Not really into that Halloween thing

Just like the ageing poet shown in this picture, I pretty much close my eyes to the batshit pumpkin craziness of Halloween.

Dreading white space

In my younger days

all it took was a pen

and a piece of paper

and some time by myself

to write something.

Some record of what

had happened during the day,

some observation, including

stuff that, when told to my

then girl friend Mary B.,

would cause a chuckle.

However, there was also

something about a dog – 

a black bulldog I’d seen

in France on a hot day,

when it had collapsed

in the gutter exhausted – 

that annoyed Mary B.

She called it a tacky story

that should neither be

remembered nor told.

So there I was – stunned;

my entertaining attempt

had been dealt a severe

blow. And it had all been

because she seemed to be

in a devilish mood, riding

the train across from me

silently and with a black glare.

Oh Mary B., what have you

done to me! Now black

glares tell me to avoid

well-meaning bulldog-in-

gutter anecdotes and best

just shut the fuck up.

I had an empty white

computer page in front

of me, dreading that

emptiness, but then

ended up filling it after all, 

with some lengthy bullshit.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2025)

Notes
All true, except that some of this happened around 2003, and that part may have undergone some memory mutations. Dreading white space is definitely a problem these days. I might suffer from something vague like writer’s block. 

To each its own

 

Complained the crocus:
Rain again! Water, water,
water – so boring!

The sardine: Feels like
heaven. My element! – I
like it, and salty!

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2024)

Note
Today’s haiku prompt was this juxtaposition: crocus (North) and sardine (South). I decided to travel both ways.

Haiku mishap

Was going to type 
furry cricket but then wrote
flurry cricket. Brain!

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2025)

Note
That’s what I did about the suggestion for 2/23/2025 from Daily Haiku Prompt.

 

Six Haiku Madlibs

In the dense mouth

these tepid lights – 

an artificial dust

– Lee Nao Doh and Basho

✧✧✧✧✧

No one bulge

along this mouth but I,

this dense light.

– Lee Nao Doh and Basho

✧✧✧✧✧

A dense tepid mouth...

A light bulge into the dust,

bellyache! Daffodil again.

– Lee Nao Doh and Basho

✧✧✧✧✧

Dense mouth,

the light

is tepid of dust.

– Lee Nao Doh and Buson

✧✧✧✧✧

Don't bulge, mouth

light, dust themselves,

must nip.

– Lee Nao Doh and Issa

✧✧✧✧✧

Bulge me,

as one who nips mouth

and light.

– Lee Nao Doh and Shiki

✧✧✧✧✧

Note
Once again I felt the urge to test the poetic vein of an artificial intelligence (even though of an apparently very lowly kind) in creating haiku out of a list of words I, Lee Nao Doh, had defined. The AI then mixed this input with haiku from the masters: Basho, Buson, Issa and Shiki. Rendering poetry that is partially reminiscent of slightly surreal Chinese proverbs or fortune cookie stuff.

Feel like doing the same? Click here.

An earlier attempt, from which I picked three haiku.

Yours,

Leonard B., aka Lee Nao Doh

Any other suggestions?

What should we name the band?

Retards?

Petards, like that old British band?

Or Leetards,

like leotards?

Raise your hands!

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2024)

Notes

That came seemingly out of nowhere. I was reading poems by Kenward Elmslie which had nothing to do with music or bands, put the book down, and this minipoem arrived. As I found out slightly later, The Petards was not a British band but a German one, whose lyrics were all in English. The song Lazy Moon above is from 1967.

Sub

Oh come to me!
What is sub? the Siberian said
(from what I’d understood
before he was from some place
around Lake Baikal, which,
he’d managed to tell me some-
how, was not only the world’s
oldest but also its deepest lake)

In my incorrigible tendency
to speak the many-faceted truth
whenever called for or uncalled
for, I went into the multiple
meanings of sub – and noticed,
after having said about five
words, that this was overkill
and way beyond what was
wanted or needed

I broke it off, but then added:
– could be short for submarine
– could be short for submarine
sandwich, a sandwich resembling
a submarine
– could be short for substitute,
as in subbing for a teacher who
is sick or absent for some other
reason
– could refer to ...

What was I doing? The
look in the Siberian’s face
was half pain, half wonder,
adding up to full incompre-
hension. Sub, I pointed
at the building across,
and mimicked eating.
He said Is good? Upon
which I nodded. That
should be universal
enough, right? Shook
hands and left.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2024)

Note
The prompt was substitutions, so a teacher would give me an F for this. Oh dear, I have been known to ramble occasionally!

What is the title of this poem?

 But, more importantly, what is its content?

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2024)

Note
Inspired by a similarly titled poem by Kathryn Bevis, which has lots of detailed content, I came across at the Poetry Society UK site. I decided to not only question the title of the poem but also the content, thus taking it up one notch.

Critical Can Opener

 

There’s nothing wrong
with this poem.
No need to look for it.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2024)

Note
A variation of Richard Brautigan’s poem of the same title, in which he says “There is something wrong with this poem. Can you find it?” (Quoted from Brautigan’s collection Rommel Drives on Deep into Egypt from 1970.)

Voice Message

    

Girl on metro is recording a voice message: “Sorry there were no advent calendars with 31 doors, so I had to get one with 24. Is that okay?”

How to do Europe in five days

 

Jackie and Jilly, who used to be friends and colleagues while both lived in L.A., are finally meeting again at a bar in Boise, Idaho, for the first time in years.
“I hear you went on a trip last year?”
“Yes, we did Europe in five days. It was great.”
“What do you mean by you did Europe?”
“Well, we looked up What to see in Europe on the Internet and planned accordingly.”
“I see.”
“It worked perfectly. We did France, Spain, Italy, Germany and England.”
“And saw them in five days?”
“Yes! And the beauty of it is we’ll never have to go back there.”
“Because you’ve seen all there is to see?”
“Everything worth seeing!”
“Good for you and your blessed little eyes!”
“Are you being sarcastic by any chance?”
“Never! Europe and the wisdom of the Internet would never recover!”

Photos
Top left: Paris, France; top right: Rome, Italy
Center right: Heidelberg, Germany
Bottom left: London, England; bottom right: Madrid, Spain

A moocher haiku

 

A haiku and I
were having coffee at Star-
Bux. You pay! it said.

– Leonard Blumfeld

Painting by J. B. with a little help from Artifice. As can be clearly seen, the haiku is only present in spirit.

Balzac, Balzac

“Balzac, Balzac ... that rings a bell. Wait – wasn’t he the gasman? Or the notary? Not sure which.”

An English-language take on Léo Ferré’s lyrics from La vie moderne (click on the video above to hear the chanson).

From the original French lyrics:

Quant à Balzac il s’y demande si

C’est un gazier ou un notaire

Seamstresses bent over sewing machines

 

AI art is a hot item in the crypto art collection scene and currently creates an enormous amount of hype. To investigate this hoopla a little bit myself, I went to one of the online generators that can be used to create such art.

You enter a text description, press the GENERATE button and wait for the piece of art to emerge on the screen in front of you.

The prompt I entered for the masterpiece above was “Portrait of a seamstress bent over a sewing machine”.

What I got from the machine was – lo and behold! – not only one but two seamstresses and two sewing machines.

While this idyll looks quite realistic in its 19th-century charm, you will notice some interesting anomalies when you take a closer look. Three of the hands, for example, are disfigured and/or have missing or superfluous fingers, and there are two fingers to the left of the front sewing machine that do not originate from any hand.

Did the artificial intelligence decide to play a trick on me because I did not pay for its services? 

We shall never know.

– Yours artificially, Leonardo Blumfeld

A dad joke

Two peas are rolling along on the floor.

Says one to the other: Watch out! There is a step

                                                                                ep 

                                                                                       ep 

                                                                                               ep 

Proverbs from the Chinese XIII

Fox's joy is rabbit's cry.

Note
Remembered from some not-so-long-ago fortune cookie. Perhaps more direct and comprehensible than some I've previously posted.

Pardon me

 

  

if I sound naive, 
but is baited breath like bad
breath? Would like to know.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2022)

Photo by Anne Nygård on Unsplash

The snot catcher haiku

   

Silver horseshoe 
dangling from mademoiselle’s
dainty little nose.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2022)

Note
I occasionally wonder whether there is a practical reason for this facial jewelry...

The unfashionable haiku

    

  Dedicated to my dear wife

“No-one except you
wears wide cord pants – I don’t want
to be seen with you!”

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2022)

How to become a Bitcoin millionaire

It’s actually quite easy! 

Have faith in the Bitcoin mails in your spam folder that arrive from all the generous and anonymous benefactors that miraculously deposit amazing amounts in your account – every day without fail! 

Why are they doing that? No-one knows. Maybe they’re just lovely people, unlike most that send spam.

Simply have faith and look for Bitcoin in the mouth of every gift horse that gallops along.

Here’s one of these wonderful notifications that make you rich (in Spanish no less – ¡Ay caramba – qué maravilla!):