger saunters down to the pool,
The coward hides, he's not a fool.
When the lion strolls through the African veldt,
The hyaena shivers, in his spotted pelt.
The tigers eye's turn hot blood to ice,
The lion terrifies, with his piercing cries.
Such is the case in many climes,
The haughty ones pick opportune times.
They walk by showing their disdain,
Always making sure, that the tiger is chained.
6/10/11 Alton Texas
poem by Juan Olivarez
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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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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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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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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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Of Tigers And Rivers
you speak of tigers
and you define it not of its colors or shape or form
but of its shadow
this tiger that lies soundlessly between the
wedges of words
inside the indolence of some syllables
at first i am confused
that this tiger may come to form with sharp
razor teeth and then with new feet jump before me
to devour me
but you assured me, diligently in all the books of your
library, filled with dusts and silence, that this will never happen,
i waited for quite long,
there is this sound of a burst of a gun,
some drops of blood dripping from the ceiling,
i am looking for the scene, the Act, and the characters,
of the play that you have not finished writing,
there is the endless space spreading before me
the rivers flow
from my mouth, and i am carried away, to your glimpse
of eternity.
i am afraid, that your tiger is dead.
i suspect, that the rivers too dried.
i hope for more words, i am tired
the same thing happens in the history of men
promises are made to be broken
tigers are shadowy beasts that exist only in the minds
and rivers seemingly flow like all tomorrows
eternal, they never stop
they never end. Like air.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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Law Of The Bungle
The tiger flashes sharpened teeth.
Bowler-hatted; summer briefs
Beneath his pinstriped skin.
To kill demands a business sense;
Economy moves non-residence
Approaching from down-wind.
Being a tiger means you laugh
Whenever lesser tigers have
To eat meat thats infected.
Being a tiger means your mate
When overfed will defecate
In places least expected.
Knowing a tiger means you must
Accept his promise of mutual trust
And offer him your throat.
Loving a tiger means you take
Second place to the cake you bake
And with undying servile obedience
Keep the stiffly starched collar
Of his conference shirt spotless
And remove daily the daubed bloody
Evidence of his dastardly misdeeds
From the otherwise immaculate elegance
Of his pinstripe tiger coat.
Period.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The white tiger
In the wildness the white tiger is so rarely found
Having a very white colored fur with black deep stripes
It’s a solitary genre wanting no one around
With its retractable claw the white tiger the prey gripes.
It is born from Bengal tiger having round deep blue eyes
Because the Bengal tiger has genes for white coloring
It may be complete white, but may not be different in size
At night it hunts some pigs, cattles and deers for eating.
These double recessive allele in their genetic code
Are the cause for turning up once in every thousand births.
The Bengal tiger becomes white in this natural mode
A great potential for excellence is found in its strengths.
In small areas with concentrated prey it survives
White tigers in the wild live about ten or fifteen years
It learns to be a swimmer when in the water it dives
And runs to catch any prey that in its sight appears.
Maharajah Shri Martand Singh hunted in the jungle
He saw a tigress with four cubs and one of them was white.
With drum beat and trumpet blast he ought fires to juggle
Next day he searched it but no tigress appeared in his sight.
At night the tiger vision is six times better than ours.
Tiger scratches on trees serve as territorial marker.
The stripes help the tiger to stay hidden many hours
And sometimes it fights a new territory to conquer.
The white tiger stripes are always like human fingerprint;
No two tigers have the same pattern of stripes on their fur
Female takes cubs to kill or in prey their teeth to imprint
But before this they are all blind and weigh two or three pounds.
MCN: CR291-J5UEC-PBN4L
© copyright Wed Feb 16 01: 31: 45 UTC 2011 - All Rights Reserved
poem by Marieta Maglas
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