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 ...
The Poetry Teacher
He stood before the class again,
The book held high to read,
Reciting things beyond our ken,
To help us to succeed…
So off he went and in full flow
Though words fell to the ground,
For we refrained such thoughts to know
As he cast these around…