An Epistle From One Who Loved You

Greetings, my brethren,
May God bless you in His Holy Name.
I was once among you long ago.
Remember the gifts we shared?
Remember the stories we told each other,
Our encounters with the Lord?
Surely I remember those hours,
Time flickering by, like the flames of our fire.
How the years have melted away since then,
As each Winter yields to Spring...

I laugh at the smiles upon our faces,
I marvel at the answered prayers
And so many healings along our path.
How many sandals did we wear away?
Our journeys from town-to-town,
Singing newborn hymns fresh-written,
With psalms poured out like wine,
Anointing our hearts afresh...
I forget the words, yet not our joy,

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poem by Denis Martindale
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God's Precious Perfect Plan

Before my soul was granted here
Within my Mother's womb,
Until my birth when she was near
In my delivery room,
God held my soul within His hand,
Then bid me live my way,
Until the time I'd understand,
As I began to pray...

From that day forth, my fate was sealed,
Both good and bad to know,
Sometimes the road ahead concealed,
Then blindly I would go...
Amid the fog and snow and storm,
Amid the darkest night,
To question if God's love was warm
When there was no insight...

But dark days strengthen hearts of gold,
Though painful they may be

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poem by Denis Martindale
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Pilgrim's Perseverance

I blamed my God, my folks, myself,
For life felt at its worst,
Such that I seemed left on the shelf,
As if my soul were cursed...
You cannot know the depths I've trawled,
The pits of deep despair,
Until the Saviour's Name I called,
As I knelt there in prayer...

There were no shining lights on high,
No angels singing near,
But then again, no need to cry,
As my soul drained of fear...
I simply stood with newborn faith,
As if a child again,
The slate wiped clean, as if to bathe
All my sins there and then...

The miracle renewed my mind,
The darkness fled away,

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poem by Denis Martindale
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The Master's Hand

The painter was a genius,
His pupil knew this well,
For in the times that they discuss
They bond as in a spell...
They think such thoughts that change their art,
Their purpose and their style,
Such that new wisdom can impart
Its reasons for a smile...

The pupil spent a whole weekend
Within the studio,
Together with his brand new friend,
Who seemed all things to know...
The painting pupil's Easter scene
Was called The Cross of Christ.
Behold the Man... The Nazarene...
God's Lamb here sacrificed...

The pupil thought his painting done
When Sunday night came round,

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poem by Denis Martindale
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Gethsemane Miracle!

Alone He walked for private prayer, disciples holding fast,
Christ's countenance that of despair, His hour had come at last.
Gethsemane was quiet now, as twilight there encroached,
As Christ's head bore a bloodied brow, temptation thus approached.
And there were whispers in His mind that matched His fearful heart,
Perhaps the Cross of Christ to find, perhaps chance to depart.
Was there still hope? Or some way out? Was there escape for Him?
Or was there now no single doubt, God's cup filled to the brim?

Lord Jesus prayed as trembling hands conveyed His weakened state,
Obedience to God's commands or some new twist of fate?
Three times to pray the cup might pass, in case God chose this path,
Three times and each with mercy scarce, one choice, Christ's epitaph.
And then an angel there appeared to strengthen Christ with faith,
Convincing Him that though death neared, Christ only Man could save.
For that one angel, give God praise, he helped the Lord stay true,
For blessed is He who still obeys and sees salvation through.

Who knows what words were said that night as Jesus stood His ground?
For courage came instead of fright, with God's grace all around.

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poem by Denis Martindale
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The Rapture Of The Righteous

My day began like any day without a single care,
Yet in my thoughts I had to pray, for I became aware...
My life had changed, this much I knew, for something made me shake
And this effect just grew and grew until a great earthquake!
Where was my wife? Where was my son? The streets had split in two!
I knew right then I had to run! Where to? I had no clue.
The chaos led to screams and screams as buildings crumbled down
And in the midst of these extremes, a voice I couldn't drown...

'You had been warned a long, long time and it has happened now.'
My life no longer worth a dime because of it somehow...
Then I saw people vapourise, completely disappear!
So many gone before my eyes that I was filled with fear...
The voice declared, 'The ones you love have both been caught away,
The Lord has called them up above, today, this very day! '
The unsaved sought the Christians left, to hold on tight then flee,
They stayed on Earth and felt bereft when God did not agree!

The unsaved wept, right where they were, as if they had no worth,
While Christians left behind a blur as witness to the Earth...

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poem by Denis Martindale
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This Weeping World

Within God's Garden of Eden,
Two human bodies lay,
God's forbidden fruit now eaten,
The two forgot to pray...
Now in their headstrong sin they smiled,
Their guilt not far away...
The sin that dwells in every child
Awaits God's Judgment Day...

From that day on, the Earth would weep,
Her mists now formed as rain,
As if a vigil she must keep,
To wipe away each stain...
To wash away the stench of sin,
Each sorrow, strife and strain,
She fights a battle she can't win,
A victory she can't gain...

When Winter came, the snow and ice
Released their white motif,

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poem by Denis Martindale
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Saint George

The dragon, taller than a tree,
Looked down on George's head,
While he looked up uncertainly
And fighting first his dread...

He stood his ground, not one step back,
As faith within him grew,
For while he knew that things looked black,
He had to see this through...

The dragon stood his ground as well,
Though George held high his sword...
The dragon, thought to come from Hell,
Perhaps with fire stored...

The dragon had no flames and yet
He knew George planned his death,
Yet thought he had no need to fret,
If George no more had breath...

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poem by Denis Martindale
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The Poem Pals

When I woke up, I looked outside and what a sight I saw
There was no place for them to hide near to my neighbour's door.
The Poem Pals were back again! With poems in their hands
That God has sent out to all men and women in His lands...

When they saw me, they waved hello! I waved back and made tea.
I asked them in to get to know what was the mystery...
They told me straight, 'He's busy now, his T.V.'s on the blink!
And so us guys he won't allow, he's hardly time to think...'

So off I went and they went, too, 'Good luck! ' they said and smiled.
The problem sorted, he said, 'Phew! ' and calmed down, now quite mild.
I told him of the Poem Pals, 'They visit me as well,
They're full of wonders, full of tales, what stories they could tell! '

'You see them, too? ' He was amazed! 'Oh, yes, they're all my friends! '
'Thank God for that! ' he quickly praised, with no need for pretence!
They stood in line, the first one in, his poem now to share,
So that my neighbour could begin to make the world aware...

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More Poems Still To Do

It happened as I climbed the stairs, time frozen, in a spell,
So suddenly, no time for prayers, twixt Heaven, Earth and Hell.
Amid these great realities, stood my immortal soul,
Yet there I sensed a heartfelt peace, though I had no control.
I heard the voice of Jesus Christ, who told me who He was,
That for my sins, life sacrificed, as He bled on the Cross...
He bid me follow, I obeyed, then Heaven was revealed,
With Earth and Hell to fade and fade, as they were both concealed.
The entrance to God's wondrous place was slowly opened wide,
To bring a smile upon my face as I then walked inside.
I trembled as the Lord appeared and worshipped on my knees,
To stand again as Jesus neared... Behold, the Prince of Peace!

Yet why was I alone this way, was this my interview?
What were the words that I should say, except for 'I love You! '?
And so it was, I simply sighed... He smiled as we walked on,
Upto my home God's Son supplied, then quickly, He was gone!
A loneliness then filled my heart, my spirit drained as dead,
As if my world was torn apart, with nothing in its stead.
Without the Lord, what was it worth? No angel died for me.

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poem by Denis Martindale
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