A quick start on Monday

Morning

Ahead of bus schedules

And feeling sorry for his

Knee

The poet murmured

He calls abstract prayer.

‘I will be off on foot’

He said

‘And walk from the bank

To the Physio place

For exercises’.

At the bank the poet noticed

That he’d forgotten his

Reading glasses.

A friendly woman lend him

Her glasses

But they were too weak

To read the code nestling

Between a thicket of drawn

Lines

As an idea to avoid easy

Recognition by others.

Damned!

However

The poet continued his

Shopping at a nearby market

Close to a light industrial area

Amidst fine dust from cement

Productions.

Well. If it’s also excessive diesel

Exhausts or acid rain bursts

Chemtrails from airplanes or

Glyphosate sprayed on fields

It’ll be some micro plastic

In foodstuff.

Forget all that. The poet sighed.

He’d met a woman with dusky

Overall appearance

With brown eyes that glow and

Warm his heart.

Strong good chemistry flows

Through her finger tips

When he receives a medically

Suggested massage on his leg.

Thus her sensual touches

Have affected his whole being.

In time he was attracted to the

Far- eastern beauty.

Will sympathy turn to love?

DUSKY.YKSUD

zoltanzelan

ZJG-POetry’19.

‘Are you a visuospatial whiz

By now’?

Asks Roshni Ramanan

“I repeat for liking – the poet

Muses –

Perhaps it caught me by surprise

And it certainly started

A process of inspiration.

As I look at my drawings and

Paintings on my Ego-wall

At the other side of my desk

I’m indeed a visuospatial

Artist

One who – like you – is

Constantly on the move

Between the spaces of his

Lines and strophes

As a poet.

When he moves into the

Position of a visual artist

He is drawing what he writes

Just vise versa: he writes

What he’s drawn.

And as she writes about her

Goals of installing a sense

Of nostalgia

Melancholy and loss –

I’m absolutely aware

Of having been there

Palpably.

But LOSS has been the

Hardest and worse place

To have ever tread upon

With a devastating bleed

On body  soul  and spirit.

BLEED.DEELB

zoltanzelan

ZJG-POetry’19.

After a long morning

Travelling since seven am

Being checked out by the

Surgeon on duty

For her outpatients

The poet speaks to Dr S

About his art and his latest

Book illustrations

Showing her his note-and

Drawing book.

Then after he’s impressed her

She’s telling him to do

Something with his life

Like exhibit his work.

True.

It costs only a small fortune

And where would he start?

Not knowing anybody here

In Vienna.

He really misses his friends

In Athens

Greece.

The air around the Acropolis.

A tear for Zol

As Ana wrote her prophetic

Poem for him.

He cried but there are no tears

Any longer

She took it with her.

After a long morn’

Some ice cream on a stick

Preferable Magnum Classic

He’s back at his domain

And when he works creatively

The cubbyhole expands.

He’s at ease.

EASE.ESAE

zoltanzelan

ZJG-POetry’19.

If you’ll imagine a space of

4 x 1.8 meters as a room

With half of that as working

Space

You’ll wonder if this area

Is at all usable for a bard

To write

For an artist to render his

Drawings.

Yet it works as an artist’s

Domain –

Its use as a kitchenette

Transformed into a workshop

But not entirely.

The poet’s spouse still enters

At different times for brewing

Coffee or tea

Contributing to the raise of

The poet’s pent-up temper.

It’s absolutely useless to discipline

The bard with abuse of her rights

Of usage.

But then as the artist wakes even

Stronger in the shell of the man

He’ll produces artistic illustrations

Fr his new book

Born out of difficulties

Irritations and needling.

Through years of living in a small

Bedsitter-unit

All stumbling blocks to pursue

His art

Have been successfully transferred

To paper camera and canvas.

TRANSFER.REFSNART

zoltanzelan

ZJG-POetry’19.

The poet has to split

His duties

Do his share of work

For the common domicile

Mini-kitchen as working

Domain

Bath

Living/sleeping room

Tidy-up as demanded

By his spouse for five

Years by now.

He flees at 7:52 in the

Morn’

Bus 401 takes him straight

To the U-Bahn system at

The City of Saints –

Heiligenstadt –

It has to be plan B

As Dr S is not available for

A check-up until Friday.

Sunrays shoot down between

Splattered cloud cover

From a white layered pallid

Blue sky:

It’ll be another hot day.

Paraphernalia in the black

Canvas bag

List of items to be bought:

New handy power cable

Swimming cap

Beard trimmer

Find windcheater to replace

Present one.

However all along a labyrinth

To be checked for prices.

Besides he thinks about the

Illustrations that lie between

All random things

He has drawn for his

KING OF ICE

Book of ballads.

Art always took priority

To a bickering partnership

Still ongoing for half a

Century.

Almal.lamlA

zoltanzelan

ZJG-POetry’19.

Every time the poet’s spouse

Enters his writing domain

He has to get up from his chair

To let her open the door to the

Small gorenje-fridge.

‘You must think my friend that

I have a study

A studio

A writing den all on my own

Just as all writers have.

It’s amazing how these silly

Interruptions

Create a build-up of friction

And yet

My anger transfers to the

Blank pages of my notebook

Into which I write my poetry’.

“You must be determined to

Do that”

Harald says.

‘Well – perhaps.

More than that

It’s part of my passion and

As such just like making love’.

“Indeed!” Harald said.

“I can understand that with

All my senses

Relating to my own life at

Present’.

WRITE.ETIRW

zoltanzelan

ZJG-POetry’19.

The poet found his spouse

Among the chill-out places

Along the Kärntner-Ring

Near the opera.

His spouse enjoys the noises

Of the city

The languid sit-back

Leafing through fashion mag’s

Now and the watch people

Move by on this grand stage –

Street theatre.

The poet does not mind where

To sit and compose his

Journal poetry

For him absolute stillness refers

To a stark white canvas

While the steady hum of the

City noises refers

To a colourful background

He paints his words onto.

So

Even if the poet and his spouse

Sit together in town

It’s not different to sit together

In Weidling

At their small domicile.

She reads ongoing

While he works patiently

On his poetry book of a poetic

Legend.

He’s completed the lyrics for

A German and

For an English edition.

A friend of Mr T’s extended

Family has asked already

Where she could read the

Ballad.

The poet is encouraged to

Publish all very soon.

POETIC.CITEOP

zoltanzelan

ZJG-POetry’19.