Thursday, May 10, 2012
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
AN IRISH GARDEN
An Irish Garden
The transparent rains in the temples of your eyes,
Where strophic modes of strains uprise,
Course through my heart, as we walk hand in hand,
Upon a holly-green path in Ireland.
We spoke of Yeats at the roadside bar,
Where he sat and watched the sun descend,
Having beautifully penned
The eloquent scenery, near and far.
A castle of old sits upon a hill,
Above us as we rove in the garden's still.
There are verses to written yet,
Of your fresh, white face,
Scented with mignonette,
Commanding all my love in this shaded place.
(Taken From Sonnets Of Dusk And Dawn)
The transparent rains in the temples of your eyes,
Where strophic modes of strains uprise,
Course through my heart, as we walk hand in hand,
Upon a holly-green path in Ireland.
We spoke of Yeats at the roadside bar,
Where he sat and watched the sun descend,
Having beautifully penned
The eloquent scenery, near and far.
A castle of old sits upon a hill,
Above us as we rove in the garden's still.
There are verses to written yet,
Of your fresh, white face,
Scented with mignonette,
Commanding all my love in this shaded place.
(Taken From Sonnets Of Dusk And Dawn)
THE CARRIAGE (From Sonnets Of Dusk And Dawn By John Zwerenz)
The Carriage
The mahogany bar sells liquor and ale.
I finish a belt and summon my carriage
To ferry me over the emerald dale,
Homeward to the call of marriage.
The brooks are frozen, and the trees are white.
Canticles play in the gleam of the woodlands.
I dream of my lady's tender hands,
As the coach is tossed in the windy night.
On a precipice we travel as snow begins to fall.
My driver is an old one, and used to it all,
Though the coach sways madly in the bitter cold.
He tells me we should rest on the side
Of the rocky, whited road, for the wheels begin to slide.
But my bride awaits with lips of gold.
The mahogany bar sells liquor and ale.
I finish a belt and summon my carriage
To ferry me over the emerald dale,
Homeward to the call of marriage.
The brooks are frozen, and the trees are white.
Canticles play in the gleam of the woodlands.
I dream of my lady's tender hands,
As the coach is tossed in the windy night.
On a precipice we travel as snow begins to fall.
My driver is an old one, and used to it all,
Though the coach sways madly in the bitter cold.
He tells me we should rest on the side
Of the rocky, whited road, for the wheels begin to slide.
But my bride awaits with lips of gold.
Sunday, April 29, 2012
THE BASTION BY THE SEA
THE BASTION BY THE SEA
The yard below the bastion holds many blooms;
Swirling, russet leaves around a freshet are blown,
Heavy with a mordant scent, they toss and dance alone,
As sculptures flake beneath palatial rooms.
Beyond the large square, there are woods of rhyme
Where the cloistered pass, musing on books,
Admiring the aesthetic boulders and brooks,
Wandering as gypsies without a dime.
Nearby, the sea, in soft sonority,
Mingles with the twilit, oceanic sky
Of a thousand stars, rising as they sigh,
Ascending with the violet canopy.
And as the sun disperses, all colors correspond,
As grottoes of green grace the boundless beyond.
The yard below the bastion holds many blooms;
Swirling, russet leaves around a freshet are blown,
Heavy with a mordant scent, they toss and dance alone,
As sculptures flake beneath palatial rooms.
Beyond the large square, there are woods of rhyme
Where the cloistered pass, musing on books,
Admiring the aesthetic boulders and brooks,
Wandering as gypsies without a dime.
Nearby, the sea, in soft sonority,
Mingles with the twilit, oceanic sky
Of a thousand stars, rising as they sigh,
Ascending with the violet canopy.
And as the sun disperses, all colors correspond,
As grottoes of green grace the boundless beyond.
Saturday, April 28, 2012
THE BLESSED DEAD ARE WE
The Blessed Dead Are We
The grand chess set in the lutescent ballroom
Sits among bookshelves beneath a chandelier.
Outside, on the yew trees, the moonshine does appear.
Death to all of hatred, death to all of gloom.
The ravishing carriages circle in the court,
Amid fallen leaves of mahogany-brown.
I have sent my vassals into town
To acquire burgundies, chablis and port.
Welcome, my friends, come frolic, dance and dine.
Do you recall your passing, as I do mine?
Ah yes!- Love's first kiss has not yet been taken.
This vale is all green, reborn and awoken.
Take a splendid gold piece for a token-
We have no need of it- no more can we be shaken.
The grand chess set in the lutescent ballroom
Sits among bookshelves beneath a chandelier.
Outside, on the yew trees, the moonshine does appear.
Death to all of hatred, death to all of gloom.
The ravishing carriages circle in the court,
Amid fallen leaves of mahogany-brown.
I have sent my vassals into town
To acquire burgundies, chablis and port.
Welcome, my friends, come frolic, dance and dine.
Do you recall your passing, as I do mine?
Ah yes!- Love's first kiss has not yet been taken.
This vale is all green, reborn and awoken.
Take a splendid gold piece for a token-
THE FOURTEENTH SONNET
THE FOURTEENTH SONNET
In the sibilant evening, soft and moonlit,
Cantillations ascend with appeasement,
Rising with the winds to the dusky firmament;
(This is the hour when heaven's verse is writ.)
The dandelions on the furrow are all aquiver
Beneath the expanding, volcanic clouds;
All the sky is swirling, every pine is clothed with shrouds.
Hemlocks and geraniums weep as they shiver,
As autumn's cold reminds one of graves-
To be delivered from present sorrow.
The furious wind negates the morrow.
All is now prescient- God truly saves.
And the nearby sea foams with an uncanny glee,
As the waves are kissed by the rain, and He.
In the sibilant evening, soft and moonlit,
Cantillations ascend with appeasement,
Rising with the winds to the dusky firmament;
(This is the hour when heaven's verse is writ.)
The dandelions on the furrow are all aquiver
Beneath the expanding, volcanic clouds;
All the sky is swirling, every pine is clothed with shrouds.
Hemlocks and geraniums weep as they shiver,
As autumn's cold reminds one of graves-
To be delivered from present sorrow.
The furious wind negates the morrow.
All is now prescient- God truly saves.
And the nearby sea foams with an uncanny glee,
As the waves are kissed by the rain, and He.
Friday, April 27, 2012
From Sonnets Of Dusk and Dawn / John Zwerenz / MY LADY
MY LADY
I am taken in my reverie to a wondrous air,
Where a lady passes, by a summery cove,
In the warm afternoon, where breezes rove,
Over the dune, releasing wine upon her hair.
Free of thought, she wanders through bowers,
Bathing in florid rainbows which send
Her longings to where the lindens bend,
By the redolent sea, amid the flowers.
She is clad in a nightgown of white,
Lost in a vale of soft, tender sunlight,
As her feet grace the path by the ocean.
She ponders on only emotion,
As the billows rise and fall,
And my dream is not a dream at all.
John Zwerenz
I am taken in my reverie to a wondrous air,
Where a lady passes, by a summery cove,
In the warm afternoon, where breezes rove,
Over the dune, releasing wine upon her hair.
Free of thought, she wanders through bowers,
Bathing in florid rainbows which send
Her longings to where the lindens bend,
By the redolent sea, amid the flowers.
She is clad in a nightgown of white,
Lost in a vale of soft, tender sunlight,
As her feet grace the path by the ocean.
She ponders on only emotion,
As the billows rise and fall,
And my dream is not a dream at all.
(Excerpt From Sonnets Of Dusk And Dawn) RAPTURES OF WHITE
RAPTURES OF WHITE (Page 90; Softcover)
Persian carpets and tapestries of old
Grace my mansion where a stray breeze enters,
In between the curtains, gilded with gold.
It veers through the halls and chambers.
For the windows of the gallery
Are open to the pelagic hymns of the sea,
Where every pause and harmony
Bequeaths to my dreamy psyche
A redolent rose, of charming airs.
A brunette mane awaits upstairs,
To be caressed by loving hands.
Immaculate nuptials and wedding bands
Soon to be tied in raptures of white
Beckon like heaven in the diamond night.
John Zwerenz
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Sonnets Of Dusk And Dawn By John Zwerenz: John Zwerenz / Poetry Books / Available At Amazon....
Sonnets Of Dusk And Dawn By John Zwerenz: John Zwerenz / Poetry Books / Available At Amazon....: (Excerpt From John Zwerenz) HYMNS Daisies mingle with mignonettes and wine. (There is moonlight on the balcony.) From the colossal, wh...
John Zwerenz / Poetry Books / Available At Amazon.com books / excerpt / Copyright 2012
(Excerpt From John Zwerenz)
HYMNS
Daisies mingle with mignonettes and wine.
(There is moonlight on the balcony.)
From the colossal, white conservatory,
Somnolent sonatas resplendently pine.
They are redolent, rapturous, and of the spring.
They ascend with the grace of an angel's wing,
And stir the slender boughs, as they glitter in the sun.
(I stand beside a brook, where the silver currents run.)
At dawn, at noon, and at night they play.
Their soporific ebonies ring radiant through the open bay,
Of the gleaming terrace, where the curtains sway.
And as dusk approaches from the holly-green mountains,
To the diamond-hued stars rises the fountains,
From the umbrageous court, to the hymns of May.
HYMNS
Daisies mingle with mignonettes and wine.
(There is moonlight on the balcony.)
From the colossal, white conservatory,
Somnolent sonatas resplendently pine.
They are redolent, rapturous, and of the spring.
They ascend with the grace of an angel's wing,
And stir the slender boughs, as they glitter in the sun.
(I stand beside a brook, where the silver currents run.)
At dawn, at noon, and at night they play.
Their soporific ebonies ring radiant through the open bay,
Of the gleaming terrace, where the curtains sway.
And as dusk approaches from the holly-green mountains,
To the diamond-hued stars rises the fountains,
From the umbrageous court, to the hymns of May.
Monday, April 9, 2012
Sunday, April 8, 2012
Saturday, April 7, 2012
Friday, April 6, 2012
SONNETS OF DUSK AND DAWN By John Lars Zwerenz
Sonnets Of Dusk And Dawn is the fourth book of poetry from Zwerenz and is comprised of a preface and eighty-four new sonnets. Among the several odes in this volume are An Ode To Edgar Allan Poe, Coleridge, and Robert Louis Stevenson.
Publisher: Xlibris
Page Count: 93
Format: Paperback
Description: Poetry: General / Adventure / Mystical
Available at amazon.com books and at most retailers
Publisher: Xlibris
Page Count: 93
Format: Paperback
Description: Poetry: General / Adventure / Mystical
Available at amazon.com books and at most retailers
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