Denis Martindale Poems

Though Christmas was just days away, a special treat, I got!
A tin of sweets! Should I delay? Or quickly scoff the lot?
Temptation grew each passing hour! Could I hold out for long?
Did I possess some greater power? Would I be weak or strong?
...

A poet sat and thought a while before he wrote again,
For random words had cramped his style as would a broken pen,
Yes, they had left him unimpressed, the little so-and-sos,
I must improve, the man confessed, as he surveyed his prose.
...

The positive power of prose
Transcends both space and time,
Such that it speaks and overflows
Beyond the choice of rhyme,
...

There came a time, one man used rhyme, to please a girl he met,
And all at once, with words sublime, came words not to forget,
As if he cast a magic spell, his true love to impart,
Before she chose to bid farewell, he sought to win her heart.
...

A little girl looks up at the stars,
Sees them as the twinkles in her Mother's eyes,
As ballerinas twirling upon the darkness of the stage,
As flickering flames above invisible candles,
...

So many features old and new,
I looked confused as if no clue,
Sometimes I guessed at what to do,
Where was my poem titles view?
...

Underneath the sky, so high, the lands and seas remained,
And yet these sights must make God sigh, for some by blood were stained,
Men fought battles and men fought wars as if by these they gained,
Beyond the whys and the wherefores, when hate becomes ingrained.
...

There came a time of secrecy when research opened wide
A Superdrug supremacy that gave new powers inside,
When comic tales and mad extremes like atoms would collide,
That then brought nightmares, not just dreams, too great that none could hide.
...

Each poet has to do the biz,
Before he proves that he's a wiz!
If not, then what's the point of this,
When that first written draft's amiss?
...

How hard life hits our Christian friend, the one who shares so much,
Throughout this life until the end, no more our hands to touch,
When praying hands stay far apart, not as we prayed before,
Nor gentle beating of the heart, from where prayers start for sure.
...