The First Teacher... Poem by Denis Martindale

One man began, to sit alone,
To muse on thoughts divine,
He didn't sit upon a throne,
His goblet filled with wine…
He merely sat upon a chair
Or smooth-faced rock nearby,
Then gently words began to share,
To make him laugh or cry…

Yet time began to take its toll
When peace turned into war,
With blood-stained heart and blood-stained soul,
While he survived the more…
And sweethearts fell to other men
And wives laid low as well,
Such that he looked back there and then
And wrote about such hell…

When peace returned and songs were played,
The past a distant blur,
He wrote with joy, no more dismayed,
At what yet could occur…
The party raged, the music flowed,
He sang a song or two,
The music eased his heavy load,
With tunes both old and new…

The older man had tales to tell,
His journey not yet done,
A time to muse, then bid farewell,
Beneath the grass and sun…
What lay ahead? Was Heaven real?
Such truths made men think twice…
Eternity, with time to heal,
A golden Paradise?

The dying man had made his peace,
He faced the Lord that day,
That day that gave his soul release,
No matter, come what may…
Yet that old man had written all,
He had no more to share,
He gave thanks for God's miracle,
A life that led to prayer…

His final prayer was all he wrote
To be blessed by the Lord,
Such that Mankind could then take note,
Find faith and stand assured…
That's why his words are still around,
In Bibles far and wide,
Because his words can still astound
Through wisdom he supplied…


Denis Martindale August 2017.


GOD BLESS YOU AS YOU BLESS GOD!
DO SOMETHING SPECIAL FOR HIM...


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