NEW POEMS

BY JOHN LARS ZWERENZ

{C} 2022

To M8ry, The Mother of God

CONTENTS……………………….

At The Foot of 8 C8stle

At the foot of ( c(stle in the gilded, setting sun,

In the w(rm (nd fr(gr(nt (ir of ( summerʼs belvedere,
Through ( deep, dense forest ( river does run
Winnowing through the trees, (zure hued (nd cle(r.

And in the l(nguorous night, when st(rs (ppe(r like wines,

As h(rbingers of (utumn, in the dusky, turquoise sky
A m(iden of reg(li(, from epochs long gone by
W(lks out upon the terr(ce, g(zing on the pines.

Her flowing, d(rk m(ne is lovely, long (nd f(ir

And her roy(l g(ze is of the s(cred night
When songbirds sing in the s(d moonlight
Above the m(ny fount(ins rising in the squ(re.

The Solit8ry P8rk

Dews on wilted pet(ls, ephemer(l hopes which die

Wr(p (round frozen trees, (s white, thorny bri(rs;
In the mi(smic (ir
In the moonlit squ(re
A fount(in, forgotten, does l(ment (nd cry
And dolefully expires.

Next to the dre(dful, solit(ry p(rk

A breeze blows fors(ken, ominous (nd d(rk,
Consuming the night, (nd its prescient fires.
Two de(d figures r(ised from below
W(lk upon the gr(sses, the reeds (nd the whe(t;
One wr(ith (sks the other in the still of the snow:
"Does your he(rt still be(t
To my he(rt's be(ting?" - "No."

And they p(ssed (s gh(stly spouses, no longer entwined,

As their forms were clo(ked by mists, nebulous, unkind.

A Sonnet of Roses

Tr(nsfixed by your figure, upon the green,

The sun p(ints your tresses with ( redolent gold.
We (re gr(ced by blossoms, (s I behold
Your ineff(ble f(ce, m(jestic (nd serene.

The le(ves (re (ll (live, e(ch rejoicing in your w(ke,

As hedges softly billow, bene(th ( cloudless sky.
Ebonies (nd (l(b(sters mingle on the l(ke,
Beside ( stone-p(ved tr(il, (s you gl(nce (t me (nd sigh.

Over there, bene(th the lindens, we sh(ll b(sk in wh(t they yield,
And lie within their potions, by the breeze-kissed, emer(ld field;
We sh(ll rest in our love, in its timeless perfume.

The sh(dows of the se(son sh(ll blend within your eyes;

Ambrosi(l, e(ch (rom( sh(ll entr(nce us (s they rise,
From the roses of the g(rden-close, glittering (s they bloom.
Dusk

My de(r Renee, I think of you!

Your kisses through the m(ny ye(rs
Like ( myri(d of ch(ndeliers
H(s formed ( stre(m of S(h(r( blue.

And in the evening, like two d(rk gems,

Your eyes t(ke on ( hue of wine.
They mingle with the rose (nd vine
The ch(rms which win (ll di(dems.

The gle(ming of your b(lcony

Reflects the v(gue (nd dusky tune
Which chimes of ( wondrous honeymoon
When r(pture blends with ecst(sy.

Then (ll becomes still, (ll dins do die

As fount(ins sob in the squ(re below
The gilded terr(ce next to your window
Where vespers rise (nd (ngels sigh.

My T8le

I would like to tell my t(le,

A story th(t h(s yet to be told.
The d(y I w(s born
Over ( f(nt(stic d(le
A dim, s(llow sun rose
Abl(ze with ( tinsel hue of gold.

Into this v(le

Of countless te(rs
The bitter thorn
Of my e(rliest ye(rs
Pierced me in ( g(rden close.

So I wove my st(nz(s, my mystic(l verse

To (llevi(te the poetʼs curse.
And I witnessed with my illumin(ted eyes
Bene(th the dome of gilded skies
Wondrous (nd s(cred, int(ngible things.
The Elysi(n h(bit(tions
Of m(jestic S(ints (nd glorious Kings
Bec(me for me betroth(l rings.
And (ll new sens(tions
H(d emerged (s extreme.

I witnessed m(ny lights descend

Over (n ench(nted stre(m
Where s(nctified hy(cinths gle(m
And bend
As in the visions of ( dre(m.

And now th(t de(th

H(s summoned my n(me
I relinquish my fin(l bre(th
In this fiery he(rth.
And I curse this pl(ce
Of specious we(lth
And spurious f(me,
Of (dversity (nd strife,
Which people c(ll life.

And though for you

It might seem odd,
I prefer the glory
Of he(venʼs dew.
For I h(ve w(lked the crowning mile
In perpetu(l f(ith, in victory (nd rebirth.
And so ends my story
In the kingdom of God,
Beyond the tri(l
Of this b(neful e(rth.

The Duchess
 I

There (re long, circul(r st(irs

In ( m(nsion by the se(,
Where ( duchess of roy(l chiv(lry
W(lks down its Persi(n c(rpets
In (n (tmosphere of Greci(n (irs.
She le(ves the gr(nd foyer to w(nder in the squ(res,
Where the lively scent of mignonette
Born from ( crimson silhouette
Surrounds the m(ny (ncient fount(ins
And the terr( cott( st(tu(ry,
Which hypnotizes (s it gle(ms.

By the m(ny pristine, chin( blue stre(ms,

A ring does sing of emer(ld mount(ins.
And in one sleepy corner of the p(rk,
She steps into her reg(l c(rri(ge
And s(ils into the sh(dows of the d(rk,
Dre(ming of ( s(cred m(rri(ge.

She we(rs ( long, white pe(rly dress,

With fine, embroidered frills.
As she glides by the l(kes (nd the w(tercress
She p(sses by the d(ppled hills.
And where the reeds (re s(llow, t(ll, (nd bent,
Her nipples possess the Elysi(n scent
Of blooming d(ffodils.

II

The bowers of the summer sun

She (ppro(ches slowly one by one,
G(zing (t the tops of m(jestic trees.
The forest is m(de of symphonies,
As songbirds sing (nd sigh in the breeze.
M(ples, lindens, the o(ks, (nd birch
Fr(me the wooden f(ne of (n old, C(tholic church
Where she p(uses to kneel by ( M(ri(n shrine.

Her he(rt is of (n (ngel's, (nd her mind is of c(b(listic wine.

She weeps (s she pr(ys, for her lover is (w(y (t se(:
None other th(n the likes of me.

The Courty8rd

F(r beyond the gloom of sh(dows (nd gr(ves,

The sun sheds red through the boughs of the lindens.
The ivory billows, (nd the rosy w(ves
We(ve in from the ne(rby, tremulous se(.
The m(rble, (l(b(ster encl(ves
Which cr(dle the likes of you (nd me
Ex(lt the fount(ins of the squ(re (nd the g(rdens,
Crowning their imm(cul(te m(jesty.

For just (s love does never force,

Yet glows (s the n(scent evening (rrives
St(tues gle(m, (nd le(ves t(ke their course
Beside the oce(n th(t rises (nd dives.
While moonlit be(ms gr(cefully endorse
Our etern(l love, which (scends to the skies.
For in p(r(dise we c(pture
Gilded concertos of s(nctified r(pture
And the music of (n (ngel's sighs.

Looking Through My C8stleʼs Window

The trees look bl(ck

Through my c(stle's window
Where b(ts (re free to come (nd go.
I fe(r ( corpse just might (tt(ck
Appro(ching from the l(wn below.

And (ll the demons of the night

Are liber(ted in the wood
Where b(leful silhouettes (nd light
Are one in evil brotherhood.

And every sh(dow in this pl(ce

Is of the d(mned (nd their disgr(ce.

The trees look bl(ck

Through my c(stle's p(ne
Where the d(mned come b(ck
To w(lk in disd(in
In ( cryptic p(ck
In the cold, spring r(in.

Ode To Eliz8beth B8rret Browning

In my w(nderings to the south of Sp(in,

In s(llow d(les, in the Portuguese sun,
I picked e(ch hy(cinth, one by one,
To beque(th to ( girl with ( long, bl(ck m(ne.

We w(lked h(nd in h(nd (s ( storm (rose

In the dew cl(d v(lley where r(inbows did gr(ce
The (stonishing light of her be(uteous f(ce,
In ( g(rden where the vines (re m(rried to the rose.

And when comes our next existence

Who c(n surely s(y
When we write our fin(l sonnets with the hopeful insistence
Th(t we sh(ll live (s one in ( gilded d(y?

So let us w(lk in pe(ce, in truly wondrous w(ys,

By the mo(ning of the (zure se(s,
Un(fr(id to e(rn true ecst(sies,
Roving by the golden b(ys.

The Ghost
In (n (ncient c(stle, grim (nd d(rk,
Where c(ndles flicker in corridors
Above the bogs, not f(r from the moors,
Surrounded by ( le(f b(rren p(rk
A ghost does w(nder, cl(d in ch(ins.
She is ( prisoner there.
And in desp(ir
She voices her f(lsely spoken cl(ims
Th(t she w(s (n innocent soul
Who never did str(y
From the holy (nd pious righteous w(y;

Yet perdition h(s sw(llowed her spirit whole,

C(sting her within the cold, stony w(lls,
For (ll the dre(ry nights (nd d(ys.
Now the p(le moon rises
And gilds the h(lls
Uncovering her disguises
Reve(ling this wom(n in the dress she wore
Long, long (go
In summery, golden, P(trici(n b(lls.

This dism(l dress m(rks b(leful decrees

Now tr(nsformed into her buri(l shroud -
Where b(nished felicities
Are no longer (llowed.

And the bitter breezes blow

Into her h(ir (nd down her n(pe,
Into the open, w(vering, mi(smic g(pe
Of her de(d (nd d(rkly curt(ined window
C(rrying neither hymns nor light
In the (ncient c(stle - in its etern(l night.

On Christm8s Evening

On Christm(s Evening, (zure hued,

Upon the snow cl(d tr(il, rosy, w(rm (nd good,
My love (nd I, with love imbued,
Sh(ll w(nder to the glistening wood.

We sh(ll find the cove we h(ve pursued

In dre(ms of (n (morous kiss:
A cozy nook bene(th the fe(thery bliss
Of ( gre(t, Christm(s pine, (mong ( courty(rd of white.

We sh(ll rove through the brisk (nd s(cred (ir,

In ( nimbus of sure delight,
Snug in our swe(ters, holding h(nds,
Free of (ll c(re,
In the hush of the moonlight -
Vowing mystic wedding b(nds.

The Conserv8tory

How m(ny d(ys in the long, lonesome ye(r

Must I live without your kiss, my bride, my de(r?
The mel(ncholic sky h(unts me, l(nguishing with rue.
How m(ny d(ys must I live without you?

In the redolent, solemn breeze I he(r

Over the somnolent ponds of blue
Effete, (crostic rhythms which flow
From the iridescent, luminous bower.

Bene(th the conserv(toryʼs open window

Resolute hymns of which I know
Arrive like ghosts in this h(llowed hour.
They grieve me so, e(ch sobbing (ir
S(cros(nct, (llotropic, like ( mysterious sun
Filled with the leth(rgy of ( dim desp(ir,
As they enter your ch(mber with imprecision,
P(ssing through the curt(ins (s through ( port(l.

It c(lls my soul, morose yet immort(l

To poign(nt thoughts of d(ys gone by.
And my poor he(rt wonders, it wonders why
Such ( sullen, cryptic, dour str(in
Should fill it with this melodic p(in.

And (s the minutes p(ss the hours weep.

Like s(nd in ( gl(ss, I resolutely keep
Your (ngelic f(ce which tr(ils in my mind
My l(dy, my other, my only, my de(r
Borne from the g(rdens which wistfully sleep
In (n (tmosphere
Of ( loverʼs kind.

To M8ry, The Imm8cul8te One

The willows sw(y,

Slowly,
Over the se(,
With ( l(nguorous, r(pturous ecst(sy.

You v(nquish me with one

Gl(nce of your mellifluous c(dence,
Which pours forth like honey in the di(mond sun,
From the silky r(di(nce
Of your d(rk brown eyes (nd ( r(ven tress,
Which gr(ces your f(ir neck (s ( s(ble l(ce.

You gr(ce he(ven's floor in (n (l(b(ster dress,

In the holy vestibules of your s(cred p(l(ce,
In your joys where I (dore you (mid your m(rble squ(res,
Where glorious fount(ins
Rise in the (rom(tic (irs
Bene(th the l(vender dome
Of your reg(l, Queenly home
Surrounded by ( wre(th of di(mond mount(ins.

You h(ve conquered me, my be(uteous Queen.

And I (m never to be the s(me.
Your bosom is ( dew-cl(d me(dow,
S(fe (nd soft, (nd most serene;

And I go (s one lost in ( troub(dour's dre(m,

Mystified by your reverent n(me,
Beside ( descending, turquoise stre(m,
In ( wood where solemn hymns do flow.

The r(di(nt perfumes of your pe(rl-white h(nds

Are sweeter th(n (ll Elysi(n l(nds,
And your loving b(nds
Are more ex(lted to serve (s ( sl(ve in eternity
Th(n it would ever be
To rule over (ll of the world's kingdoms, its regimes, the pl(ins, the se(.

And so I go with str(ins of thee

Rejoicing deep within my he(rt, ferrying to your home,
With boundless bliss (nd felicity,
Nevermore to ro(m
Like ( w(nton, m(d s(ilor on the wild brine.

Your kiss is of (n imm(cul(te, thrilling, s(nctified wine,

And your look is of ( st(tue's g(ze:
Solemnly bewitching, of ( roy(l, reg(l wom(n's wondrous w(ys,
Who w(lks (s ( goddess, bene(th the lindens (nd the birch,
In the splendors of the cloisters, in the courts by the C(thedr(ls,
In the fr(gr(nt, glorious umbr(ge of your etern(l, triumph(nt, C(tholic
Church,
Where (ll of your cryst(l cit(dels
Are of ( lover's tender reign.

And I forever go,

Wherever your Siren-like breezes flow,
Lost in the oce(n of your dusky, roy(l m(ne,
And the p(r(dis(l reflection of your pristine f(ce
Which comm(nds every boundless mount(in (nd l(ke,
Possessing such ( pious gr(ce,
To be touched by your be(uty, for your own m(jestic s(ke.
And the willows sw(y,
Slowly,
Over the se(,
With ( l(nguorous, r(pturous ecst(sy.

The Music Room

Mo(ning reverber(tes within the h(lls;

C(ndles flicker eerily on cold, stone w(lls.
Behind (n old bookshelf souls do ple(
Where they (re engr(ved
To be set free.
Yet no one sh(ll be s(ved
Within these c(stell(ted towers
Nor sh(ll they behold the florid, golden bowers
Of the merciful sun -
No - no one.

For within one ch(mber ( pi(no pl(ys;

Its keys (re c(ressed by ghostly fingers
In the (ncient p(rlor where ( melody lingers,
A nebulous hymn of stony gr(ys
Flo(ting on the (ir to the windowʼs veil.
The musici(n, once lovely, is now de(thly p(le.

Why does it seek me, this concerto of gloom

Which f(des on the gl(des bene(th the room?
Who is this wr(ith who we(rs the f(ce
Of the wife I knew in ( h(ppier time
When I would we(ve my sunlit rhyme
So very, very long (go
In the bright, sweet boons of ( summery pl(ce?
I (m h(unted by the tune she pl(ys with gr(ce
Now, (s then,
Dying on the d(les below
On the reedy, dism(l glen
Through the dre(dful, d(rk h(ze of the h(lf opened window…. 
Opheli8

In the still of her bedroom

C(ndles on her m(ntles glow.

They quiver (nd gle(m

As ( demon does dre(m
In the fog ne(r the sheets
Which cover her window.

And on the terr(ce where she meets

The solit(ry moon,
The n(scent night
Arrives too soon
With gloomy clouds,
Tr(versing the firm(ment.
Like buri(l shrouds -
All de(th is perm(nent.

A hopeless sinner mo(ns (nd dies

And is b(nned (s he crosses the desp(iring skies
In silence over the wintry d(les
Where the l(st of the sunlight
Perishes (nd p(les.

And in Opheli('s lifeless, stony gr(y eyes

There dwells no s(dness
No sobs, no cries,
As she retre(ts into her ch(mber of mort(l sin.

A w(nton m(dness
W(nders through the r(ttling din
Of her v(c(nt soul,
Unch(ste, unwhole,
As ( b(leful breeze
S(ils through her h(llw(y (s ( d(rk dise(se.
For evil reigns whenever it (llows
The l(ughs in her he(d.
For her husb(nd lies de(d -
D(mned in ( l(ke of sc(rlet red,
Where he lies st(bbed twice in ( b(th of fle(s
Outside below the boughs
Of S(t(nic, bl(ck (nd le(fless trees.

The Gr8vey8rd

The de(th houses (re dour,

With d(rk, mossy str(ins.
Now (rrives the witches' hour,
When f(lls the nebulous r(ins.

The s(nguine, (mber, silhouetted gl(des

Rise below the b(rren trees,
Illumin(ting the sc(rlet p(nes
Of the p(le, gr(y tombs in the m(tin breeze,
Dec(ying (mong mi(smic sh(des.

The emer(ld green pl(ins greet the newly buried de(d,

Exh(ling the dust over prisons of stone,
Covering the gro(ns of every empty eyed he(d
Frothing (s do h(rpies, (nd burning to the bone.

My Bohemi8n Life

I descended down the greens of sh(llow hills,

On the d(ppled l(ps of d(ffodils,
Where the breezes spoke of (dventurous pl(ces,
Of be(utiful c(stles, (nd the lovely, m(tin, sp(rkling tr(ces
Of exp(nsive, glittering, Sp(nish dews
And rem(rk(ble, feminine, (stonishing f(ces.

Teeming, towering birches (nd yews

Hovered over e(ves of wood;
I w(lked through br(mbles, (s f(r (s I could,
Bene(th the (rched C(thedr(ls' holy heights
As the C(stili(n sunlight gr(ced tr(ils of old,
Where r(inbows t(sted of ethere(l delights.

At noon I found ( rustic inn,

Where the soft, w(rm sound of ( m(ndolin
T(med the swirling, mount(inous cold
Amid the lively, drunken din
Which pr(ised the glory of ( s(ilorʼs gold.

Then ( w(itress tended to my bohemi(n mind.

Her spirit w(s humble, docile (nd kind.
She served me Ch(blis, (nd fine, Belgi(n port.
Her tresses were br(ided, (nd tied in ( bow.

(Her g(zes were of ( dre(my sort.)

Angels circled her, high (nd low.
Her eyes were blue, m(jestic, of the se(,
Of ( silhouetted sun, of true ecst(sy.

D8mn8tion

In the still, s(nguine pe(k

Of (n Autumn sunset
When russet, meek
Wilting reeds (re wet,
Cold, silver st(rs of the n(scent night
Gle(m upon the w(ves
Like the glitter of stony, cryptic gr(ves.

Now (nd then, here (nd there,

Bl(ck b(ts d(rt
In the thick, de(d (ir;

With their buri(l shrouds gle(ming bright,

Ph(ntoms dep(rt
From their c(skets in the moonlight.
Assembling in ( m(ss,
They p(ce upon the de(d, slender gr(ss,
P(ssing out of sight,
Delivered from their purg(tive plight.

Yet one d(rk being w(s left behind,

Desp(iring in his tortured mind
Over dire crimes which he committed.

The br(nches (bove him cursed (s they flitted.

And in (n ins(ti(ble, horrid, hopeless st(te

Of infern(l gluttony
It is f(r too l(te
For one to esc(pe the fiery se(.

For where S(t(n sw(llows d(mned men whole,

Those ghosts threw into the deepest hell
As de(th bells did knell
One wicked, empty soul -
None other th(n the likes of me!

While God Is Drying 8ll The R8in

The (utumn le(ves (re f(t(lly f(lling

From every mystic, moonlit bough.
How little providence does (llow
Time for us to re(ch our c(lling.

The di(mond st(rs silently sleep

As they tr(il over s(llow, dre(ming d(les.
The sunlight, grieving, slowly p(les
Over swollen stre(ms which gle(ming weep.

Yet sorrow is ( precious gem.

It fortifies our fr(gile being,
Tr(nsforming blindness into seeing -
For (ll s(d souls - for (ll of them.
For surely secret p(ins do cure
Our we(k hum(nity by m(king pure
Our s(nguine he(rts which sob (nd compl(in -
While God is drying (ll the r(in.

The Coloss8l Wood

All phenomen( w(s completely understood.

I recline on ( purple div(n, overlooking the coloss(l wood,
In my eleg(nt m(nsion, more gr(nd
Th(n the Cryst(l P(l(ce (nd H(mpton Court;
I look out upon the d(ppled, green l(nd,
Upon bl(ndishments more bejeweled th(n B(ghd(d or Rome;
I w(s doused in my mind
With the bright, B(roque c(nopies
Of (n etern(l kind,
Bene(th ( c(thedr(l's m(gnificent dome.
And I lingered in ecst(sies,
In b(ted l(nguishments,
As the terr(ces below my room
C(ught the blue, Gregori(n sunlight,
Cl(d with every m(rvelous bloom.
I dove into the depths of the most m(jestic expositions,
Of the finest p(intings of V(n Gogh.
And in those di(mond g(lleries,
I found there, (round me, high (nd low,
The visu(ls dyes of symphonies,
Which c(rried on the Hellenic breeze,
Cr(dling squ(lls of joyful, white snow.
And (s the r(di(nt ch(pels took on ( mystic(l glow,
I w(s struck with visions of still more ecst(sies,
As my bride retuned,
In ( long, white dress,
Her exquisite, s(ble tress,
Cl(d in ( pe(rly, br(ided bow.

L8dy of the B8stion

Her rosy tinted windows shine
On the b(stionʼs t(llest tower.
They reflect pure light upon the bower,
And scent her stre(ms with mystic wine.

I h(ve come from m(ny miles (w(y,

From northern l(nds to see her f(ce,
Her smile of gold (nd her lips of gr(ce.
I wrote of her in the di(mond d(y.

And now th(t I found her in the gilded sun,

H(ppy (s (n (ngel, lost in reverie,
Her g(ze runs through the very he(rt of me,
Down to the blooms where the vines (re one.

Pensive is her mind, (nd blissful is the time

When we, (s bride (nd groom to be
Are lost within (n (zure se(
Of holy love (nd s(cred rhyme.

And when the moon does live (nd die

Over the boughs of emer(ld trees
With the solemn reverence I h(ve for her
The fount(ins over the courty(rd stir,
Sobbing to the st(rlit sky
With oper(tic symphonies.

Nost8lgi8

When the purple dr(pes of the n(scent night

Cover the veils of the mount(inous greenery,
I w(nder (mid the fount(ins (nd the st(tu(ry,
Lost in reflective pools of light.

And when the moon (scends to the sobbing sky,

Alone in the st(rry firm(ment of bl(ck,
I rec(ll the ringlets upon your smooth, white b(ck,
When the spring evenings blessed us, you (nd I.

How profound w(s our felicity,

How deep w(s our joy,
When we d(nced in the me(dow (s girl (nd boy,
With (n (rdor th(t shone like di(monds on the se(.

Now the dr(b d(ys of (utumn slowly p(ss,

As I w(lk upon the w(n, old gr(ss,
Bene(th the cr(dle of the weeping trees;
In the d(rnel, w(vering, high, then low,
Through the wilting, tremulous reeds I go,
H(unted by your n(me, which scents the wild breeze.

F8ll

In the mists of the f(ll

I c(n still rec(ll
A m(iden whose f(ce
W(s f(shioned with ( gr(ce
Th(t c(me from ( h(llowed, s(cred pl(ce.

Her eyes were d(rk, (nd her h(ir w(s long,

And her n(me w(s of ( moonlit song
Th(t (scended with (n (ngel's p(ce
To p(r(pets, gilded, wrought with gold,
Th(t glittered like ( rivulet's somnolent r(ce,
Down ( furrow cl(d with the new (nd old.

She lived up high, in the tower of ( b(stion,

Which w(vered in the light, with my st(rry eyed p(ssion,
Whenever I would drink from her tresses of wine -
Her burgundy's bliss, of ( timeless time,
Which t(sted like redolent, poign(nt rhyme,
Whispered in the wind, when c(thedr(l bells chime,
In (n (ge when our kisses were hers  - (nd mine.

Now her kiss is gone, (nd the b(leful w(ves

Th(t h(ve drown her n(me in echoing gr(ves
Still sing, still sing, of her gentle grieving,
Of my he(rt which lingers, le(ving, le(ving
This ble(k, old world, tr(nsformed into grief -
As I w(nder (s ( we(ry, w(n, de(d le(f.

The Princess

Glorious in youth, (nd held by God in pr(ise,

My love is ( princess, the Virginʼs chosen one.
In rosy blooms of the summer sun
She reveres Our L(dy in m(jestic w(ys.

(All (ngels kneel in the light of her g(ze.)

And in the evening, when the linden trees

Gle(m (bove her courty(rd, (mong the slender fount(ins
She pr(ys by ( stre(m in the squ(re up in the mount(ins
Where her he(rt is one with the holy breeze.

The Queen

Once in the stillness of (n (utumn(l night

When ( cle(r stre(m flowed from the woods to the se(
A f(ir, (ngelic m(iden did (ppe(r to me
Possessing g(zes gr(ced with light.

Like ( holy ghost from Bethlehem

Her smile w(s of copper, (nd instilled ( sigh
Of c(nticles, of vespers, of s(tin (nd sky
Which the cherubs exh(led in Jerus(lem.

Her tresses were gold, of ( silhouette (nd d(rk.

She w(lked with the p(ce of (n imm(cul(te queen.
And in her s(cred w(ke, solemnly, unseen,
Her fr(gr(nt mignonette s(nctified the p(rk.
In My Co8t I Dep8rted…

In my co(t I dep(rted
As ( s(ilor in the sun,
With my f(ithful muse, my imm(cul(te one.

For the mount(ins I st(rted

In the red, d(wning d(y.
And in ( furrow clothed with (mber h(y
I b(thed in ( stre(m (t the edge of town.

At the top of ( down

I found (n inn
And ( princess within
In ( long, flowing gown.

Amid the hymns (nd drunken din

She c(ptured me with her eyes of brown.

R(ven bl(ck w(s her scented h(ir.

And in ( splendid, sunlit squ(re
A h(lo gr(ced this l(dy f(ir.

Her n(me w(s Renee, (nd she g(ve to me

A sc(rlet kiss of s(nctity.
Her spirit w(s pure, of the (zure se(.

And we left for the field

Where her potions did yield
An elysi(n boon of ecst(sy.

The Pond

In my loverʼs ch(te(u ( courty(rd gle(ms

Where st(tues st(nd (bove (zure stre(ms.
Bene(th ( throng of cypress trees
Roses w(ver where she roves in the breeze.
And when the n(scent st(rs (rrive with wine
Her somnolent song, delic(te (nd de(r
M(kes the l(rks in the boughs softly te(r
Above ( wooden trellis m(rried to the vine.

As (n (ngel dre(ming she w(lks upon the gr(ss

In the cr(dle of ( g(rden, glowing (nd bright.
She l(uds the Virgin in the c(lm moonlight,
Reflecting her gr(ce on ( pond of gl(ss.

Infinity

Gl(ciers (nd pe(rls, sunken ships

Lie (t the bottom of the golden se(
Where Sirens pr(ctice (lchemy
Luring men with their lurid lips.

I h(ve tr(versed infinity

And I h(ve w(lked with the s(ints.
I h(ve met d( Vinci
And the lover he p(ints.

Crimsons, di(monds, the suns of June

Are tre(sures found in every moon.
And in (ll of he(venʼs tents (nd coves
I h(ve seen where the Author of be(uty roves.

A Troub8dour's Song

I descended down sh(llow hills,

On the d(ppled l(ps of d(ffodils,
Where the breezes spoke of (dventurous pl(ces,
Of be(utiful c(stles, (nd the lovely, m(tin, sp(rkling tr(ces
Of exp(nsive, glittering, Sp(nish dews
And rem(rk(ble, feminine, (stonishing f(ces.

Teeming, towering birches (nd yews

Hovered over e(ves of wood;
I w(lked through br(mbles, (s f(r (s I could,
Bene(th the (rched C(thedr(ls' holy heights
As the C(stili(n sunlight gr(ced tr(ils of gold,
Where r(inbows t(ste of ethere(l delights.

At noon I found ( rustic inn,

Where the w(rm scent of m(hog(ny
T(med the swirling, mount(inous cold
Amid the s(ilorsʼ liquor fueled din
Which pr(ised the glory of the se(.

Then ( w(itress tended to my tired mind

By serving me Ch(blis, (nd fine, Belgi(n port.
Her m(ne w(s br(ided, (nd tied in ( bow,
(Her soul w(s of ( dre(my sort.)

Angels circled her, high (nd low;

Her eyes were deep, m(gic (nd d(rk,
Of ( silhouetted, morning l(rk;
And her spirit w(s humble, docile (nd kind.

And (s the moon did (rise in (n or(nge, h(zy w(y

It sent the s(llow sun to the green, surrounding mount(ins
Where its t(ngerine light spre(d like fire (cross the b(y
Gilding m(rble courty(rds, (nd their t(ll, slender fount(ins.

I left the old c(fe, (nd ste(ling ( crimson rose,

I pl(ced it in th(t f(ir m(iden's h(nd,
As the n(scent orbs (scended, (ll ivory, round (nd ne(r.
She took it with (n (ncient gr(ce
And her s(ble eyes welled up with ( te(r
Which tr(iled down the softness of her de(r, Sp(nish f(ce.

Then suddenly the night (rrived

As we w(ndered into ( forest, (lone, bene(th ( st(r
We c(me upon ( g(rden close
Where the swirling sunlight softly died;
In the chill of the eve we w(ndered f(r
And h(ppened upon ( b(rren, wooden pier.
I felt (n (ching in my he(rt (s I perv(ded the sky (bove.

And so I s(id goodbye to my Iberi(n love

Who wore ( white dress, embroidered with frills,
Feminine, of yesterye(r,
Lovely, long (nd fr(il.

I ferried up the hills where the d(ppled d(ffodils

B(de me f(rewell, tow(rds Holl(nd (nd the mills,
To the wide, (zure oce(n (nd ( wind kissed s(il.

A Loverʼs Sonnet

In the light of mount(ins where songbirds sing

You w(nder (midst the bright, slender gr(ss.
You gr(ce the brooks (nd the fount(ins you p(ss,
And your str(ins (re of ( blue, wondrous spring.

The pious w(ys which your soul does possess

Are solemn (nd pure, effluent (nd mild.
Your n(me is of ( S(int, the good Lordʼs child.
And your s(ble g(ze is of loveliness.

As you slowly trod in the sunlit bower

Your ebony eyes enr(pture mine
In your g(rden (mong the trellis (nd the vine.

Come, w(lk with me, it is the hour

When every blessing descends from (bove.
Come w(lk with me, my lover, my love.

Eternity

I h(ve found it.

Wh(t? -
Eternity.
It is ( loverʼs kiss
M(rried to the se(.
It is (n oce(n of bliss;

And more th(n this,

It is m(de of the be(uty
Of glorious fount(ins
Ineff(bly pure, of d(ffodils.
It is of the misty, snow cl(d mount(ins
And the green, pristine (nd l(ughing hills;

It is of true worship (nd s(nctity

When c(thedr(l bells ring,
When their gilded towers chime
In the gold, morning light
Of ( joyous spring;

It is the solemn glory

Of ( moonlit night;
It is of the Holy Trinity,
Of s(cred silhouettes;
It is effluent, of mystic rhyme; -
It is the fr(gr(nt sh(des of g(rden closes,
Of incense scented mignonettes,
Of sc(rlet roses
And of thyme.

John L(rs Zwerenz