Poetry Edgar Allan Poe & God's Poets Poem by Tom Zart
Poetry Edgar Allan Poe & God's Poets
EDGAR ALLAN POE
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.
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 Allan's 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.
GOD'S POETS = 2013
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 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 God's Poet
Tom Zart
Most Published Poet
On The Web!
If I want to read to biography about any historical figure I read a biography, not a poem. Cold facts are just easier to take in prose form with footnotes. Poems should enliven and dance in the imagination, and a poem about an historical figure can do that. This poem, unfortunately, does not. In fact, this kind of poetry could lead me to abuse psychoactive substances just to try and unread it.
a very interesting and enlightening story of gifts bestowed upon us mere humans.
Tom, I think that you've done a brilliant job with this poem. You had me wishing for more. I loved all three sections. Although I have read, and respect, the works of Edgar Allan Poe, your poem enlightened me about some facets of his personality and his life. Congratulations on Poem Of The Day. Well deserved.
Even though I truly appreciate the work of others I tend to go with my own composition. Furthermore, I don't believe in feeding the dead and leaving the living to starve. Being famous is good, but for some fame takes time to grow. Nonetheless, thanks for sharing, may you be blessed!
I think by looking at your other work that I understand you have stitched together here 3 separate pieces, which lends a disjointed sense to the whole. Just so that you are aware of probably unintended impressions to readers who are not privy to your style. Having read some of your pieces, I commend you for the precision with which you render the structure of your meter and rhyme. It is obviously done with care and attention. And anyone who takes upon themselves the title of God's Poet, should certainly render absolute devotion to achieving the highest level of craft humanly possible, so as not to perpetrate the exact opposite of his intention. I believe that art and worship are similar in that both are impossible without humility; that both yet seek the impossible, to render the infinite accessible to the finite, and the understanding of such futility must produce a deep humility that prevents the endeavor from being doomed from the outset. I wish you well in your endeavours in the impossible, rendering the infinity of the Divine palpable in the finite work of your words. This, too, has been my goal, yet I stand as a man on the edge of a great canyon of my own limitations. Godspeed, good poet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 8:59:10 AM # 1.0.0.1119
This is a real mess.