Herein Is Beauty
Herein is beauty, not merely in the dearly covered flesh upon the bone,
Nor in the fashioning of a dress upon the form,
Nor in the twinkling, sparkling jewels upon the naked fingers…
But, rather, centred within the temple of the human heart,
Fastened to the eternal essence of the sacred soul…
There, in the midst of things, sheltered from all harm,
Exists the quintessential being, the true character contained,
And cushioned there are the colours of the rainbow,
Each representing a facet of the internal spirit of life…
Goodness and meekness and kindness and gentleness…
The softened sweetness, pure as honey,
Untainted by the harshness of life's cruel trickeries,
Unblemished, untarnished by the patina of time…
Look well upon true beauty, for it is worth the study…
Compare it with all that Man would call beauty…
There is no comparison in all of Nature's realm…
The Universe itself can barely contain it,
Yet it must, for how else could we, mere mortals,
Comprehend it and esteem its splendours?
Herein is beauty, not merely in the dearly covered flesh upon the bone,
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poem by Denis Martindale
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Sir Poet
Buckingham Palace awaited him
And the car arrived in plenty of time.
He was gently helped out of the car
Then used walking sticks to make his way...
Doors were already opened so less trouble
And on he walked to meet Her Majesty.
When his name was called, he approached her
And, though in agony, he knelt before her.
Not one trace of pain, not even a wince,
Just the completion of the ceremony.
He was now to be called Sir until life's end,
For all that it mattered to the milkman
Or the postman or the neighbours next door...
He had a few poems printed in the paper
With a frail old man style photo underneath.
A few feedback replies and then nothing else.
So he published one last anthology and waited.
He knew that his life would soon be over...
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poem by Denis Martindale
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Utterly Prophetic
Computers can get so advanced
They could predict for Man
With software that has been enhanced
To help fulfil this plan...
And so it was, three decades past,
Elijah Five was made,
So that the nations knew at last
With data it displayed.
Technicians printed off each sheet
As it poured out its reams...
For days and weeks until complete,
Man's hopes and dreams and schemes...
At first they made no sense at all,
As if they were in code,
Great expectations seemed to fall,
Though data overflowed...
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poem by Denis Martindale
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A Year Full Of Memories
Man begins the year after a cold Winter
And in need of hope and revival...
He welcomes the early splendour of new buds
For they serve as the heralds of new life...
Daffodils brighten up a faded garden
And therefore bless us in a spiritual way,
Just as the sight of the first butterfly...
A flitting red admiral can make us smile,
Thrill us and fill our hearts with wonder.
Summer holidays are known for children at play.
The 'orrible 'omework is finished for a while!
Outside the house is a brave new world!
The glorious garden is now a place to party!
The sunshine treasure trove starts early
And though it fades late in the evening
It still retains its welcomed warmth...
Autumn has its own treasure trove, the harvest,
Gleaned from a generous Mother Earth.
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poem by Denis Martindale
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Further For The Father
Hid deep within the Christian heart, within the Christian mind,
God's Holy Spirit must impart some treasure Man can find...
Else all that's left is sentiment, the dreams of what should be,
Like Christ, to be the sinners' friend, takes more sincerity...
The essence of the life divine, the spark of life in store,
The radiance of God's design that shakes us to the core,
The basic right that each would seek, that second chance He shares,
The human right to be unique, yet faithful in our prayers...
Consider all that life allows, the good and bad as well,
Yet most of all the holy vows that rescued us from Hell...
If not for these, salvation's just another game or sport,
Yet God's the Father we can trust, if we do what we ought...
If not, what then? Just discipline, delays on lower paths,
The higher paths so rarely seen and meagre epitaphs...
Go further with the Father, friend, go further with God's Son,
Go further, even to life's end... There's so much to be done...
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poem by Denis Martindale
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Psalm Of Salvation
Consider the sacred destiny of Mankind
And the splendours of eternity...
Reflect upon the supreme majesty of Christ
And His purposes for humanity.
Take hold of His holy prophecies
And take comfort in all of His promises.
Learn well the mysteries of times gone by
And rejoice in their wholesome revelations.
For Man is not hidden from God's sight
And all the prayers of the saints are heard.
The children of the Lord are adopted into love,
For the Father's family must be as one.
Consider how the rose blossoms in the sunshine.
Its perfume permeates the surrounding air.
The breeze spreads across the entire earth.
So it is that love blossoms and increases.
In time, the whole earth is blessed by love.
The Holy Spirit is known across the world.
His guiding light is triumphant truth.
The Saviour of the world taught us to pray.
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poem by Denis Martindale
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A Tribute To Blake
When I behold the works of Blake, his visions to unfold,
I see the journey I must take to sift out all that gold.
I see the sun, the moon and stars, the tiger and the lamb,
I see Man's sin that often bars from God, the great I AM.
I look at Adam and at Eve, once holy in God's sight,
Until the day they had to leave God's Garden of Delight.
When Satan's subtle serpent's hiss shared whispers soft and low.
Such that nigh Eve, truths went amiss and sins they, too, would know.
When Adam found poor Abel dead, what thoughts ran through his mind?
For Cain, his angry thoughts had fed and rocks weren't hard to find.
And while times past, not even kings were free from sin's embrace,
And were not slaves their underlings, to favour or erase?
To think, that Blake could weave his spell, depict the good and bad
And with his visions, tales to tell, the wondrous and the sad.
And even now, his art survives the centuries untamed,
With verses scrawled, till truth arrives, anointed and enflamed!
What righteous thoughts the prophet shared, recalling Bethlehem,
A thousand angels Heaven spared near to Jerusalem.
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poem by Denis Martindale
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The Tale Of Two Poets
Though dreams may come and dreams may go,
One dream stays in my mind...
It was of Christ, that much I know,
Yet modern day to find...
He preached to poets in a crowd,
To all men everywhere,
If of the Gospel they are proud
And still intent on prayer.
Christ told the tale of modern men,
Two poets side-by-side,
Who chose computers, not the pen,
Their poems to provide...
Each seated there before the screen,
Content to type away...
Until God chose to intervene...
One solemn fateful day...
Computer hard drives don't last long,
Two poets soon observed...
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poem by Denis Martindale
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Who Is Jesus Of Nazareth?
Who is Jesus of Nazareth? God's truth I'll tell you now!
A miracle by virgin birth blessed Mary would allow.
Through David's royal line this child was long since prophesied...
In Bethlehem, God reconciled each promise He supplied.
From Genesis, we learn of Christ, the title Jesus owns.
And from the moment He's baptised, He's led till He atones...
He's called the holy Lamb of God, He's called the Prince of Peace,
He's called to sacrifice His Blood to gain the Kingdom's keys!
He called Himself the Sinner's Friend! None else could pay the price!
Enduring all until the end, He is our sacrifice...
God helped Him to fulfil His goals! God tells us to repent...
No other name can save lost souls! No second Son was sent!
Made perfect through His suffering, God raised Him from the dead...
From solid rock recovering the life's blood that He shed!
He prophesied that this would show He was God's Son and more
And share God's Spirit here below, so Christians could be sure!
Yes, sure and certain, strong to save is Jesus, Lord and King
And blessed are those who pray with faith like eagles on the wing!
Disciples stand against the night! They preach of Calvary!
At times to pray with all their might, 'Lord, set sin's captives free! '
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poem by Denis Martindale
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The Dragon Deficit
When George the Dragon Slayer slept,
Reliving how he fought,
He often woke and often wept,
As if it all meant nought...
For gone the chance for future fame,
With no more dragons left
And part of him thought that a shame,
In fact, he felt bereft!
When he arose to greet the day,
He wondered what to do...
No beasties round to block his way
Or beat him black and blue!
No bravery to call upon,
No maidens in distress,
The sun above so bright it shone,
No storm, just happiness...
The children played in safety still,
The tweety birds still sang,
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poem by Denis Martindale
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