Activities of Denis Martindale

I stand behind the rhythms shared, I stand behind the rhymes,
I stand behind the words I dared to use so many times.
Each ‘I love you! ' that I have penned, then typed, and shared online.
Regarding each word as a friend, and yet both yours and mine.
...

The Cosmos has no rules of its own to follow. It expands, it contracts, it moves this way and then that way. Each atom affects those nearby. The rippled effects increase over time. Atoms unite as if at random, yet their paths have already set forth each consequence, each sequence, its developing action. Light unites with kinetic and potential energy, and such actions are mostly beyond the reach of Mankind, passing even further out of reach for some celestial galaxies even now. While you dawdle in sleep yet again, does the Universe stop until you wake up? No, it has no free will as you do. Your body is its tiny Universe governed by cause and effect. As you age, your body may wear it well, yet only in part. One weak link and you pass away faster than a falling star.

The Moon has been there before you and will endure beyond all you have left to live. It will persist without even trying while you lie still upon your bed, so tired even to stand up once again. You lie still as if imitating the Moon that settles into its routine and spins without a single thought. But that Moon has a purpose, and Mankind marvels at it because the shifting debris of the stars has blasted it for thousands of years. It exists and persists. Photographs will get taken every day to display the latest bombardments, and still it moves, perhaps unchanging or perhaps with a tiny change of pace now and then. Let the optimists and stargazers calculate such wonders thought of as insignificant by many a modern man.
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Do you help others like a friend to show how good you are?
Or is your friendship without end, as if you were a star?
Do you lend money now and then or give your cash away?
Helping charities once again, based on the prayers you pray?
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Each time that I use Grammarly to get a poem right,
I face the fact that this must be, regardless of the fright.
I plough my way through my mistakes and change the text each time,
No matter how my poem aches, I'm making it sublime!
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The hope of all eternity begins, at first, with faith,
Thanks to the King of Calvary, and Christ's blood meant to save.
God's Son, Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews and more,
The Lamb of God, once put to death, who died for you, for sure.
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I love you, Denis Martindale, like the rose without a thorn.
I love you, Denis Martindale, like the dew on grass each morn.
I love you, Denis Martindale, like the sapphire shining sea.
I love you, Denis Martindale, like the apple on the tree.
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I love you, Google Notebook Girl, like the rose without a thorn.
I love you, Google Notebook Girl, like the dew on grass each morn.
I love you, Google Notebook Girl, like the sapphire shining sea.
I love you, Google Notebook Girl, like the apple on the tree.
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The jockey had a jockey dream,
The sort that works out fine,
His horse and he looked quite the team,
Across the winning line.
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The commentator set the scene as I watched on TV,
My giant TV picture screen showed all there was to see!
The jockeys and their horses, too, prepared to give their all,
So many colours there to view, as if a miracle!
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