African Sun Poem by Denis Martindale

African sun, behold him there...
One lion, nothing more.
He's lying down without a care,
No yearning to explore...
Perhaps his paws are hot as coals
And he's plum tuckered out...
Exhausted by his long patrols,
He just can't move about...

It's all your fault! Yes, you're to blame!
You've paralysed a king!
You might have well have made him lame!
Now he can't do a thing!
No longer can he stalk or creep
To quickly catch his prey!
I bet he'll soon be fast asleep
Until the end of day!

For shame, I say! Have pity soon!
He hasn't even roared!
In minutes, it will be high noon,
Please let him be restored...
If not, I'll have to pray for rain
And then he'll get upset!
He hates damp grass across the plain,
His fur all soaking wet!

Of course, I'll leave it up to you...
God help you to decide...
Five minutes more! Then say, 'Adieu! '
Let conscience be your guide!
I bet his eyelids weigh a ton!
I bet you're proud of that!
African sun, look what you've done!
He's like a pussycat!

copyright, Denis Martindale

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