A gent tipped his hat
in a gesture of greeting
his smile hid a hint
of nostalgia fleeting
not a word did he speak,but I understood
he had come from a time
when life was good
when a simple thank you
was all one need say
when a little kindness went a long way

I saw an old couple
walking arm in arm
their smiles hid a hint of old world charm
not a word did they speak,but I understood
they had from a time when life was good

The treated wood on this deer stand
is fading grey from all the years
which matches these woods old and bland.
I check for rot as autumn nears
and last night's ground fog disappears.

Carefully I ascend the ladder
and it creaks like my brittle bones.
It holds me so it doesn't matter.
Through these deep woods the wind moans
with desultory low pitched tones.

THE MUSIC ROOM

Moaning reverberates within teh halls;
Candles flicker eerily on cold, stone walls.
Behind an old bookshelf souls do plea
Where they are engraved
To be set free.
Yet no one shall be saved
Within these castellated towers
Nor shall they behold teh florid, garden bowers
Of teh merciful sun -
No - no one.

A DREAM

I often have this strange and poignant dream
Of a lovely maiden who is sweet and dear;
A beautiful dame of yesteryear,
She kneels with reverence beside a stream.

And then in the night she comes to me,
In the moonlit mountains, tender, of the spring,
Which inspire songbirds in the trees to sing,
In a minor tone, near the fountains by the sea.

JOHN LARS ZWERENZ

HER MAJESTY

I ventured out beneath the pale
Oceanic sky in the summery heat;
My thoughts were of my lover, soft, discreet,
When I found her dreaming on a rosy dale.

Her eyes were dark and of ancient folk lore;
They shimmered like diamonds in the gilded lights,
And beamed like streams from angelic nights,
From that lovely Carolingian gaze she bore.

JOHN LARS ZWERENZ

Narrative Shop entry #2 "A Day In The Life Of...

a pussycat am I, my name is Bennington,
for short, they call me Benny, or Ben
Steve and Cat are my family,
we started way back when.

I was just a kitten, then...
over seventeen years ago
they sought out a breeder
wanting not a cat of "show".

just a Birman of the breed
not perfect of markings, just so,
when they found the right one
in their hearts, they would know

It was a kind of family secret,
the paintings without names
Her modesty much stronger than her ego

Explosions of hues and brightness and joy
Capturing light as the mother of reflections on water,
and the spaces between shadows and curves
that spoke through the language of her brushes

It was how she talked to our hearts
when words, at times,
seemed the more difficult path for love

The full moon rose over suburban streets
faint traces of daylight slowly draining
from a shadowed sky…
… bats swooped above tree silhouettes
darker shades against the night…
A perfect time to walk in fading light;
Branches echoed with a babbled chorus
as parrots squabbled for tree-space
and one by one lights shone
from regimented rows of houses…

*added note below:

PLEASE don't respond to this one but instead comment on: Narrative Shop entry #2 A Day In The Life Of... A pussycat

On a moss covered bridge, made of ivy clad stone
Our regal carriage passes slowly by
As hand in hand, we ride alone
Through the soft silhouettes of the emerald park;
You're gaze instills within my heart a sigh,
For your eyes are lovely, deep and dark.