Poetry in Times of Lockdowns and Isolation E-Book

Z.J. Galos

• Herausgeber: Books on Demand
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Serie: Poetry During Lockdowns and Isolation
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Seitenzahl: 67

Beschreibung

Suddenly the COVID-19 Pandemic hit Europe and due to its rapid spread Lockdowns had been enforced by governments. Here in Austria, in the heart of Vienna, the poet would experience a completely changed city, reminding him of a ghost town. During the First Lockdown, he traveled in empty trains and streets without people, for several weeks, musing and reflecting about this change of life in the city. At times, he loses the face of a friend through abstinence, he used to meet at St Stephen's Square, though friends would be in contact through the mobile phone, yet personal meetings are still most important to the poet and he misses them. Medical matters are questioned, as well as the products of inoculation, and besides information given seems controversial. In this situation, the poet remains at most times of the day at his writing desk and muses about his quality of life. During the Second Lockdown, matters conducting a usual daily life became for most people very difficult, to say the least. However, it seemed to stir up the poet's memory banks. During the time shopping for necessary food items, the poet observed extreme silence, except for the neighbor's knock on the door, checking on him, exchanging views on the government's offices of health, the wearing of masks, and the changing laws about inoculations. The poet's mind wandered back to his experiences in life, friends, his occupation with art, and remembrances that suddenly appeared in clarity.

Leseprobe

Content

Poetry in Times of Lockdowns

a portrait lost

a thought picked up

about adam’s quotation

air

artist & tiger

between lives

birds

buses

busride

cheers

chemistry & passion

PITOLI 02

derision

do it

done

dreams

evening walk

every morn’

first time jägerwiese again

flow

flux

forward

friends

from muse to poet

good riddens

greed

happiness

have you hugged a tree today?

he and she

he she it

PITOLI 03

he sings the alphabet

high five

hooves

ice cream

jockeying for position

life at eighty

lost paradise

love.evol

malta.atlam

med’s blue

murmur

nature

one smiling eye and tearful other

pain

poet & friend

prolific

purloin

rude health

salud

servus

shifting brains

shrink

soulmate

sunday.yadnus

survival

tears

time

time.emit II

tis’ rose she’d drew

two cultures meet

u4.edge

vivre

walk.sleep.write

warped

bad weather

wine

clarity

zorba’s portrait

zwettler

*

PITOLI 01

POEMS DURING THE COVID 19 PANDEMIC

First Lockdown

a portrait lost

the day before yesterday

i haven’t recognized my

friend

who wore a dark cotton

mask.

and emerged from a shop

at köllnerhof

vienna’s central spot –

not so long ago populated

by crowds of tourists

a place with great vistas

back to 1680. imagine.

close to an icon:

griechenbeisl and the

greek-orthodox basilica

with many art-deco facades

of buildings well cared for.

but the eyes gave her away.

‘i still remember you’ I said

and she stopped having

passed a few strides

turning around:

‘oh it’s Z. is it?’

I took her to a nearby café.

V., a potential girlfriend once

has avoided men

since her last episode

being taken by force –

according to her fantasy-

tainted episode.

she intended to be a girlfriend

and then she didn’t.

a friend talked of her paranoia

however – being a musician

she’s though interesting

enough –

as an artist she’s tops

as a girlfriend she’s not even

willing to have her portrait

painted

not willing to sit for a great

canvas:

demoiselles de vienne.

by now even if her portrait

seems to be lost

another has been found.

a thought picked up

if edward hopper found

that painting exists

due to the impossibility

of words saying all

i am glad he chose to

express himself with his

paintings.

for the poet in me

word-expressions will be

a permanent challenge

that may bring out shades

of feelings

I will depict in drawing/

painting/

or mixed-media art.

well now/ the poet has

worked from his early teens

on his poetry

with recognition from his

friends

stimulated by his young

sensuous muse

he felt indeed that words

failed him to express his

feelings and he drew/

painted/ searching for

his personal style

while mom lauded his

artistic efforts.

from Johannesburg to

Athens/ p his muse ana

furthered his literary

endeavours.

between two poles of

expression now

he wanders about

perhaps it’s all poetry.

about adam’s quotation

“to furnish the means of acquiring

knowledge is…

the greatest benefit that can be

conferred upon mankind.

it prolongs life itself and enlarges

the sphere of existence.”

this quotation/ 160 years back

has not yet percolated thru’ the

broad spectrum of present day

humans worldwide

albeit all modern digital tools to

acquire knowledge –

computer games are of a wondrous

entertainment value

but then – human conscious of

learning should be equally fun

and also a game for young and

also the elderly –

art/ ambience/ the views ahead

stem from the furnishing of means

of knowledge

to be acquired by us

as we are fortunate to have had

a few teachers we’d listened to

who pointed ahead the world

for excellence in the arts.

for now/ the artist’s mind on a

book on art by eric kandel

he saw for sale at leo’s

he hesitated to acquire

but he couldn’t’ get it out of his

mind.

it feels good in his hand and

the only copy in the sale-box

had been left for days now

for him to have and read.

whereto dear poet?

where will you proceed dear

artist

if visitors for an exhibition

opening are restricted to

fifty persons?

waiting and drinking tea.

think about collating another

book with a cover of one of

your paintings:

short stories part 3

it’ll be a top-selling book in

your stable at bod-norderstedt.

bod.dob

air

between masks and stanzas

lies reality and art

not transparent

any longer

all together equally carry

masks

forced to a questionable

uniformed mass.

the stanzas flare up

while the long hair falls

to the thrashing floor of

a man-forced reality –

you only have to peel

the onion

so your tear-filled eyes

will see the truth in the

core –

forced realities in everyday

life belie the tokenism of

cultural institutions for art.

truthful art lies on a layer

of reality

the artist has fought for

all his life –

you know the biographies

of many

but not many will take the

one step to care about it –

masks

will eventually come with

a lockdown

destruction of the human

fibre for living

art/ the modifier/ humidifier

of the soul/ last barrier for

a joie du vivre/ air to breathe.

air.ria

artist & tiger

i don’t mind speed

but when speed means also

mistaken understandings

one should assume the stance

of a fighting tiger

only tigers are killed off

due to their inability to respond

to laser guns with an automated

bullet guide?

nobody can

unless you are blessed with

extraordinary talents

not even the best of us have

or am i just be angry for being

tired to be ripped-off?

you want to be

an instant millionaire?

looks like we

the artists are on the list for

extinction

tolerated by the so-called human

race?

who’ll need art? The poet will hear

you’ll wonder if you’ve killed art

and the last artist

just like killing an animal on the

endangered list

what it’ll do to your environment

worse than you’ll ever imagine

and the same will go for the

artists.

artist & tiger.

between lives

end of summer and

roadworks aren’t finished

in general –

people commute to work

rush to shop

look sheepishly at one

young people laugh

share cynical remarks

talk shop

play games on their mobile

phones –

life in the city has become

a hoarder of masked persons

less individual expressions

of style/ less affordable garb/

less visitors/shops close early/

healthy food is rare/

fatty and sugary stuff in huge

abundance/ open friendliness

is scarce/ a visible rise in

selfish behaviour.

roadworks everywhere.

the bus station at the node

of the City of Saints

had been moved further

adding awkward crossing

of roads and more distance

between connecting lines

narrow pavements can’t cope

with a two-way people stream

passed waiting passengers.

summer’s end/cool air invades/

between stations/ numbers/

between lives.

birds

in midst of a sea of faces

one that draws your attention

a steel pin flung to a magnet

impossible to escape this attraction

and all to do with chemistry –

science tells you.

in midst of checking mail

one letter will stick out like a snap

and endeavour with mastering

of words on a daily routine

you are already trapped-in the

tender communication

the power of words will tell you.

in midst of thoughts

about art and sophisticated

aesthetical considerations

she’ll stick out in a flash

with her hazel eyes/straw hat

presented as a lady in French blue

fine-boned fingers of an artist

an elegant appearance

beguiling smile. snap.

your admiring soul

caught in the tender trap

like the paradisiacal bird

she paints on ivory wood

a part of paradise lost

sensitively caught with pencil

and brush