Comments about Denis Martindale
* 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 ...
How Do I Write A Poem?
How do I write a poem, friends?
With one phrase at a time,
Until, of course, the last verse ends
And each verse looks sublime...
For patient edits here and there
Can change a word or two,
Perhaps to add a certain flair,
Or change a point of view...