John Lars Zwerenz
Biography of John Lars Zwerenz
John Lars Zwerenz (1969-) is an American journalist,
poet and writer known for his romantic,
impressionistic and mystical works. He
owns a Bachelor's Degree in English from
Queens College at The City University
of New York, but at the age of 24 he left
his graduate studies in order to travel and
write poetry. His writings are deeply spiritual in subject matter and tone. Much of his verse employs transcendental language and is rich in meaning and musicality. Eternal Verse, (2013) widely lauded as a poetic masterpiece takes the reader on an astounding journey through the beautific realms of paradise. It has just been published by Xlibris of Simon And Schuster fame, and
comprises his sixth collection of poetry. His latest volume of verse, A Lady Fair And Other Poems, (2013) published on the heels of Eternal Verse, is a book of rhyming stanzas of varied lengths and themes, all composed with classical meter and with great attention to visionary detail. This seventh volume of rhyme has been described as the poetic diary of a sailor who travels as a troubadour through the gilded gardens of a wondrous world. Zwerenz is a mystical romantic, and his poetry has been recognized by many literary critics as the best and most original verse ever penned since the death of Robert Frost of The United States in 1963. Zwerenz is also the author of Selected Poems, (2011) a poetic memoir on travel and adventure, Mist and Flame, (2011) a book of lyrical, romantic poetry, Visionary Wanderings, (2012) an astonishing
volume of mystifying verse compared to the labor and results of Rembrandt, Sonnets of Dusk and Dawn, (2012) a collection of classically styled sonnets, many of which laud the poet's romantic precursors, and An American Romance, (2012) a novella which contains in its appendix Songs of Rapture and
Other Poems, an exclusively mystical collection of poetry which explores the realms of existential darkness and salvific light. Zwerenz is 44 years of age, and currently resides in The United States. ~ R. Canter
John Lars Zwerenz's Works:
Mist and Flame,2011
Sonnets of Dusk and Dawn,2012
Songs of Rapture and Other Poems,2012
A Lady Fair And Other Poems,2013
John Lars Zwerenz Poems
The morn is giving birth To the dawn- yet to reign, still budding, undone. Shall you play the earth, And me the sun? -
An Angel's Song
An Angel's Song We ventured out in the gray of night, On amber furrows beneath linden trees,
The Rose Garden
THE ROSE GARDEN Where can we find a cove where love and lute Are married to the strains of cello and flute,
Ladies And Men
LADIES AND MEN The window box looks down below To the avenue where young ladies pass
A Lady Fair
I ventured out one pristine night Beneath blue stars to a furrow on a hill.
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.
I Ventured Out Beneath The Moon...
I ventured out beneath the moon, full, white and round... I ventured out beneath the moon, full, white and round. My boots broke the sheets of snow as I walked with the muse, my guide.
To My Future Bride
TO MY FUTURE BRIDE 'I am faint with love.' - The Song of Songs
THE MUSE I shall leave the city, the bustling town. I shall walk to the outskirts of the wild plains,
PURGATORY I went down into Sheol, where all my bones Were numbered like knots of whited rope;
I wove my verses in a cluster of purple stars, While dreaming on the meadow in the tender, April rain. A mendicant, I wandered to the outskirts of the plain, And I slept in the glow of a campfire's bars.
Ode To Spring (A Sonnet)
When every perfumed petal opens to the light, In the turquoise air of our majestic sight, Canticles play, and cathedral bells ring Praising The Virgin; hail the end of suffering! -
Lethe (A Sonnet)
LETHE (A Sonnet) I shall open my satchel and compose anew. While dreaming, I saunter to the inn for a brew;
Ode To Edgar Allan Poe
ODE TO EDGAR ALLAN POE
The tall, ruined tower, by the sea of sable wine,
Where silver stars alight, in the moonless night,
Is the seat of a raven which rarely takes flight;
Its dark eyes look down on the scorpions of the brine.
With each chilling breeze that poison billows carry
From dusky, northern currents of the half-swallowed pier,