What kind of image has appeared before my eyes?

(raag multani, afternoon)

What
kind
of I,
what I am
has appeared before
the eyes that did look into mine?

– Leonard Blumfeld

Seeing your fair face pleases my heart

I

see
your fair
face in trans-
lucent memory –
we are four thousand miles apart

A fibonacci inspired by raag bhimpalasi (early afternoon)

– Lou Blumfeld (copyright 2007)

Interview with Lou
Raag Times: What does the very recent western poetic form of fibonacci have to do with Indian ragas?
Lou B.: Nothing originally. I established a link of sorts by taking the time of day, going to a nifty website called The Raga Guide, looking for an appropriate raag, listening to one and then writing. The fibonacci titled "Seeing your fair face pleases my heart" and written in the early afternoon was inspired by listening to a raag bhimpalasi sung by Shruti Sadolikar. The title is a direct quote from The Raga Guide that I liked very much and could associate with my own personal experience very well.
Raag Times: Thank you, Lou.

Early evening fibonacci

(in raag bhupali)

Rose
dusk
falling,
eve ashes
seeping in, still hour
just before night encloses all

– Leon Blumfeld

Where Rumor and Sigh originated

Another rumor

For more ample illustration of the recently invented form:

It could be said that
pineapple tastes delicious,
but you don't have to
take anybody's word for it.

– Lem Bloomfield

Another poetic form: the rumor

And here's an example:

It has been said
that Helen had beautiful red lips,
but we have to take
Homer's word for it.

– Leon Blumfeld (copyright 2007)

N.B.
Of course, everything's copyrighted here (for all eternity!), but I think I should remind of it once in a while.

History of the sigh pt. 1: precursors

Famous example of a pastoral elegy –

Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard (1751)

Full many a gem of purest ray serene
The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear:
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.

Some village-Hampden that with dauntless breast
The little tyrant of his fields withstood;
Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest,
Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood.

The applause of listening senates to command,
The threats of pain and ruin to despise,
To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land,
And read their history in a nation's eyes,

Their lot forbade: nor circumscribed alone
Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined;
Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne,
And shut the gates of mercy on mankind,

The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide,
To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame,
Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride
With incense kindled at the Muse's flame.

– Thomas Gray (1716-1771)

Morning fib

Just
got
up, still
creaky. Will
need to get in first
gear now: drink, eat, make merry work

Así es, these are the good intentions of your humble servant, Lew Blumfeld

Warm-up fib for today | a sigh

Got
up
early
to do work,
had coffee and lye
crescent, but now crave red fruit.

Your morning report from the working front.

Accompanied by this sigh*:

Oh to be carefree and, perhaps,
have the best espresso ever tasted –
in a tiny bar on Pisa's main street.

Yours faithfully, L.B.

* Sigh: A poetic form loosely related to the pastoral elegy.

Time will not be cheated

Today, this Sunday, ended up being a BAD day.*
One of those where a universal remote control (URC)
for fast, fast forward would have come in very handy.
Including the autopilot function that gets all your work done
while you're sleeping. Yeah, right.

Except that, as we know from Click, the 2006 Adam Sandler comedy, Morty (aka Christopher Walken) will catch up with you if you press that button, and you will regret it – literally – for ever.

*Including an upchucking toilet, three hours of verbal abuse from an aging parent, fog from several planets, etc., etc.

I am surprised I have some sense of humor back.