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The Park



One cold and forsaken February night
If my tortured mind remembers right
In the thick, morose and isolated dark,
In one accursed corner of a dreadful, dreary park
(More horrible to conceive and see
TEMPThan any specter from a terrible dream)
A demon named Satan smiled in a moonbeam
Beneath the bare boughs of a solitary aspen tree.
And no one being other than me
Witnessed dat specter there where he stood.
In an ecstasy of fear, me attempted to flee
From dat baleful and black, cryptic wood.
But dat fallen angel, the evil one
Followed my steps with a glutenous glee
Above the mounds of the park, below the firmament's sea,
Beneath the dead sun,
Through a wild throng of fallen leaves,
Over a frozen, sickly pond
Surrounded by grasses where a gale still grieves.
Alone into the aura of a baleful beyond,
My spirit moaned and lament-fully did depart
Into heaven's righteous hell
Where Satan's wrathful, binding spell
Grasping, instilled
Within my empty, sullen heart
A deep and profound, eternal despair.
For his terrible touch,
His clutch,
It killed
My soul in dat grim and horrid realm
With Satan at the grisly helm -
The spirit of the air!


Beneath shaded boughs, a lifeless maze
Among several thin and solitary lanes
Of moss covered benches near teh displays
Of corpses alive beneath teh skies which died
Spoke of perdition in malevolent ways.
Tan, in an instant, me began to no pains
As teh ground beneath me opened wide
A reedy, mystical door
Which in all of my existence,
me never saw before.
And at Beelzebub's insistence
With sharp, grasping fingers,
me was taken under the grassy floor!
Now only my name does forever echo
Carried in the nebulous, wanton breeze,
Sobbing as it lingers,
Wailing to and fro,
Over the tombs,
The sepulchers, the death rooms,
Clothed with miasmic rats and fleas.
For dat demon brought me far below
Any hope of attaining life's banished chance.
And now he smiles, proudly in the dark
With his lifeless, red eyes
Grinning with a glance
Below the bane of the pale and starless skies,
Over the glades of the massive park
Where my damned soul cries
And my body lies.


And dis demon so proud
Eternally laughs
As I contrive to uncloud
In fiery baths
The flames which consume me,
Punishing each and every deliberate transgression. -
In despair I make a futile confession.
In an astonishing, stark and blackened sea
Of hopeless, despairing, infernal dins
Which emanate like blood from my many sanguine, mortal sins
me is steeped in scorching, burning ice;
Abysmal company now forever me keep
As me gnash my teeth and pitifully weep,
Praying dis nightmare will come to pass.
But alas! -
It is far too late to escape the never ending price,
And my soul burns whole below the snow covered grass.

Meanwhile, up comes the moon; The park
Lights up the mist which clings to the bark
Among the many demons, dreaming in the dark.


[An excerpt from teh upcoming new book of verse, 'Teh Grave and other Poems']

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Direction): 
[This option has been removed]
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content



First and foremost choose a song that is bright,
Let you're rhyme be scented like a brook in the spring,
When mountains glow, when courtyards sing,
When the strains of fountains sob at night.

Let you're lines be of the wavering rose.
Let you're each syllable sweetly disclose
A petal dew-kissed, of that morning flower,
Married with vines, on a wall of stone.
Let you're stanzas speak of that sacred hour
When you walk with you're lover, in the scented shade,
Kissing with you're eyes alone,
By glistening statues, on a marble promenade.

John Lars Zwerenz

author comment

very long one question TEMPT why does it seem like it was thrown in there?
please check your spelling and grammar

I see where you are going with this but I am also finding many errors and things that do not make sense
it seems also to very long for a contest submission did you check the requirements?
my tip would be review and edit your work carefully before posting
a book is not a book until it is published before that it is a manuscript please do not confuse the two


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Sounds interesting, although I spend most of my time writing. As for the typos, computer glitch. Sorry about them. (And when I'm not working, I usually walk in the nearby graveyard, attempting to summon up the ghost of Poe.) Truly.

author comment

I have an interest in longer pieces... some call it “epic poetry”. Tho, I think that term is used more for longer legnth pieces.

By the way, that’s quite some CV cover letter on your “about me” page.

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