The poet challenged by

His lifelong partner about

Admitting the truth.

It’s an old debate about

Long lost statements and


Due to the changing


You don’t like the truth

She confronts him about

Past happenings.

That’s your truth

The poet states

Not mine.

Like a lively brook will

Eventually part

And two different streams

Will be formed

So does life form differently

In a half century partnership

So many things have been

Washed down into the great

Danube River

So many feelings have been


Hurt bitterly

And life together even in pain

Cannot be dissolved of all


One cannot step into the

Same river twice.

Life – the river.






She stretched out in front of him.

The artist.

For drawing the nude it’s a bliss

The cherry on the top if she’s

Your Muse.

Every bit your fingers touch

Her skin that started to glow.

You thought about her

Between the white sheets

Not to challenge comparisons

Of beauty

But for some time now she had

Indicated a mating game and

You felt burned out

Indifferent to love a woman

Once again

As love passionate love

Could not save your past great


However hard you’ve tried

To foil the bone man’s grab.

But then as a shipwrecked man

With an artist’s stubborn hope

Your homecoming nearly left

You cast aside thru’ bureaucracy

Left you fair game for famish.

But in life’s black book

Another page opened for you.

You caress her nude

Stretched out in front of you

And age is merely a number

As passion still drives the

Aged artist’s life.





And now?

At a progressing maturity of age

The artist takes to berries and

Red wine at times

To feed his glowing furnace of life

And to stoke the lowered flames

Of passion.


He notices the growing numbers

Of lonely women

Seeking love and companionship

Yet selection seems cumbersome

No longer bound to incidents of



Since sometime he had been

Searching for his first love –

First for them both and remaining

Something he did neither forget

Nor feeling it been finished

So hope was still alive to act on

This sweet discovery and his dream

He harboured all his life.


Having lost his possessions

Ignored in his profession

His place of birth did not keep

His driver’s license records

He felt abandoned and then

Fell back on new friends and

A love his past Muse promised

To send to him.

Voila. Keep alert. She said.

Be prepared and be quick.


He rather took his time.

And now?







Sent off to a Reha-Centre

To heal his wounded limbs

Install a sense of new life’s


The poet feels to conquer

The world

Thru’ walks around his base.


Perhaps his mind set on


In the natural habitat

Walking without any pain

He reaches quickly his first

Round of set goals.

His prize a silver needle from

Vienna’s City Hall.


Yet his mind been deceived

Pain sets suddenly in –

Electric currents race thru’

His ailing knee.


His walking efforts foiled

He falls to the soft ground

Between rows of growing

Vines of Weidling.


Then the pain like a sudden

Spook has left him stranded

And cautiously he walks

Downhill towards familiar


His great love once foiled by

The untimely death of his Muse

Once brought him down

To edges of emotional abyss.


Compared to that psychic horror

This physical pain is merely a glitch

An unforeseen hindrance

A temporary handicap

He’ll seek medical treatment for

Come hell or fire

He’ll recover from it for sure.

Physical pain.






Light like a feather

Your feet will take off

The trafficable asphalt

Push on to gravel and

To softer ground

Lined with beech leaves

And before you’ll realize

Your rhythmic gait feels

Like winged Hermes’ heels.


You are already gaining

Good height below the

Beech trees

Assembled like a bevy of

Slim beauties

Welcoming you

The lonely wanderer.


Until you have completed

One run and two others

Collected stamps for your


There’ll be some reward

For your efforts

Others around you cannot



Be still careful

Dr W is concerned

And you know he thinks of


Who underestimated

A steep flight’s dangers

To pay just for the same

Fall with his life.





A Fifty Year Togetherness

Congratulations she said

I looked up astonished by her

Happy tone of voice.

Another dimension for living


Had been broken instantly into.

We are today married for

Fifty years. OK. This calls for a

Celebration. Indeed.

What will the next fifty years

Bring? Hah!


For the first time since three

Tortuous years she smiled.

Agreed. We should count our

Blessings and recall the

Good times we had together.


Let’s summarize:

Bad-Aussee – heart of Austria’s

Tourist industry.

Alt-Aussee – heart for poets

And artists


A steamer to the South of Africa

Our three French poodles

Times at the original Oyster Box

Hotel in Umhlanga Rocks. Natal.

The trips around the Cape of

Good Hope

The Tafelberg – Table Mountain

With B’s parents on a glorious

February morning.

The vineyards

The Garden Route

The friends and mischpoche

Trips to Egypt and Teneriffa

Madeira and Athens Greece

Santorini and Hydra

Peloponnese and Monemvasia

Delphi and Olympia

Porto Rafti and Eleusis

Karpathos and Kriti

Visits to parents in Europe

The deep snow on the Loser


Memoirs forever are made of










My fractious neighbour

Though so restless

Connects to the skilled man

Living opposite

Who repairs the poet’s

Broken printer

Extracts a hinge and the

Poet offers them beers

Erwin does it for he’s a man

Constantly looking for any

Painting job

Doing all kinds of errands

Yet he dislikes wheeling the

Current rubbish bin to the

Main road uphill.

Arts and crafts man in his

Colourful outfits that suit

His hippie image

Yet lacking responsibilities

Just like Erwin.

All’s well even with the

Drug abusing couple

As long as somebody will help

With tasks for this strange

Community of social outcasts.

Now then the poet and artist

Loves his life of freedom

As good as he’s allowed to

Out the door from the bedsitter

Seeking nature’s gift in the

Serenity garden

Between the Danube’s portal

At the outskirts of Vienna

Nordic Walking around many

Natural trails

Building up the artist’s confidence

And his return to fitness.

Even Mrs IRA is astonished as

She invites him to coffee and cake

With some elderly ladies

Who lost their hubbies thirty years


Coffee brewed by Oliveira and

Homemade apricot cake

Baked by Maria

On the terrace of the renovated


Tranquility and low voiced talk

Mixed with sweet bird warble

Calls the two men for some

Wholesome minute’s sleep.

Only the artist longs for a walk

Thru’ the tall beech forest

Part of the Viennese Woods.

Early Friday morn’ Dr Wany

Will administer a tick-shot.

Off he’ll go now and soak up

The quaint environment nearby

Stamp his walking pass at the

Jägerwiese and collect the

Silver Walking trail needle at

The Rathaus in Vienna.

Only his spouse B wonders about

His changed attitude and thinks

He’s quite mad.






The Trip Back

First I did not intend

To leave my calling card

With web-addresses for

My written oeuvre

But then as I gave my card to


I gave another to Mohammed

However I’ve stepped aside

Yet recipients with a degree

Might have a trained mind

To understand my writings.

Perhaps one day they could

Become famous.

My good intentions to do more

Writing and translating

Were foiled by excellent TV-docs

And movies:

“Die Auslöschung” with

Klaus Maris Brandauer

„Pandora and the Flying Dutchman“

With Ava Gardner and James Mason.

You sit challenged by the motions

Of the Badner Bahn –



Stations pass

Industrial buildings

Corporate Headquarters zip by

With average speed of the train’s

Traditional coaches in blue and


This trip is at least fluid and the

U4 from Karlsplatz/Opera arrives

Speedily in Heiligenstadt.

The trouble lies with Bus 241

Leaving every half hour from

The Weidling station

Where I have to change over from

Bus 239.

Fortunately I’ve packed an umbrella

But the weather report is out of


B’s away at the city’s green market

And my turn to clean the bedsitter’s

Laminated floor

Do the washing of my clothes

Cook my meal and write up

My journal-poetry.

I’ll be now fit enough.





Piano concert in the Alhambra

Lit up gently flowing waters,

Earthly colours prevail

Amber reflections on marble

Golden plated walls with

Magical reflections of stories:

1001 nights transferred into

Sounds of music –

Manuel de Falla –

Piano fusion with guitar

Danse ritual del fuego

Isaac Albeniz

Flamenco’s fiery dance

Sensual oriental woman.

The poet below a ceiling of

Glistening stars brought down

To its undulated surface.

This deco-culture of Judeo-Spain

Has touched millions with its


And still leaves the poet’s soul

Gasping in awe

Holistic art incorporating

The sounds of water plays

Magical reflections of Paradise.

The artist’s stimulating cocktail.







Ice-cream clouds

On the Rauheneck-cone

Lemon meringue

Light-grey painted canvas

For the crow’s flight

Stabs of pitch black

To stand out above the

House with overgrown ivy

Green copper roof

At chestnut tree alley

Near the Grand Hotel of


Where Beethoven’s pain

Is reflected in the estate’s

Closure of 200 years of


20 days and one have flown

Down the Schwechat’s brook

A potentially new Muse

Born from the flowers of the

Badner Rosarium

Her ivory body slipped from

The abundance of petals

Upon a love poem

Written in Southern lands.

Ice-cream sweetness on the

Tongue and mind

A flow of soft Don Byrd

Trumpet sounds.

Room 236 Peterhof.

Swiss Jazz.