Denis Martindale Poems
* 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 Perfect Poem!
I wrote it last night while sleeping,
The dream unfolding all!
I penned the poem while weeping,
Repenting like Saint Paul!
Yes, so moved was I while writing
God sent an angel down...
I saw two armies while fighting
To gain some worldly crown!