Tuesday, February 24, 2009

The dark box fib

me is
like a dark
box: that’s where I put
most of you to keep the lid on.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2009)

As usual, an accurate rendering of (momentary albeit recurrent) first-hand feelings.

Monday, February 23, 2009

In and out of tune with Parveen Sultana

with her and
am happy to be
in tune sometimes and notice it.

– Leonard Blumfeld

Parveen Sultana, born in Assam in 1950, is one of the great current singers of India. Her voice spans umpteen octaves, making it difficult for normal untrained mortals like yours truly to even attempt to sing along.

Here's a not so serious sample – Parveen Sultana's contribution to the movie Kudrat from 1981:

Sunday, February 15, 2009

Unwritten love letter

My love,

I’m trying to imagine what would happen if tomorrow I boarded the train that takes you to work, sat down on the hopefully empty seat next to yours, placed – among all the people that might be watching your uneasy surprise and my jolly trespassing – the letter in your hands – the letter written to me in your words and with your name signed, the letter that tells it through you as I see it: your denial to acknowledge any feeling for me, the explanation of those glances, the happiness you felt in those moments spent together when we were in perfect tune, the glow on your face and in your eyes, the gleeful exchange of easy banter, the absorption that made us forget the world around. Would you wash your hands of all this, laugh it off as all in my imagination and send me off, once again, coolly, with some pedestrian greeting? Or would you admit that you’ve been lying all along – for whatever rational logic?

But perhaps it’s better to leave everything as it is – suppressed, puzzling, frustrating, ignored, lopsided.

I could be wrong.


The task from Café Writing was to pick at least three of the following words and build a piece of writing around them.

I chose all the words: greeting, hands, imagine, leave, letter, people, train, trespassing, washing.

Saturday, February 14, 2009

Two lacy variations

Variation 1

Variation 2

Two variations resulting from different combinations of two pictures - one of a strip of lace, the other of a lacy flower. Posted for Inspire Me Thursday's Lace.

Friday, February 13, 2009

Disarrayed rabble

This disarrayed*
rabble** has nearly
invalidated every
human array I ever
believed in.

* So in disarray with the actual needs of mankind and this planet.
** A reference to those who would probably rather think themselves to be the very crown of the crown of creation, or at least of financial cleverness.

– Leonard Blumfeld

Written using disarray, rabble and validate from 3WW CXXIV.

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

Monday, February 9, 2009

Ancient fib

I go-
ing to do
about my stubby
admirer? He keeps coming back.

– Anonymous, dates from ca. 800 A.D.

Translated from Sanskrit by L. Blumfeld. Goes to show that the ancient Indians, who were incidentally the ones that invented the so-called Arabic numerals, had already mastered the form of fibonacci poetry.

Saturday, February 7, 2009

The ballad of Art the Fart

When he was little
and in his pants did piddle,

Arthur the Fart,
as he was known,

could not quite tell
a dog from a bone.

In later years,

he became
increasingly clever.

In rooms intended
for perambulation

he’d place what’s called
an installation:

cut-up and dried scats,
degenerated rats,

his grandpas’s shaver
and things even graver,

his and his lover’s
used underwear,

assorted bunches
of pubic and other hair,

plastic bottles emptied
of their content,

in short:
everything that lent

itself to presentation
became an installation.

Art-hungry hordes arrived,
illuminate critics applauded –

Art’s installations
were highly lauded.

Except one nasty soul
from way back when,

who used to play with the
installator in the pen

and then became
an unknown artist,

but counted himself
among the smartest,

to end the farce
swore that he would

make it go up in smoke,
and sure he could.

Henceforth, Art’s
every installation

turned into a pyre
for illustration.

Unperturbed in
his career,

Art said
that all was here

and now,
accepting fire

with a

has a heart for art,

please bear with me –
Art the Fart.

– Leonard Blumfeld

Posted for Sunday Scribblings' Art.