Denis Martindale


You Call Yourself A Poet?


I had a dream the other night
That chilled my very soul,
A demon laughed and caused a fright
And tried to take control...
A poem contest he proclaimed!
He wondered who would win!
He hoped, of course, that I'd be shamed,
A loser, then give in...

He jumped right in, began to write,
Reflecting now and then,
Then smiling wide with pure delight,
Another verse to pen...
I let him finish every line,
Cross t's and dot the i's,
He read it out and it was fine,
If you believed his lies...

Then I began with title penned,
The first verse praised the Lord,
It told of Christ, the Sinner's Friend,
True love as His reward...
The second verse explained the Cross,
The Resurrection, too,
God's victory, despite the loss,
Love shared with me and you...

The third verse mentioned Pentecost,
Three thousand saved by Christ,
Their souls were found, no longer lost,
That's why they were baptised...
I read the poem loud and proud,
The demon's smile drooped down,
He slinked away, his sad head bowed,
As if to hide his frown...

The winner wasn't thus declared,
He couldn't say a thing!
He simply stood, looked back and glared,
With no more pride to cling...
When I awoke, my poem stayed,
It's framed upon my wall,
The only pride in Christ displayed,
Right there, for one and all...

Submitted: Tuesday, July 23, 2013
Edited: Tuesday, July 23, 2013

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