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soul Poet Tom Zart's = ANIMAL AND NATURE POEMS

by Tom Zart  
10/17/2008 / Poetry


The keeping of birds is part of history
How far back no one can know.
Once luxury pets of kings and queens
Or on the shoulders of pirates long ago.

Birds have remained on man's menu
Though all can be tamed as a pet.
Chickens, ducks, geese and turkeys
Are served on the tables we set.

Noah sent a dove to find dry land
And it returned with an olive leaf from a branch.
God gave birds feathers for clothes
So in the elements they would have a chance.

The best way to enjoy wild birds
Is to attract them close to you.
Providing feed, water, bushes and trees
Is all a bird lover needs to do.

Birds are really quite remarkable
When left alone to do their thing.
We have robbed their eggs and plucked their plumage
And yet they continue to sing.


A man's best friend is still his faithful dog
Who anxiously awaits his return home.
Where would man be without his canine love
When his human mates have left him alone.

If a man was as good as his dog thinks
He'd be more famous than a football star.
It's too bad our wives don't feel the same way
I guess its because they know how we are.

Man has no fear of his dog's love for life
Though it's usually man who buries his pet.
It matters not be they large or small
What animal has loved man more, as yet?


It's hard to imagine our world without trees
Shadowed only by concrete and steel.
Thousands of products would soon disappear
Changing everything we see and feel.

No more baseball played with wooden bats
No more plums, pears, cherries or apple pie.
No more campfires to circle at night
And to pencils and books say goodbye.

Trees like people come from seed
Both drink breathe and consume.
They feed, house, and protect us
As they sweeten the air with their bloom.

Larger and older than any living thing
Far bigger then the ocean's blue whale.
Some grow 350 feet tall,
Before falling victim to the nail.


Butterflies pass through four stages of life
During the last, they are able to fly.
Eggs then larva, change to caterpillars
Transforming to flying rainbows of the sky.

Blue, black green, yellow, brown, red, white and orange
Armed with a keen since of smell, taste and sight.
With predators like birds, bats, wasps and ma
They are never safe even in the night.

Butterflies are the artwork of nature
Chased by collectors with their net and jar.
Labeled and pinned for their storage and display
As new specimens are sought near and far.

The next time you see some kept behind glass
Remember, they once glorified the air.
Their colors and grace generate beauty
As in harmony, their radiance they share.


The scent of roses, carnations and daisies
Draw to our gardens the hummingbird so fair.
Evoking the essence of nature's living jewels
As the splendor of their plumage rides the air.

So graceful they fly with speed and direction
Products of creation that dazzle the eye.
A luminous vision of worldly wonder
Our most elusive visitor from the sky.

They're the smallest of the small on feathered wing
Collecting with their tongues the sweetness of earth.
Enhancing our lives by their mere existence
A temple of beauty, endurance, and worth.


My job is in the open air
And, Lord, I love the work I do
For flowers are my joy of life
Though their beauty belongs to you.

Your flowers are so lovely
Yet, I'm ugly, wrinkled and old
I've lived beyond my mortal span
As the days I have left unfold.

Your lilies are my pride of life
And many of them there be.
They're worth a fortune, people say
Though money has little worth to me.

Their glory is my just reward
As their radiant heads they raise.
I dedicate them to you, oh Lord
With all my love and praise.


Rainy days are a gift of life
As they water the thirsty of earth.
When nature sometimes weeps with joy
Like a father who watches a birth.

Rainbows of color arch the sky
As storms prepare to part
The sound of thunder shakes the ground
As heaven speaks to my heart.

When storm filled skies are dark and gray.
That's when I yearn to strive.
Rainy days make some feel sad
But for me, I feel so alive.


Nature like man sometimes weeps with joy
As rain drops plummet and the living grow.
Soon there after its fair weather once more
With spectrums of color arching that glow.

Some day's can't help but be dark and dreary
A common fate which has been shared by all.
The earth needs rain to water it's thirsty
And into each life some moisture must fall.

Behind storm clouds the sun is still shinning
So never give up when your sad of heart.
What mad sailors curse, poor farmers pray for
Cause without God's rain all life would depart.


The songbirds sing as skies turn pink
While the brightest stars fade away
One by one I watch them vanish
As the sun gives birth to the day.

The scent of dawn is so fresh
As flowers make ready to bloom.
The dew sparkles upon the grass
While the morning dissolves my gloom.

A flock of geese circle above
In search of some rest and a meal.
I watch them land upon a lake
As inside, how lucky I feel.

The moon's still high upon its throne
As it orbits across the sky.
I know that I shall love earth's dawns
Till the day in my grave, I lie.


Twilight skies turn orange, pink and gray
As the stars watch the dying day.
The winds of night now stir the breeze
While most birds roost the in trees.

The fireflies glide above the grass
As bullfrogs sing to torment bass.
Soon the moon will circle high
Beneath its cape of star-filled sky.

The twilight is first evening's bell
A time of peace when all is well.
Another day has come and gone
Not to return until the dawn.


Over the heads of all I meet
Falls winter's life giving snow.
Upon the rooftops and the streets
Filling the sky and earth below.

Dancing, swirling, skimming along
Like the snows of yesteryears.
There's lots of ice on the windows
As my lashes freeze over with tears.

It's so cold; it's too cold to snow
Yet the snow continues to fall.
The land is covered blanket white
As the winter winds wail their call.

There's a red-hot fire awaiting me
That will thaw out my every part.
It's not the glow of a fireplace
But the love that dwells in my heart.


In most all places where people live
Various kinds of fruits grow wild.
Which early man gathered from near by plants
Long before Noah was a child.

The remains of apples, pears, plumbs and cherries
Have been found in Stone Age caves.
Grapes, olives, dates and figs
Were placed within tombs and graves.

Fruit was consumed fresh or preserved
Dried by the rays of the sun.
To be eaten during the long cold winter months
Till the snow would melt and the rivers run.

Columbus took seeds along on his second voyage
To plant and cultivate wherever they would grow.
To be plucked and devoured by hungry humans
Instead of obtaining them from the forest of foe.

Today's fruits are native of many different lands
Though most will grow where the climate is right.
They are picked and shipped by plain, train, truck or boat
To be enjoyed with delight.


Three hundred years after Christ's birth
Just south of Rome on fertile land
Grew the sweetest queen of all flowers
Roses cultivated by man.

The poet Horace once expressed
That roses were worth more than grain.
Seed fills a hungry man's stomach
Where roses feed his heart and brain.

Flourishing in ancient China
Grown by monks for two thousand years.
Roses symbolized man's passion
For envy, sadness, love and tears.

Nero spent fortunes on roses
Whose petals showered down on his guests
He wished to teach his subjects
That roses were an emperor's best.

So take down your shovels and plant
Placing roses around your home.
For their sweet scent and great beauty
Are from heaven to us on loan.


The skies of night have a thousand eyes
Where the skies of day have but one.
Night's black mantle covers us all
With the setting of the sun.

He who shares stars with a woman
Will have happiness at night.
Mixed with hugs and words of love
Their future together is bright.

Late at night, when most are asleep
And dream of another day
Those who stare at God's moon
May say 'thank you ' as they pray.

So, let us drink the wine of night
And feast on the silence of stars
While earth is bathed in holy light
And seen without its scars.


As flowers pop forth from the soil
And the birds begin to sing.
The cold north wind sleeps once more
And a gardener knows it's spring.

Daffodils are always first
Sometimes before the snow shrinks.
Tulips are the next to bloom
With their reds, yellows and pinks.

Then come the purple iris
Whose scent makes men think of love.
Along with the sweet lilac
They give life's romance a shove.

When I was young and foolish
I sowed my oats all around.
Now that I'm old and married,
I plant seeds and bulbs in the ground.


The planting of flowers around a humble house
Does as much as a big smile on a common face.
Like those heavenly bodies aloft in the night
Which adorn with their brightness the darkness of space.

King Solomon spoke of earth's flowers in the Bible
And that where they appear the birds begin to sing.
The voices of love can be heard across the land
And that lilies and roses are a sacred thing.

So till up some soil and be fruitful with seed
And behold as flowers rise from earth again.
For the sweet scent of blossoms invading the air
Fans the fires of passion in both women and men.


When I was young and before girls
I loved to go fish the river.
Creeks and ponds where alright to
Anywhere that would deliver.

Fingerlings four to five inches long
Are what trophies love to feast on.
Trout line or pole made no difference
Bate up and the fight was on.

Sometimes I would strike a fire
To help keep warm in the night.
Spring, summer, fall, I was eager to go
Wherever the big ones bite.


The cold winds of winter play tunes with the trees
Though now they sound different when striped of their leaves.
Our warm days have gone and for spring we must wait
And all who are in love pray it won't be too late.

The snow has piled high on the rooftops of town
As small birds huddle in the bushes they've found.
Everywhere are snowmen standing as guards
While children throw snowballs from forts in their yards.

Winter's cold days are dreary and often cruel
But their hardships are used by God as a tool.
His reasons for seasons fit his grand plan
To strengthen the souls of both woman and man.


The signs of spring are for all to see
Letting the world know that nature sleeps no more.
As she awakens from her long winter nap
Living shoots of life sprout forth from before.

The robin can be seen hunting for a meal
As the gentle breezes urge the budding trees.
Soon fragrant blossoms will burst open with bloom
Attracting the eyes of creatures and bees.

Gone till next year, are winters cold days of chill
While the fever of love hits the ground on the run.
There's heavenly splendor wherever we look
As earth is warmed by the rays of the sun.


Easter lilies are in full bloom
As young men think of love.
Women can feel passion within
As they view the nesting dove.

Spring hangs her blossoms on the trees
Though winter's moss is dry and dead
As their sweet scent invades the air
Blades of grass raise their head.

Spring will soon vanish with the rose
And summer shall scorch earth again.
Daughter of heaven, mother of all
Spring's loved by both women and men.


As cold autumn winds strip the trees
Melancholy days have arrived.
Most flowers, already are frosted brown
Though mums are the last to survive.

There's lots of fog on the windows
As the shorter days lose their light.
The year has changed into its wine
When our days are shadowed by night.

Flowers, butterflies, trees and bees
Have all gone dormant 'till the spring.
Dead leaves rustle as children play
In the absence of birds that sing.

Winter to spring, spring to summer
It's time for those fall symphonies.
The leaves all plummet to the ground
As the wind plays tunes with the trees.


Katrina hit like an atom bomb
Consuming the helpless in her path.
The waters of the deep surged forth
Flooding everything with their wrath.

The evil took advantage of absence of law
While the brave risked their lives for others.
The best and the worst was seen by man
Though many became like brothers.

May heaven show mercy upon the lost
Never to love, laugh, hate or sin.
God bless every man, woman and child
Whom we may never hold again.


Heaven's stars are the works of God
The scriptures of his night sky.
After sunsets golden-red glow,
They 're there to captivate the eye.

No one can see beneath their feet
As heaven's pearls ignite their souls.
To be as one with their maker
Is the highest of human goals.

Blessed be the candies of night
Which guide the sailors at sea.
Bathing earth with their soft glow
For all who love them, as we!


For thousands of years man has wondered
How the moon came into being.
As we look up at its ghostly glow
We can't help but feel what we're seeing.

King David watched his beloved, Bath Sheba
While she bathed in the moonlight so bright.
He fell in love and had to possess her
Then sent her husband to die in a fight.

The moon itself has shown to be lifeless,
Though it enhances the beauty of the dark.
The daily rise and fall of the oceans waters
Have followed the moon since before Noah's Ark.

From the very first time man took refused
And peered out at the moon in the night.
Acts of love, lust, hate and human sorrow
Have been committed in the presence of its light.

I don't care if man has walked the moon
For most, it retains its mystic power
So turn off the TV and go forth in the night
And partake its beauty regardless of hour.


Besides love men need fishing
And for both, most are wishing
Catching trophies chosen best
To be envied by the rest.

Fishing is a game of sport
Loved by all, both tall and short.
We must fool the fish's eye
If we plan to stir and fry.

Some use boats while others wade
As they fish the sun or shade.
Ice-cold drinks help pass the day
While life's troubles fade away.

Most men feel they've everything
With their rod, hook, cork and string.
Be it river, pond or lake
We all pray our line won't break.

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: WRITERS

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