Sonnet: the Master Poet

’Tis God who inspires in me fire!
He is the Master-Sculptor and Poet!
I play a melody with strings well-set;
God-kindled heart of mine becomes a lyre.

Every poet speaks to God in his mind,
In ways so strange that both can understand;
The Poet is a singer in his band;
To God’s tenets, his songs will always bind,

With time, he communicates very fast;
The Poet takes up every word of His;
And so the poems get very well cast;
As if God gave the poet’s mind- bliss.

To thee belongs my poems, O my Lord!
They are made great byThy divine accord.

3-3-2000

poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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