Summer Solistice by zoltan zelan


Summer Solstice (take 02)

The day started with music from speakers

afar, vibes that move the leaves of the

magnolia tree in the front garden

shaping an image of her young and ready

for turning into a well-heeled woman

friend and lover alternating at times

if mind, body and soul will ask.

Madmen shout and blast gas canisters

against the growing tree of people

who defy pushed into subservience

giving freedom the sap of their leaves

napoleon, hitler, assad, whatever

history shows as its grim repeat with

black, red green and yellow seeds.

This, my beloved muse great friend

one day to the next we’d be caught

in the city’s magic acropolis of riches

lying just below its marbled veneer

of palimpsest emotions gentle probes

at first soft pushes of first digging

all the way to its pulses’ throbbing.

Sister temple lights through glass

marble, concrete its core of faces

figures shaping statues in our minds

their shells becoming flesh and blood

high art that holds us close, covered

with the shields of fateful lovers

red-hot sun and cool-blue moon.

Zoltan Zelan


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