The Art Of Writing Poetry Poem by Denis Martindale

The art of writing poetry can lead to many things,
Such things some say are plain to see, some only known to kings.
The common man enjoys a song yet poems will not write.
The poet chooses to be strong and writes by day and night.
And should it prove his greatest task, he strives until he's done,
He asks the questions he must ask, some asked by everyone.
But when new insights spring to mind, he stands above the rest.
New treasure troves are there to find, yet only when he's blessed.
Content to meditate a while, he muses now and then.
In search of words that make him smile and thus gain once again.
For contrived phrases on each line that give his heart a thrill,
That pour out like some seasoned wine and always, always will.
And should it be a new song's born as one tune sets the tone,
His knows his life proved not forlorn, nor did he write alone.
For sometimes God inspires themes, from Scriptures Old and New,
Or visits him within his dreams, to guide in what to do.
Or helps his daydreams visualise the visions he must see,
Perhaps to gaze at Paradise, beyond his poetry.
Perhaps to know of future days that prophets should explain,
Or recommend the wisest ways that overcome life's pain.
Or stretch the telling of a tale beyond the spoken word,
Or reach beyond death's darkest veil for secrets overheard.
So study what some poets write, should they portray such things,
Should they reveal the golden light that blesses sovereign kings,
Or reaches out to children, too, with mellowed words and rhymes
And not just to the chosen few God seeks to bless at times.
When poets pick up pens each day, the Devil's trembles tell
That he's aware of what they'll say each time they warn of Hell
Yet God still seeks that truths be told, that lost souls may be saved,
So that new poems may unfold how each should have behaved.
To think, the art of poetry helps save the unsaved soul
Each time it tells of Calvary, how Christ can make us whole.
Thus serving Jesus Christ the Lord, each time with all its might.
That makes this poet overawed, that I, too, choose to write.

Denis Martindale April 2020.