Monday, September 16, 2013

The carnival haiku

Thoughts and feelings in
a spin, force-pulled blue horses
jumping up and down.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2013)

Inspired by Haiku Heights and carnival.

Inevitable author's note
Can't shed much light on the workings of this one.
The word carnival reminded me of the little permanent carnival in the neighborhood, which hardly ever seems to get visitors, so I'm wondering how it manages to survive.
My thoughts (more so than my feelings) are indeed in a spin, probably as a result of having strong coffee.
That's all, folks, I'm afraid.

Sunday, September 15, 2013

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.

Saturday, September 14, 2013

The long lost river haiku

The long river flows –
song heard on radio long
ago. Who sings it?

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2013)

Evoked by Haiku Heights and river.

Note
Completely true once again – nothing invented. Heard this song on the radio about 40 years ago. Never have heard it again. But have never forgotten it. Or should I say: never forgotten the memory of it. Memory works in the strangest ways.

Friday, September 13, 2013

The no shit haiku

I’m lucky, I’m lucky,
I can walk under ladders

– Joan Armatrading
You saw a black cat
killed under a ladder on
Friday the 13th?

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2013)

Written upon inspiration by Haiku Heights and superstition.

Author's note and disclaimer
Rest assured: no such thing happened.
No animals were harmed during the making of this haiku.

Thursday, September 12, 2013

The tradition haiku

Abolition would
be a good and proper end
to some traditions.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2013)

Note
There are some silly traditions (for example, that my family always had to have cheese fondue on New Year’s Eve even though I, for one, hated it), and then there are some that are downright nasty, like bull fights in Spain and female circumcision in some African countries.
All in all, I tend to be more wary of than gung-ho on things traditional, though, of course, there are also many good traditions that deserve to be retained, such as honesty, fairness, modesty, literacy and the like.

Written for Haiku Heights and tradition.

Tuesday, September 10, 2013

The kitchen haiku

Smell of onions fried
last night still wafts up – open door
or not? Mosquitos ...


– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2013)

Instigated by Haiku Heights and Kitchen.

Notes
If there is anything I dislike about Rome, it is the plenty of its noiseless, blood-thirsty mosquitos. These guys give you no acoustic warning.
Once again, this is an all-true, razor-edge-of-time piece of poetry. Nothing invented, no artificial ingredients. About to go down to kitchen to open that door and see if there's some fruit for second breakfast.

Friday, September 6, 2013

Pol(s)ka

The unwritten Warsaw
ballet remains unwritten
until return.


– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2013)

A contribution to Haiku Heights and ballet.

Notes
I'd promised myself that I would write one poem a day during my recent trip to Warsaw, Poland, and failed miserably. My diary contains entries from just two days out of four, and these are just notes on what happened or what I saw, nothing that could be called a poem. Of course, there are many valid excuses: lack of time alone, tiredness after lengthy excursions in Warsaw and other places in Poland, etc. You can't always write what you want, to quote the Rolling Stones.
However, I liked Poland so much that I'm ready to return any time, so that there is a chance that the Warsaw ballet will be written some day after all...

Tuesday, June 11, 2013

The rock, the mountain doubts the validity of his objectives

Today's horoscope read:
Do you doubt the validity of your objectives? Is it possible that you, the rock, the mountain, the bulldozer are having doubts? By golly, it is possible. While you are the master of concrete details, it seems you stumble when it comes to understanding the philosophy behind your plans. Assuming, of course, there is a philosophy. If not, this is the time to consider just what motivates you in your life...
Finally a horoscope that is halfway interesting and relevant!

Answers:
a. Yes, it is possible.
b. Most of the time I don't even feel like a rock or mountain.
c. I never feel like a bulldozer. It's nothing I aspire to be. Probably my tough luck!
d. I am into concrete details. Guilty of that.
e. Yes, I admit to stumbling.
f. Yes, I assume.
g. I am considering. Will let you know the results real soon.

Wednesday, April 17, 2013

Wake-Up Song


Most mornings I wake up with a song in my mind. I've been trying to determine what causes a particular song to be it on a particular day. Without any success so far.

This morning's song, for example, was a chanson by Serge Reggiani, the French singer and actor (1922-2004). I could not remember the title of the song, so I looked up the album on the Internet just now – it was simply called "Serge Reggiani" and released by Polydor in 1973. Reading the track list had me confused – had the song playing in my head been "Le vieux couple" or "Hôtel des voyageurs" or even "Contre vents et marées"? I could recall all of them in memory, even though I haven't listened to the album in years.

Confusion resolved: it was "Le vieux couple" after all – listened to it on Youtube (see link below).

So much on wake-up songs for now. Will probably explore this topic again soon.

Tuesday, March 5, 2013

Morning impression

Neighbor's out
on her balcony

Taking quick
decisive puffs

It's that neighbor
whose age

is in hot dispute
between Sadhana

and me. I
make her younger,

she insists on
beyond forty.

It's difficult
to tell

because we
only ever see her

in the shade
of the drawn

sunblind, always
puffing away

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2013)