Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 8, 2024

Giacomo – Love For Ever

 


Seven years later, the tattoo was still there, while Giacomo, including her love for him, was long gone. And Jimmy, the new flame, wasn’t too keen on seeing Giacomo around whenever he looked at her arm. Would she really have to have it removed? How long was Jimmy going to last? Frankly, her belief in eternity had been shattered – a bit.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2024)

Notes
Photo art courtesy of AI but based on a true story.

Tuesday, April 23, 2024

A Man Needs A Maid

 


That was one particular April in 2014, when it had been drizzling, raining cats and dogs and hailing in turn and I was working at this farm somewhere in the boonies of southern Germany, where the rough charm and ruddy looks of one Mr. Rolf Pralad had brought me. One of his favorite songs was Neil Young’s “A man needs a maid” – he’d told me that before I arrived there, but I had no idea how literally he understood the title. 

I learned to get up early, feed the animals, milk the cows, make breakfast, clean the place, etc. In turn I initially got some loving, but that faded after a short time. 

It was towards the end of April, and it was still raining, I kid you not, when he tossed me out because his old girlfriend had come back. 

“I don’t deserve this, Rolf!”
“A matter of opinion.”
“What has she got that makes her better than me?”
“Well, for one she is blonde, and I prefer blondes, and then –”
“Then what?”
“I don’t want to insult you, Karo.”
“Well, you’ve done plenty of that already, Rolf. I deserve better.”
“You don’t. Get lost!”

Upon which he threw out my suitcase, pushed me out the door and slammed it shut in my face.

But his dog Pummel followed me, and now, ten years later, I still have that dog – a heavenly creature compared to his former master.

– Kathleen Mulholland (© 2024)

Author's note: Story not my own. Loosely based on a video game (see lo-fi clip above).

Tuesday, August 21, 2018

The endless summer haiku

Oysters and summer balm
night and drunk
tequila on love

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2018)

Note
A permutation of somebody else’s haiku using the same words. Seemed a bit too obvious, so I moved things around. Feel free to try and reconstruct the original!

Friday, February 3, 2017

A cough next door at 1 p.m.

(Another truthful haiku)

She must be rising
after last night’s 4 o’clock
boyfriend shouting match


– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2017)

Note
Nothing but the truth reported here. The dear neighbor girl came home with her latest sweetheart around 11 last night, exposed the entire neighborhood to rumba zumba music for an hour and later proceeded to have it out publicly with the guy down below between 4 and 5 in the morning.

Sunday, November 8, 2015

Sweet music from next door

Her heart is full of
love and longing for someone.
Heavy metal gone.


– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2015)

Note
The truth and nothing but the truth about the teeny neighbor. May this soft phase last! It’s definitely easier on the ears.

Wednesday, October 21, 2015

Final

Rose's jabs at me while we were having our weekly candlelight dinner at the Oasis, that place of Nouvelle Cuisine fine dining and excessive pricing, seemed a bit labored or even makeshift.

"There's something wrong with your jabs tonight, love," I said during a break.

She took her time chewing a morsel of boeuf whatever.

She cleared her throat; this was always a bad sign.

"My jabs, as you so conveniently call my part of our conversation, have come to an end. I'm leaving you."

"Don't tell me it's Julian Dent."

Julian Dent was her posh and good looking dentist. I'd long suspected that something might be going on there.

"No. It's not."

She took a sip from her glass of Merlot and savored it.

"Someone I know?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

"Your brother."

Now that was the final jab. Like one with a knife. And it had come easily from her, sounding neither labored nor makeshift.

She rose quietly and walked out of my life.

– Leonard Blumfeld ((c) 2015)

Written around jab, labored and makeshift from 3WW.

Friday, December 12, 2014

Blunt, drunk and lethargic

Oh husband, what has become of you?
You are now mostly drunk, which means lethargic couch potato, and the few words you say (if you manage to utter any) are blunt, like "Get out of my sight, bitch."
Oh husband, what has become of you? You used to be gallant, spirited and romantic. Think of your loving and devoted Nandini and please change quickly.
Or I'll have to call big brother, who will teach you. Remember the last time? He threw you out of the house with a big kick in the butt and then hosed you down with cold water for half an hour. Remember how that straightened you out for a year?
Your loving and devoted wife.

- Leonard Blumfeld (in a somewhat older Hindi movie vein)

Written for 3WW around the words blunt, drunk and lethargic.

Thursday, March 27, 2014

The smartphone disability haiku

For S.

My love sends me lobe,
lisses and all gibbt – please help
me decipher that!

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2014)


Note
Have you noticed how typing accuracy has gone down the drain with the advent of touch screen keypads? A great big cheer to the advances of technology!

Thursday, November 14, 2013

The seven days haiku

Seven more days! I’ll
be waiting at the station
for her to arrive...


– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2013)

A contribution to Haiku Heights and Seven.

Note
Actually a very abbreviated version of one of my favorite Bob Dylan songs – Seven more days.
This one is more or less fictitous (but I do wait for my love regularly, about five days out of seven).

Seven more days in a live performance by Ron Wood:

Thursday, March 29, 2012

Fragrant

For S.

Still,
after so many years,
that flowery perfume
encountered
on anyone
anywhere
will jostle up remnants
of a love
long buried.

Don't worry –
that love
has been resting in peace
and does not
compete with yours.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2012)

Written around fragrant, jostle, remnant from 3WW.

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

Haiku of the lost tribe

The tribe is lost. Not
enough magnetism. Outcast
searching for new tribe.

– Leonard "Tribal" Blumfeld (© 2012)

Sort of a continuation of Qasida of the lost tribe. Cryptic, I know.

Sometimes, due to tribal instinct, you search for love in the wrong tribe. In this case it happened to a dear friend.

Sunday, June 12, 2011

All that’s missing

“The next step might be decisive, Mabel. Just think –”
“Yes?”
Mabel gazed dreamily out the window onto the green of the Schlossgarten.
“Just think of what might happen if I kissed you now.”
“You’ve already got your hand on mine.”
“Just think. We might fall in love, move in together, have children –”
All the while the form, the smile, the far-away presence of Evgeny was on Mabel’s mind.
“You’ve got it all pictured, I see.”
“Well, to be honest, I wouldn’t mind if it happened that way.”
“And if you were to be dishonest? Would you admit to just wanting to get into my pants?”
Mabel pulled her hand away from under his, reached for her purse, took out her wallet and put a five Euro bill on the table.
“It’s been nice, John, but I’ve got to run. This,” she pointed at the money, “should cover my cappucino and some tip.”
And with those parting words and a little wave she was gone.
John touched the bill with his middle finger and sighed.
“All that’s missing is a Dear John letter,” he muttered to himself.
He signaled to the waitress. Blonde, somewhat Slavic looking, plump, perhaps 45, bright blue eyes. About his age. While Mabel was in her early thirties.
“Zahlen, bitte.”
She told him how much it was with a strong accent.
He gave her the money, including a generous tip.
“Do you speak English?”
“A little.”
“What is your name?”
“Natalia.”
“Would you fancy going out with me after work, Natalia?”

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2011)

Written around ‘The next step’ from Sunday Scribblings.

Notes
This little tale is set in Stuttgart, southern Germany. ‘Schlossgarten’ is the name of the city park. ‘Zahlen bitte’ means 'The bill, please.'

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Old dog, new trick

"You know, James, I could be more than fond of you … if you altered your tranquil ways."
"You could, dear Anthea?"
She was standing behind his work chair, hands on his shoulders.
"Yes, I could even love you, James – love you passionately, if I felt more passion coming from you."
He patted her hands.
"It's good of you to say that, dear. But it also makes it perfectly clear to me that you'd never love me the way I am – for what I am. I could probably try to change my tranquil ways, as you call them. I would do that for you, you know I would. But in the end it would exhaust me. And perhaps –"
"Perhaps?"
"Perhaps you have been barking up the wrong tree."
She furrowed her brow.
"Just what are you telling me?"
"That you might be better off looking for another tree. Or another dog, for that matter. This old dog would never do for you. Don't you think I'm right?"

– Leonard "Tranquil" Blumfeld (© 2011)

Written around alter, fond and tranquil from 3WW.

Sunday, May 22, 2011

Qasida of the Lost Tribe

By the time I reached the campsite of my beloved,
her caravan had already moved on.

I contemplated the harshness of Nature
and my self-imposed life away from the tribe.

Tribal life may be blessed, but is it for you?
I smart for the caravan, and for you to diverge.

– Leonard “Heretic” Blumfeld (© 2011)

Notes

In the quest for a quasida according to Poetic Asides I looked at the Wikipedia definition and wrote one that is 100% true to the old concept (quoted here from Wikipedia):
In his 9th century “Book of Poetry and Poets” (Kitab al-shi'r wa-al-shu'ara') the Arab writer ibn Qutaybah describes the (Arabic) qasida as formed of three parts:

• a nostalgic opening in which the poet reflects on what has passed, known as nasib. A common concept is the pursuit of the poet of the caravan of his beloved: by the time he reaches their campsite they have already moved on.

• a release or disengagement, the takhallus, often achieved by describing his transition from the nostalgia of the nasib to the second section, the travel section or rahil, in which the poet contemplates the harshness of nature and life away from the tribe.

• the message of the poem, which can take several forms: praise of the tribe (fakhr), satire about other tribes (hija) or some moral maxim (hikam).
A big part of the fun I have with poetic forms is to distort, overcome or disobey them (hence the “Heretic”). By the way: Federico García Lorca also wrote qasidas (“casida” in Spanish), and if I remember correctly, he didn't give much of a hoot about adhering to the form either.

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

May in May

May we know, may we
discover, may we love,
may this be the time.

– Leonard “May” Blumfeld (© 2011)

Written with two sites in mind – Sunday Scribblings and Recuerda Mi Corazón.

How about reading this as if 'may' were 'May' ...

Sunday, May 8, 2011

Let’s not talk about love

I don't know if I love you
Or if it's all in my head
I don't know if I love you
Though I know it's what I said

Cuz love is something I don't understand
Can't explain, I can't hold in my hand
But I'll stay here tonight
And I'll keep the flame alight
But let's not talk about love

I don't know if I love you
Though I feel some pain
I don't know if I love you
Or if I'm playing the game

Cuz love is something I don't understand
Can't explain, I can't hold in my hand
But I'll stay here tonight
And I'll make you feel alright
But let's not talk about love

Heather Nova

From the album “Storm”, released in 2003

So how are things with Juanita

Let’s not talk about love.
– Heather Nova

Should I tell you?
Oh but the risks of that!

I’m afraid I could be overbearing,
heavy-handed,

speak my heart to soon,
clumsily and politically incorrect,

pushing you away
rather than getting closer.

What is the current
universally accepted way

to go about love?
If it’s right, it’ll grow

by itself, I’ve been told.
But also this:

You’ve got to work on it,
and it takes two to tango.

Should I tell you?
Oh but the risks of that!

– Leonard “In and Out of Love” Blumfeld (© 2011)

Posted for One Single Impression and the all-important topic of Love.

Complete lyrics of Let's not talk about love by Heather Nova.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Love's soft complaint

"Your delightful kneading of my body
will go much beyond cleansing –
it will cause a major melt."

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2011)

Written around cleanse, knead and melt from 3WW.

Sunday, April 10, 2011

My lengthy friendship with Maud

“Often I don’t even want reciprocation,”
Maud said with that contrite and at the same time
capricious look around her lips,
“because I don’t like the things I receive.”

“You are difficult indeed, and quite often
you make sure the entire world knows it.”
To my surprise, she did not take this
the wrong way but actually chuckled.

“What if I kissed you now,” I said with a verve
I was surprised at myself, “and I don’t mean
a peck on the cheek. I mean Hollywood,
smack on those beautiful lips of yours,

and I want to feel your tongue reciprocate.”
Her head moved to an angle, but not exactly
out of reach, and in her face appeared
a mixture of amusement and apprehension.

“You really mean that?”
I did what I’d meant.
Hours later...
“You reciprocated quite nicely, Maud.

But did you want to?”
Amused, contrite, capricious Maud.
Sweeter to kiss – and other things –
than I’d ever, ever thought.

– Leonard “Some things are better done” Blumfeld (© 2011)

Written for One Single Impression and Reciprocate

Thursday, February 10, 2011

Optimism

For you

You
have
always
been good at
delivering the
worst for worst case scenarios.

– Leonard "Case Planner" Blumfeld

Elucidatory note
Why did I call this "Optimism"? Well, when you've become accustomed to expecting the worst and it becoming the worst, everything else is a positive surprise, right?
At least we're still on talking terms.
My dedications used to be "For her" – now that we're farther apart than ever I'm getting closer; they will be "For you" from now on.