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.

A whole lot essential

I said now's the time
for something a whole lot essential

I said now's the time
to not just know you're free

I said now's the time
to act accordingly

I said now's the time
for something a whole lot essential

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2010)

Written for napowrimo #15, where the task was:

In a nice private place, pick out a stanza, or a few lines, that you like from a poem that you don’t otherwise feel was very successful. Say them over to yourself.
Now hum them. See if you can find the tune.
And now sing them aloud. (Who cares if you can sing? You’re in private. And this is poetry!)
Throwing away the rest of the poem, write two more stanzas (stand-alone or connected) that go to the same tune.

The line from a poem (song) I considered not entirely successful (for reasons of triteness) was "Now’s the time / for something a whole lot special."

Good-bye hello

You say yes, I say no
You say stop and I say go
– The Beatles

For her, as usual

One

We say good-bye,
each one walks on,
to meet again
and again
to let destiny
take its course

Two

you will not turn around,
I know,
tomorrow
and again,
becoming love
full circle

Three

We say good-bye, you will not turn around,
each one walks on, I know,
to meet again tomorrow
and again and again,
to let destiny becoming love
take its course full circle

– Leonard “Cleaver” Blumfeld (© 2010)


Three poems – two separate ones, which are then horizontally combined to form a third. This is called a cleave.

This cleave was written for napowrimo #14.

What is cleave poetry?

Poem Starting with a Line from Norman Dubie

In the near field an idle, stylish horse raised one leg
In her living room in the city of S. her alarm went off
Mine went off ten minutes ago and now I’m sitting here
spouting early poetry having to do with a stylish horse

She is fighting to shake off the softness and warmth
of pillow and cover and embrace
I’m letting the horse put its stylish leg down on the ground
The cold of a cold April morning is seeping into my bones

– Leonard “Far Field” Blumfeld (© 2010)

The idea of napowrimo #13 was to take a line by Norman Dubie as a first line and title the resulting poem “Poem Starting with a Line from Norman Dubie” – both of which I did.

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?

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).

Raaz

(राज़) 

Laughing, I ran away from Manoj.
He’d won a kiss from the spinning bottle –
but I felt like making him work a little
before consenting.

From the clearing I went into the evenly
planted pine rows, hiding from Manoj
behind one. I heard him shout, run by,
went round the tree to avoid discovery.

He shouted about the mansion
at the end of the forest, I peeked
and saw it. Not to go in there,
he said, that it was forbidden.

It drew me. I waited for Manoj
to rejoin our friends, who were
singing and laughing in the distance,
and then went closer, to the black

iron fence. The place looked
deserted except for vivid reflections
in the windows. Flashes of people
and violent changes in temper.

A breath of air struck my neck,
as from somebody close by.
I turned, and there was no-one.
Eery, I thought, and noticed

that daylight had clouded over.
Now there was sooty dark
and a shiver as from an impending
storm. Not to worry, I told myself,

you simply walk back. But my
friends’ merry noises were gone.
I walked and again felt a breath
in my back, longer this time,

more forceful, as if from giant
lungs. And there was noise
to it, the suppressed roar
an immense animal would make.

I stood and turned – not a thing –
turned and resumed walking.
Roar and cold air, an impatient
howl. I turned and saw –

– Johannes Beilharz (© 2010)

This is a rather free retelling of what I remember of the beginning of Raaz (Secret), a Hindi horror film from 2002, which, very quickly and successfully, sets up a scary atmosphere with very simple means, so that this fits in very well with Napowrimo #3, Scared yet?.

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.