Soul Poet Tom Zart's = POETS ARE THE BELL RINGERS OF THE SOUL
by Tom Zart POETS ARE THE BELL RINGERS OF THE SOUL Poets as a rule are high on adventure Like wondering bards or prophets today. Embracing hearts and minds with wisdom Casting through verse their visions at play. Poets have their dreams and their nightmares Of love, life, death, faith, and war. They feel the pain and tragedy of others Even those they've never met before. They fan the flames of human compassion With their stories of the failings of man. Professing to follow a higher power As they recruit whomever they can. Poets are the bell ringers of the soul As they depict the past, the present and beyond. They sound their alarm of what lies ahead As the missteps of man live on. Tom Zart MASTERS OF VERSE MY FAVORITE POET My favorite poet is God above Who gives Earth its rhythm and rhyme. Not pied pipers of misguided souls Who promote distrust, hatred and crime. Poetry is nature serenading in song The peaceful roar of the oceans waves. The wind through the trees and over the hills And the flowers in the fields by the graves. The sound of rain as it waters the thirsty The songs of children at play in the park. The far off rumble of trains or thunder As they pass through the night in the dark. The joy of our babies first words and steps The passion of life with its heroes and clowns. The on going struggle to survive our sins As we proliferate in hamlets and towns. My favorite poet is our Father of love Who was first to know us before birth. His poetry prolongs every thing we love As His deliverance gives life its worth. MASTERS OF VERSE Poetry is one of Earth's oldest arts Practiced long before words of print. Every race had its masters of verse In caves, huts, cabins or tent. Stories in verse were handed down From one generation to another. The first told of love, war and more And how to survive each other. As man became more civilized He could not help but wonder within. Verse then took on a deeper meaning With stories of faith, superstition and sin. The act of reciting became in demand As verse began to advance Every tribe, city, town and village Had someone who gave words romance. Today's poets are on the World Wide Web Though many seem spiritually ill. Thank heaven for all who still have God's gift To compose, teach, comfort and fulfill. EDGAR ALLAN POE One of America's most famous writers Was born in Boston, January of 1809. Both his parents were failing actors And his father was drunk most the time. In 1810 Edgar's dad disappeared His mother died soon after. A childless couple took him in Raising him with love and laughter. Edgar had a Negro nurse Who brought him to her quarters. There he listened to ghost stories Far beyond earthly borders. The strange tales he later wrote May have come from her inspiration. The words she used to describe death Gave Poe his taste for sensation. The Allans moved to England Where Poe attended boarding schools. There's no doubt his time spent there Sharpened his skills as tools. Returning to Richmond and back in school He began to compose new verse. Heavy debts forced him to leave college As his life took a turn for the worse. Poe caught a ride on a coal barge to Boston Where he was unable to find employment. A young printer agreed to publish his poems Giving him hope and enjoyment. Penniless, Poe enlisted in the army And was accepted to West Point in 29. Poe couldn't stand not being a writer Self-imposing his dismissal from The Line. Afterward he became an editor and critic And married his cousin who was thirteen. Six years latter he discovered she was dying Suffering once more the unforeseen. He went through periods of insanity Caused by grieving and functional fall. He smoked opium and drank too much Till at his doorstep death would call. Edgar Allan Poe the master of verse Still lives in our hearts today Famous for The Raven and other great works May his soul rest in peace we pray. WHISPERS OF THE HEART Poetry consumed is where wisdom begins As we heed to the whispers of the heart. It's easy to blame others for our dismay When from ignorance we refuse to part. Verse is a beacon of hope in the darkness To help us navigate the pitfalls of strife. Far more tend to write it, than read it That's why there's endless conflict in life. I write poems to help fuel the light By sharing what God has given me. With stories of life, love, war and more. Where heroes pray on bended knee. THE POWER OF POETRY Poetry is the lighthouse of life Guiding the lost from a stormy sea. Without it's presence darkness prevails Keeping us from all we can be. Poems are used to convey passion By poets of both good and evil mood. Some are hateful others loving Sharing thoughts to be consumed as food. Verse can lead us to glory or doom As we partake with others within. Depicting our past, present and future With words of man's grace or sin. People write poetry because they have no choice Answering to the call of their gift. Where some tend to pull their readers down Others compose to give them a lift. Always remember the power of poetry Is used by both heaven and hell. It's up to us to choose our pleasure As poetry remains alive and well. DIVINE INTERVENTION I never write a poem That doesn't write itself. I catch a buzz and come alive Like a puppet off it's shelf. Hearing many voices, Whose words are never mine. My pen becomes a painter's brush Forming visions on a line. I seem to be a better person, When it's time to sit down and write. A higher power guides my hand Sharing wisdom by day and night. People born to create, Have no choice but to perform. It's the rush of sharing their gift That elevates them from the norm. What would our world become Without intervention from above? Angry beings in a revolving cage With no sense of passion or love. ALL POETS SERVE A MASTER Most poets have a bit of Solomon Shakespeare and Poe within. Constantly eager to share their visions Of love, life, joy and sin. Some guzzle whiskey Some sip wine, Some prefer cola And feel just fine. Some smoke pot Or suck cigarettes Some abuse drugs With lifetime regrets. Some attend church And sing of God, While others make fun And call them odd. All have a purpose Which drives them to compose. All serve a Master, Who by free will, they chose. POETRY God has always had his poets Who he watches with love from space. But Satan has his poets too Who try to lead us from our grace. King Solomon was a poet Who spoke of love, life, death and war. That lips were like threads of scarlet And that breasts were roses and more. The wild birds sing and flowers bloom As clouds form figures in the sky. But only humans will write poems That shall last long after they die. The eldest sister of all arts Which some have called the devils wine. Poetry is but pure passion To stimulate the heart and mind. A GOOD POEM A good poem paints a picture For both your heart and brain. It doesn't need a second chance To make its meaning plain. A good poem is like the flower The lily or the rose. God plants it in a poet's brain And there its beauty grows. A good poem like a cardinal Is pregnant with song; You can't help but hear its message As it sings what's right or wrong. A good poem helps us remember What the joys of life are for It makes us want to love someone Till death comes knocking at our door. GOD'S POETS The prize jewels of any nation Are the philosophers of the heart. How they think is universal For it's God who makes them so smart. Most poets tell the truth of life Though they may wrap it in beauty. It's their passion, not their purpose To compose is but their duty. Poets have no reason to lie When the truth is always so clear. All that others say and do Is but food for the poet's ear. One merit of a poet's work, Which most people cannot deny They say more and in fewer words To illuminate you and I. God sent His poets down to earth With words of wisdom and of worth That they might touch the souls of men And bring them back to Him again. By Soul Poet Tom Zart Most Published Poet On The Web Poet and Author of Love War And More 225 poems published by Publish America; SHEPHERDS of LIFE e-book 350 poems, CD "MEMORIES" 28 poems with music by Bill Crain for sale on the web under Tom Zart and or Bill Crain. It's appropriate and symbolic that the romantic poet Tom Zart was born on Article Source: http://www.faithwriters.com |
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