Denis Martindale Poems

The Saviour promised precious things, each far beyond compare,
For any gift the Saviour brings, He truly means to share
And when Christ said that He must leave, He spoke of Calvary,
Yet to His friends He knew would grieve, He promised company.
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White tigers rested, so at ease,
Beside a gentle stream,
Assured of comfort and of peace,
As if within a dream...
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Sometimes on eBay's site I've seen
An artist's merchandise,
Such that, when I feel oh so keen,
Each one's a real surprise...
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My word, that poem said it all! It captured thoughts divine,
It poured out blessings to recall as if God's Valentine.
As if God spent an hour or two, then called a poet near,
To listen to His point of view and then to make it clear.
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Oh, come, now, do you need to ask,
As if without a clue,
For something that's so small a task,
You don't know what to do?
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My poetry is good, in fact,
It's really, really good
And I don't care how folks react
If that's not understood...
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Be patient as you read my thoughts,
Compressed upon this page,
In contrast to all known reports,
This poet's come of age...
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He stands against the fiend, the foe,
The guardian with his ring,
To fashion energy's great flow
To do what it must bring...
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The child looked up with longing eyes,
One dream still pining for,
Not old enough and not yet wise
To even know the score...
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If God wants poems to be shared,
Then surely they must be,
To help each heart that has despaired
Through wholesome poetry,
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