NEW ::: POETRY Apr. 2015 | Page 68

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.