The man with eyes that still perceive… esteems this present day,
With all its blessings to receive… before night steals away…
For like a dream, it comes then goes… as if to melt with time,
With total truths God only knows… that could have proved sublime…
A poem written proves a friend… that future books cannot…
Something on which you can depend… if written on the spot…
Tomorrow's books aren't here today… what wisdom could they share?
What smiles or laughter to relay… what thought, or hope, or prayer?
That's reason, poets, to rejoice… to write or type again…
To seize the day, to make the choice… if merely with a pen…
My choice is typing when I can… computer on, all set…
Perchance to help my fellow man… to give all that I get…
For words arrive by grace unplanned… as ready writers prove…
When God in love leads by the hand… our human hands to move…
Then comes the purity of thought… the focus for our eyes…
With insights borne of good report… more than we realise…
Let others write their books, alas… I know that's not for me…
For God has destined I amass… the joys of poetry…
Denis Martindale… Palm Sunday, the 14th of April 2019.
GOD BLESS YOU AS YOU BLESS GOD!
DO SOMETHING SPECIAL FOR HIM...
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This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem