John Lars Zwerenz Poems

The Meaning of Sorrows

Will you willingly drink the bitter cup,
From tarns of thorns and sorrows deep?
...

The Sacred Night

Where breezes grace leaves, solemnly in the grove,
Through boughs and blooms, touched by the sun,
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Colonnades of white, erected by the sea,
Clad with many towering vines,
Cradle the arched temple splendidly,
Where one breathes in the wind of wines.
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The autumn reeds, sallow and dry,
Blown back by zephyrs, soft and blue,
Scent the brownish leaves, moist with dew,
Gracing your hair, as they sail on by.
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Take my hand, where the white petals play,
In the caress of the soft, winter breeze,
Which winnows through the snow clad trees,
Beneath the sky of a gilded gray.
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REMEMBRANCE

When branches and boughs of sycamores sway
In the nascent moonlight, languorous with song,
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Lord, I was ill; my life was grey.
And you came to me.
And I heard you say:
"Who doth seek me when I am near?
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IF YOU GIVE YOUR HEART AWAY

If you give your heart away
Then consecrate with certainty.
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OPHELIA

In the still of her bedroom
Candles on her mantles glow.
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THE VAGABOND

Wandering through the countryside, 

All things to my eyes became sanctified.

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