Showing posts with label poem. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poem. Show all posts

Tuesday, March 5, 2024

A Korean move


Drop sideways onto
bed in desperation, then
sad eyes on pillow

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2024)

Note
Inspired by watching yet another South Korean TV series – Dr. Slump (2024). The photo is a film still of actress Park Shin-hye in a scene from this series.

Thursday, February 29, 2024

Today’s observation haiku

Stout Roma woman
seated on a concrete block
outside the market

She had removed one 
sock and was massaging the
toes of her bare foot

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2024)

Note
The truth and nothing but.
Was this worth noting and being poeticized/documented?
Not entirely sure. But what’s done is done.

Sunday, February 4, 2024

Linger On

Linger on,
you pale blue light

And it did linger on,
pale and blue

But just how long
and what followed – 

light or shade – 
I do not know

after the night’s 
weighty long dream

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2024)

Note
This was sparked by the song Pale Blue Eyes by the Velvet Underground, which has appeared and disappeared repeatedly in my mind for days now for reasons unknown with its title and imagery distorted.

Saturday, January 6, 2024

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.)

Saturday, December 30, 2023

At cHouse

 


A bartender who looks like Sandra the Hawaiian from Superstore mixed my drink this evening.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2023)

Note
The year’s about to end, so I decided to treat myself to one of those Italian bitters, and the above Japanese sentence renders the event as concisely as possible. No picture of the bartender – that would violate privacy laws.

Friday, December 15, 2023

What do I remember


What do I remember
of this light-weight day
above the hillside,
above dark shadows,
looking at blazing white
clouds in the distance?

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2023)

Note
Let’s leave it at that, shall we? More of a question about memory and what one remembers about one particular moment. Thank God for photographs – they greatly help with the task of reconstructing things gone by.

The photo taken from a chair lift above Campo Imperatore in Abruzzo, Italy, is by my real me, Johannes Beilharz. Leica R4, 50 mm Summilux, Adox CMS II 20 film.


Friday, November 24, 2023

My name is Luka – an ultrashort poem

My name is Luka


Now playing


Note For those not familiar, here's the song by Suzanne Vega from 1987 this alludes to:




Other than that:

Just don't ask me what it was.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2023)

Tuesday, October 24, 2023

6 lines

A grinder
is digging into the wall
painfully

And there’s
nothing
I can do about it

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2023)

Note
The reported truth and nothing but. I could have added “except write a pedestrian poem about it”, but then it would have been more than 6 lines. And we wouldn't want that, would we?

Tuesday, July 11, 2023

T. S. was wrong

Thomas Stearns

was wrong:

July is the cruellest month,
sandwiched between June
and August, which are
almost as cruel if measured
by the unbearable heat here
in the Roman stone desert
which comes immensely
close to a waste land
every day from nine to five

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2023)

Note
A facetious shot at the beginning of T. S. Eliot’s The Waste Land (1922). Otherwise razor edge reporting from the global warming front in Rome, Italy, on July 11, 2023.

Saturday, July 1, 2023

Dream No. 181

 

Had a dream last night
in which, try as I might,
I could not remember
what George Harrison
looked like.

This greatly upset me
in the dream, him
being my favorite
Beatle and all. 10-foot 
pole taste of memory loss.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2023)

Photo: Ed Caraeff/Getty Images

Sunday, April 23, 2023

Las palabras y los días


También
hay unos días
sin palabras

– Leonardo Blumfeld (© 2023)

Nota
Hoy me he metido en vena castellana, inspirada por el libro de Octavio Paz con el título arriba.

Thursday, February 23, 2023

Ala goes on a walk with grandpa

 


“Got to keep your eyes
on the ground, Ala!” – “Why? Are
there snakes?” – “No, dog shit.”

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2023)

Note
This year's first haiku published here, and on such a pertinent subject no less. It might not hurt, though, to occasionally remind a child that glides on wings (“Ala” means wing) of what's on the earth.

Monday, February 6, 2023

Meow

 


Ever since there’s a cat in the house
everyone responds to his calls in meows.
Now, if it all were a bit clearer
true communication would be much nearer.

– Felix Morgenstern (© 2023)

(The photo shows the source of inspiration of this silly rhyme.)

Sunday, September 25, 2022

Blues - a haiku

 


Irritable sky
then a classy big blues run
because of the greens

by Shinji Murakami


Note
Blame it all on the greens! An Internet-generated haiku based on personal input. The author chose to delete the poem from the site, which generated the following message:


Poor dog!

Monday, June 27, 2022

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

Sunday, January 9, 2022

I’m doing nearly nothing


Ab Har Ho Bhola Nahin Bane - Pandit Mallikarjun Mansur

Fourth day of dreamily
listening to Mallikarjun Mansur -
always the same songs.

Nothing much is happening – 
I’m not listening attentively.
The music is flowing into me.

It feels like a conspicuous momentary
constellation – Mallikarjun Mansur singing
and me doing the equivalent of happy nothing.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2022)

Thursday, December 2, 2021

Rainy December Day


It’s
as
if a
chasse d’eau were
continually 
being pulled today, and all grey.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2021)

Note
So I’ve come back to a form (fibonacci) I used to practice a lot for a while and then didn’t for a long time. Nothing but the truth in this one – the waters of the sky are coming down on Rome in varying degrees of mercilessness, and it’s so dark you can hardly call it day.

Saturday, October 2, 2021

The perils of having a pet haiku

Can’t tie my shoes – 
cat’s playing with the strings.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2021)

Note
A seriously underfilled specimen of the form, but based on nothing but real events.

Thursday, August 5, 2021

Green-eyed

I called my fly
Prezzemolo because
it has one green eye

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2021)

Note
“Prezzemolo” is Italian for “parsley”.

Photo by Phillip Larking on Unsplash

Sunday, February 14, 2021

Happy Sunday!

Some nasty little
yapper is spitting venom
outside and loves it.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2021)

Note
That too on Valentine’s day – when everything’s supposed to be lovey-dovey.

P.S:
You know me – when I come up with a title like ‘Happy Sunday’, it most likely won’t be all that happy. But there’s ‘loves’ in it after all.

LoL. – The Old Grump.