A Grecian Tale
ting bird,
l, like a languid, lamen
My sou
red face;
e east, with its distant,
Gazes to th
an herd,
e from the doleful, urb
I desire to escap
way place.
for a sojourn, to a fara
And depart
.
by John Lars Zwerenz
rain;
bway are of a dismal st
The sounds of a su
ark.
in the gray, vaporous d
rk
They die by Central Pa
wilting bark
the oaks of brownish,
Graffiti on
ith disdain.
esthetic mind weary w
Renders my a
My spirit of a troubado
ur, hungry for meadow
s,
Immured with the city
, clasped around my fe
et,
Will break beyond the
tears of these dreamle
ss ghettos,
On a journey to the pa
st-to the Isle Of Crete.
:
At last! - I am free; In regal felicity,
I saunter, laved by breezes, blissfully sweet and mild,
As I behold the unbridled, transcendent and wild
Pelagic domain of the exuberant sea.
traverse,
, on this ancient, Greek
There, among statues
d in a dream
ver’s suspiration, fulfille
Like a lo
in a stream,
of fountains, glistening
Of a freshet
ereal verse.
c furrows gleam- like eth
Thalassi
:
:
.
Tall, ivory pillars, of bri
lliant colonnades,
Grace my white shrou
d, as I pace on promen
ades;
Roving through grand
dunes of billowing, go
ld sand,
I feel the royal hold of
Apollo’s noble hand.
The Mediterranean’s effervescent breath
Fills my lungs with the wines of Dionysus.
As I pass beyond the veils of intangible death,
Carmine blooms shine, and all becomes
of a palace,
through the courtyard
Soft zephyrs veer
alice,
rims of an eminent ch
Caressing the
wine,
pples in the sovereign
Stirring ri
shine.
of the immaculate sun
Glimmering in the rays
:
.
Illustrious marble step
s mount a precipice;
Overlooking the ocean
ic canvas,
I contemplate the dea
th of tragic Icarus,
Above foamy rolls- I w
eep upon the cornice.
Pearly fountains fall, as I behold the flowers: The enchanting, rosy-red florets of every year;
A Macedonian sentinel of the intoxicating showers
Threatens my adventure with a long, silver spear.
ZIG-ZAG
READING
:
:
Among cascading broo
ks, an immense garde
n shinesHome to a thousand p
otent wines and elatio
ns;
It ferments amid Hera
’s dappled, dangling vi
nes:
A bower of fragrant hu
es, and mystic revelati
ons!
Aphrodite’s white lyres sound like Spanish guitars,
Adorned with the luster of enamored, white stars.
I turn from Alexander, where an orphic breeze veers,
Leaving the blooms of Orpheus, resisting blissful tears.
I pass redolent hedgerows, of ornate enclaves,
In the soft wake of Sappho, I approach wild waves.
A strange, wooden ship of ghostly sails awaits my heel;
I board the cryptic schooner, and it creaks where the currents reel.