Lars Poems - Poems about Lars

'shifty' Lars

He was known by his nickname 'Shifty' Lars

   Who specialized in stealing brand-new cars

      He'd never get caught

         (Or, that's what he thought)

            He's now serving ten to life

The Ghost By John Lars Zwerenz

THE GHOST

Alone in my castle, a plaything of the breeze,
Indolent and tepid, my leisure filled hours
Lead my soul astray from the good, narrow path.
In the black tiers above me demons mock and laugh,
As more of them assemble below in the leafless bowers:
Those ghastly dark gardens bereft of scarlet trees.

I wonder as the November night
In a

Scarlet Breezes By John Lars Zwerenz

SCARLET BREEZES

Scarlet breezes swirl through the square, 
Beckoning us to come
In bright, elysian fare.
A cello and a drum, 
Clarinets and trumpets
Arise and stir and glitter in the fountain, 
Around your sable ringlets, 
In the cloister on the mountain.

There are diamond drops of rain
In your long and raven, perfumed mane.
Let us wander to the amorous refrain
Of

To One In Heaven By John Lars Zwerenz

TO ONE IN HEAVEN

Must I live in loneliness at such a price? 
I have seen her there again
In paradise.
Amid glorious streams, 
She consumes my dreams
As I behold her walking beneath diamond beams, 
In radiant gardens of silver and gold
Where all is new, where naught is old.
Her hair is long, straight and black, 
There angels praise

If You Give Your Heart Away By John Lars Zwerenz

IF YOU GIVE YOUR HEART AWAY

If you give your heart away
Then consecrate with certainty.
Make your union for eternity, 
For more than just a passing day.

For if her hair is of the skies, 
And her tresses are of the blissful sun, 
And her kisses unite you as truly one, 
Then bury your head into her sighs.

And

The Muse By John Lars Zwerenz

THE MUSE

I shall leave the city, the bustling town.
I shall walk to the outskirts of the wild plains, 
And drink from heaven mystic rains, 
Lying in the reeds, drunk upon the down.

My shoes are worn, of coats I have one.
I am a martyr of the furrows and the fields at play.
I live for adventure and

Manic Depression By John Lars Zwerenz

MANIC DEPRESSION

There is a well of blackened brine, 
That knows no dell of air or sunshine, 
A volatile fire, it consumes the heart, 
The mind, the spirit, it rends apart.
And when the hell spawn is loosened in the night, 
Beneath the mad moon, bereft of hope, and stripped of light, 
The long, corridor where candles

An Ecstasy By John Lars Zwerenz

AN ECSTASY

Her long, dark locks wavered in the breeze.
As my soul ascended above the trees, 
All became a diamond light -
Brighter than any earthly sun.

I beheld her hair through a brilliant fountain, 
As her pitch-black tresses were overcome
By the shine of flaming, silver pearls, 
Until I fell into an azure sea
From where I saw her

A Lady Fair By John Lars Zwerenz

A LADY FAIR

I ventured out one pristine night
Beneath blue stars to a furrow on a hill.
I was one with the rose and the daffodil, 
And my steps stirred the grasses in the moonlight.

I came to a garden at the top of the down.
There leafy boughs were scarlet and bent
In the sweet, summer air, so very

Love By John Lars Zwerenz

LOVE

The morn is giving birth
To the dawn- yet to reign, still budding, undone.
Shall you play the earth, 
And me the sun? -
Why not? -
Let us go, let us go 
Where the blue currents run, 
Now hither, now there, now high, now low, 
Upon the lot 
Of the breeze-caressed hill.
Let me kiss your sweet flesh of

A Garden In Paradise By John Lars Zwerenz

A GARDEN IN PARADISE

I took her hand beneath the quivering diamond trees
Which shook their hymns upon us in the warm, October sun.
We found paradise in the glades beneath our knees
As flute and horn, wistful and fantastic
Swept through the redolent, scarlet breeze,
Near azure brooks which forever run
Through valley and dale, mellifluous and majestic,
Gracing reeds with currents

A Gypsy's Life By John Lars Zwerenz

A GYPSY'S LIFE

A gypsy am I, as I rove on the downy dale; 
Aside from the taverns, the fields are my only vale.
I drink from my carafe a fairy-fermented brew, 
And I dream of fair love, beneath a radiant sky of blue.

I carry within my satchel a book of romantic rhyme; 
I wield it when

Our Love By John Lars Zwerenz

OUR LOVE

Our love was an ivory boon, 
Which reigned with the angels in the night.
We would kiss beneath the moon, 
Among the statues in the light.
But your death arrived too soon, 
And so soared our felicity out of sight, 
Which was once so gold, which was once so bright.

Now all that I can ponder, 
All

A Twuck Dwiver Named Lars

There once was an old twuck dwiver named Lars,

   Who had twouble with pwonouncing his rrs.

      To cure the pwoblem he twied,

         But was fwustwated and cwied,

             "My

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