The fucked-up love life fib

The
man
needs to
be active
so he can forget
about his fucked-up love life. Yeah.

– Leonard “Fucked Up” Blumfeld (© 2009)

The next relationship fib

Once again for A.B.

She
stub-
bornly
refuses
to become my next
relationship experiment.

- Leonard "Truly Loves Her" Blumfeld

Personal note: Mind-wrote this while taking a shower, went out to have dinner, returned, and it was still on my mind. So I simply had to write it down and publish it!

This also marks my first return to the fibonacci in quite a while.

What a beautiful late August day - not hot, but warm and sunny. The trees, chestnuts are first, are beginning to shed their leaves, and there's that crisp breath of fall in the air. I could stay with this season for a long time; it's my favorite.

Is this poem autobiographical? you might ask. Well, yes and no. Looking at myself and my failed relationships of the last seven years with some cynicism, this is definitely deserved. But then again - I never had even the slightest bad intention... Perhaps I should not be so harsh on myself.

Do I love her as truly as I profess? By my standards I do, perhaps even by fairly elevated standards. Will it last? That I don't know. But it has for a year and a half.

Vortic exercise

I’d
like
to hurl
myself in a
swirl – hurtling into
synesthesia: sound, meaning, love.

– Leonard “Vorticist for a Change” Blumfeld

Notes
A fibonacci written for Swirl at Inspire Me Thursday.
Alludes to the vorticist art movement (and Ezra Pound, who coined the term) – without, I admit, knowing much about it beyond surface stuff.

The dark box fib

Part
of
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.

In and out of tune with Parveen Sultana

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

– Leonard Blumfeld

Note
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:

Ancient fib

What
am
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.

The blunt fib

So

blunt

and mute

today, so

alive and within

a fluid flow just yesterday.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2008)

Razor-edge-of-day reporting fresh from the self-observation front.

1st of September fib

It's

calm

in here

with my co-

workers gone. A lull

before the chatty storm returns.

– Leonard Blumfeld

Intimate river waiting

I
know
that an
intimate
river is waiting
somewhere to carry me along
infinitely. Where
is that boat,
that oar
it
takes?

– Leonard Blumfeld ( © 2008 )

Written with intimate, river and waiting as ingredients and inspiration from 3WW in the form of a fibonacci diamond.

Well, I could ...

Do
I
have to?
Nice choice to-
day: sleep in? Go shop?
Paint? Write? Sheer opportunity ...

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2008)

It’s Saturday, so this is all true. For Sunday Scribblings #122.

The breather fib

Grey
sky
in July -
a breather -
a breeze before the
next scorcher that is sure to come

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2008)

A day of emotional relaxation so far, perfect for reporting on something as neutral as the weather. At the same time, I almost reproach myself for being so mercurial: how can it be that someone I felt so passionate about just a few days ago now seems so distant – and not only that, but comfortably so? Or only numbly so – in keeping with the weather?

Permanence

Will
what
was be
always? Kept
in an infinite
reservoir of thought, action, wish?

– Leonard "Transient" Blumfeld

A fibonacci for One Single Impression and Transience or Permanence.

The entitled to mope fib

This
morn-
ing is
far from soar –
my soul is flat sprat
on the ground and friendless. Go mope,
I tell myself, now
is the right
time for
sore.
Go.

– Leonard “Downer” Blumfeld (© 2008)

Sunday Scribblings #111 soar/sore for personal treatment.

The breathy fib

Each
breath
is in
the mike, and
this exposure to
breathing apparatus goes for
sexy. More voice, please,
and less child-
ish brea-
thi-
ness.

– Leonard “Music Eclect” Blumfeld

Invitable note
Just listened to one of these breathy singers* again while visiting a blog and had to vent my feelings poetically.
* I won’t say who it was in order not to offend anybody’s taste, but there are far too many around anyway. For my taste.

April sunshine fib

How
some
sunlight
changes it
all! Tulips brighten,
spirits brighten, life starts playing
in the streets. New love
might wink. Quick,
try and
catch
it.

– Leonard “Spring Struck” Blumfeld (© 2008)

All of Leonard's fibs

The I should not be writing fib

I
should
not be
writing this,
I should be working.
That is the message of this fib.
In fact, you should prob-
ably not
be read-
ing
this.

– Leonard “Reluctant Workhorse” Blumfeld

Nothing terribly new or revolutionary, I'm afraid. More along the lines of same old.

For those relatively few of you who've read this before and are surprised that it has changed shape: I added the lower half of the diamond just now, feeling that something was missing.

The miscellaneous fib

I
miss
you non-
specific-
ally, in that mis-
cellaneous but loving way.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2008)

Written in response to the current Sunday Scribblings prompt:

#95 - miscellaneous

Because it is a delicious word with unlimited possibilities, the prompt this week is: miscellaneous.

Prior to dive-in fib

Oh
the
water
of life looked
so cold today! I
feared for kidneys, liver and heart.
But some vigorous
strokes in its
cold did
warm
me.

– Leonard “The Diver” Blumfeld (© 2008)

Ruminations
Here we are – it’s the 4th morning in 2008, and a fib – in the shape of a diamond no less – served as a warm-up exercise for a day begun with reluctance. If we are to trust Richard Leider and other commonsense gurus, it is essential to have a reason for getting up in the morning. Each and every morning. Let’s just say that some mornings are easier than others.

The best was what hurt most

The
best
of two
thousand and
seven sadly was
what also hurt most: to dissolve
a marriage begun
in May with
longing,
love,
hope.

– L.B.

Note
Written in response to Inspire Me Thursday's suggestion "The Best of 2007". It is unfortunately all true.

A green light day

I
love
it when
lights turn green
as I cross and things
go my way. No red lights now, please.

– Leonard Jaywalker Blumfeld (© 2007)

Cautionary note
One green traffic light a day doth not make (as a single swallow a summer doth not make) ...