Two tigers had now formed a bond,
The future looking bright,
Yet one of these was over-fond,
Affection in plain sight...
The other tiger looked bemused,
Discomfort on his face,
With cute advances not refused,
Yet not now, in this place...
So visible, no privacy,
Embarrassed, lacking tact,
Right there, no chance to disagree,
As if caught in the act!
The nuzzling tiger cuddled close,
While he stayed on the ground,
Next to that naughty tiger's nose,
As if the two were bound...
I giggled at the sight I saw,
For love was in the air,
For her, no need to ask for more,
For him, so hard to bare...
My camera clicked and caught these two,
Though neither should be named,
Poor thing, there's nothing he could do,
True love had got him tamed!
Denis Martindale, copyright July 2016.
A poem based on a magnificent wildlife painting
by Stephen Gayford. Google-search phrases
gayford prints and 'Stephen Gayford poetry'.
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From just a cub, the lion grew,
From strength to strength to rise,
Such that, if now, he looked at you,
The sight would mesmerise...
As long as he stays over there,
A distant golden thing,
I wonder, would you be aware,
That he's the lion king?
Behold his stature and profile,
Observe his face so stern,
As if his heart were full of guile,
With nothing left to learn...
Yet he's the only alpha male,
Commanding fear from all,
He truly has a tale to tell,
For he's a miracle...
He serves the cause of Nature best
When he preserves his line,
That lion heart within his breast
Bears gold that's meant to shine...
For courage rules and courage takes,
His kingdom's quite sublime,
Yet starts anew, each dawn he wakes...
To fight another time...
Denis Martindale, copyright July 2016.
A poem based on a magnificent wildlife painting
by Stephen Gayford. Google-search phrases
gayford prints and 'Stephen Gayford poetry'.
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The Bengal Tiger faced the dawn,
With hunger and with thirst,
With every stomach pain to warn
He felt like he'd been cursed...
Yet soon a meal came passing by
And when his pains had ceased,
The Bengal Tiger questioned why
Some feelings hadn't eased...
Then he recalled a miracle,
A hidden place to go,
Because it was his secret pool
That very few could know...
I saw him turn around that way
And sensed him heading there,
Some inner instinct to obey,
That soothed a solemn care...
The pool remained his sanctuary,
His realm of solitude,
A respite meant for harmony,
The healing of his mood...
The bubbles burbling cast their spell,
Reflections played their part,
An hour passed and all was well,
In mind and soul and heart...
Denis Martindale, copyright July 2016.
A poem based on a magnificent wildlife painting
by Stephen Gayford. Google-search phrases
gayford prints and 'Stephen Gayford poetry'.
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'Are we there yet?' the calf inquired,
As elephants would ask,
That walk so long their feet get tired,
As if too much to ask...
But then the water made him stare,
He ran and splashed with glee,
As if there's nothing to compare,
'This is the life for me!'
The older elephants agreed,
With twinkles in their eyes,
The water helped fulfil their need,
That came as no surprise...
But that young calf splashed up and down,
He thought life was sublime,
With squishy mud so moist, so brown,
He had a swell old time!
And then he laid flat like a king,
Devoid of pains and fears,
Content to stay, not do a thing,
Surrounded by his peers...
I watched them all, a distant friend,
No harm had I in mind,
For I was glad to comprehend
Their Shangri-La to find...
Denis Martindale, copyright July 2016.
A poem based on a magnificent wildlife painting
by Stephen Gayford. Google-search phrases
gayford prints and 'Stephen Gayford poetry'.
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The Mallard Duck was quick to quack,
He wasn't one to halt
And with no language, bound to lack,
That hardly was his fault...
But on he went, with much ado,
Quite fervent for his size,
As if to quack was something new
And somehow was so wise...
I sketched away and marvelled there,
His plumage coloured so,
To patchwork quilts he could compare,
When waddling to and fro...
And yet a friendly chap was he,
Advancing to be fed,
Upon the crumbs I offered free,
From handpicked scraps of bread...
And then his quacks seemed not so queer,
Like 'Thank-you, you're a friend!'
As if though tall, he liked me near,
That's nice to comprehend...
My sketch was done, now time to leave,
All my bread gone, none left...
No wonder, ducks are bound to grieve,
In fact, he looked... bereft!
Denis Martindale, copyright July 2016.
A poem based on a magnificent wildlife painting
by Stephen Gayford. Google-search phrases
gayford prints and 'Stephen Gayford poetry'.
Poem shared here:
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The Mother Cheetah stood her ground
Surveying all to see,
In silence, not a single sound,
Portraying mystery...
As if some strange event was close,
Not knowing good or bad,
Because such truths God only knows,
The future, glad or sad...
I watched intrigued, my camera raised,
Then waited, poised like her,
For sudden movement when she chased,
Expecting just a blur...
Then off she ran, my camera tracked,
As I panned left to right,
The prey was caught with such impact,
No chance for further flight...
I couldn't take a picture though,
Some photos I can choose,
Instead of yes, my heart said, 'No..'
And then I must refuse...
My awesome photo had to wait,
Another time and place,
Because I'd rather celebrate
That cheetah's style and grace...
Denis Martindale, copyright July 2016.
A poem based on a magnificent wildlife painting
by Stephen Gayford. Google-search phrases
gayford prints and 'Stephen Gayford poetry'.
Poem shared here:
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