Chest orange,
undies red,
apron garish –
edible
– Leonard “Bon Courage” Blumfeld (© 2010)
A little terse poem formed from the acronym ‘courage’ for Sunday Scribblings. About a courageous acquaintance who would not hesitate to wear such strange attire and would still look stunning in it. She might wear it to teach one of her Moroccan cooking classes, for example, and look absolutely positively edible...
This world is so wide that, even if you flitted around and around it, you would never reach the end of it. This blog is a collage of more or less literary and humorous, outlandish or sometimes even serious glimpses at this great wide world.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Sunday, May 2, 2010
On your birthday
(Photo credit: juditu at morguefile.com)
For N.
If I were to com-
pare you, you’d be the lightness
of a hummingbird ...
pare you, you’d be the lightness
of a hummingbird ...
– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2010)
Written for ‘hummingbirds’ at Haiku Bones.
Note
If I were to compare you ... but of course you're incomparable!
Saturday, May 1, 2010
New Sacré Coeur Environment
Recently visited Sacré Coeur in Paris transplanted to a new environment.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
One minute before burn-out
Another night of lousy sleep,
waking up early, mulling over
and over and over what’s
already facts ... and still
painful, even though I should
be used to it all by now.
I am my own best collaborator,
my own best enemy,
my own worst friend.
Oh lighten up, you master
of self-torture. Accept
the fact that this is not fate.
Get off your serious clod –
you can change it all.
– Lenny B.
Written for napowrimo #30, free day and farewell.
Not the best note for the last day of napowrimo, but an immediate reflection of the mood in which I woke up and thus some razor-edge-of-time reporting. I may yet replace this by something more upbeat.
A great big and heart-felt thank you to all the people who have stopped by to read my contributions and who have commented!
waking up early, mulling over
and over and over what’s
already facts ... and still
painful, even though I should
be used to it all by now.
I am my own best collaborator,
my own best enemy,
my own worst friend.
Oh lighten up, you master
of self-torture. Accept
the fact that this is not fate.
Get off your serious clod –
you can change it all.
– Lenny B.
Written for napowrimo #30, free day and farewell.
Not the best note for the last day of napowrimo, but an immediate reflection of the mood in which I woke up and thus some razor-edge-of-time reporting. I may yet replace this by something more upbeat.
A great big and heart-felt thank you to all the people who have stopped by to read my contributions and who have commented!
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Intuition
For her
How can one know something
that is going to be in the future?
It happened to me once before,
so I am not that keen on it.
I knew, before the relationship
with N. started, that it would be.
It happened, and two years later
we were about to kill each other
and getting ready for divorce.
And now, with you, even though
nothing worth mentioning
has ever happened, I have
the same feeling of certainty
(sometimes). And no, I am not
pushing it. I can and will not
push you, and I will not be pushed
myself. Everything to be
is to be loving and free.
– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2010)
Written for napowrimo #28, intuition.
Wasn't happy with the ending, amended it, like it better now.
How can one know something
that is going to be in the future?
It happened to me once before,
so I am not that keen on it.
I knew, before the relationship
with N. started, that it would be.
It happened, and two years later
we were about to kill each other
and getting ready for divorce.
And now, with you, even though
nothing worth mentioning
has ever happened, I have
the same feeling of certainty
(sometimes). And no, I am not
pushing it. I can and will not
push you, and I will not be pushed
myself. Everything to be
is to be loving and free.
– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2010)
Written for napowrimo #28, intuition.
Wasn't happy with the ending, amended it, like it better now.
Rose
I don't know, maybe it was the rosesRead
– Robert Hunter/Jerry Garcia
On
Sweet
Elaine
– Leonard “Minimalist” Blumfeld
Written for napowrimo #27, let somebody else take the lead.
Quite possibly the shortest poem I've ever written. I could write more about its inception.
First, there was the objective to write an acrostic poem. Second, my friend Chris' wife Rose celebrated her birthday yesterday. Third, when I thought of "rose," the song by Jerry Garcia I quoted from popped into my mind. Fourth, where does "Elaine" come from? That shall remain a mystery. Just like the whole little nothing of a poem, which could be called a "cliffhanger" at best.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
A bunch of namby-pamby
You can eat my hat
and while at that
starve on my scarf
Feel free to
munch my mustache,
belie my belly button,
scrape my sternum
(but lightly),
chill my cheek,
tweak my beak,
knead my knees,
heal my heels
and muzzle my mouth
But never ever
tickle my toes
‘cause that causes
a sneeze of the nose
– Felix Morgenstern (© 2010)
Written for napowrimo #24, find a phrase.
Actually, I found two – “namby-pamby” (which stands for “childish and weakly sentimental”) and “I’ll eat my hat” and combined them in the namby-pamby poem above.
What is a namby-pamby poem?
Here’s one by Henry Carey to illustrate and deride the genre:
All ye poets of the age,
All ye witlings of the stage …
Namby-Pamby is your guide,
Albion's joy, Hibernia's pride.
Namby-Pamby, pilly-piss,
Rhimy-pim'd on Missy Miss
Tartaretta Tartaree
From the navel to the knee;
That her father's gracy grace
Might give him a placy place.
This satire is on English poet and playwright Ambrose Philips (1674-1749), “who became tutor to George I's grandchildren. The position gave him a status amongst the aristocracy, and he took the opportunity to advance his place in society by writing sycophantic sentimental poems in praise of their children. These were written in rather affected and insipid nursery language, of the 'eency-weency', 'goody-goody' sort.” (Quote from the Phrase Finder.)
and while at that
starve on my scarf
Feel free to
munch my mustache,
belie my belly button,
scrape my sternum
(but lightly),
chill my cheek,
tweak my beak,
knead my knees,
heal my heels
and muzzle my mouth
But never ever
tickle my toes
‘cause that causes
a sneeze of the nose
– Felix Morgenstern (© 2010)
Written for napowrimo #24, find a phrase.
Actually, I found two – “namby-pamby” (which stands for “childish and weakly sentimental”) and “I’ll eat my hat” and combined them in the namby-pamby poem above.
What is a namby-pamby poem?
Here’s one by Henry Carey to illustrate and deride the genre:
All ye poets of the age,
All ye witlings of the stage …
Namby-Pamby is your guide,
Albion's joy, Hibernia's pride.
Namby-Pamby, pilly-piss,
Rhimy-pim'd on Missy Miss
Tartaretta Tartaree
From the navel to the knee;
That her father's gracy grace
Might give him a placy place.
This satire is on English poet and playwright Ambrose Philips (1674-1749), “who became tutor to George I's grandchildren. The position gave him a status amongst the aristocracy, and he took the opportunity to advance his place in society by writing sycophantic sentimental poems in praise of their children. These were written in rather affected and insipid nursery language, of the 'eency-weency', 'goody-goody' sort.” (Quote from the Phrase Finder.)
Friday, April 23, 2010
I am a banana stalk
I am a banana stalk and was married off
to a plump guy with an elephant head
But oh he’s so loving, he brings me
good luck, and he’s the son of a god
– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2010)
Written for napowrimo #23, unlikely couples.
Note
This poem alludes to Kola Bou, a banana plant, who in Bengal is considered to be the consort of Ganesha.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Letter to his older sister
Dear Mabelle,
I’ll order the squall jacket you recommded,
my that will be one fierce tendril less. I won’t flinch
no more with the crow at the emporium, as I used to,
and feel so small, like peppered rust reverberating.
Now there’s only one thing that remains to be said,
and that is that I dislike saffron, so contrary to your
advice I will not take those pills. CU tomorrow!
Bel-Ami
Written for napowrimo #22, in which the following words were proposed:
I’ll order the squall jacket you recommded,
my that will be one fierce tendril less. I won’t flinch
no more with the crow at the emporium, as I used to,
and feel so small, like peppered rust reverberating.
Now there’s only one thing that remains to be said,
and that is that I dislike saffron, so contrary to your
advice I will not take those pills. CU tomorrow!
Bel-Ami
Written for napowrimo #22, in which the following words were proposed:
Meow!
“And the cat came back,”
said the Colonel
Sanders-type Italian
dressed properly
for the Parigi visit,
viz. Basque beret and
long Gréco-style scarf
Up on the balcony
across the street
from the café two
French boys were
showering cat &
caboodle with loud
imaginary bullets
While I was sitting
there sipping
the most expensive
expresso ever, taking
the mental notes that
did elicit this snide
little poetic chit
– Leonard “Been to Paris Again” Blumfeld (© 2010)
Written belatedly for napowrimo #18, meow!
All the things observed here truly happened – except that I rearranged them a bit for better effect. Similarities with living persons are definitely intented.
said the Colonel
Sanders-type Italian
dressed properly
for the Parigi visit,
viz. Basque beret and
long Gréco-style scarf
Up on the balcony
across the street
from the café two
French boys were
showering cat &
caboodle with loud
imaginary bullets
While I was sitting
there sipping
the most expensive
expresso ever, taking
the mental notes that
did elicit this snide
little poetic chit
– Leonard “Been to Paris Again” Blumfeld (© 2010)
Written belatedly for napowrimo #18, meow!
All the things observed here truly happened – except that I rearranged them a bit for better effect. Similarities with living persons are definitely intented.
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