ILLUSION

Rucksack packed

Vitamin pills swallowed

Blood pressure measured

Beret. Shawl. Leather coat

Sunglasses

Unlock front door

He says good-bye to his spouse

Who doesn’t respond.

Exit one step up into dusty

Gravel split yard.

Lock entrance door.

Maybe she’s still upset –

The poet muses –

About yesterday’s meeting

In a realty office in Dresdner

Street

But moving up in the world

Of suitable accommodation

Requires a good and steady

Income

Yet excellent design is usually

Appreciated by true artists.

But who will pay for it?

Ask your friends – she said.

The poet had to laugh out

So loud

He pushed his coffee all over

The high glossy catalogue.

His good intention to play

Along with his spouse as long

As he could find a way to

Avoid a noose around his neck.

Yet it all stopped at Café

De’l Opera in Vienna with

A generous meal and the poet

Had to load off tension while

Joking with Luigi the gregarious

Waiter.

After that the poet and his

Spouse took the train towards

The City of Saints

With his spouse exiting at

Vienna Midway

Having to swallow the poet’s

Perspective of reality

She had lost while dreaming

Of a wondrous flat

They cannot afford.

Back at the temporary home

Without a valid contract

Hopefully the major will be

Helpful to sort out

One way or another.

The poet foresees a painful

Split

While arranging an alternative

Affordable rental agreement

With the city of KLNBG.

While his spouse will stay

Dissatisfied

But then she lives her own

Illusion.

ILLUSION.NOISULLI

zoltanzelan

ZJG-POetry’19.

Electric Motor Rail

I lie in my rented bed

And seek a comfortable lie

One leg in the electric motor rail

To reactivate my muscles again.

In a supine rest

The ever-repeating stretches

And bends

Will render mobile functions

The monotonous dove-like

Cooing will put me to

Restful slumber.

Perhaps cleaning the ever-dusty

Laminate floor

Made me also tired

My strength not back more than

85% or less.

However

My term to clean during May.

In an artist’s consciousness

Of interactions to a world that

Constantly changes

Needs to be observed and

Reported on.

My leg.

My cyber-leg inserts will be

The answer to enable me

Walking the landscapes around

Lower Austria

Scale along the Viennese Woods

Building up renewed fitness

And feel a complete person

Physically and mentally

To follow one’s ever-yearning

Soul.

zoltanzelan

ZJG-POetry’19.

PATIENCE

I did not know how much

Patience

I would have to muster

Before I handed myself over

To most capable surgeons

Who replaced my used up

Knee-joint.

But thanks to gravity

The delicate bone of the

Coccyx

Fought the squashing of the

Body’s ongoing supine lie.

Washing daily

I would apply cooling lotion

To this irritated tailbone.

Gee!

Impossible to touch the

Bee-sting sensation.

Damned! Patience.

Condemned to lie supine

Adjusting my bed remotely

To different angles each day.

Each hour.

Who knows how often

I’d seek a wee-bit relief.

OH YES!

Moving bums left and right

By centimeters.

GOD!

Get out of bed in spite of

Pain

‘S the only solution to stay

Reasonably sane

Lie down only when exhausted.

This routine then worked best

For a seven day stay.

PATIENCE.ECNEITAP

zoltanzelan

ZJG-POetry’19.

FACES

Overtaking my mind on the fast lane

Whirling me up into the air of an

Observer

Stirring up my emotional life:

Greedy faces of advertising.

The sorry face of having lost

All of one’s possessions.

A pretty face frozen in a moment’s

Ecstasy – like Mary Magdalene.

A surgeon’s face of concern

For her patient

Like a mother’s for her child.

A mature face of a female Muse

Depicted by a talented artist –

A face in agony equals a face

In ecstasy.

A face of eternal sadness.

The face of eternal mystery

Like Leonardo’s Mona Lisa.

David’s victorious face having

Killed Goliath.

Giacometti’s face reduced into

His fading figures.

Picasso and Dali’s portraits

Facing each other.

Camus’ face doubting his very

Existence.

And this list will probably go on

For a long time indeed!

FACES.SECAF

zoltanzelan

ZJG-POetry’19.

Make Time

Usually all boils down to

Five milestones in one’s life

Just like in a novel

But don’t take a poet’s word

For it.

Just see for yourself

Once you’ve reached a state

Of self-realization

Of being destined to report

Being a messenger of the spirited

The souls you’ve been related to

Embraced and still love.

For who’ll know if there’s still

A milestone left

In the mature life phase of

An artist?

Perhaps he is capable to feel it

Capable of sensing vibes from

His Muse

The Greek Muse

But then perhaps from all his

Illustrious Muses

Who dance around his virtual

Lyre

He strokes to entertain them.

Make time for your milestone

In art. POET.

Make Time.

zoltanzelan

ZJG-POetry’19.

TALE

Amazing repetition of an

Irate spouse about recurring

Ill health

Shouts of blame on the next

Of kin

Albeit the poet’s patience

In spite of offered help

A barrage of insults on his head.

Besides

The poet had a fortnight ago

An op

Replacing his knee joint

Yet

He quietly accepts errands

Thanked with kicks.

Incredibly raugh the swings

Of M/D

Like molten lava into a sea

Of ice.

Such signs of her illness

He missed at first meetings

Doused by flights of fancy

From her honey pot.

Now then

For five major milestones

During his life

The poet witnessed peaks

And ravines of a married life.

Pushed high in free flight

But fallen like Icarus…

Only the poet had survived

To stay and tell the tale.

TALE.ELAT

zoltanzelan

ZJG-POetry’19.

MAY

May that brought bright colours

With rich flowers to the senses.

May like an angel that guided

A poet’s life to resurrection

Amid Mahler’s symphony.

The poet wonders if the composer

Felt that intense

To create his great musical canvas

Just like the artist feels a ride of

Elation with his imminent work

That grows out of a plain white

Sheet of paper?

Be it poet or painter

Musician or composer

There’s no greater revelation of

One’s existence

Than to fly the skies of creation

Unlimited.

There she was

The dusky Muse

Fleet footed and radiant

May transferred from an angelic

State

To the plains of human healing.

MAY – all is in bloom

Friendship and love

The scent of white lilac flowers

Placed on her ebony locks.

zoltanzelan

ZJG-POetry’19.