John Lars Zwerenz Poems

The trees look black
Through my castle's window
Where bats are free to come and go.
I fear a corpse just might attack
...

The Queen

Once in the stillness of an autumnal night
When a clear stream flowed from the woods to the sea
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The Princess

Glorious in youth, and held by God in praise,
My love is a princess, the Virgin's chosen one.
...

APRÈS QUE JE SUIS PARTI (UN SONNET)

Le paradis ressemble aux bals victoriens,
Où les carafes en or versent un vin suave.
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A RUSTIC STROLL

Far from the village, I searched for my bride.
I left for the meadows, for old, wooden mills
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ASLEEP IN THE WOODLAND

Across the eternal expanse of dawn
Crimson hued breezes pass over a stream.
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THE ANGELIC SALUTATION

Let there be music mad.
Let wines come from the north,
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SAPPHO

Her dress, half open to an oceanic breeze,
She wanders as an angel in glorious Crete;
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THE GHOST

In the light brown parlor, a breeze came in
Over a stony casement, quelling the din
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ROME
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