Today’s weather haiku

Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain.
A little lull. Rain. Drops. Rain.
Puddle. Rain. Rain. Rain.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2021)

Note
That is the poetic razor-edge-of-time report on the weather in Rome on this 3rd day of 2021.

The Ice Saints Haiku

Coldest mid May in
decades, thunder rolling,
endless, endless rain

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2019)

Note
All true, nothing to add. Who are the Ice Saints?

The rain in Rome haiku

The Italian
nation wilts in rain, stays home
or visits temples*.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2013)

*These, of course, are no longer the temples of Jupiter or Jehova, but their modern equivalent: the shopping centers or temples of consumerism, which offer free shelter from the wet element.

Author's note
As if I could ever leave a haiku without a note!
Once again, what this one says is (mostly) the truth and razor edge of time reporting because it is raining in Rome.
Also, I must apologize for using the present of wilted.

Written for Haiku Heights and wilted.

Feeding the birds at EUR lake

For S.

Last Saturday the women
of the Gugnani clan
and I as their chauffeur
went to EUR lake
to feed dry bread
and chocolate-coated
rice crispies to the birds –
droves of ducks, geese,
pigeons and seagulls.
I was reminded of my
mother and how, even
during her last days
at home, her first priority
in the morning was
to feed the birds, come
sunshine, ice or snow.
I remembered how
she'd walk out
on that terrace in
slippers and gown,
oblivious of everything
except the birds
and the seeds
she had for them.
I cried for her,
perhaps the first time
since she died in 2009.

– Leonard "Loaded with Memories" Blumfeld

Landscape

The frozen swirls
may want to speak.

Of clouds, perhaps,
they've been in.

Of drifting clouds
they traveled with,

the lands they
overflew,

the continents.
Tell that to

the tips
of a pair of shoes,

tell it
to frozen grass.

– Johannes Beilharz (© 2010)

Written and posted for "converse with images" (napowrimo #6).

The weather situation

cannot be called extreme by any means (compared to Kazakhstan, for example, where they have -40 °C, I've heard), but we have had one of the biggest snow falls in this city I can remember, and it feels extremely cold even though it's only slightly below freezing.

I certainly would wish for more induration on my part.

Time to go out, do some dutiful shoveling and perhaps take a picture.*

A not so extreme contribution for Sunday Scribblings and a not so poetic one for One Single Impression.

* Shoveling completed, picture taken, picture added.

Saturday in November

Oh what a nuisance leaves can be.
Even though they're pretty the way they've turned yellow and brown.
Especially on a dry, surpringly warm Saturday in latish November.
But they also get soaked and ground-sticky and broom-resistant.
Razor-edge-of-time experience reported here.
Yes, this weekend it's my turn to clean the common areas of the building.
I've only done the outside part of it, and now have to leave because I'm going to a friend's open studio show in Ludwigsburg.
There's always tomorrow for the rest, right? Right.

Leonard "On Razor's Edge" Blumfeld

Personal weather situation

How's your personal weather today?
I'm a bit under the weather. Quite a bit under the weather, actually.
So what happened to cloud your skies?
There's an uncomfortable draft in my face, but also some stillness that isolates me.
Oh my! Whereabouts are you?
Stuck in the desert of my own mind and feelings as usual.

– Len "Mind Desert" Blumfeld

Grey June day

It's a grey day out there
with grey feelings

Was there ever anything real?
What's real is this tepid weather

come from somewhere up north,
possibly Iceland

Feelings iced over,
so to speak

I myself am grey enough
not to be noticed

– Len "Grey" Blumfeld

An uninvited guest from up north for Totally Optional Prompts. All à propos and razor-edge-of-time, including the fact that a child I like a lot did not appear to see me at all this morning.

Live from the office

It's stuffy and hot in here.
The outside world still can't quite admit that winter is over. There were occasional snow flurries this moring.
Some stubborn trees are holding on to brown leaves.
Two Russians are in the office today, but there's no Iron Curtain whatsoever. Apparently, all of Russia laughed about Mrs. Clinton's emergency stop switch present.
Need to get on with work, but had to blog off some boredom.*

– Yours truly, L.B.

* 'Boredom' is, of course, a word that's not allowed around here. Problems aren't allowed, either. Only challenges and solutions. What shall we call boredom then? 'Slight momentary lull in the general scheme of challenge'?

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?

Time flies by ...

and you're not getting anything accomplished.

Ever had one of those days?

It's shaping up to be one for me, and frantic activity does not seem to be the answer. That seems to equate wheel spinning and rubber burning (smoke and stench – oh no!).

But:

• The sun's out brightly
• A placid plane is making its way in the baby blue sky
• I bet there are many people aboard who are doing something productive ... like sleeping, blowing their noses, reading fun trashy novels, getting acquainted with their neighbors or hoping their neighbors won't disturb them*, waiting for the next meal, etc.
• Wouldn't mind being on a plane myself ... going somewhere
• ... instead of sitting here at work not getting anywhere.

Cheers!

Len "Not So Inspired Workhorse"

* Ever read Anne Tyler's Accidental Tourist? (Highly recommendable – the movie, starring William Hurt, Kathleen Turner, Geena Davis and Bill Pullman, is also quite good.) Then you know what to do in order to prevent communication with fellow travelers.

Office still life

The face of the house across is brightened to a stark near-white by the sun coming in from the southeast.

Yes, it's that house with the leisure area on the garage, the terracotta pot array supplemented by three bright green plastic watering cans.

There's a bright red Fiat Cinquecento on the window sill.

If I crane my neck, I can see some bright red flowers on corn stalks.

Corn stalks?

– Len B.

An orange nudge

I don't think the weather knows about the forecast.

– Len the Weatherman

It's true; it was supposed to be bright and warm today (and was preparing to be until 10 minutes ago), but now it's greying in, and I can even hear distant thunder in my imagination.

Don't let the sun ...

"Hey!
The
sun's out."
"Quick – catch it
before it conceals
itself again." Alas, my net
failed. Big yellow slipped
through the mesh.
Some warmth
lin-
gers.

– Len B.

It's been difficult to catch a glimpse of sun this cold, rainy July...

This poem is a poetified retelling of what happened this morning.

Later on, under the shower, I tried to think of songs having to do with the sun, and came up with the Beatles' "Here comes the sun" and "Don't let the sun catch you crying" (don't know who did that first, but I like the live version by Rickie Lee Jones).

Technical note: For some reason Blogger won't let me enter a title in Firefox. In IE, however, it is possible. All in all, I'm still struggling with IE 7. Who told Microsoft anybody wanted it this way?

From the office work province

1. The blinds are down, there's a welcomingly mild sun out there. Most people have gone out for lunch. It's peaceful here in the outpost of a gigantic company.
2. I suffer from time elapse anxiety syndrome (TEA).
3. Do many people suffer from this disease?
4. Symptom: feeling that time is slipping by without you getting urgent things done.
5. This symptom makes me nervous.
6. Until I succumb to the next "what's so important that it really needs to be done in the overall scheme of things" mood.
7. Those moods are philosophical and soothing,
8. but they don't get anything done.

Yours from the office grind Len B.

Mists gave way fib

Mists

gave

way to

full-bodied

blue sky, with languid

white animal clouds drifting by.

– Leonard Blumfeld

From an office

Here I am back home again,
I'm here to rest.
All they ask is where I've been,
knowing I've been West.

– Tim Hardin (from Black Sheep Boy)

... quoted not-so-golden not-so-black-sheep-boy Len, home from the windy North Sea coast. Sad to say, I haven't come to rest (but do we ever, unless it's for that final rest in peace) but am in an office for work. Things happen to be very quiet here, so I can take a minute for blogging.

Quiet, in keeping with the outside: a quiet cloud cover, hardly a sound in the building, the occasional bird chirp through the tipped window.

Weather report: shiny, shiny, shiny

The weather I can report on with some lapse because it is stable, near-term surprises are not to be expected. It's the big baby-blue out there, with white streaks from aeroplanes.

The sun is shining down, and this should make me happy, just like everyone else.

Everyone else has been shedding layers.

I'm sitting in my office, feeling cooped up and nervous, as if on crystal lithium*.

Don't worry, I don't even know what that would be like.

Except that I have a nervous feeling. It feels like I should be doing something speedily, lots of things, in fact, to ameliorate the situation, to solve problems, to get rid of work, to no longer procrastinate with the breadless arts.

Don't worry, I won't go into the problems to be solved.

– Yours Lenny B., doggedly trying to remain cheerful in spite of it all

-----

*Borrowed from James Schuyler. He published a collection of poetry titled "The Crystal Lithium" in 1972.

The title derives from the fact that he had to take lithium for balance. There had been imbalances that forced hospitalization.

These imbalances included the incident where he washed money in the bathtub at Fairfield Porter's house, if I remember correctly.

Experience burnt into memory this morning

A
waft
of big
synthetic
coconut : Mister
Burnt Bronze exits tanning saloon
in yellow shorts and white tee in anemic April

– Len Blumfeld

Faithful poetic razor edge fib reporting as always.