BUBBLE

Day by day

For the last seven days

The poet had been at first to find

The mood to slip into the

Protective bubble

Of his artistic groove

Living in a room of his Muse

And touching the circles of his

Responsibility

Looking after an elderly friend

Administering his medication

Strictly within the agreed

Hours.

On the surface an easier task

It seemed

Yet the poet had to learn the skill

To switch off from his duties

To the creative mood he’s

Looking forward to

Day by day.

His creativity has never been

This successful

Never been this prolific

Good deeds followed by good

Art.

A great experience

To be repeated?

BUBBLE.ELBBUB

zoltanzelan

ZJG-POetry’19.

WORK & ART

Like a bird

Surprised by sudden cold air

She shies away from walking outside

Her sensorial system raised to high alert

She even smells the omission from a nearby

Chimney emitting smoke from burning

Second-hand fossil fuel.

And this with doors and windows closed

Her body in grave stirred-up alert.

Her temper flares up to the slightest

Tease or humorous comment

She’ll need a holiday. She stated.

‘My blood pressure is quite high and

You play silly buggers.

Well even if she’ll grow wings

She cannot fly to the South

Like the birds.

I feel sorry for her. She cannot cope with

Her budget allowance.

Well now.

The poet observes and sticks to his own

Budgetary restraints.

His good luck – His physical fitness –

A wonderful gift.

His options though are limited to work

And that is: Poetry and Art

Appreciated by his friends.

WORK & ART.

zoltanzelan

ZJG-POetry’19.

SENSE

The poet has indeed mastered

Perhaps his jealousy and hurt

To a high degree

As taught by his Muse in Athens

Greece.

Yet he has not been able to

Describe his deep sorrow

About a love he refers to as:

‘Great Love’

Where all components merged

Heart Mind and Soul.

Do you hear me Ana?

Wherever you are now?

Don’t forget your promise

To send me Muse.

Perhaps you have and I am not

Sensing it that much

Maybe a lost Great Love does that

To anybody

Poet or Artist

Anybody listening to his or her

Deep emotional life

That has to be cultivated at first

Before you will walk the gardens

Of your efforts

And muse about love’s

Precious fruit!

Do you read me?

SENSE.ESNES

zoltanzelan

ZJG-POetry’19.

17 seventeen

‘The seventeen reminds me of my Muse

In cosmopolitan Athens’ –

The poet said –

And felt gently tugged by her

At an intimate moment of waking-up.

‘Once a great event of a perfect communicative

Game turned a great love

Impossible to know at the start

Into the blue-violet mist of the city

Around the Filothei Hill

Last visited with my Great Muse

On a day filled with an overflow of

Emotions’.

Still emotions grip his heart and throat

But tears won’t come any longer

To his eyes

All the while in the country of

Africa at the South

He had cried into the garden of his dreams

That brought frustration to his poetry and

Art: Seventeen Songs for ANA.

So then, the poet mused –

‘Is this my work cut out for me?

That my Muse had intended before she

Made the giant irreversible step into the

‘Great Void’?

SEVENTEEN.NEETNEVES

zoltanzelan

ZJG-POetry’19.

Viennese Sunday Morn’

Time to wake up and take

His medicine

Boil water and prepare some

Nestle instant cappuccino

As Mr T would like it.

His special small spoon at the

Side

Some full fat milk and the

Sweetener bottle.

While the poet has

Earl Grey Tea with a slice of

Lemon

He also sips at leisure

Into a Sunday morn’

At the city with a view of

The gothic turret of

Maria am Gestade.

The skies a gun battle grey

Start lighten up

But – thank you – no winds

As usual in Vienna.

The artist ZG takes his pen

Sketches Mr T in a pensive

Mood

In his city of birth – Bratislava.

B phones to tell the poet

To switch on Phoenix TV and

View a docu on the famous

Villa Borghese in Rome.

Magnificent. Thoughts about

Rome swoosh thru’ his mind

Happy times at a beautiful

Hotel near the Spanish steps

And Via Condotti.

Sixteenth Chapel with the

Great art of Michelangelo.

Overpowering.

Unforgettable.

Roma eternal.

ROMA.AMOR

zoltanzelan

ZJG-POetry’19.

VIVA ARTISTI

A choice of a place in Europe would

Mean

To live as a citizen within

Everywhere. Not?

Yes and no.

If you’ll receive a state minimal

Pension-like contribution

When the state or its local gvmt.

Determines the place of living

Where you receive your support.

However.

Living in some European countries

Will have you at a knife’ edge

Due to the cost of living.

One would not feel

That there’s an existence of

A European community

But then…

The cost of living climbing steadily

The state’s support stays a fixed

Amount

Besides the cost of accommodation

Rising yearly with increments.

A decent living for a couple –

The poet knows personally –

Is impossible with the allotted

Monthly payment.

The locked-in couple:

Artist and designer. Survival artists.

Perhaps fate will provide another

Chance for them.

VIVA ARTISTI.

VIVA.AVIV

zoltanzelan

ZJG-POetry’19

Yeah

The poet studied the artist’s painting

Who worked on a while at the table

In Mr T’s kitchen.

One morning he saw himself looking

At a bronze sculpture of a man

Throwing his arms up in desperation.

An existentialist position.

He mumbled to himself:

‘Something recalls in me desperation

At hand

Visiting the poor in an African township.

However.

It still happens at this moment

As it has happened since Adam & Eve.

Desperation of thinking about one’s

Own family

Having suffered injustice thru’ politics

And murderous intent.

Now then many of the culprits and

Infamous have been put to trial and

To face the justice system in the

Western ‘so-called’ democratic world.

However.

So many of the small people and the

Poor

Who suffered thru’ secondary thugs

Who had been overlooked by the

Justice system

Not even ostracized by society

Even not by today’s date’.

While the poet does not take the

Law into his own hands

Brandishing a gun

He definitely takes the sword of

Words

To punish those responsible

Destroying his family.

Yeah.haeY

zoltanzelan                      ZJG-POetry’19.