She can communicate

better on the phone

as in reality face to face

or so it seemed at first.

The poet has been used

to it since 1999

the year he met his most

impressive Muse

on the Internet.

But then comm’s had been

intensified thru’ Eros

some call: Cyberlove –

Ana  Anne  Anetha.

She had many names

depending on the mood

using her poetic license

but she shied away from

being in the public eye.

My woman – for Z the man.

My man – for A the Muse.

At present V communicates

with the poet thru’ talks.

She’s a wonderful model

for ZG’s painting:

Demoiselles de Vienne.

But she does not know yet

walking hand in hand

overgrown with hemp.

It has played in her mind

to do that ever since

musing about it with him

with Z the poet

bringer of joy

and relaxation.

zoltanzelan

ZJG-Poetry’16.

Second last day of year-end

last day of work at the A/F.

Rays of sunshine make

all the difference.

The poet watches

the dance of his soul.

B’s living fashion makes

heads turn.

ZG the artist thinks of

a potential Muse

called VKL

living next door to the gallery

he’s watching on a daily mode

save for Saturdays

while T repeatedly wishes

even from his sickbed

that ZG submits his account.

Painting faces had been

great fun for ZG

but to portrait VKL’s personality

seemed to be a difficult task.

Between coughs from an

irritated esophagus

all seems to be in deep sleep

at year-end.

Music from FM4 assists with

tunes for the soul’s dancing.

lkv.

zoltanzelan

ZJG-Poetry’16.

She came like a breeze

danced into the gallery

a friend

I found again

one could talk to frankly

one feels at home with

who had been thru’

hardships

ups and downs as a soloist

Violinist

someone I’d like to hear

playing one day.

She brought me lunch

we ate and talked

for nearly three hours

on end

from music to fine arts

from common friends

to Jesus of Nazareth.

Kazantzakis.

Mary Magdalene.

Fritz Kreisler to Menuhin

Carlos Kleiber to Barenboim.

Kikona.

Pure and beautiful

with eyes like Mitsuko

I once exchanged love letters

as a student of art

in a romance

of cherry blossom white.

How love’s circles come back

over time.

I like her.

I liked Mitsuko Utimura.

We’ll talk again.

Soon.

zoltanzelan

ZJG-Poetry’16.

Late morn‘ still an ongoing

grey morning

the mind drives thru’

a steady pale dream.

The irritating coughing

subsided

bacillus  virus lie frozen

below the snow’s icing.

Having travelled thru’

hell’s symptoms

following a recommended

flue inoculation

arms and legs feel like lead.

The first snow across

Place de Juif

had vanished overnight

people crisscross the square

as usual.

One visitor enters the

exhibition ‘Augen-Blicke’

looking for a postcards

of exhibited photographs.

B phones: ‘When are you back?’

Lily enters to call on Mrs I.R.

T phones you to contact

an honorary guest who had

indicated to him to visit the

exhibition

some comment about

of being too narrative

questioning the value for art.

You draw your inner world’s

tohuwabohu of emotions.

C’est ca!

zoltanzelan

ZJG-Poetry’16.

Year end celebrations

In midst of mass immigration

genuine and false asylum

seekers.

Unjustified violence of

brain-washed fanatics

the world has to regroup

but keep traditional values

going.

Who cares about the recent

Holocaust?

Year end thoughts amidst

great poets  writers  and

columnists of hope.

We all have to contribute

to carry through the

Festival of Light

greet friends and their friends

of a growing world community.

End of another year

rings-in a new one and you

note down your resolutions

having learned to keep

a few priorities

you’ll strive to fulfill.

yppaH weN raeY.

evoL reveroF!

soleT.

zoltanzelan

ZJG-Poetry’16.