Reinventing the dog

This
old
dog has
been barking
up the wrong tree for
years. Another trick is needed.

– Len "Old Blue" Blumfeld

But then there's the saying "You can't teach an old dog new tricks." Ouch.

Magic

For her, again and again

She opened her eyes, and they were all dreamy.
“That was magic!”

“Shall we do it again?”
She blinked her eyes in consent, and we dove into another one that left us utterly breathless.

“I could get used to this,” she said, “that was so –”
“Intimate?”

“Yes. I don’t think it could ever become routine.”
“Shall we try?”

“Let’s.”
And we did. And it still wasn’t.

When we came up for air after a small eternity, she smiled and said, “And after that you expect to take the girl’s clothes off, right?”

I burst out laughing.
“I thought it was funny, too, but not that funny.”

“Well, the funny thing is that I’m obviously kissing someone who has read Raymond Chandler, which is rare nowadays –”

“I love reading Chandler,” she interjected.
“and, if you wish, I’d only be too happy to proceed in the Chandler way.”

“We’ll see about that – eventually,” she cautioned, but with a twinkle. “First we’ll have to get some more practice with magic, intimate and routine.”

And we proceeded to do exactly that.

– Leonard “Raymond” Blumfeld (© 2010)

Written for Café Writing (Magic) and Option 5 Seven Things, but not quite going by the instructions. The instructions were “Give me seven examples of every-day magic.” Instead, I let myself be carried away by the Chandler quote which preceded the instructions:

“Alcohol is like love. The first kiss is magic, the second is intimate, the third is routine. After that you take the girl’s clothes off.”

Echoes

For her (who else?)

Past knocks on door, perturbing –
all a bad dream?

It was like this a long time ago –
an endless, semi-mute coexistence,

ups and downs brought on
by nothing but my imagination

(which is fruitful, very
fruitful, but hesitant to

come to the surface).
“You have a rich interior

life,” my therapist told me,
“it’s just that nobody

knows about it.”
She also told me that anecdote

about walking along
and stepping into a pothole.

That doing it once is ok,
even repeating it once

can be excused. But three
times means you’re

a bad learner. I am.
I can’t seem to wait

to set up the next pothole
for myself to step into.

– Leonard “He Who Suspects the Truth” Blumfeld (© 2010)

Written for One Single Impression and Echoes.

Daisy and Kuno

(Scenes from a not so reminiscent love story XVI)

“I treasure those immediate gestures of yours,” he said.
She heaved a sigh of relief.

“And I’d feared that those very immediate gestures
were the reason you’ve been silent all week.”

“Why, I love the immediacy of them! I wouldn’t
treasure anything else nearly that much.

Not nearly that immediately or moderately
or even vaguely.”

By that time she had forgotten who he was
and could not for the world remember

what gestures these might have been, and why
anyone would have called them immediate.

Happily, she began to look forward to another
day of grazing. In fact, to many other days of grazing,

to many months, or even years of grazing
on luscious alpine meadows like this one.

Or like another one.
The alfalfa of the future was shining brightly.

– Leonard “Silliness Alive & Well” Blumfeld (© 2010)

Written around gesture, immediate, treasure from 3WW.

Semi-Borgesian notes on this one
Borges was always good for a library-steeped, erudite explanation to make something purely imaginary entirely real. To confound my readers, I volunteer the following background information: Daisy was a black-and-white stuffed cow I brought back from a trip to the U.S. for my daughter when she was about 5 years old and going through a stuffed cow phase. Kuno was another black-and-white stuffed cow that my mother-in-law brought from the U.S. for my daughter, who was still going through the same phase, even though by then it was waning. I would tell my daughter bedtime stories about two cows called Daisy and Kuno. Kuno was madly in love with Daisy but occasionally unbearably overbearing. Daisy was capricious and could not make up her mind about whether she loved Kuno, detested him or was merely oblivious to him.

Everyone’s dream baby

A hint of lust in
an otherwise perfectly
smooth sheen of beauty...

Oh that’s the way Carmela
Hiller trots down High Street
on stiletto heels,
tired for once from relentless
pleasure seeking.

Wish I could fall in love
with her and have things
uncomplicated like the rest
of the world, having
smooth sheen of my own
and more than a hint of lust.

– Leonard “Vicariator” Blumfeld (© 2010)

Written around hint, lust and sheen from 3WW.

Note on genesis
What started out as a simple haiku (1st stanza) spread out into much more of a story than originally thought of, becoming geographically and emotionally situated and, finally, self reflection-saturated.

Try this

“Try this!”

Sunita was my seductress.
With glee she’d ask me to close my eyes and open my mouth. Then she’d insert something and tell me to chomp down.

I got to taste hot green chilies that way, hot mango pickle and burnt brinjal (she was Indian, and her family ate Indian all the time).

All great stuff for sure, but challenging to tongue and taste buds.
I’d be in pain, she’d dance around me, laughing her head off.

Things took a different turn one day, when we were about sixteen.
She warned me not to bite down hard this time, or it would cost me dear.

With eyes closed, I felt the heat of her face very near me and then tasted no vegetable, no chutney, no pickle, no slimy substance, but something alive and soft and warm – the tip of her tongue.

I opened my eyes and stared into hers, so close, so intense. We stayed that way for minutes, but they seemed like a small eternity.

...

She’s off to college in California, where she got a scholarship because she’s brilliant. A few days ago I received a package containing a DVD – an Indian movie called “Ugly Aur Pagli*” – and a card with these words:

WATCH THIS! Your Pagli.
PS: Come see me soon. You still have lots of things to try.

– Leonard “In Teen Mode” Blumfeld (© 2010)

Posted for One Single Impression and Try.

* “Aur Pagli” = “and Crazy” in Hindi. “Pagli” rhymes with “Ugly.”

Information about the 2008 movie starring Mallika Sherawat (as Kuhu / Pagli) and Ranvir Shorey (as Kabir / Ugly) at IMDB:

This Indian film is a remake of the South Korean film My Sassy Girl (2001). Both are a lot of fun. Much more so, to my taste, than the American version: My Sassy Girl (2008), starring Elisha Cuthbert and Jesse Bradford.

2046

For her, as usual

“You say your life is so empty these days, so lacking in purpose and meaning. But aren’t you shortselling your friends, the hours you spend with them, the hours they spend with you, the things you do together, the food and drinks you share? Aren’t you just a bit too much into feeling sorry for yourself and for the vicarious time you spend with the one person who does not wish to spend time with you?”

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2010)

Written for One Single Impression and Empty.

Note
The title is derived from the film 2046 by Wong Kar Wai (2004), which portrays a middle-aged man whose life gradually becomes more and more meaningless as he drifts from one party to the next, from one short-lived affair to the next.

 Scene from 2046, with Ziyi Zhang and Tony Leung

Some time, a while ago

For her

Some time, a while ago,
you went out the door
with that twist of waist
and derrière so all your own
that I knew I wanted
to see that back of yours
and you rise from my
bed every single
morning for the rest
of my days – I knew it
with the certainty
of a kick by an angel

– Leonard “Hangs On” Blumfeld

Posted for One Single Impression and ‘Angel’.

Love is all around me / he tries again

For her

“Here’s a budge, Lucy. Fresh from the garden.”
“Thank you, Homer. What lovely leaves.”
“You do not seem to be very happy about this present.”
“How can you tell?”
“By the slight wrinkle of your nose.”
“You’re right, Homer, I’m not that pleased. I’d hoped for a pretty little nimble garnished with theory instead of this vegetable, fresh as it may be.”
“Sorry to have failed you yet again.”
“You know me, Homer. Hard to please.”

– Leonard “Still Mystified” Blumfeld (© 2010)

Written with budge, nimble and theory from 3WW.

Trembling night

The tenuous bamboo bridge spanning the double tide of the Malini river has been carried away, and now my beauteous one is cut off from me upon an island. The rain continues. Each night I climb up the hill from which I can see the trembling night of Sarmicha's house. It shines in the wet darkness like a glance through tears.

– Amaru

Not much is known about Amaru, an Indian poet who lived in the 7th or 8th century and wrote in Sanskrit – mostly about erotic love, including passion, estrangement, longing, rapprochement, joy and sorrow.

Posted for One Single Impression and Trembling.

Love constellation

“Meanness is no recipe for love,”
he said and headed for the door.

“Knowing you, my dear,” she said,
“you will be back for more.”

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2010)

Written for ‘recipe’ at Sunday Scribblings.

Note
Some relationships I have occasion to observe simply appear to be doomed from whatever angle you look at them. A recipe that would save them does not seem to exist. And yet they go on and on and on...

One minute before burn-out

Another night of lousy sleep,
waking up early, mulling over
and over and over what’s
already facts ... and still
painful, even though I should
be used to it all by now.
I am my own best collaborator,
my own best enemy,
my own worst friend.

Oh lighten up, you master
of self-torture. Accept
the fact that this is not fate.
Get off your serious clod –
you can change it all.

– Lenny B.

Written for napowrimo #30, free day and farewell.

Not the best note for the last day of napowrimo, but an immediate reflection of the mood in which I woke up and thus some razor-edge-of-time reporting. I may yet replace this by something more upbeat.

A great big and heart-felt thank you to all the people who have stopped by to read my contributions and who have commented!

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.

Just like a lighthouse you stand before me

For her

I

The brief instant the beacon hits you right in the eye,
that flash of time remains engraved

I remember a ridiculous instant in the tea kitchen,
with you standing with your back to the paper towel dispenser,
when you smiled at me and I was close to your face,
a flawed face with not the best of skin,
thinking, “Could I possibly love her?”

And now sometimes I stand next to you
and feel that our bodies are one without touching

I look at your face and
every flaw is a mosaic piece of certainty


II

But if I asked you if you felt the same,
you’d deny it with the coldest Asian face on earth

I know you would

You’d switch the beacon off, I’d wander off

You’d let me go until you changed your mind,
fearful suddenly of losing whatever I am,
turning the light on to renew the draw


III

You know I’ll come around again

But sometimes I see doubt come in
(I relish those moments, I admit it)

I see the beacon rotate in the dark,
I know it will come my way

In another instant, when it hits me in the eye,
I’ll know exactly what I feel

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2010)

Written for napowrimo #19, light bulb moments and napowrimo #21, perfectly flawed.

Notes
Thinking about what to write for this prompt, the word lighthouse came to my mind, and then a shred from a song I later identified as 'Til I Gain Control Again by Rodney Crowell.

To me, parts of the poem have a song-like quality, which may well be due to its source of inspiration.

The song was covered by many singers, including Emmylou Harris and Willie Nelson. Lyrics and a live performance: Like sunlight dancing on your skin.

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.

One night in Addis Abeba

For her

Had we listened
to the voice within us,
we would have pursued
careers in diplomacy.

I would have studied
African languages,
as once intended,
majoring in Ethiopian.

You would have gone
to Moscow, as your father
had planned for you,
to ultimately join the corps.

We would have met
at a party hosted by the
Kenian embassy, both
unattached, and shared

a taxi when leaving.
We had the driver
take us to Sebastian’s,
where we had cocktails,

looked into each
other’s eyes, eventually
kissing across the chasm
between the communist

and capitalist worlds,
allowing the voice witin us
to speak and outline brightly
our future.

That did not happen, though.
All we have now is
an obscured variant, with the
feeling of potential lost

and but a skeleton of what
the scheme of fate and time
might have had in store.
We both muted that voice.

– Leonard “Had We But” Blumfeld (© 2010)

Written for The thing you didn’t choose, napowrimo #11 and Vicarious at One Single Impression.

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?

Alchemy

I could use a little now and then.

Even right now. Limbo is impending, even though not quite upon me yet – my work situation is about to change radically. I won't work in the same place any longer, won't be around the same people, some of whom have become friends over the nearly three years I've been here.

I have all intentions to bid good-bye to my beloved, who is among these people. I've come to the conclusion that it will be best to cut ties completely to regain peace of mind and peace of heart.

So – let me try and work some alchemy, generate light that shines and points me in the right direction.

– Leonard "Alchemist" Blumfeld

Posted for Sunday Scribblings and Alchemy.

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