These are my sixth and seventh and perhaps last books of verse.......They are of the adventures of a romantic sailor, in love with a dark-haired woman.......A Lady Fair and other Poems takes place upon the earth, the other, Eternal Verse, takes place in Heaven, Paradise......The poems are true to life, as that sailor was always myself.............I've pasted below both introductions from each book as well as two poems from each book for you to read should you wish to read a standard of new, American poetry never penned before regarding quality.............In a few, small certain ways, and in other, broader ones, I have literally out-written Poe, Dante and Shakespeare......And, I am not kidding...I write poetry because I am a poet, and because I wish to soothe the reader with the experience of ethereal beatitude, with beauty, and with love.........Fondly, John
............Below are two links, one for A Lady Fair, the first one, and the link below that is for Eternal Verse..........All proceeds from the sales of these books go to help the poor.......As these books are being sold internationally, there are cheaper sights than Amazon, and I recommend if you wish to purchase the E books, as they are much less pricey than the paperbacks. (Although paperbacks look better on a coffee table..) ~ John Lars Zwerenz
Preface To Eternal Verse:
PREFACE TO ETERNAL VERSE
What I have attempted to accomplish with this book on heaven is to poetically out-duel Dante's Paradiso, his poetic treatise on paradise which makes up the third and final part of his Divine Comedy. I have always thought that his depiction of heaven, although fantastic and possessing merits which time cannot efface, was too general in description, and I tried very hard while writing this volume to be more specific and vivid descriptively than he was in this book. John Milton's Paradise Lost in his presentation of Eden, and John Keats' Ode To A Grecian Urn are the two other works which I attempted to surpass in their poetic descriptions of the celestial and the infinite. In my descriptions of the celestial paradise I remained faithful to the teachings of The Magisterium of The Holy Roman Catholic Church. And if one wishes to doubt this fact, lest one does not believe in eternal romances, (and I use this one topic as an example) one need only to read the works of Saint John Chrysostom, the most profound of which are included in The Catechism Of The Catholic Church. When I write in this book of “marriage” “husband” and “wife” I am not referring to the earthly marriage state per se, but to the heavenly fruition of it. When the Pharisees asked Christ about marriage in heaven, His response was “They shall be as angels.” For the things of this world shall pass away. Yet love between a man and a woman shall not pass away, neither will the love of virginity pass away. “As Saint John Chrysostom suggests, young husbands should say to their wives: I have taken you in my arms, and I love you, and I prefer you to my life itself. For the present life is nothing, and my most ardent dream is to spend it with you in such a way that we may be assured of not being separated in the life reserved for us….I place your love above all things, and nothing would be more bitter or painful to me than to be of a different mind than you.” – The Catechism Of The Catholic Church, section 2365, page 628.
And I attest, in agreement with The Church, without the shadow of a doubt, that every tear shed here on earth is transformed into gold in that happy kingdom which shall find us all together one day, reunited with the ones who went before us. I believe in one God, One Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church, and in all of her teachings, including the existence of Hell, Purgatory and Heaven. And I do affirm that there is an extreme irony whenever we doubt in the existence of heaven, no matter what personal beliefs we may possess, atheistic, agnostic or religious, for then we become depressed, and the joke is on us.
Having years ago been a quasi-agnostic/atheist myself, and a veteran reader of all of the works of those famous atheists, Victor Hugo and Friedrich Nietzsche, and having in my youth flirted with their godless theories, have I died back then, alas! - What a surprise I would have been met with beyond the grave! For I know after years of many profound personal experiences which gave birth to and established my faith, that heaven is more of a solid, objective reality than this temporary veil of changes that we call "life". In truth this life, ever since the exile of our first parents, whether you believe in Biblical accounts or not, whether you believe in the teachings of Catholic Christendom or whether you believe that existence came from nothingness, whether you are a deist, a pagan or whether you reject all religion, whether you realize, acknowledge or reject the fact that the Cross is our only way to our personal and collective salvation, this life is more akin to the shadow of death, because of our inclination to suffer here, and due to the reality that our earthly bodies die and disintegrate. We cannot escape these facts, no matter how pious, pure or holy we may be or become as individuals. We are all in misery and trepidation down here when compared to those happy citizens of heaven, even in our most animated and joyful moments. And while we doubt and fear that this life is finite and is devoid of a sound purpose, the Saints are laughing at us, at our lack of knowledge and disbelief. And so I have chosen by writing this book and by making this book public to give as I have received from so many books written by the Saints which have held out a candle to me in the midst of my darkest nights.
John Lars Zwerenz
THE GARDEN
I took her hand beneath the quivering trees
Which shook their hymns upon us in the warm October sun.
Flute and horn, wistful and fantastic
Swept through the breeze,
Near azure brooks which forever run
Through valley and dale, mellifluous and majestic,
Gracing reeds with currents that shine in gilded rays.
I love my bride, and her angelic ways.
The ocean nearby, beyond the statuary,
Rises with the tide and caresses the rocks,
As she reclines on a marble bench with gracility,
Dreaming in her trances, caressing her raven locks.
And the sunset sighs as the fountains rise
To the nascent stars in the vast and silent courtyard,
As she speaks of things with her sanctified eyes,
To her handsome, young lover, to her passionate bard.
And our kisses are of ivory nights,
When the moonlight sobs, when candlelights
Illuminate the astonishing bower.
Come walk with me, my love, it is the hour
When all holy seraphim sing their hymns from above.
Come walk with me, my lover, my love.
A Rhapsody
We paced upon the reeds of wine,
In the infinite boons of the moonlight,
Among a stream which passed through the sacred night,
Among the glistening eglantine.
The languorous cadence of a rhapsody rising
Blends with the cherubim, appraising
The mysteries of your bated sigh,
Beholding with gazes of sapphire, diamonds and gold,
As the lindens waver, older than old,
In the splendor of the charming cold,
Where the rose of your lips, open on high
Leaves me speechless, overcome.
And the miraculuous fountains flow and drum,
As the carriages circle around the statues which gleam
In the marble square, in this realized dream.
Preface
This present volume, my seventh book of poetry, consisting of eighty-six new poems, of various forms and themes, was composed in the winter of 2012 to 2013. Published on the heels of Eternal Verse, a volume dedicated to one exclusive theme, that of the afterlife, this book differs in its presentation of manifold subject matters, and to only a very small extent gives reference to that same topic. A Lady Fair and Other Poems is comprised of mostly realistic verse, and it deals almost exclusively with the different aspects of this brief, sometimes painful, sometimes colorful life. It was written with the benefit of the reader in mind, not only as a work of art, but as a work of literary interest, and as a vehicle to convey new experiences, thoughts and emotions. The poetry which makes up this book, some of which are sonnets, some of which are considerably longer in form, and some of which are short in length all have certain things in common, although most of the poems differ in content and style. I have employed the use of classical meter and rhyme in every poem; hence this volume is not one of prose. In this volume you will find the archaic, the timeless and the contemporary. And in all of these aspects, I write in a very personal way, on a very heartfelt and human level, for I speak as myself. And in this book, as in all my poetry, there are no fictional aspects. Even the mystical or adventurous verse which you will find in these pages is based on personal experiences. The poems in this volume appear in the order in which they were written, and form a composite whole.
~ John Lars Zwerenz
A LADY FAIR
I ventured out one pristine night,
Beneath blue stars, to a furrow on a hill.
I was one with the rose and the daffodil,
And my steps stirred the grasses in the moonlight.
I came to a garden at the top of the down.
There leafy boughs were scarlet and bent,
In the sweet, summer air, so very redolent,
Over ponds in the umbrage, smooth and brown.
An old, iron archway marked the marble square
Which led to a castle, ancient and grand.
On its tower was a balcony, perched high above the land,
Where stood a lovely maiden, a lady fair.
She looked at me and smiled with a gaze
That left me transfixed in the sun’s carmine rays.
Then all became still as our minds did intertwine,
Among the dappled daisies, and the roving of the vine.
A VOYAGE TO CYPRUS
I ferried eastward, leaving Cythera, her wine,
Her temples of ivory, her boundless plains
Far, far behind me, as Macedonian rains
Filled the vast Aegean’s brine.
And in that flowery Ionian wake
I encountered wanton zephyrs of blue,
Where Sirens, Aphrodite’s retinue,
Sang solely for my sake.
I arrived on the green of the Cyprian shore,
Whistling as a troubadour,
As the sun rose, burgeoning with gold and carmine.
I came upon a courtyard, and the roving of the vine,
Near the temple of Apollo,
In the diamond cradle of a scented billow.
And there in that square, wandering through dahlias
Strolled Pygmalion’s beloved wife,
Enjoying her nuptial, graceful life,
Singing as a statue moonlit sonatas.
In my seafaring boots, I walked to a glade
Where the radiant, fair Adonis drew
From far away, from the Olympian dew,
Lustful Aphrodite. (And he loved her in the shade.)
Then with a whisper, the Mycenae breeze
Called me back to the port, to the song of the seas,
Where I sat in a garden next to the harbor,
In a wistful arbor
Of ecstasies.
~ John Lars Zwerenz
Paris, France
(C) Copyright 2013
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