John Lars Zwerenz

Veteran Poet - 1,584 Points (1-5-69 / Kew Gardens, New York, USA)

John Lars Zwerenz Poems

121. My Lady 2/13/2016
122. A Winter's Wood 2/17/2016
123. Beauty 2/17/2016
124. Courtyards 2/19/2016
125. As God And Goddess 2/20/2016
126. Mystic Wines 2/22/2016
127. Winter In The Town 2/23/2016
128. The Song Of Your Love 2/23/2016
129. The Palace 3/20/2016
130. Dreaming 3/20/2016
131. My Lady Is Lovely 3/20/2016
132. I Walked Upon The Reedy Dale... 4/8/2015
133. The French Revolution 6/11/2014
134. Le Jardin De Rose 1/22/2015
135. The Cloister 11/11/2014
136. After Our Walk Amid The Reeds 6/17/2014
137. A Garden In Paradise 5/24/2014
138. Purple Shades 10/11/2014
139. Manic Depression 4/30/2014
140. Beside The Stream 3/16/2014
141. On My Way To Boston 4/5/2014
142. The First Sonnet 12/4/2013
143. The Queen 10/10/2013
144. To One In Heaven 10/10/2013
145. Mary, The Mother Of God 4/17/2013
146. Ode To Edgar Allan Poe 2/23/2013
147. A Voyage To Scotland 6/20/2014
148. After Our Deaths 3/24/2016
149. Je Respecte Mon Amour 1/17/2015
150. Epilogue 6/11/2014
151. Am I Fine, Am I Beautiful? 11/13/2014
152. My Eternal Beloved 7/13/2013
153. Romantic Love 10/16/2013
154. Scarlet Breezes 10/10/2013
155. The Bower 10/13/2013
156. The Autumn Lane 2/19/2015
157. Autumn Shade 3/19/2015
158. Ode To Spring (A Sonnet) 5/31/2013
159. The Lake 4/27/2014
160. On Entering Heaven 5/6/2014
Best Poem of John Lars Zwerenz

A Gypsy's Life

A gypsy am I, as I rove on the downy dale;
Aside from the taverns, the fields are my only vale.
I drink from my carafe a fairy-fermented brew,
And I dream of fair love, beneath a radiant sky of blue.

I carry within my satchel a book of romantic rhyme;
I wield it when I may, and write as I did of old: -
Of a sable-haired girl, whose gaze is of a raven-gold.
Her dress is white and long, and her hair is of an elysian clime.

I am struck by visions beside the lane,
On starry October nights, laved by the autumn rain,
And I sleep beneath the myrtles, musing ...

Read the full of A Gypsy's Life

A Gypsy's Life

A gypsy am I, as I rove on the downy dale;
Aside from the taverns, the fields are my only vale.
I drink from my carafe a fairy-fermented brew,
And I dream of fair love, beneath a radiant sky of blue.

I carry within my satchel a book of romantic rhyme;
I wield it when I may, and write as I did of old: -
Of a sable-haired girl, whose gaze is of a raven-gold.
Her dress is white and long, and her hair is of an elysian clime.

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