Showing posts with label Totally Optional Prompts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Totally Optional Prompts. Show all posts

Monday, May 25, 2009

I dropped it, I dropped it

A tisket, a tasket,
a tiny little basket

You say: What was in it?
I say: A minute

– Leonard “Chaz” Blumfeld

Written for One Single Impression’s dropped and for Totally Optional Prompts’ song lyrics. Alludes, of course, to the Ella Fitzgerald ditty from 1938 which, in turn, alluded to a much older American nursery rhyme.

Sunday, January 25, 2009

Enough

Still
naked
and pounding away,
getting colder,
listening to J.J. Cale.

– Len “Sunday Morning” Blumfeld (© 2009)

An impromptu poem derived from the last line of the diary just written. A Sunday morning ceremony in its own right for Totally Optional Prompts.

Eric Clapton and J.J. Cale performing J.J.'s Call Me the Breeze:

Wednesday, December 31, 2008

New Year’s Eve Cinquain

To A.B.*

May you
be happy with
the choices you make for
the year to come, no matter what
they are.

* whose choices most likely won’t include hers truly

My first attempt at a cinquain upon instigation by Totally Optional Prompts. The specialty of this one are a few run-on line endings. All in all, this might not be my dearest wish, but it’s wishing someone happiness by doing what she considers to be the right thing with any self-interest on my part removed. And that might not be the worst to wish for somebody.

– Len “On the Brink” Blumfeld (© 2008)

Definition of the form
A cinquain is a short, unrhymed poem consisting of twenty-two syllables distributed as 2, 4, 6, 8, 2, in five lines.
(Definition by Linda Jacobs at Totally Optional Prompts)

Monday, June 30, 2008

Hot summer day haiku

Sweating it out in the office all day,
with the addition of A. driving long pointed nails
into my all-too-willing soul


– Leonard “Leached Out” Blumfeld (© 2008)

Potential protest
"But that's not a haiku," some might scream, "because it doesn't have umpteen syllables and is not about bucolic things like cherry blossoms in bloom or the shedding of pine needles!"
Oh well, to me it feels like one in this heat.

My summer poem for Totally Optional Prompts.

Thursday, May 15, 2008

In permutation of Gertrude Stein


A rose is not a rose not a rose

– Leonard Blumfeld

Totally Optional Prompts asked for Symbolic Poetry. This is one.

Note added in afterthought
Who knows what exactly Gertrude Stein had in mind with her triple rose ("a rose is a rose is a rose"), one of the most frequent quotes ever. I assume that she wanted to draw attention to the essence of what a rose is.
My permutation wants to emphasize the fact that roses are probably the most meaning-laden flowers ever – highly symbolic objects.

Thursday, May 1, 2008

Memoir of a reading arranged by a cowbird

Mr. Cowbird was the hyperactive kahuna of the culture scene in Badenweiler, a small spa in the Black Forest which used to be a nobility hangout in the 19th century. Its claims to glory and fame reside more in the past – it is the site of baths from Roman times, the ruins of which are still around, and the place where Anton Chekhov died in 1904.

Russian poet Vyacheslav Kupriyanov – probably better known in Germany than in his native country or anywhere else – had come to give a reading, which I attended to finally meet him in person. His and mine publisher had told me a lot about him.

The reading drew an immense crowd of about 18. Mr. Cowbird presented the poet with a lot of not so succinct words, making reference to this and that – including Kupriyanov’s more famous compatriot and old ties to Russia – and eventually allowed him to read.

Kupriyanov’s poems, particularly the funny ones and the ones he read in Russian, were received with lots of applause – much better than the prose. I seem to recall that he read an excerpt from his novel “The Wet Manuscript,” which left the audience in a state between puzzled and dazed.

Afterwards, Mr. Cowbird and his secretary led a small flock of die-hards to a Weinstube to celebrate the event with some of the excellent local wine and plenty of self-congratulation by Mr. Cowbird.

What do you do when exposed to the incessant onslaught of such an overwhelming ego? I mostly just sat there and blinked my eyes, as did everyone else.

I ordered red wine. Before the waitress could give it to me when she arrived with her tray, Mr. Cowbird, who had been impatiently awaiting the white wine he had ordered, grabbed the glass off the tray, took a good gulp and went on rambling.

Once, when he had asked Kupriyanov a question and actually let him answer it, Mr. Cowbird looked at his wine glass and said, “Did I order that? That’s pretty bad. I didn’t order that.”

“No, you didn’t. That was mine,” I said.

– L. Blumfeld (© 2008)

Written for Totally Optional Prompts.

Thursday, April 17, 2008

A person ...

A person
is entitled to cry
once in a while


Posted for Totally Optional Prompts: A Person.

A few days ago, a colleague at work sent me this cartoon in an e-mail to properly reflect the state a difficult project had put her in. And, believe me, she is not normally a crybaby.

Thursday, April 10, 2008

Three assorted pieces of modern mythology

1. The King lives.*
2. Jim Morrison never died.
3. Johnny Winter is a zombie.

Mythology isn't all about things long past - each age has its own myths and mythology.

The theme of Totally Optional Prompts today is mythology, hence this small collection of mythorabilia I pulled out of my mythological hat.

Art by Dustin Parker. For more see Dustin Parker Arts LLC.

* See here.

Thursday, March 27, 2008

Novels ...

Oh to go back to the days when I'd read novels!
I'd be propped up in bed in the morning to read novels,
reclining on my grandma's sofa to read novels,
pretend to be working in my work chair but reading novels

– Leonard Blumfeld

Written in response to Totally Optional Prompts.


Fact & fiction
All true ... and gone, unfortunately. I would devour books, including lengthy ones like War and Peace, The Brothers Karamazov and Anna Karenina, historical novels by Mika Waltari and tons of mysteries by the likes of Edgar Wallace, Raymond Chandler and Dashiell Hammett. Or anything by James M. Cain – good and bad. And I'd always wait for and get the latest by Anne Tyler once If Morning Ever Comes had me hooked.
And now? I barely manage a few every year. Get started on some that I put aside after a few pages.
Too much work. I've gotten older and choosier, read a lot more non-fiction. And sometimes when I'm not working I'd rather be creative than immerse myself in somebody else's work.
That is the plain truth.