Denis Martindale Poems
Comments about Denis Martindale
* The Prestige Of The Poppy
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.
Not all survived the grief-filled times. Not all returned scot-free.
Not all were able to pen rhymes of utmost misery.
I’m just a poppy, nothing more. I spilt no dropp of blood.
I didn’t wince with pain through war... nor turn the foul flood.
I didn’t march across the fields, nor swim against the tide
And yet I’m ...
Mary, Mother Of Jesus
In Roman times, when swords were raised,
And peace on Earth was rare,
There lived a girl now highly praised,
A girl beyond compare...
Her name was Mary, Joseph's love,
Betrothed, untouched by Man...
Who met an angel from above
Who then revealed God's plan!
'Young maiden, you are full of grace!