Poetry in times of lockdowns and isolation , Book II E-Book

Z.J. Galos

• Herausgeber: Books on Demand
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Serie: Poetry in times of lockdowns and isolation
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Seitenzahl: 75

Beschreibung

In Book II, poetry had been further collated that had been written during the Third Lockdown in Vienna, Austria, while the statistics of the Covid-19 pandemic showed a staggering increase in infections and deaths due to it. Pro and con corona health management filled the daily newspapers and TV debates. During this time the poet's art exhibition in downtown Vienna remained hung at Gallery Z, but visitor groups were forbidden to enter, and only individuals could visit on invitation at a prior appointment. Masks were obligatory in all public places and a general depressive mood spread throughout the communities. The poet had a good understanding with his friends, who appeared regularly on the social pages of the Internet. One still could feel a longing for hope and good wishes for staying healthy became an important regular ritual to live through this ordeal to see the turn of the pandemic tide. And yet, everybody became aware of the changing times thereafter. The poet had been blessed with his fount of memories that started to flow and provide him with many contemporary poems thanks to encouragement from friends and Muses.

Leseprobe

Index

poetry during the covid 19 pandemic second lockdown

antennas

colours

decipher

finissage

PITOLI 02

fusion

her head

live create communicate

long live the muse

love below the sea III

nature will look after itself

poets

recluse

search

solo

sparks

synomilitis (01)

synomilitis (02)

PITOLI 03

the span of life

thirst

rounded

poetry in times of covid 19 pandemic & lockdowns

alas

anticorona

belonging

body & soul

broken

dust up

eros at play

expired

forward/ forward

friday morn’

PITOLI 04

pablo

locked up – free

loner

muses

present

retribution

tea bag

translation

viva anti-corona

waking

viva thru’ art

tools

poetry in times of isolation after three lockdowns

PITOLI 05

CTS

HUMAN

LASER

LESVOS

LOVER IN SPE

NOW

ORGASM

RED

REFLECT

RUSH

TACTILE

The Gift

THE SLIP

TWO IN ONE

VIRTUAL

VIVA Ira.arI AVIV

Wepos & Teapot

Worthwhile

The Gift (02)

CODE

Kept Alive

PITOLI 06

The Friend

Prose in Times after Lockdowns & Isolation

Freudian Slip of a Program

On a May’s Sunday morn’

The Artist of Eros

Index

About the author

Note to poems

Other books by the author.

PITOLI 01

POEMS DURING THE COVID 19 PANDEMIC

Second Lockdown

antennas

there’s hardly a sound

to hear

except for the knock on

the door

the neighbour who comes

around

saying hello

before lockdown 3 will start

in three days

all is still

besides the daily contracted

people

who still are lucky to hold

a job

have moved early this morn’

to finish up midday.

then – as all goods and food

have been shopped already

will return to suburbia

to spend the x-mas holidays

at home

but not so the well-to-do

and dedicated sports pals

who’ll inundate the ski resorts

but this year with strict

adherence to health reg’s

wearing masks wherever

they will gather

inside or outside inns and

bars or facilities

lockdown 3 reg’s will bite.

the artist has depicted masked

people of the 2020 massing

already some years back

when fear gripped his heart

poets/artists

equipped with sensitive

antennas.

antennas.sannetna

colours

not likely that I’ll enjoy

the morn’ at the dentist

but cleaning one’s teeth

is once a year

enduring 30 minutes of

scaling and polishing

besides it’ll be an exercise

in coping with sensitivity

of gums at the base of this

heavy duty biting machine

with the initial focus on

preparing for the awkward

scaling

and not to feel like a fish

in this white/lilac room

being scaled while still alive.

the hygienist/pleasant/

sweet but inexperienced

main thing /all’s done for

the remainder of healthy

teeth.

back along the weidling brook

taking-in the autumn colours

sated yellows/orange hues/

reds and burnt siena browns

colourful nature lifts up the

colour conscious artist’s soul

humming a soul he had

listened to on youtube

recently.

colors.sroloc

decipher

the death of a relationship

is indeed the death of a secret

language

says manuel vilas

but then you had taken no time

to recognise such hidden ways

as there are fresh strong feelings

at the start of a new affair

then perhaps its sliding through

a healthy portion of eros

into a marriage of limitations.

the life you’ve tenaciously started

to build in a foreign country

shook in an earthquake of

dwindling legs

crashing down house of cards

dreams pursued with vigour

interrupted and destroyed by

a charming marauder –

like life is at times –

when the gold of your steady

acquisitions

runs out like fine sand from

your clenched fist

that held on to it tightly

and all changes overnight

ships that ran ashore

covered up thru’ sand dunes

of fleeting times

cities disappear

to be found by the archaeologists

of future fame

who’ll decipher the writings of

a secret language.

finissage

friday 13 –

for too many a taboo

of engaging in any outdoor

activities/even stay inside

but to some even in their bed

all day

consider it a safe heaven.

as one observer of this day 13

that fell on a friday

riddled by his phobia of

superstition: bad things will

happen on such a day/ he said

not for the artist

who was born in his grandpa’s

house/at number 13.

which he had built himself and

he was not superstitious

while some hotels don’t feature

a floor thirteen.

however/the poet had a dialog

of interest with the artist

who cleaned-up the highly

polished polyurethane surfaces

of the panelled wall decorations

where his paintings were

attached by double-tape

for nine months –

imagine as long as a pregnancy

would normally take –

but for an exhibition a record

especially for a not yet well-known

artist to the viennese society.

on friday 13th the last procedure

of removing all exhibited pieces

of paintings

was a fine solo finisage.

finisage.egasinif

PITOLI 02

Fusion

poet/painter

artist/muse

every artist will eventually

be recognized with praise

of being genuine

or condemned by the ignorant

the hoi-polloi of a lesser mind.

as mark rothko/painter/writes:

“a picture lives by

companionship

expanding and quickening

in the eyes of the sensitive

observer.

it dies by the same token.

It is therefore risky

to send it out into the world.

how often it must be impaired

by the eyes of the unfeeling

and the cruelty of the

impotent.”

the artist lives by his/her muse

in whose garden

he or she grows images of

his or her design.

all great art’s fount is thus

thru’ the spirit of a muse:

here the priestess of a temple

there the ritual of

sacred creation

fusion –

a tremendous earth-shattering

inner-most explosion –

thus the birth of great art.

fusion.noisuf

her head

the artist will grow

his muses’ images into

her painted head

seen thru’ all his personal

experiences

felt thru’ the tiniest touches

of his fingertips

touching the points on his

body

where her fingers once

had touched.

she talked of palimpsest

actions

the artist had once encountered

in the south of africa

viewing rock-art of the san

people

out of the smoke and twilight

of an evening

setting her image took shape

to the flickers of a log fire

since then this image will

haunt the artist.

live create communicate

the world around the artist‘s

domicile

has quietened down

considerably

businesses closed

some food shops remain

partly opened

the hum of everyday life

has faded

like the wintry skies

new state regulations

recall the curfew of 1944

somebody remarked

only artists keep comm.’s

alive

support each other like

brothers/sisters

thrive with great works

of art

any lockdown of public life

could never lock down

neither artists creativity

nor their fruitful and lively

communication –

all is in flux.

artists create in solitude

but we’ll never be overcome

or being conquered

by any curfew

however toned-down

words of so-called leaders

will gloss-over these presently

unfortunate times

with wash-over speeches

to nullify critical voices of

human beings –

live/create/communicate

your ideas.

long live the muse

while searching for a pair of

suppression stockings

to rid my feet from an oversupply

of liquid –

i’d rather imbibe red wine –

and found in between sorting

of tons of paper/newspaper cuts/

magazines/prints of my writings/

poetry/notes on a novella

about the dramatic happening

around Andromeda

cast into a wondrous star.

besides of working hard on this

sunday afternoon 12/06

usually reserved for my poetry

i’ve found out that i was really

searching for that kind of love

that has left behind traces

in all my writings –

and ana’s poem: ‘a tear for zed’

sums it all up –

when real deeper seated love

emerges

perhaps only once in a lifetime

if at all

in a person’s life

however/the innocence/ and

the ingenuity of a poet

draws on bevy of beautiful and

giving angels

who’ll be the best muses –

sent by the god of the arts –

for the poet’s imminent phase

of creative work.

‘zontani mousa’

long live the muse

love below the sea III

throw yourself into the

cretan sea

the med’s inky blue

use your imagination

b/jo/val/maria/whoever

from those muses

will pose for the artist –

black granite snakehead

emerald eyed bejewelled

golden frog

lots of kisses

but no standard prince

appeared –

teddy bear sleeps in the

shade of a sycamore tree

the artist in a blue dive

his muse a cousin of the

evasive nereids

blows him full of air

like efflorescent balloons

they float in love

below a sea of dreams

now and then

a/c issues a piece of herself

striptease of her artist’s

precious being

some days they meet in

the med’s magical blue

garden

symposium of grand art.

nature will look after itself