My dear spouse and

Best friend B:

You know me apparently

So well

Over 51years of staying

Together

Having had our best times

In the first ten years of our

Relationship and then

Having experienced the

‘Dark Continent’ together

Enjoyed the lands and game

The colourful spectrum of

People and their varied fare.

Weathered many storms of

Outer and inner causes

Escaped in time the senseless

Slaughter of minority people

Women and children

Celebrated the poet’s Fine Art

Creations in Athens.

I thank you for leaving me

An artist’s free space and

The love of a Muse.

My dear B. This is in memory

Of peaceful togetherness

In a place pushed onto us

Thro’ political constraints

Yet we’ll endure.

Two strong-willed artists

Hungry for freedom.

FREEDOM.MODEERF

zoltanzelan

ZJG-POetry’19.

Mr P from Germany

Entertains Mr T with his

Innumerable jokes.

Both laugh until tears

Well from their eyes.

However.

The poet sips from his

Cup of green tea

And at times laughs at

One of the more clever

Jokes.

But most importantly

It’s necessary

That Mr T is entertained

Begins to relax and

Kept in a good mood

Overcoming his neuro-

Attacks.

Besides. Mr T entertains

Us all back with the

Storytelling of his dreams.

Jokes and Dreams.

zoltanzelan

ZJG-POetry’19.

There she was in front of me:

Inga –

The dusky beauty from the

Eastern globe

I used to call her Georgia

The same name song befitting

Her gentle way of a healing

Massage

Whatever.

Surprise.

I had intended to call her

Months ago.

I hung on to her face

Something still left from

That original gut-feeling of a

Matching chemistry.

Indeed.

I was the last patient

Walked to the bus station

Asked Georgia if she’d take

The bus.

‘Usually’. She said. ‘But not

Today’.

Well. Who knows

What could have developed

From our conversation

Still?

Perhaps.spahreP

zoltanzelan

ZJG-POetry’19.

For eight decades

Life ticks off

Regardless.

At times adventures

Seem the worthwhile

Thing to do.

Yet when young

Your fall means to get up

And dust yourself off.

Love‘s a great game

The hunter becomes

The hunted in the end.

Experienced women

Will show you sweet treats

Gardens of joy and lust.

In mid-life finally

All professional work means

To reach the top in the

Art of Building.

Then as tragedies strike

Spouse’s series of operations

Will set back a family life.

Diving into ART as soon

As loss of building work cuts

Deep into self-assurance.

LOVE. Mature love overflies

All life’s problems and

Creativity takes off.

This Saturn-rocket catapults

Your artistic talents into

A universal happening.

All’s short lived but love

Muse Athens remains

A tactile passion replay.

Zed the ZED and

Ay the AY.

ZA.AZ

zoltanzelan

ZJG-POetry’19.

Incredible circumstances

Delay the poet’s

Continuous striving to get

His poetry book published.

Writing time – Bus rides

The U-Bahn time

Waiting for the return

Bus-rides

To the outskirts of Vienna.

A traffic system that’s

Reaching all suburbs

But some more effectively

Than others.

Wake – B watches the news

Quite depressing in all.

Take a small cup

Of ‘Harvest Moon’ and nuts

Chia seeds and

Some Greek honey.

For a while my concentration

Lapsed

My friend says it comes from

Too much masturbation.

My common sense bluffed

By new ideas for a poem

I forgot my linen bag with my

Paraphernalia

But have taken my Samsonite

Bag on wheels.

However.

I had my cellular phone with me

And though I travelled two

Stations too far at first

The picture of Praterstrasse

Appeared in front of me

Haven’t travelled to this spot

Of town for some time.

Yet the vision of an autumn

Alley with its plane trees

Stood vividly in front of me.

Nestroyplatz.

Now I was right.

Damn. My cellular phone

Has to stay at least two days

With the Samsung company.

My old Nokia dead.

Incredible.

No communication.

No music.

No time piece.

And no WhatsApp.

No camera.

I’m cut off from my usual

World I’m living in

Assessing now its weight

Of importance.

CELLULAR PHONE.

CELLULAR LIFE:

zoltanzelan

ZJG-POetry’19.

She misunderstands

The poet’s plan and research

For a change of domicile

Blaming the Internet for

Misinformation

Working herself up for

No reason.

Like Mr T she intends

To control all her partner’s

Activities

For a common goal in mind

Of the poet’s way forward.

The insignificant things

Will in the end mean

A crash

For any fruitful dialogue

Nurturing distrust.

For the wing flaps of butterflies

Could well create a storm.

STORM.MROTS

zoltanzelan

ZJG-POetry’19.

The spirits of the night

Will appear at times of

Creative activities

The flow of poetry out of

A nutshell of dreams

The artist’s yearning for

His Muse

Will slip like a pen knife

Between its seams

To crack it open.

Crack. Crack.

The veil of forgetfulness

Fallen

Her slick bodylines move

In a seductive dance

So touchable

So tactile

Instant lovemaking –

The artist’s virile present

From the Gods.

An extraordinary walk

In the gardens of

Love & Creation.

CRACK.KCARC

zoltanzelan

ZJG-POetry’19.