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John Lars Zwerenz Poem
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 the daffodil,
And embrace you in the waking glen.
And then, let me love you
In the succulent vineyards,
In the blooms of the hazy, yawning garden.
And there, beneath the greenish hue
Of the quickening firmament,
Astonishing and bright,
Where lovers and bards
Succor in the sunlight
Nipples of crimson, lips of wine,
Beneath the fleecy willows bent,
Let our bodies unite
In the rapture of the sunshine,
Where sure delight
Is yours and mine.
And the approaching rain
Shall find us- twain
In spirit and in flesh,
Indeed as one-
As the gray clouds mesh
With the scarlet sun.
John Lars Zwerenz
Copyright © John Lars Zwerenz | Year Posted 2018
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John Lars Zwerenz Poem
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 I may, and write as I did of old: -
Of a sable-haired girl, whose gaze is of a raven-gold.
Her dress is white and long, and her hair is of an elysian clime.
I am struck by visions beside the lane,
On starry October nights, laved by the autumn rain,
And I sleep beneath the myrtles, musing on her kiss.
I have searched for her in ethereal bliss.
I have seen her face in dreams, wandering on the shore,
And the specter of her beauty, passing on the moor.
John Lars Zwerenz
Copyright © John Lars Zwerenz | Year Posted 2018
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John Lars Zwerenz Poem
THE BABY GRAND
The black baby grand,
Caressed by a slender finger,
By a young, red-haired’s fair, small hand,
(With her russet curlicues in a bow)
Emits cadences that languishing, linger
From the royal nook of the lady’s parlor,
Where she gazes through the stained-glass window
Upon the florid, turquoise harbor;
(A wave ascends, then reels,
Circling down to the watercress.)
Her patrician dress
(One might confess)
While modest, reveals
Her soft, lavish knees,
Where lilac-scented harmonies
Ring from that medieval chamber,
Out into the garden below,
Through the half-open, bluish panes,
Where the dahlias, slumbering, waver
Now to and fro, now high, now low,
Kissed by those amber, ghostly strains.
JOHN LARS ZWERENZ
Copyright © John Lars Zwerenz | Year Posted 2018
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John Lars Zwerenz Poem
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 that I can see,
Is your fair face over yonder,
In a court of majesty,
Surrounded by slender, radiant fountains,
Where in a haze, you dream,
In the square beyond the mountains,
Lazing by a falling stream.
John Lars Zwerenz
Copyright © John Lars Zwerenz | Year Posted 2018
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John Lars Zwerenz Poem
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 the brilliant, gilded, golden day,
Come the weeping moon, or the soporific, gleaming sun.
I have in my pocket a notebook I keep.
I wield it come the dawn, along with my flask.
I compose florid verse, a vagabond’s task,
Beneath the blue sky, where the angels sleep.
I drink my wine after rhyme and prose,
In the flowery cradle of a garden-close.
I am struck by visions beside the lane,
On warm, autumn nights, at one with the rain.
I take my dreams for what they are:
The flow of ethereal, lavender seas,
Which rise to every astonishing star,
Swallowing their ecstasies.
I hallucinate when rainbows pass.
I am a symbolist, a saint.
My pages are my canvass.
My stanzas are my paint.
O, muse, I have been faithful to you! -
On trains, on foot, in poverty,
I have brought down the sky and raised the sea!
I have resurrected gold to its rightful hue!
As an alchemist I have perceived the wondrous blending
Of blue and red gems in unions never-ending.
I am the world’s greatest scholar:
All mysteries are known to me.
The forest is my exquisite parlor;
The firmament: Infinity!
Every brook is romantic; all my kisses are of fire.
My lover’s name is Mary; there is music in the marvelous sun!
To paradise I aspire,
To the bliss of everyone!
John Lars Zwerenz
{C} 2018
Copyright © John Lars Zwerenz | Year Posted 2018
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John Lars Zwerenz Poem
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 that shine in gilded rays.
(I love my bride, and her angelic ways.)
The ocean nearby, beyond the alabaster statuary,
Rises with the tide and caresses the purple rocks,
As she reclines on a marble bench with gracility,
Dreaming in her mystic trances, caressing her raven locks.
And the sunset sighs as the fountains rise
To the nascent stars which languishing, hover,
Over the vast and silent courtyard,
As she speaks of things with her sanctified eyes,
To her handsome, young lover,
To her passionate bard.
And our kisses are of ivory nights,
When moonlight sobs, when candle lights
Illuminate the astonishing bower.
Come walk with me, my love, it is the hour
When all seraphs sing their hymns from above.
Come walk with me, my lover, my love!
John Lars Zwerenz
Copyright © John Lars Zwerenz | Year Posted 2018
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John Lars Zwerenz Poem
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 walking,
Walking very slowly,
Beside a teeming, stone wall -
Adorned with gilded vines.
She passed with the ineffable gracefulness
Of an angel immersed in gold,
In a dress of regal white,
As billows soft and laced with fragrance
Kissed her hair with tears.
JOHN LARS ZWERENZ {C} 2018
Copyright © John Lars Zwerenz | Year Posted 2018
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John Lars Zwerenz Poem
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 timeless lassitude of pain
Reserves for my all too sullen heart
A melancholic trail to the light
To allow me to depart
From the tumult of the ceaseless rain.
Lo! What is that specter I behold wide eyed
Carrying a noose with a candle in her other hand?
She is none but a ghost full of Satan's contraband
To place that rope around my neck - coming forth to have it tied!
JOHN LARS ZWERENZ {C} 2018
Copyright © John Lars Zwerenz | Year Posted 2018
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John Lars Zwerenz Poem
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 violins by the ivory colonnade.
And there in the somnolent, redolent shade
I shall take your tender, fair, white hands,
Where only rapturous love commands,
As we rove among the blooms,
In the garden by the ocean,
Reveling in deep emotion
Beneath our gilded palace,
And its grand, palatial rooms.
And I shall kiss your lovely face,
In a state of imperial, gracious grace,
To the chime of harps and wedding strains
Which will emanate from daisies, dahlias and the breeze,
From the chapels by the rustic lanes,
Beneath the golden linden trees.
JOHN LARS ZWERENZ
Copyright © John Lars Zwerenz | Year Posted 2018
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John Lars Zwerenz Poem
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 redolent,
Over ponds in the umbrage, smooth and brown.
An old, iron archway marked the marble square
Which led to a castle, ancient and grand.
On its tower was a balcony, perched high above the land
Where stood a lovely maiden, a lady fair.
She looked at me and smiled with a gaze
That left me transfixed in the sun's saffron rays.
Then all became still, as our minds did intertwine,
Among the dappled daisies, and the roving of the vine.
JOHN LARS ZWERENZ
Copyright © John Lars Zwerenz | Year Posted 2018
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