UNREAL

His mind-flights stir in him

Enhanced by the absence of his Muse

A series of lines and imaginary shapes

He hastens to place on a sheet of paper

Into his black & silver journal

While he sits back and recalls the

Lovemaking of last night.

In a breathless wrangle with his dark

Angel or Muse or the love she’d

Created in his last poetic legend.

His mouth open. Dry. Gasping.

His hands fastening on the body of

His beloved in a sea of a warm and

Pleasurable spring.

Waking to a strange noise

Lying across in the wide bed

A neck-roll between his thighs

Just like a body…

He’d check his bed and the cushions

Spread around

But the sleeping partner gone.

Incredible.

How a full moon would beam down

His imaginary dream of love

He’d probably watched on arte

Erotic scenes of a French movie

What else?

Has predictions of his Muse come

True?

She’d promised to keep him going

Declaring him a poet of love

In a Café’s first floor at Mitrepoleos

Athens

Twenty-one years ago.

It seems all not real now.

But also not all born in his

Imagination.

UNREAL.LAERNU

zoltanzelan

ZJG-POetry’19.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.