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.
...

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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In Roman times, when swords were raised,
And peace on Earth was rare,
There lived a girl now highly praised,
A girl beyond compare...
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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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I saw them riding in a dream, Hell-bent upon their course,
And each one with a sickening scheme as he rode on his horse...
And so they moved, this world to claim with utmost misery,
With death and suffering as their aim, their shame and infamy!
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A nightly vision came to me, as in the dream I slept,
Pertaining to humanity and every tear once wept...
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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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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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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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