Gift Of Past Poets Poem by James T. Karam

Sitting at my coffee table
In my solitary apartment house
Looking through the window
At the spacious night sky
In the month of July
Watching the spirits of past poets
Hovering over
Revealing to me the secrets of the world
And of the poetic mystery of eternity
Setting my thoughts in motion
I took up my pen
And poured out my heart
Feeling upon the parchment
Composing with desire and joy
Poetry that has made me a prisoner
Of words, thoughts and writings
Which has become a devouring flame
Within my soul
As I sat thus deep in thought
Before me stretches out a poem
Which I have fashion
Into greatness, love and beauty
Bring forth the power within me
That God the great has bestowed
For this is my poetry
How can I end it
When in truth it has no ending
A poem that began with my first writing
And which will last to eternity
To be embodied in the writing of poetry
And contenting myself with the littleness of today
Now I can proclaim
To myself and to the world
That the gifts of the spirits
Has fashioned me into a poet
BY. James Thomas Karam
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