Nero CaroZiv Poems

I had a date with a past middle age woman upon whom I set and gazed
The measures she took to hide her waning, evaporating beauty left me amaze
She was all wrapped in colorful deceit and counterfeit labors
A mask of musk that so immodesty displays nature's gone favors
...

Why stand at my grave to mourn and to weep?
Yes I am there wrapped with vile worms; a phenomena called eternal sleep.
Search for me not in thousands winds that all seasons blow.
Nor shall I be in the diamond glints on winter snow.
...

I guess my friend, you as well as I must die, dumped under a stone in dust
And all our deeds and beauty stand for in vain over our eternal beds
This flawless, vital hand, this perfect young constantly thinking heads
This body of yours and mine; of flame and steel, before the gust
...

That night, the summer night I first met you
I can close my eyes and see that night shades of glow and blue
A strange procession was passing by me, the years before I saw your face
Went by me with chaos; heart longing and fears, except my dreams and longing for success and grace
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I wish I was a small pebble stone
That rolls and rambles in the roads alone
Un-noticed how happy it must be
In sun or under a shady tree
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I sent her a letter; whatever my courage carried
With words of courtesy and cordial dull style
About small petty things and frivolous daily hours
Where none of my stormy raging, roaring feelings are buried
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I saw a spider sawing its web in the dark of night
Without a shred of beam or light
So pert and nimble was its act upon the arc of white
How swiftly it managed its routes over the perfect symmetry of delight
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How much I loved a day of spring of my childhood
Years ago before my life turned to burden and anxiety of manhood
It was an April early morning: fresh, clear and pleasantly chill
Streams and rivulets, siege by bending reeds delighting in their strength and will
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That night I left her; I walked back home through the world
As though someone adored me; she, a fresh feeling of pride bold
Laughter unfurled through heaps of craggy stones,
And a wind through fathomless skies shook my rattling bones.
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I occasionally have troubling; nagging fears that I may cease to be
Before ambitions are complied; before my pen has gleaned my barren brain,
Before my fountain of words dried; before high-piled books, in charactery,
Hold like rich late summer garners, the full ripened large grain;
...