Denis Martindale Poems

The jeering crowd like jackals stood,
To see what must be done.
Though once they thought this man was good,
They didn't see God's Son.
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The arctic fox was laying low,
With cunning in his eyes,
While just above the ice and snow,
Just waiting in disguise...
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Behold my form, my humble guise, my fragile fashioned grace.
Look deep within the giver’s eyes, some noble hopes to trace.
November’s here and folks look back to what heroes have bought.
They stood as one as things looked black, courageous as they fought.
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It's true, I am an elephant!
In fact, I've always been!
I've got this trunk way up in front,
Stuck here, right in-between...
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A baby Panda has to eat,
How else can Pandas grow?
He has to stand upon his feet,
To go where he must go!
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A happy man is he who's found a lass that he can love...
As if by beauty he's been bound yet wouldn't shake her off!
Her lips like magnets draw him close till he looks in her eyes!
What happens next God only knows for eyes can hypnotise!
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Behold the precious Prince of Prints,
By wildlife he is stirred!
Yet who is he who uses tints?
Mr Stephen Gayford!
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The measure of love, in truth, is this:
To treasure each sigh, close by, then kiss!
I've revelled each girl I yearn,
Just to discern
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My daughter is God's gift to me,
Her father in the Lord.
She's my great joy, my ecstasy,
My loving God's reward.
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Behold the tiger's face up close,
With all its deep-etched lines.
Like charcoal ridges by his nose,
How clearly each defines.
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