I sit at the window facing
Wipplinger Street
The tobacco man cleans
His shop windows –
Air pollution.
A woman rushes past
With a knowing smile.
Rendezvous?
On the nearby pavement
A pretty brunette talks to
A silver-haired man
Young people pass: earphones
And knapsacks.
The pretty brunette smokes
Already another cigarette
Expressive eyes
Southern looks.
A dog-walking woman
Shops are cleaned out
Change of ownership.
Mrs Ira is late this morn’.
Pietrowski’s delivery bike
A Fiaker caleche passes
In great hurry
Busses passing silently
Battery operated
The lorries and trucks do
Not yet.
Where is Mrs Ira?
Great to have Anker coffee
And cake shop here.
Ah! My phone. I have to go.

zoltanzelan
ZJG-POetry’18.

For four years and more
I commute from ‘Weidling’
To the ‘Stephansplatz’
But also chose ‘Schottenring’
Station for walking up the
‘Tiefer Graben’ and upstairs
To the top of Art Noveau’s
‘Hohe Brücke’
A pretty view from below
All gilded and green
Symmetrically fine designed
Enriched with integrated
Details.
Wipplinger Street –
Home of Mr T and Mrs Ira
Grandiose ‘Gründerzeit’ style
Apartment
Vienna at its best
Famous tarts and cream
Reflected in daydreaming
Facades.
Cleaning out a period of
One’s life
Stripping art artifacts
Books mag’s documents
Letters cutlery and crockery
A giant task
Step by step with the active
Mind of Mrs Ira and the
Poet’s
The Serbian crew
The blessings of the weather
God and a wake up tot of
Clear clean Polish Vodka
Prost.
Prost.tsorP

zoltanzelan
ZJG-POetry’18.

Split up are the beds
Split up are the lives
It’s hard to draw a line
Along common ownership
A precise half in everything.

Split up are eating habits
Split the way we live both
Our lives
Togetherness due to
Economizing
Walking a tightrope of our
Present existence.

But the shaking legs
Have gained some strength
All is not yet lost.
Will Eros’ well aimed arrow
Strike?
Induce a change of game?
Game.emaG

zoltanzelan
ZJG-POetry’18.

We met with renewed hope
And great desires
Nurtured the fires of love
To fuse our hearts.
The great love we lived
One I wanted intensified
To the point beyond the
Average.
We did. We both did.
For years we drove the
Arrows of love and deceit
Deeper into our flesh
Thorns of sweetness and
Great pain.
As soon as love feels great
It’s already doomed
Gliding towards the drama
Of an end
And already you search
For a new one.
For there is in the stove of
Passion
Although still cooled down
Yet a chance
To be stirred up to a new
Glow
Or so she’d promised.
But even if love at an
Advanced age is something
Out of the ordinary
It may happen once again.
LateLove.evoLetaL

zoltanzelan
ZJG-POetry’18.

In spite of a sunny friendly
Nature
The poet senses joy and
Pain in other people
Vibrations of their mind
He experiences first hand
From his own spouse.

He mistook enthusiasm
For helping Mrs Ira
As reborn strength from
His body and will inline
His fitness gathered from
Four-hourly walks
Through woods and fields
During a hot summer
Assisted him well.

The sharp bite of autumn’s
Fresh air
Has brought about the
So called ‘Sniffing season’
With sticky red eyes to boot.

Besides –
Bad communication
With one’s spouse
Puts a death knell to
The tired-out body.
Flop. Blop.
Into the desk chair
And write the poem.
The mind still vibrates.
MIND.DNIM

zoltanzelan
ZJG-POetry’18.

„This seat free?“
„Indeed“ I said and as
I looked up on the man
Opposite to me
I detected familiarities.
He looked like a brother
“No it can’t be” I murmured.
“You travel regularly on this
Route?” He continued.
“Yes I commute for the
Next weeks daily to Vienna.”
“And you?”
He looked at me
An artist’s beret on his head
With long hair
Dressed in black.
“Funny” I thought “he wears
Similar garb to mine.”
“I’m a painter” he said and
Looked forlorn.
“Any interesting art you
Create?”
“Yes” he said and showed me
Some pic’s on his smart phone.
Astonished I looked at my own
Paintings.
“Interesting” I replied “where
Do you live?”
He told me: “Hauptstrasse 35
In Weidling.”
“No!” I said aloud “that’s where
I live.”
“Impossible!” He said.
“Do you know something that
I don’t?”
“Well I’m in a jam” he was sad.
“I’ve broken up with my wife
After fifty years.”
“Gee” I gasped “what’s her name?”
“I call her ’Hohlbein’.”
“Oh like the German artist’s wife?”
“Yes.”
“Very funny. You are some special
Lookalike.” I said and began to
Think that I have gone mad.
“Heiligenstadt” the electronic
Announcer sounded overhead.
As I placed my turquoise poetry book
Into my black linen knapsack and
Stood up
The shadow man-artist was gone.
How did I not realize that I had
Turned into a split personality?
Well who really cares
As long as creativity is alive.
SPLIT.TILPS

zoltanzelan
ZJG-POetry’18.

When he doesn’t attend to his
Fav pastime pleasuring his body
The artist cleans up his desk and
Cupboard
Found his aged yellow notebook
CIAK-Handmade in Italy:
Notes. Drawings. Projections.
Design.
The way he lived creatively
Since 2008 –
Glass stair design. Bathrooms.
Wine cellar. Interiors.
Dr Noah’s terrace. Wine cellar.
Play Room above boulder.
Fly beam façade for Byron.
House Leggat.
Covered parking boxes without
A frontal column.
Residence Billet.
Korsman engineer.
Anderson builder.
Meszarich Portfolio.
Pebbles for House B+Z and
Mosaic design for pool niche
At house B+Z.
Learning Greek ‘Kalimera’.
Synopsis for the ‘Greek Muse’
By ZJG.
‘Muses’ by ZG. Myi4d-gallery
At Marousi exhibiting ZG.
ΓΚΑΛΟΣ ΖΩΛΤΑΝ – IPASKT
Gallery in Plaka Athens.
Michel Petrucciano.
Letter to Dimitrios.
Mystikos Elefsina. An artist’s
Rebirth.
‘Faces’ – Paintings listed for
An exhibition.
Logo design for International
Poetry Festival in Athens.
Avant-garde textile design
For Clerici.
Artquid. ZG’s paintings on the
Internet gallery in Paris. France.
About Love – Prose by ZJG.
Anatomy study: The eye.
Studies for a passive house for
Mrs IRA.
Poem ‘Dentist’.
Bookshelf design as we had
As students and immigrants
In Africa of the South.
CIAK.KAIC

zoltanzelan
ZJG-POetry’18.

Carpe diem.
The cold rainy October days
Makes getting up
So difficult.
I move in my usual stride.
‘The day has not 24 hours’
She says
In spite of being together
In one tidied up room
We get into each other’s
Hair on a daily basis
Only after three years here
With more experience
How to avoid nurturing anger
Against each other for pure
Survival conserving energies.

I flee the bedsitter having
Tidied up my part of the room
Washed my dishes in the left
Side of the double sink
Put away unused clothes
Made up my side of the bed
And took my black linen bag
With my paraphernalia
As Ana used to say:
Poetry book Notebook
Toiletry bag ID card Ecard
Credit cards Bus ticket Pens
And highlighters.

Life for the poet begins in
The 400 Bus
Verses scribbled into his
Leuchtturm 1917-notebook
Unlined.
As another person
Unplugged.

As a voluntary helper
I emerge at Schottenring
Station from the U4
And leave the poet in my
Black linen bag
Resting until next time.
BAG.BAB

zoltanzelan
ZJG-POetry’18.