Forbidden

I knew I had done something forbidden – something terribly forbidden.
The faces around me were solemn and accusing, all those faces of people I'd thought I knew well and that now looked as closed as closed books. I'd even thought that they liked me.
No-one came forward to tell me what I'd done that was so terribly forbidden.
But I was all heated up about it, beet red in the face, cheeks burning, hands clenched, an electric feeling all over my body.
Solemn, silent, accusing faces around me.
No-one would talk.
That, perhaps, was the worst.
Worse than whatever I'd done that was so terribly forbidden.

– Leonard Blumfeld

Written for Sunday Scribblings' Forbidden. An improvisation on some of the guilt nightmares I've had.

One cool dissolve

In one dissolve
that trinket –
that measly little
stinky pink thing –
destroyed all my zest

– Len "Falls for Trinkets" Blumfeld

A somewhat deviant haiku written to get dissolve, trinket and zest from 3WW to interact. And a free contribution to Totally Optional Prompts.

Note
Not much work here at work ... and it shows, doesn't it!

Papercut art

A photograph underlayed with a papercut for Inspire Me Thursday's Papercut theme. I made a papercut, scanned it and underlayed a recent flower photo with it. This is just a section of the whole picture.

Good things combine

It's another grey day, with the clouds vacillating between letting go (mildly) and holding back but remaining grey and threatening.
A headache has been at work in the back of my head.
They're killing trees out in the backyard.
The motor saw is adding to the entertainment.

– Leonard "Razor Edge" Blumfeld

Knight on bended knees to his beloved lady

Barely a drop in the evenings now, only glad mist admidst the pallid murmurs of your dark rivulets. Oh how you make me swoon!

– Leonard Blumfeld

Nonsense ditty incorporating all nine words – drop, evenings, glad, mist, motionless, murmur, pallid, rivulets, swoon – from Café Writing.

Social mind at work

A little cartoon from the insect world for Inspire Me Thursday's Storyteller.

African Yellow

African Yellow
Acrylic on paper, photographed, clipped and digitally modified, 2008

A belated entry for Inspire Me Thursday's Yellow.

In the sky - cruising and vacationing

Today's horoscope for the coming week said:

You enjoy being in control, Capricorn, but this week the Universe shows you that it's not always possible for you to be in charge. You may decide you like taking it easy! Mercury turns retrograde on Wednesday. You'll play catch-up with the people and events in your life for the next three weeks. This is a great time to relax and swing in a hammock. On Saturday a new vista opens for you as the Moon in your sector of travel conjuncts your ruler, Saturn. You may embark on a long cruise or sign up for an exotic vacation.

• For a long time I've had the feeling that I'm not very much in control. It's been more like an inescapable road to follow, with some traffic lights and yield or stop signs for guidance.
• Glad to know that the Universe with a capital U is behind it all.
• They guessed right – I like taking it easy. I like things served on a platter, all nicely garnished and ready for the taking. Alas, that's not the way it works, and I'd be very surprised if it did next week.
• Don't have no hammock and don't even like 'em very much, to be honest.
• If it were up to horoscopes, I would have gone on long cruises a lot over the years. Exotic vacation? Perhaps Kazakhstan ... I've been getting interested in it due to infatuation with one of its citizens.
• I'll see, but I'm not holding my breath.
  

Breath from beyond

Breath from beyond

Acrylic and ink on paper, 2006

For Inspire Me Thursday's Breath.
My mother passed away last Friday. Whenever I go
back to look at her, I still expect her to start breathing
again any moment.
This won't happen, of course. If there were any breath,
it would be from beyond, as in the painting. Life,
colors and breathing are underneath the blackness.

Welcome home

The prince is back,
oh princely abode
with your dusting
needs and clothes
strung up to dry.

Go, inhabitor, go
put some music on
and make it some-
what inhabited.

It’s Sunday morning,
someone died Friday,
and you’ve just
taken announcement
letters to the mailbox.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2008)

Largely autobiographical, razor-edge-of-time, so to speak.

This also offers some explanation of my recent writing (and blogging) inactivity.

PS:
I’m using the not very existent* word inhabitor on purpose ... somewhere in between inhibitor and inhabitant.

*On the Internet it mostly exists as a spelling problem.