Proverbs from the Chinese I

A glance without banter

speaks no fumble.

Reading the words banter, fumble and glance on 3WW reminded me of this English translation of an old Chinese proverb I may have come across in a fortune cookie.

As is the case with many other Chinese proverbs, the meaning of this one is rather enigmatic.

– Leonard "Proverbial" Blumfeld

Niente

Nothing in a long time. 

Only living. No writing.

– Leonard “Has Been Living” Blumfeld

A truthful report. Hadn't written a thing since going on a trip to Italy on June 24. Got back on July 10, but still did not feel like writing.

For those who don't know: niente is Italian for nothing.

Heart sways

For S.

The wind was gusty today,
on this June Sunday in southern Germany.
In between showers the temperature rose
to jacket comfortable.
All the while I was thinking of you,
how down south in Italy, where you live,
the sun is out and it’s warm and dry.
Blue skies, no wind.
You make my heart sway.

– Leonard “Rabindranath” Blumfeld (© 2011)

Written for One Single Impression and Wind.

Notes
Thank you, Harshad, for giving me a title and more for inspiration.
Whenever I think of (or write) poetry about elements of Nature, such as the weather, I think of Rabindranath Tagore and some of the poems in which he masterfully weaves together such elements (sun, wind, rain, drought) and emotions/human relationships.
The above poem, for this reason, might be called “Rabindranathesque” – transferring elements of R. Tagore to different settings, a different time.

All that’s missing

“The next step might be decisive, Mabel. Just think –”

“Yes?”
Mabel gazed dreamily out the window onto the green of the Schlossgarten.
“Just think of what might happen if I kissed you now.”
“You’ve already got your hand on mine.”
“Just think. We might fall in love, move in together, have children –”
All the while the form, the smile, the far-away presence of Evgeny was on Mabel’s mind.
“You’ve got it all pictured, I see.”
“Well, to be honest, I wouldn’t mind if it happened that way.”
“And if you were to be dishonest? Would you admit to just wanting to get into my pants?”
Mabel pulled her hand away from under his, reached for her purse, took out her wallet and put a five Euro bill on the table.
“It’s been nice, John, but I’ve got to run. This,” she pointed at the money, “should cover my cappucino and some tip.”
And with those parting words and a little wave she was gone.
John touched the bill with his middle finger and sighed.
“All that’s missing is a Dear John letter,” he muttered to himself.
He signaled to the waitress. Blonde, somewhat Slavic looking, plump, perhaps 45, bright blue eyes. About his age. While Mabel was in her early thirties.
“Zahlen, bitte.”
She told him how much it was with a strong accent.
He gave her the money, including a generous tip.
“Do you speak English?”
“A little.”
“What is your name?”
“Natalia.”
“Would you fancy going out with me after work, Natalia?”

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2011)

Written around ‘The next step’ from Sunday Scribblings.

Notes
This little tale is set in Stuttgart, southern Germany. ‘Schlossgarten’ is the name of the city park. ‘Zahlen bitte’ means 'The bill, please.'

Old dog, new trick

"You know, James, I could be more than fond of you … if you altered your tranquil ways."
"You could, dear Anthea?"
She was standing behind his work chair, hands on his shoulders.
"Yes, I could even love you, James – love you passionately, if I felt more passion coming from you."
He patted her hands.
"It's good of you to say that, dear. But it also makes it perfectly clear to me that you'd never love me the way I am – for what I am. I could probably try to change my tranquil ways, as you call them. I would do that for you, you know I would. But in the end it would exhaust me. And perhaps –"
"Perhaps?"
"Perhaps you have been barking up the wrong tree."
She furrowed her brow.
"Just what are you telling me?"
"That you might be better off looking for another tree. Or another dog, for that matter. This old dog would never do for you. Don't you think I'm right?"

– Leonard "Tranquil" Blumfeld (© 2011)

Written around alter, fond and tranquil from 3WW.

Sweet Jane & Not So Sweet Martha Lorraine

When the sweet meets the not so sweet,
some drama is to be expected.
– Beaudraux Liam

But was Jane
all that sweet –
coming
from Lou Reed?

And Martha L.,
created by Country Joe –
did he know her well
to have an opinion so low?

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2011)

Nonsensical musings about sweet & not so sweet, making use of my vast but diffuse memory of rock’n roll. For Sunday Scribblings and ‘sweet.’

For those unfamiliar with the songs alluded to:

The Velvet Underground playing Sweet Jane



And Country Joe and the Fish playing Not So Sweet Martha Lorraine

The how to haiku

(a DIY poem)

Fourteen lessons a-
bout haiku: that ought to teach
even the toughest.

– Leonard “Haikai” Blumfeld (© 2011)

Chanced upon a site today that offers to teach you how to write haiku in 14 lessons (Bare Bones School of Haiku).
Skipped all 14 but wrote something I'd call a haiku, even though I'm sure it breaks at least 17 major plus some minor haiku rules.

Scenes from rural Minnesota I

Withergield and Freotheric were driving along the highway somewhere deep in nocturnal Minnesota, when Freotheric, who was the passenger, pointed at something through the windshield.
“See that light there, Wither?”
“Yeah, what about it?”
“Don't you think it's kinda strange to have that kinda light there with the sun down?”
“Hadn't thought about it. But you're right – it's big.”
“Damn right it's big. It's HUGE. And it goes off and then comes on again.”
“Must be an airport around here.”       
“Idiot. There ain't no airport around Gopher Prairie, Minnesota.”
“Then it's gotta be something else.”
“Damn right. And I'll tell you what it is: A erratic luminous omen. From Minnehaha.”

– Leonard “Minnesota” Blumfeld (© 2011)

Written around erratic, luminous and omen from 3WW. With borrowings from Barbara Guest and Sinclair Lewis.

Elucidatory notes
“Gopher Prairie” is the fictitious place in Minnesota where Sinclair Lewis' 1920 novel Main Street is set.
The characters Freotheric and Withergield appear in the poem “Legends” in Barbara Guest's 1976 collection “The Countess from Minneapolis.” The poem is set “in the woods near Minnehaha Falls.”

Rambling on my mind

I've
got
rambling
on my mind

I've
got
rambling
on my mind

Please
be
so kind

Untangle
my mind

Let
me
ramble

and
leave
this office
life behind

– Leonard “Office Rambler” Blumfeld (© 2011)

In variation of the Robert Johnson blues for One Single Impression and Rambling, performed here by Eric Clapton and Steve Winwood:

Qasida of the Lost Tribe

By the time I reached the campsite of my beloved,
her caravan had already moved on.

I contemplated the harshness of Nature
and my self-imposed life away from the tribe.

Tribal life may be blessed, but is it for you?
I smart for the caravan, and for you to diverge.

– Leonard “Heretic” Blumfeld (© 2011)

Notes

In the quest for a quasida according to Poetic Asides I looked at the Wikipedia definition and wrote one that is 100% true to the old concept (quoted here from Wikipedia):

In his 9th century “Book of Poetry and Poets” (Kitab al-shi'r wa-al-shu'ara') the Arab writer ibn Qutaybah describes the (Arabic) qasida as formed of three parts:

• a nostalgic opening in which the poet reflects on what has passed, known as nasib. A common concept is the pursuit of the poet of the caravan of his beloved: by the time he reaches their campsite they have already moved on.

• a release or disengagement, the takhallus, often achieved by describing his transition from the nostalgia of the nasib to the second section, the travel section or rahil, in which the poet contemplates the harshness of nature and life away from the tribe.

• the message of the poem, which can take several forms: praise of the tribe (fakhr), satire about other tribes (hija) or some moral maxim (hikam).

A big part of the fun I have with poetic forms is to distort, overcome or disobey them (hence the “Heretic”). By the way: Federico García Lorca also wrote qasidas (“casida” in Spanish), and if I remember correctly, he didn't give much of a hoot about adhering to the form either.