Chest orange,
undies red,
apron garish –
edible
– Leonard “Bon Courage” Blumfeld (© 2010)
A little terse poem formed from the acronym ‘courage’ for Sunday Scribblings. About a courageous acquaintance who would not hesitate to wear such strange attire and would still look stunning in it. She might wear it to teach one of her Moroccan cooking classes, for example, and look absolutely positively edible...
This world is so wide that, even if you flitted around and around it, you would never reach the end of it. This blog is a collage of more or less literary and humorous, outlandish or sometimes even serious glimpses at this great wide world.
Showing posts with label Literature. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Literature. Show all posts
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Sunday, May 2, 2010
On your birthday
(Photo credit: juditu at morguefile.com)
For N.
If I were to com-
pare you, you’d be the lightness
of a hummingbird ...
pare you, you’d be the lightness
of a hummingbird ...
– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2010)
Written for ‘hummingbirds’ at Haiku Bones.
Note
If I were to compare you ... but of course you're incomparable!
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Intuition
For her
How can one know something
that is going to be in the future?
It happened to me once before,
so I am not that keen on it.
I knew, before the relationship
with N. started, that it would be.
It happened, and two years later
we were about to kill each other
and getting ready for divorce.
And now, with you, even though
nothing worth mentioning
has ever happened, I have
the same feeling of certainty
(sometimes). And no, I am not
pushing it. I can and will not
push you, and I will not be pushed
myself. Everything to be
is to be loving and free.
– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2010)
Written for napowrimo #28, intuition.
Wasn't happy with the ending, amended it, like it better now.
How can one know something
that is going to be in the future?
It happened to me once before,
so I am not that keen on it.
I knew, before the relationship
with N. started, that it would be.
It happened, and two years later
we were about to kill each other
and getting ready for divorce.
And now, with you, even though
nothing worth mentioning
has ever happened, I have
the same feeling of certainty
(sometimes). And no, I am not
pushing it. I can and will not
push you, and I will not be pushed
myself. Everything to be
is to be loving and free.
– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2010)
Written for napowrimo #28, intuition.
Wasn't happy with the ending, amended it, like it better now.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
A bunch of namby-pamby
You can eat my hat
and while at that
starve on my scarf
Feel free to
munch my mustache,
belie my belly button,
scrape my sternum
(but lightly),
chill my cheek,
tweak my beak,
knead my knees,
heal my heels
and muzzle my mouth
But never ever
tickle my toes
‘cause that causes
a sneeze of the nose
– Felix Morgenstern (© 2010)
Written for napowrimo #24, find a phrase.
Actually, I found two – “namby-pamby” (which stands for “childish and weakly sentimental”) and “I’ll eat my hat” and combined them in the namby-pamby poem above.
What is a namby-pamby poem?
Here’s one by Henry Carey to illustrate and deride the genre:
All ye poets of the age,
All ye witlings of the stage …
Namby-Pamby is your guide,
Albion's joy, Hibernia's pride.
Namby-Pamby, pilly-piss,
Rhimy-pim'd on Missy Miss
Tartaretta Tartaree
From the navel to the knee;
That her father's gracy grace
Might give him a placy place.
This satire is on English poet and playwright Ambrose Philips (1674-1749), “who became tutor to George I's grandchildren. The position gave him a status amongst the aristocracy, and he took the opportunity to advance his place in society by writing sycophantic sentimental poems in praise of their children. These were written in rather affected and insipid nursery language, of the 'eency-weency', 'goody-goody' sort.” (Quote from the Phrase Finder.)
and while at that
starve on my scarf
Feel free to
munch my mustache,
belie my belly button,
scrape my sternum
(but lightly),
chill my cheek,
tweak my beak,
knead my knees,
heal my heels
and muzzle my mouth
But never ever
tickle my toes
‘cause that causes
a sneeze of the nose
– Felix Morgenstern (© 2010)
Written for napowrimo #24, find a phrase.
Actually, I found two – “namby-pamby” (which stands for “childish and weakly sentimental”) and “I’ll eat my hat” and combined them in the namby-pamby poem above.
What is a namby-pamby poem?
Here’s one by Henry Carey to illustrate and deride the genre:
All ye poets of the age,
All ye witlings of the stage …
Namby-Pamby is your guide,
Albion's joy, Hibernia's pride.
Namby-Pamby, pilly-piss,
Rhimy-pim'd on Missy Miss
Tartaretta Tartaree
From the navel to the knee;
That her father's gracy grace
Might give him a placy place.
This satire is on English poet and playwright Ambrose Philips (1674-1749), “who became tutor to George I's grandchildren. The position gave him a status amongst the aristocracy, and he took the opportunity to advance his place in society by writing sycophantic sentimental poems in praise of their children. These were written in rather affected and insipid nursery language, of the 'eency-weency', 'goody-goody' sort.” (Quote from the Phrase Finder.)
Friday, April 23, 2010
I am a banana stalk
I am a banana stalk and was married off
to a plump guy with an elephant head
But oh he’s so loving, he brings me
good luck, and he’s the son of a god
– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2010)
Written for napowrimo #23, unlikely couples.
Note
This poem alludes to Kola Bou, a banana plant, who in Bengal is considered to be the consort of Ganesha.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Meow!
“And the cat came back,”
said the Colonel
Sanders-type Italian
dressed properly
for the Parigi visit,
viz. Basque beret and
long Gréco-style scarf
Up on the balcony
across the street
from the café two
French boys were
showering cat &
caboodle with loud
imaginary bullets
While I was sitting
there sipping
the most expensive
expresso ever, taking
the mental notes that
did elicit this snide
little poetic chit
– Leonard “Been to Paris Again” Blumfeld (© 2010)
Written belatedly for napowrimo #18, meow!
All the things observed here truly happened – except that I rearranged them a bit for better effect. Similarities with living persons are definitely intented.
said the Colonel
Sanders-type Italian
dressed properly
for the Parigi visit,
viz. Basque beret and
long Gréco-style scarf
Up on the balcony
across the street
from the café two
French boys were
showering cat &
caboodle with loud
imaginary bullets
While I was sitting
there sipping
the most expensive
expresso ever, taking
the mental notes that
did elicit this snide
little poetic chit
– Leonard “Been to Paris Again” Blumfeld (© 2010)
Written belatedly for napowrimo #18, meow!
All the things observed here truly happened – except that I rearranged them a bit for better effect. Similarities with living persons are definitely intented.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Friday
For M.
Even on Friday
the fragrance
of your perfume
from Wednesday night
kept drifting up
from my coat
when I moved
my head or arms
in some specific way
In the car
on the way to Stuttgart,
in the concert
with the African music
by Isak Roux
Through the air forest
of the landscape rushing by
And in the silence
lingering between the notes
from piano, marimba,
cello, flute and woodwinds
you were –
off and on –
right there
in me and around me
– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2010)
This one was originally written in German years ago.
Rendered in English and brought to napowrimo #16 because the prompt ("What’s that smell?") made me remember it. It was originally written on a Friday (hence the title) and was now translated on a Friday. That is definitely beyond coincidence :)
Isak Roux is a South-African composer and pianist who lives in Stuttgart, Germany.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Good-bye hello
You say yes, I say no
You say stop and I say go
– The Beatles
For her, as usual
One
We say good-bye,
each one walks on,
to meet again
and again
to let destiny
take its course
Two
you will not turn around,
I know,
tomorrow
and again,
becoming love
full circle
Three
We say good-bye, you will not turn around,
each one walks on, I know,
to meet again tomorrow
and again and again,
to let destiny becoming love
take its course full circle
– Leonard “Cleaver” Blumfeld (© 2010)
Three poems – two separate ones, which are then horizontally combined to form a third. This is called a cleave.
This cleave was written for napowrimo #14.
What is cleave poetry?
Monday, April 12, 2010
Poem Starting with a Line from Norman Dubie
In the near field an idle, stylish horse raised one leg
In her living room in the city of S. her alarm went off
Mine went off ten minutes ago and now I’m sitting here
spouting early poetry having to do with a stylish horse
She is fighting to shake off the softness and warmth
of pillow and cover and embrace
I’m letting the horse put its stylish leg down on the ground
The cold of a cold April morning is seeping into my bones
– Leonard “Far Field” Blumfeld (© 2010)
The idea of napowrimo #13 was to take a line by Norman Dubie as a first line and title the resulting poem “Poem Starting with a Line from Norman Dubie” – both of which I did.
In her living room in the city of S. her alarm went off
Mine went off ten minutes ago and now I’m sitting here
spouting early poetry having to do with a stylish horse
She is fighting to shake off the softness and warmth
of pillow and cover and embrace
I’m letting the horse put its stylish leg down on the ground
The cold of a cold April morning is seeping into my bones
– Leonard “Far Field” Blumfeld (© 2010)
The idea of napowrimo #13 was to take a line by Norman Dubie as a first line and title the resulting poem “Poem Starting with a Line from Norman Dubie” – both of which I did.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
How can I be so right so wrong
For her
It’s strong and wild like the wind on the Kazakh steppe
It’s having seen the world in pink and now all derision
It’s horse sausage imported and dropped
It’s that glow that made her shine throughout
It’s telling the truth even though it turns against onself
– Leonard “Right and Wrong” Blumfeld (© 2010)
Unusual love (“think of your current love, your current obsession or the one who got away”) for napowrimo #8.
she's been thinking
there's this guy I kinda like but have no use for
who's been mooncalf lovesick for me for years
and my mooncalf unwed mother girlfriend
who's been looking for a suitable guy for years
so why not get together this guy and my unwed girlfriend
- Leonard Blumfeld
Would that qualify as a tanka about love, funny side up for napowrimo #7?
who's been mooncalf lovesick for me for years
and my mooncalf unwed mother girlfriend
who's been looking for a suitable guy for years
so why not get together this guy and my unwed girlfriend
- Leonard Blumfeld
Would that qualify as a tanka about love, funny side up for napowrimo #7?
Monday, April 5, 2010
Landscape
The frozen swirls
may want to speak.
Of clouds, perhaps,
they've been in.
Of drifting clouds
they traveled with,
the lands they
overflew,
the continents.
Tell that to
the tips
of a pair of shoes,
tell it
to frozen grass.
– Johannes Beilharz (© 2010)
Written and posted for "converse with images" (napowrimo #6).
may want to speak.
Of clouds, perhaps,
they've been in.
Of drifting clouds
they traveled with,
the lands they
overflew,
the continents.
Tell that to
the tips
of a pair of shoes,
tell it
to frozen grass.
– Johannes Beilharz (© 2010)
Written and posted for "converse with images" (napowrimo #6).
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Raaz
(राज़)
Laughing, I ran away from Manoj.
He’d won a kiss from the spinning bottle –
but I felt like making him work a little
before consenting.
From the clearing I went into the evenly
planted pine rows, hiding from Manoj
behind one. I heard him shout, run by,
went round the tree to avoid discovery.
He shouted about the mansion
at the end of the forest, I peeked
and saw it. Not to go in there,
he said, that it was forbidden.
It drew me. I waited for Manoj
to rejoin our friends, who were
singing and laughing in the distance,
and then went closer, to the black
iron fence. The place looked
deserted except for vivid reflections
in the windows. Flashes of people
and violent changes in temper.
A breath of air struck my neck,
as from somebody close by.
I turned, and there was no-one.
Eery, I thought, and noticed
that daylight had clouded over.
Now there was sooty dark
and a shiver as from an impending
storm. Not to worry, I told myself,
you simply walk back. But my
friends’ merry noises were gone.
I walked and again felt a breath
in my back, longer this time,
more forceful, as if from giant
lungs. And there was noise
to it, the suppressed roar
an immense animal would make.
I stood and turned – not a thing –
turned and resumed walking.
Roar and cold air, an impatient
howl. I turned and saw –
– Johannes Beilharz (© 2010)
This is a rather free retelling of what I remember of the beginning of Raaz (Secret), a Hindi horror film from 2002, which, very quickly and successfully, sets up a scary atmosphere with very simple means, so that this fits in very well with Napowrimo #3, Scared yet?.
Laughing, I ran away from Manoj.
He’d won a kiss from the spinning bottle –
but I felt like making him work a little
before consenting.
From the clearing I went into the evenly
planted pine rows, hiding from Manoj
behind one. I heard him shout, run by,
went round the tree to avoid discovery.
He shouted about the mansion
at the end of the forest, I peeked
and saw it. Not to go in there,
he said, that it was forbidden.
It drew me. I waited for Manoj
to rejoin our friends, who were
singing and laughing in the distance,
and then went closer, to the black
iron fence. The place looked
deserted except for vivid reflections
in the windows. Flashes of people
and violent changes in temper.
A breath of air struck my neck,
as from somebody close by.
I turned, and there was no-one.
Eery, I thought, and noticed
that daylight had clouded over.
Now there was sooty dark
and a shiver as from an impending
storm. Not to worry, I told myself,
you simply walk back. But my
friends’ merry noises were gone.
I walked and again felt a breath
in my back, longer this time,
more forceful, as if from giant
lungs. And there was noise
to it, the suppressed roar
an immense animal would make.
I stood and turned – not a thing –
turned and resumed walking.
Roar and cold air, an impatient
howl. I turned and saw –
– Johannes Beilharz (© 2010)
This is a rather free retelling of what I remember of the beginning of Raaz (Secret), a Hindi horror film from 2002, which, very quickly and successfully, sets up a scary atmosphere with very simple means, so that this fits in very well with Napowrimo #3, Scared yet?.
Friday, March 26, 2010
The dreadful fib
For her
Is
there
any-
thing more dread-
ful than this heavy
silence that is now between us?
– Leonard "Some Release" Blumfeld
Sunday, March 21, 2010
My demands
I am your star
but my wants are few –
give me yourself,
and you and you.
– Leonard “Dickinson” Blumfeld (© 2010)
Written for Sunday Scribblings. The task was to think of demands one would have as a mega ridiculous superstar on tour. While I’ve definitely missed the subject here, I like this somewhat Emily Dickinsonian ditty in all its simplicity, if I may say so myself.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
In praise of humor / spoken to a love
Amaze me again today with your
Frail sense of humor, Shalini. Let’s enter the
Sacred realm of laughter.
– Leonard “Finds Humor Here and There” Blumfeld (© 2010)
Written around Amaze, Frail and Sacred from 3WW.
Note
This could be addressed to someone like the Shalini in Dil Chahta Hai (2001), all 3 hours of which I watched again without regret. It is the story of three close friends (played by Aamir Khan, Akshaye Khanna and Saif Ali Khan in excellent roles) and their love relationships.
I must admit to some arbitrary transposition in the poem. The frail sense of humor actually goes with the character Pooja (played by Sonali Kulkarni), but I wanted the name Shalini in there. The Shalini in the movie, played by Preity Zinta in one of her typical lively roles, has much more than a frail sense of humor...
Song from the movie featuring Saif Ali Khan and Sonali Kulkarni.
Frail sense of humor, Shalini. Let’s enter the
Sacred realm of laughter.
– Leonard “Finds Humor Here and There” Blumfeld (© 2010)
Written around Amaze, Frail and Sacred from 3WW.
Note
This could be addressed to someone like the Shalini in Dil Chahta Hai (2001), all 3 hours of which I watched again without regret. It is the story of three close friends (played by Aamir Khan, Akshaye Khanna and Saif Ali Khan in excellent roles) and their love relationships.
I must admit to some arbitrary transposition in the poem. The frail sense of humor actually goes with the character Pooja (played by Sonali Kulkarni), but I wanted the name Shalini in there. The Shalini in the movie, played by Preity Zinta in one of her typical lively roles, has much more than a frail sense of humor...
Song from the movie featuring Saif Ali Khan and Sonali Kulkarni.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Strawberries run deep
Or was it raspberries?
That was the title of a book of poems
I bought somewhere in rural Arkansas
in 1978, where three friends and I
had come for boating on the
Buffalo River.
Written by one Edsel ... (not Ford,
I think, definitely not Ford). And
now I can’t find it on my shelves
to help me remember why
those berries, straw or rasp,
run deep.
– Leonard “Does Run Deep” Blumfeld (© 2010)
A poem to illustrate the strangeness of (my) memory and to go with “running” at One Single Impression.
Notes
As I found out with the help of Google, the poet's name is Edsel Ford indeed (there is a Wikipedia article about him), and the title of the collection is “Raspberries Run Deep” (published in 1975). I still haven't located the book, though, so the deep-running raspberries must remain a mystery for now.
That was the title of a book of poems
I bought somewhere in rural Arkansas
in 1978, where three friends and I
had come for boating on the
Buffalo River.
Written by one Edsel ... (not Ford,
I think, definitely not Ford). And
now I can’t find it on my shelves
to help me remember why
those berries, straw or rasp,
run deep.
– Leonard “Does Run Deep” Blumfeld (© 2010)
A poem to illustrate the strangeness of (my) memory and to go with “running” at One Single Impression.
Notes
As I found out with the help of Google, the poet's name is Edsel Ford indeed (there is a Wikipedia article about him), and the title of the collection is “Raspberries Run Deep” (published in 1975). I still haven't located the book, though, so the deep-running raspberries must remain a mystery for now.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
The ragged fib
What
can
I say?
You occur
quite ragged today.
Not your tidy self, my sweet elf.
- Leonard "Downright Ragged Himself" Blumfeld
Written to include occur, ragged and tidy from 3WW. Sweet, funny or merely insipid? You be the judge, dear reader.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Axe made of gold
Story of Isaac
The door it opened slowly,
my father he came in, I was nine years old.
And he stood so tall above me,
his blue eyes they were shining
and his voice was very cold.
He said, "I've had a vision
and you know I'm strong and holy,
I must do what I've been told."
So he started up the mountain,
I was running, he was walking,
and his axe was made of gold.
Well, the trees they got much smaller,
the lake a lady's mirror,
we stopped to drink some wine.
Then he threw the bottle over.
Broke a minute later
and he put his hand on mine.
Thought I saw an eagle
but it might have been a vulture,
I never could decide.
Then my father built an altar,
he looked once behind his shoulder,
he knew I would not hide.
You who build these altars now
to sacrifice these children,
you must not do it anymore.
A scheme is not a vision
and you never have been tempted
by a demon or a god.
You who stand above them now,
your hatchets blunt and bloody,
you were not there before,
when I lay upon a mountain
and my father's hand was trembling
with the beauty of the word.
And if you call me brother now,
forgive me if I inquire,
"Just according to whose plan?"
When it all comes down to dust
I will kill you if I must,
I will help you if I can.
When it all comes down to dust
I will help you if I must,
I will kill you if I can.
And mercy on our uniform,
man of peace or man of war,
the peacock spreads his fan.
– Leonard Cohen (from Songs of from a Room, 1969)
Posted for One Single Impression / Gold.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Relationship dynamics
In one lucid moment of
non-righteousness
she managed
to cement his trust.
He and she both knew
now that they’d walk
through hell for each other.
– Leonard “Fu Tse” Blumfeld (© 2010)
Written to include lucid, righteous and salvage from 3WW.
non-righteousness
she managed
to cement his trust.
He and she both knew
now that they’d walk
through hell for each other.
– Leonard “Fu Tse” Blumfeld (© 2010)
Written to include lucid, righteous and salvage from 3WW.
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