Muses IV E-Book

Z.J. Galos

• Herausgeber: Books on Demand
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Serie: MUSES
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Seitenzahl: 110

Beschreibung

In Muses IV, 'Magic Unisons', as the title indicates, the word magic explains best those moments, when during the process of composing word sequences that gradually become verses and stanzas, and could lead to a whole cycle of compositions, like in the 'Chants of a Traveling Bard'. For love, in 'Magic Unisons', transferred into many shades of enjoyment and happy feelings, one's Muses certainly stimulate the poet with their sensual impulses: This cannot be stored like goods, but the traces of those happy moments are still embedded in the poet's soul and the souls of all people engaged in creative work. Fascinating are the times one spends looking through one's creative output of one year that usually happens at the end of it when the mood is influenced by dark ominous cloud formations, snowfall that reflects the dusky light, fine stringing rain, unexpected storms, and foggy mystical mornings. Indeed, magical unisons are unique.

Leseprobe

Index of pages

INA:ANI

Evol.nemA

Sunday.yadnuS

Drawing: unison 01

omofonia

unisson

Drawing: unison 02

Diamond

Notes in the green journa of the poet, marked muses IV

Notes ctd.: PFOA

Zoltan art 8 on Instagram created by ateet

Soulbonding

A Journey back in Time

Part one

A Journey back in Time

Part Two

Drawing: unison 03

ART

CHANTS OF A TRAVELING BARD

CHANT ONE

CHANT TWO

CHANT THREE

CHANT FOUR

CHANT FIVE

CHANT SIX

CHANT SEVEN

CHANT EIGHT

CHANT NINE

CHANT TEN

Drawing: unison 04

CHANT ELEVEN

CHANT TWELVE

CHANT THIRTEEN

CHANT FOURTEEN

CHANT FIFTEEN

CHANT SIXTEEN

CHANT SEVENTEEN

CHANT EIGHTEEN

CHANT NINETEEN

CHANT TWENTYONE

Reflections in Ira’s cottage

Z, the poet’s green journal. Sobi, 20231203

Union

ART.TRA

There are still sun swept cityscapes

Winter morn’ in the city

LOSSES

Anna

Klosterneuburg-Weidling, 20231210

End of the year: The poet in his Sobi Room writing.

Drawing: unison 05

Thursday End of September

cottage

Ballad of lost things

Red Tower Room Revisited

Uranus

Poems and Art

SOON

On my facebook page Naomi wrote

Warm Water

Drawing: unison 06

Amen for Love

Drawing: unison 07

About the author

Other books by the author.

unison 01

Prolog

Muses, like falling in love induce well feeling, happiness, being content, rise to new challenges, seen at times matters clearly in their interlinking connectivity, the craving for a tactile physical relationship, celebrate one’s inner youth, circulate between the characters one senses to be inside one’s innermost being, dance with one’s muses the round dance, bring flowers to a special muse, at times see the path forward clearly in one’s mind, give in the call of passed muses and follow the footsteps one had taken together in the city of their stay.

For love, in ‘magic unisons’, transferred to many shades of enjoyment and happy feelings, one’s Muses certainly will stimulate the poet with their sensual impulses. This cannot be stored, but the traces of those happy moments are still embedded in the poet’s soul, the artist’s soul, in the soul of all people engaged in creative work. Fascinating are the times one spends looking through the creative output of a year that usually happens at the end of it, when the mood is influenced by dark ominous cloud formations, snowfall that reflects the dusky light, fine stringing rain, unexpected storms, and foggy mystical mornings. For ‘magic unisons’ are unique.

The artist greets his past Muse, who had been forced by hereditary genes to have an early end to her life through a terminal illness, or what would be the other reason if one is not blaming the three Fates for it. Every time the artist enters his tiny domain furnished with one small four seater restaurant table, placed close to the window for left side lighting, he stands close to the portrait of his Greek Muse and he gazes into her big sad brown eyes. He lifts his hand and his fingers stroke gently along her cheeks and across her lips. A ritual that causes him to sigh and still feel the traces of love awaking in his heart, lifting up his soul, and taking him for a flight into the spheres of his world he shares with her in closeness of their souls. He believes in the power of souls, as the soul will never die and so will love.

There are times, when the poet is back to his writing room, his present Muse had provided him, where he is writing his poems and most of the times love poems for her. Her sublime eroticism had seduced the poet and his words he chose had spun a fine web of soul bonding between them. One that strong that through the years of their stealthy relationship, the poet would create most sensual poetry for her that she felt his longing so strong that their feelings synchronized at an ongoing chain of a subtle union of body and soul, even without consuming sexual love in its entirety.

There are two or three other Muses at the side, who had used their female powers to influence the poet’s decision to select them as their sole consort. The poet though has not endeavoured to do that. He lives between their varied sweet and challenging character traits. That’s what the erotic tension is all about he rides on his stanzas of ballads, odes, elegies, and prose. Do they like his creative work? Perhaps, but his intellectual Muse offers him impulses that pull him forward, like Nordic Walking, he had exchanged for swimming, just to be with her, just to let the wings of her eroticism let his fantasy fly with her above the rooftops of Vienna.

In this sense the poet sits down and writes with one of his ink pens, he had received from his Muses along his winding road of creating art. Wonderful that friends will help him to stay alive, feel the sparks of creation that spurn him on to create works of beauty and Eros. Without beauty there’s no Eros, without beauty we fail to exist. Love is everything. Indeed. With love there’s no war and no destruction.

*

INA.ANI

The date’s reduction

to one. A good sign for

the ageing bard

on the road to a good

looking woman

caring for his teeth

in the third row of

life’s happenings.

Voila!

First thoughts of INA

her visual appearance

good looking in her

dark lycra bathing suit

at the Old Danube’s

pleasurable swim

a potential partnership

at mature age

age of fearless adventurers

brought together by a twist

of fate

love for the arts

the fading out of her hubby

besides crass changes in

the psyche of the poet’s

spouse of 55 years (10=1)

at this point in 2023 (7) the

numbers play out well

supporting the bard’s

wish to become a poet of

love. Indeed. As the door

of life closed on Ana

the poet walked lanes of

darkness along Panepistimiou

Odos. Road of destiny.

As the crane flies. Waterfields.

Early morning’s mild autumn

air. The tug of silence.

Her voice a pleasant soprano:

(INA.ANI) Ina. Woman from

the Danube River’s flow.

INA.ANI

*

Evol.nemA

Would we sing together

and dance to music

of any kind and rhythm?

Would we swing together

too strong individuals

to the tunes of One Night

with Blue Note – Ron Carter

Freddie Hubbard and Herbie

Hancock. Bobby Hutcherson

And many more Jazz greats

or are we in the mood for

a Strauß waltz sitting close

together listening to

nessum dorma. All’s fine.

All’s good in love.

Evol.lovE

Amen.nemA

*

Sunday.yadnuS

Sunday morn’ the bod’s

awareness of his Muse

rises his temperature

of longing

while he floats in his

nearness to her touches

a gradual approach since

many moons and closer yet

thro’ sweet water floats’

ritual cleaning of body

and soul

the spirit with a golden

obolus

for the ferry man

on a tour of lover’s

embraces

from here to eternity.

Drawn together on a

Soul bonding Sunday

morn’s intimate touches.

Sunday.yadnuS

unison

bright morn’s september

a garden of delights

barefoot soul’s stroll

thru’ dew kissed grass

the sunrays touching’s

gentle hugging

a breaky’s ritual

makes a happy morn’

there’s perhaps some

substitute for waking

up alone and perform

one’s morning rituals to

face the day ahead

yet there’s no substitute

for the enjoyment of two

souls in consonance.

unison.nosinu

unison

Strahlender Septembermorgen

ein Garten der Freuden

Barfuß Seelenflanieren

im Gang durch taugekühltes

Gras

berührt durch des Sonnenstrahls

sanfter Umarmungen

ein Breaky’s Ritual

macht solch einen glücklichen

Morgen

vielleicht gibt’s einen Ersatz

dafür

alleine aufzuwachen

seine Morgenrituale

durchzuführen um den

nächsten Tag zu meistern

dennoch für diesen Genuss

gibt’s keinen Ersatz für

zwei Seelen im Einklang.

Unisono.onosinU

Omofonía

φωτεινό πρωινό του Σεπτεμβρίου

ένας κήπος με απολαύσεις

βόλτα ξυπόλυτων ψυχών

μέσα από δροσιά φίλησε γρασίδι

οι ακτίνες του ήλιου αγγίζουν

απαλή αγκαλιά

μια τελετουργία διακοπής

κάνει ένα χαρούμενο πρωινό

υπάρχουν ίσως μερικά

υποκατάστατο για το ξύπνημα

μόνος και εκτελεί το ένα

πρωινές τελετουργίες για να αντιμετωπίσετε

η μέρα που ακολούθησε

αλλά δεν υπάρχει υποκατάστατο

για να το απολαύσω με δύο ψυχές

σε συνεννόηση.

ομοφωνία.nosinu

unisson

matin lumineux de septembre

ún jardin de délices

la promenade de l’ame pieds nus

á travers l’herbe embrassée par la rosée

les rayons du soleil se touchent

les doux câlins

le rituel du petit-dejeuner

rend une matinée heureuse

il y a peut – être un substitute

pour me réveiller seul

et effectuer ses rituels matinaux

pour affronter la journée à venir

pourtant, rien ne pent le remplacer

avec deux âmes en consonance.

unisson.nossinu

unison 02

Diamond

Every time he enters the cottage

he looks out for her.

Every time he wakes in the morn’

he lies close to her in his dreams.

There are times to let the present

go and enjoy a new moon

ride upon the skies on a

shooting star.

there’s nothing more enticing

than a walk together

soul and mind in unison

Sister. Brother. Since the eons

of time

lost in the doldrums of life’s

labyrinth of a dense existence

found like a diamond on a

moonlight sparkling beach

at Southwest Africa.

Diamond.dnomaiD

Notes in the green journal, marked as Muses IV, 2023.09.09:

Volcanic bombs (Canarian Island)

PFOA – Luftgift/ Poisoned air (verboten/ prohibited) still nachweisbar im Wasser/ still proved in water/ Beschichtung für Wasserabweisung in vielen Produkten. Coating for waterresistance

in many products. Fluoride/ fluorids (giftig/ poisonous)

Zoltan art 8 auf instagram, von ateet kreiert / on instagram, created by ateet.

Are we humans poisoned by Nonhumans? Once slowly, today sped up. The poet concerned about his uric acid level. It has to be lowered to the value six, from a past value of eight on the blood test. But it had already been lowered by a strict eating and drinking diet from a value of 10 to 8, in one month only. Carry again more, Mon, the nurse-Muse had commented. Indeed, the poet replied.

*

Soulbonding

Now then

Another beauty of a morning

at ‘Waterfields’

for water fields forever murmurs

in his flow of an awakening blood

the chace to see clearly

the outlines of leaves in the

early light

the autumn fresh air livens up

the face

entices the body to stretch

and feel life circulating thru’

the ageing body

it’s a gift of the universe to be

alive and well

beware of looking after

one’s health

modelled into the sense of

one’s philosophy of existence

the body will follow the mind

the spirit will thrive through

the happiness dwelling in the

soul. Soulmates. Soul bonding.

*

A Journey back in Time

Part One

While driving with Ina to the place of his birth, the poets talks to her. “For many years I’ve been antagonistic towards the places of my childhood. Probably one grave drama had affected me: The reality of my father been missing in Russia at the end of WWII had been the most incisive in the heart of a four year old boy. Mother crying and desperate for fighting alone for our existence. She had lost her happiness for a period of ten years, while she still had hope that her husband would return again, year for year, but eventually sunk into a permanent depression. Only her work in her shop for haberdashery and materials for knitting and other handicraft, would compensate her somewhat, but it couldn’t ever be a complete life without my father.”

Thoughts tumble in my mind, as we drive along excellent motorways towards the area of my origin and the city of my birth. Diving into a pool of thoughts, I’m amazed that I’m on this trip at all – wait it must be now close to twenty years that I’ve been here the last time. Oh yes, when B and I came to the town, to sell the house I’d inherited from my Mom. Mrs Ina drives well, traveling for an hour already and arriving at Hauptstrasse, where I recognize some of the buildings familiar to me: The bank, with a renovated façade, a building that had been designed by the local architect I used to work for as a student. The former Spot, where Mom used to have her first haberdashery shop, the pharmacy, the drugstore, the stationery, all the places I could instantly pick up while Ina drove through to Augasse, I recommended her for a short time parking. “Would I need a paid parking ticket here?” She asked. I approached the man parking next to her. “Where do I buy parking tickets for here?” He smiled and showed me a parking clock he adjusted to the time of his arrival. “You have to buy these here,” he said, “but nobody will check here until 9:30 am,” he said. That would be enough time to check out the property register, just across the wooden bridge over the brook. “Thank you, “I said to him in German, “enough time for us to do our business.”