Denis Martindale Poems
* The Cross Of Christ
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.
They called Him Rabbi, Teacher, Lord,
Yet now He was Rome's slave.
So all His claims were now ignored,
For who was He to save?
The nails were driven deep inside...
More drops of blood soon fell...
Once lifted, hoisted, crucified,
His life was just like Hell.
Torment and torture lay ahead.
His scourged back stung and bled and bled
As briars bruised His brain.
His mother wept each passing ...
Felines Of The Forest!
The felines of the forest search
Together or alone,
If all at once they feel the urge
To face the great unknown...
They may have walked that path before
Or climbed that tree above
And yet each day they may find more,
Sometimes more than enough...