Stealth Poem by Denis Martindale

The tiger's tail swished left and right, to signal his concern.
The easy prey was in his sight, if startled, it would turn...
The tiger's whiskers twitched as well, with tension-troubled verve.
He stood transfixed, as in a spell, as if he'd lost his nerve.
By stealth, at first, the hunt began - his wild eyes stared ahead
And step-by-step, he formed his plan, in case his victim fled.
Escape routes noted, here and there, the obstacles nearby...
The times to leap up in the air and for a short time fly...
All his skills and his behaviour meant conscience was denied...
All the odds seemed in his favour. The fates seemed on his side.
He stood alone, no-one to blame, his burden, win or lose...
His heart was stone, his eyes aflame, the moment, his to choose...
The time was near, one minute more, the countdown now in force...
His every heartbeat keeping score, like tremblings in his paws...
What happened next was just a blur... A total pantomime...
All he could do was simply grrr! 'Cos he messed up, big time!


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