In the 239-bus

a ride for holding on

by the seat of one’s pants.

The smell of cabbage soup

kiosk type wrapped food

of rancid body odours.

Hopping along in a rhythmic

Hancock-bounce over grey

cobblestones of a Viennese

road design tradition.

At Holy City’s stop the wale of

the sickened bus spews out

its entire content.

People rush like a shoal of fish

gape-mouthed into the open

past casual news stands

the familiar homeless paper

seller.

The sound of knocking shoes

murmuring conversation

singing of a female refugee

echoes through the access

tunnel connecting to the trains.

Catching the next U4 train to

the city’s core many will rush

Time: Two minutes to take-off.

At last jockeying past the slow

walkers has ended

finding a red seat in traveling

direction of this train

noting down poetic ideas into

the red moleskine notebook.

For a Saturday lunchtime enough

passengers travel

while the poet misses his usual

yoghurt treat from Nica

more so to study new angles

for her portrait

she’d asked for cautiously.

Today’s a solo visit at boesner’s

artist requisite supermarket

where one finds everything

needed to express one’s own art

but let the postman deliver the

yearly comprehensive catalogue

as Mona has encouraged the

artist who lives close to the poet’s

heart.

A fortnight ago she left the party

too early and the artist found

himself as a lost soul drowning

in the red cabernet-sea of loneliness

where he’d lost his conscious to

reality and painted with his soul.

He fell from the heavens of solitude

like a stone –

That’s how Icarus must have felt –

Falling onto a sea made of

tempered glass.

 

zoltanzelan

ZJG-POEtry’16.

INA & The Pogrom Memorial

A gathering of Importance, remembering the dark sides of history.

zoltanzelan

After yesterday’s relaxing talk

To Ina –

A date from a ‘friendseek’-page-

Over coffee and cake

The Poet had a good night’s rest

Even some angered talk by his

Spouse could not hurt him

Besides:

Exchanges of life’s experiences

Are part of the re-entry shield

Into the endless stratosphere

Of a marriage long in the teeth.

This morning all’s cool and calm

On the poet’s side

Who is learning words and their

Meanings at a free site.

His spouse is trigger-happy with

A barrage of word-explosions.

The poet keeps cool.

He agrees with his spouse

To stay overnight at his friend’s

Place in town

When he returns from the

Gathering of honoring the victims

Of the Nazi-pogrom day –

Aka ‘Kristallnacht’ –

There he assisted his aged friend

To participate.

Pogrom.morgoP

zoltanzelan

ZJG-POetry’18.

View original post

Advertisements

Surprise

Built up tensions in the
Bedsitter
Waves of scribbled notes by the
Poet’s spouse will hit his desk
In the kitchen corner.
Time to leave for a Nordic Walk
And let steam off the ageing
Locomotive
Besides to maintain an oiled
Fitness. Indeed!

The mind flies off in rhythmic
Movements of virtual wings:
New Muses thro’ “friendseek”
Communicative website
Let vibes of sympathy find their
Common interest
Thrive with compatible partners
Who still seek the magic of
A sensual life at mature age:
Bori.

The poet phones her at an hour
When he recalls his great love
And extraordinary Muse and
Talented poetess.
The poet rests and listens to
Boris’s pleasant voice.
She has touched a string in his
Heart suddenly.
He responds.
Voices match.

She asks for the Poet’s age.
Well he tells her 78 and active
She’ll be in for a surprise
When she’ll meet him for
Coffee.
Would she be a choice woman
For him?
Surprise.esirpruS

zoltanzelan
ZJG-POetry’18.

NUDE

Out of a domestic fight
One-sided with an angry spouse
The Poet spent the night in an
Already familiar bed – Red Tower –
The Poet’s recluse in times of
Emotional turmoil
Caused by estrangement
Meant also a good night’s sleep
Sensitized by a crafty woman’s
Vibes
Who –
Enticed by her girlfriend –
Throws her mature sexuality
Like a ventriloquist
Into the artist’s gaping mouth
To open his soul wide enough
For her soul to merge with his.
Letting him enjoy his half-flight’s
Take off
Rip himself off with her from
The shackles of gravity’s handle
Wow – his inner Muse was sighing
Who had taught him about
Euphoric heights in the mind
She used to follow up with her
Physical love making of a
Well-rounded woman.
She called her games emotional
Intelligence for a deeper unison
At their golden age of love poetry
Born from their union of heart
Soul and body.
The Poet’s time will be soon revived
When he’ll paint the gilded woman’s
Portrait in the nude.
NUDE.EDUN

zoltanzelan
ZJG-POetry’18.

Remembering the Pogrom Night 8Nov.1938.

An evening at the Place du Juif
In the heart of Vienna
A final ceremony of paying respect
For the ‘Kristallnacht’ victims
Speakers in real and on screen
By the mayor and survivors of the
Death camps
Protests and booing when the
President of the parliament paid
Tribute to the victims –
The youth disliked his talk
But were reprimanded by the
Speaker to pay respect to every
Public speaker.

Meeting Emmanuel Fuchs and
Exchange some words with Tommy
And the Poet
Thereafter the Poet brought Mr T
Home to his apartment.
The Poet emotionally tattered
Went to bed early
Sleep came immediately with
Thoughts about his Muses –

Morning’s sweetness.
Green tea with matcha
Thanks to Gila.
Some spontaneous inspiration
Of a photographic record in the
Nude
As an ongoing process of arriving
At a breakthrough for a new way
Of portray painting
The Poet using himself as a model
In upside down mirror reflections.
Great stuff!
Shower and wash hair.
Dress and off to pick up Mr Tee
For an event at the ‘Redoutensaal’
At Josefsplatz in historic Vienna.
Indeed!
As usual Mr T is late
But as he is known to the organizing
Mrs O
He’s promptly offered a chair
And another young woman brings
A chair for the Poet.
Great.
Well-presented speeches
The president honoured the
Chancellor to be an active host.
He’s a diplomat with acquired skills
As foreign minister.

The day has started well for Mr T.
He meets top politicians and
Organizing heads
Holocaust survivors from Israel
Once Austrian citizens kicked out
From their homes
Their dignities trampled on
Properties and homes taken by
Brute force.

Mr T is an unerring communicator
A great talent at public relations
Even walking along the ‘Kohlmarkt’
Prime promenade of the inner city
Fine and sympathetic women at
Demel’s bar counter.
Then further in the street toward
The Graben:
Foreigners
Art lovers
Curators and artists.
‘It’s rather a field day’ he says.
‘Have a look at the output!
So many women to get to know
And most of them so sweet`.
‘Indeed’ I said. ‘What a day!’
Mr T muses. ‘Yes in such a contrast
To the Pogrom memorial day’.
‘Yes’. I reply. ‘It’s a good thing.
It came unannounced and seeping
Into our bloodstreams like sweet
Poison’.
‘Yes the fragilite-cake at Demel’.
‘No we had almond cake’
But I’ll take one home to my wife’.
`Good idea’ I replied. ‘Mrs Ira
Will like that for sure’.

The Poet travels home with the
Use of Öffis.
The Poet writes at home in his
Niche arranged for his creative
Work.
His spouse takes to monologues
In the bedsitter.
All’s as usual.
Duke plays:
‘Blues in Orbit’.
Blues.seulB

zoltanzelan
ZJG-POetry’18.

Taste

I gave Ina my poem ‚Her Soul‘
To read
Dedicated to the Lionhair-lady
Skilled with intellect and scalpel
Then O waited for Ina’s reply.
“Have you given her your poem
To read?”
“No, not yet.”
“It’s great and well written.”
She said.
“Thank you. Now I’m confident
That she’ll like it too.” I replied
And observed my first date in
More than three years.
A potential woman for love?
Maybe not entirely to my taste
But sympathetic.
I still have to figure out the Lionhair-
Lady’s portrait as it’s constantly
On my mind.
Or should I rather say portraits
As her personality has some great
Facets like a diamond.
It’ll be a master portrait
Something with more depth than
The first lighthearted symbolistic
One
That was using her preferred
Colours
You could say that this one would
Bear maturity
Like love.
Aged wine is doubly sweet and
Fully rounded.
Precious. Taste.
Taste.etsaT

zoltanzelan
ZJG-POetry’18.

2Cups of Black Coffee

Late Saturday morn‘
I left for SOMA –
AKA SOO-GOOD –
Having been needled by
My spouse of fifty years
To fancy smelly cheeses.
Well
I always come across
An acceptable choice of food
Besides as I get hooked at
The bread and cake counter
I meet a young woman
We talked instantaneously
Until I invited her for some
Coffee.
Cornelia.
A free thinker.
We found quickly the hidden
Harmony of our souls.
It might have been that missing
An interlocutor
That my heart spilled over.
Then I realized in my gregarious
Temperament
That she acted reserved.
Something held her back
To kiss goodbye like friends.
Albeit we bade farewell
Three times.
Maybe we’ll meet again
At Soma/Soo-Good.

zoltanzelan
ZJG-POetry’18.

INA & The Pogrom Memorial

After yesterday’s relaxing talk

To Ina –

A date from a ‘friendseek’-page-

Over coffee and cake

The Poet had a good night’s rest

Even some angered talk by his

Spouse could not hurt him

Besides:

Exchanges of life’s experiences

Are part of the re-entry shield

Into the endless stratosphere

Of a marriage long in the teeth.

 

This morning all’s cool and calm

On the poet’s side

Who is learning words and their

Meanings at a free site.

His spouse is trigger-happy with

A barrage of word-explosions.

 

The poet keeps cool.

He agrees with his spouse

To stay overnight at his friend’s

Place in town

When he returns from the

Gathering of honoring the victims

Of the Nazi-pogrom day –

Aka ‘Kristallnacht’ –

There he assisted his aged friend

To participate.

 

Pogrom.morgoP

 

zoltanzelan

ZJG-POetry’18.