Sparse reality

Tired, stomach's my most active part

Had 2 much 4 lunch
Followed by ice cream
That's 2 times 2 much

– Leonard Blumfeld

Two truculent ball attendants overheard

Mathilda showed up in her roo costume.
"Not good for waltzing, Matty," said John,
who himself had on his body costume.
Replied Mathilda, "Thank you, John Brown.
Yours definitely has me beat – it is
the very best for moldering in the grave."

– Leonard "Truculent" Blumfeld (© 2012)

The word at Sunday Scribblings was costume.

The loud neighborhood haiku

Joy enjoys the joy
of her own noise, much more than that
of the neighbor boys.

– Felix Morgenstern (© 2012)

Posted for Haiku Heights and Joy.

Proverbs from the Chinese IX

Jingle does not vindidate error.

This piece of wisdom from a fortune cookie is typically cryptically Chinese once again and fits in perfectly with 3WW and the current choice of words to write about: error, vindicate and jingle.

What does it mean? What kind of jingle would be likely to vindicate anything in the first place? The situation presented appears to be preposterous.

Oh well, there's always a chance the Chinese original actually made sense and was translated using Google Translate...

Yours sincerely,

Leonard Blumfeld

Last day in May, 2012

They're certainly chirpy out there,
sitting on their branches
and communicating for the sheer hell of it
(or so it seems to one
who doesn't speak a word
of their language),
while there's no communication at all
in this office, with everyone
staring at their screen quietly
and firing off the occasional typing staccato.
I wonder what they think about us
when they peer inside.
What a boring existence, they might say,
with not a chirp or twitter.
We have no clue what it's all about,
but we certainly are fitter.

– Leonard "Impersonator of Sparrows" Blumfeld (© 2012)

Flaming crimson

My verse is a clear green
And a flaming crimson.
My verse is a wounded fawn
Seeking refuge on the mountain.

Posted for One Single Impression and Crimson.

This verse from the song Guantanamera came to my mind instantly when I read the prompt.
An interesting article on the origins of the song can be found here.
The English wording is my own version, mostly based on what I remember from Pete Seeger's rendering of the song. Further associated reading: Seeking Refuge.
The Spanish is:

Mi verso es de un verde claro
Y de un carmín encendido.
Mi verso es de un ciervo herido
Que busca en el monte amparo.

– Leonard "Flaming Crimson" Blumfeld

Dazed spring day

It's a dazed kind of spring day.
The sky out there is a noncommittal grey.
The birds in their trees deliver muted chirps.
Everyone's in the office,
staring at their screen,
nodding along with key clicks (that's Pete),
head in hand (that's Daniella),
hand to nose (that's Andrea),
traipsing back from canteen loaded with coffee and snacks (that's Sasha),
exited to do things more amusing (that's Rita).
And I'm the dazed and proud observer of all this.

– Leonard "Once Again Razor Edge" Blumfeld

Notes
Today's the 1st anniversary of my relationship with S. – it all started a year ago with the first e-mail exchange – and would have been my father's 99th birthday. The horoscope told me today was good for meditation. Feels like it. Except that now conversation in the office has picked up. Andrea put a crown and cloak on her owl. This had to be reported.

Tepid day, late April

Work and the world are going by –
Rita makes a paper butterfly.


– Leonard "Keen Observer" Blumfeld (© 2011)

Razor edge of time poetic reporting from the workplace.

A Japanese E-Novel

"Oh but Hiroto, where's the draft of the novel you promised for today?"
"Sorry, Louise, I've been preoccupied with looking for a life partner, and you know that it's not easy for us expatriates."
"Yes, you've mentioned it before."
"It's taken away my serenity."
"Your serenity?"
"Yes, and I can't write without. Neither can I without a life partner."
"But I thought you'd found one."
"Yes, I thought I'd located one, from Osaka. But it turns out she expects me to pay for her health insurance. That would be like a thousand euros a month."
"I see."
"No, you don't see, Louise. Ever since Fukushima there have been so many Japanese women just waiting to leave the country. All in search of eligible expatriate bachelors like me. Airline stewardesses, for example."
"Then it should be possible to find someone else."
"I'm writing e-mails every day."
"That's why the novel is not progressing, I imagine."
"I'm not serene, I'm not within my senses, Louise."
"You could turn your e-mails into a novel. In a modern day revival of the epistolary novel."
"It's an idea."
"You could weave your weapon collection into it, and your knowledge of martial arts. Start emphasizing these in your mails to the ladies."
"I sold all my weapons on E-Bay. However, I bought myself a saxophone."
"Jazz is all right, too. You could call your e-pistolary novel Akiko and the Saxophone Man, or Health Insurance Rewarded."
"Why that?"
"It's a takeoff on Pamela, or Virtue Rewarded, the beststelling novel in letters of all times. You told me your flame's name was Akiko. And there's the health insurance issue, you said."
"Exactly. But I'm not willing to pay a thousand a month. Not for any woman."
"You won't have a problem with that, Hiroto, once your novel gets published."
"Thanks, Louise. Some of my serenity may be coming back. You've given my creativity a new direction."
"Keep cranking out those e-mails, Hiroto. One hundred and eighty pages of draft in a week?"
"It's a deal, Louise."

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2012)

Based on a true story. Contains draft, locate and serenity from 3WW.

Hype is hard to justify with a growl

I walked over to the table where the shaddy sheeplegger had just sat down.
"What can I do you for, sir?"
Sheepleggers from the planet of Arce generally seem to react well to some sense of humor. Not this one:
"If I'z in the mood fer yokes, kitty, you'll knew it. To-die iz not wanna doze dies. Quet me some of yer hype, and makes it snoppy, will yer?"
With its huge amount of calories, artificial colorants and flavorings and transfatty acids, hype is one of the favorite slops on the menu of the Latter Day Survivors of the Universe Café, where I happen to work.
I could not suppress a growl, which is my natural feline reaction when rubbed the wrong way.
"Quet yer thin arce quoin, kitz, befer I grab ye by yer frilly tail."
"You try that, Mr. Sheep, and you'll have a few claws in your shaddy fur."
"Ye quet me that hype, or I'll choinge my moind and werk outta here unfad, and ye ken ferget my tipz."
I hissed, as it is our feline custom, and walked away to fill his order.
Unfortunately, customers are few and far between nowadays, ever since that terrible war between the Cats of the East, the Gnats of the West, the Rats of the North and the Bats of the South. It's gotten so bad that we now have to serve those we used to eat. It's gotten so bad that I'd probably have to justify my catty behavior towards this horn-shoed oaf from the planet of Arce to my boss, that big-balled ape from the planet of Farce.

– Leonard "Looking towards the Future" Blumfeld (© 2012)

Written around growl, hype and justify from 3WW.

Flowering

My inbox in white
exuberant bloom this spring
as never before.

– Leonard "Florescent" Blumfeld (© 2011)

Written for One Single Impression and inbox.

Note
The inbox is a variety of box distinguished by its small, fragrant white flowers.

Fragrant

For S.

Still,
after so many years,
that flowery perfume
encountered
on anyone
anywhere
will jostle up remnants
of a love
long buried.

Don't worry –
that love
has been resting in peace
and does not
compete with yours.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2012)

Written around fragrant, jostle, remnant from 3WW.

Proverbs from the Chinese VIII

True nurture will not be provided by even the most diligent amateur.

– Translated from the Chinese by Leonard Blumfeld

Notes
Fits in nicely with today's choice of words from 3WW: amateur, diligent, nurture.
I'm not sure whether I agree with the statement. There's love in the effort of amateurs (as the word implies), which may be lacking in professionals. Why should an amateur's love not nurture?

A what's around haiku

Keyboard, mouse, empty
coffee cup with spoon, spiral
agenda. Time stagnant.

– Leonard "Once Again Japan" Blumfeld (© 2012)

Genesis notes
You sit and look at what's around you, make a selection and a haiku out of it. That simple.

The miracle dichotomy

"What would you rather have as a miracle –
a world free of strife and war
or personal happiness?" Suzanna's guru asked

She brought the question home to her non-believer boyfriend

"Let me see any kind of miracle
before I decide on that one,"
said Jeff the sceptic

"That's typical you," she yowled,
"all you try and do is take the wind out of my sails."

"No wind, no sails that I see,"
said laconic Jeff

"Why have I been putting up with you

for so many years, Jeff? A man
with such a flat view of the world?"

"That is a miracle, I agree,"
said grinning Jeff

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2012)

The topic at One Single Impression was miracle.

Yolanda of the baffling glitter

Yolanda had a baffling glitter
around her big blue eyes.
She thought this made her fitter
than one would realize.

Most days she'd concentrate
on elegance of looks
and rather did negate
the importance of science books.

The teachers did not go for glitter,
so in her exams she fared not well.
This made Yolanda very bitter.
She told 'em they should go to hell.

– Felix Morgenstern (© 2012)

Written around baffle, elegant and negate from 3WW.

This is a modern poem

It is trendy and online,
knows what iPad and iPhone are
and was written
while eating an apple.

– Leonard "Modernist" Blumfeld (© 2012)

Written upon inspiration by Sunday Scribblings.

Haiku of the lost tribe

The tribe is lost. Not
enough magnetism. Outcast
searching for new tribe.

– Leonard "Tribal" Blumfeld (© 2012)

Sort of a continuation of Qasida of the lost tribe. Cryptic, I know.

Sometimes, due to tribal instinct, you search for love in the wrong tribe. In this case it happened to a dear friend.

Snowdrops / A. D. Miller

(Warning: This is a more or less polemic blurb without any claim to thoroughness or completeness.)

Finished reading Snowdrops this weekend, a novel about a British lawyer who becomes involved in fraud in his work for an investment bank, and, in private, in a case of apartment fraud as a consequence of falling in love with a mysterious Russian woman.

So what's true about the hype?
'Totally gripping' – more ho-hum than gripping. Took me numerous sessions to read and is certainly not one of the potboilers you cannot put down.
'Disturbing and dazzling' – draws a disturbing picture of Russia and Moscow. Greatly reduced my readiness to ever go there.
'Electrifying ... Leaves you stunned and addicted' – That opinion, pardon my bluntness, is a striking example of pure bullshit. Seems more appropriate to LSD, heroin or some other drug than anything written.

As it says on the back cover, there is some similarity to the writing of Graham Greene, but more along the lines of imitation. Neither the writing itself nor the plot are that good. There is that Greene-like feeling of guilt, but there's so much insistence on building it that it becomes annoying. The confessionality (the story is told as a confession to the hero's fiancée) is also reminiscent of Greene, except that it never comes alive, so to speak, because the person the story is told to remains nondescript, making the whole device seem irrelevant.

Then there's that constant puerile harping about how awful it is to be older than thirty. (I believe a lot of people have successfully moved on even into their forties or fifties.) And the annoying premonition building (along the lines of 'I should have known better then that ...', 'Had I not ...') that seems to come straight out of a fiction writing workshop manual. And then there are all the attempts to humanize inanimate objects with adjectives that mostly didn't do much for me. That's the literary touch, I suppose.

A third plot line – pretty much unrelated to the other two – is about the body of an old man found in a rusty orange Zhiguli (mentioned umpteen times in the course of the novel to make it absolutely clear that it has to have some significance).

You may rest in peace, Graham. This ain't no serious competition for The Third Man or The Quiet American.

– Leonard "Won't Write Reviews" Blumfeld

Sails in the Sunset

Now if you'd drop that stupid demand to get close to Crinkle Island, I'd be happy to navigate you all to that forsaken part of the beautiful stormy South Seas, my friends.

As to Norah Femme Fatale, however, I'd rather not have her on board because she might try to persuade me after all. And we all know from Italy how that can end.

– Captain Leonard Blumfeld (© 2012)

Written around crinkle, demand and navigate from 3WW.

A blatant derivative of the Costa Concordia disaster.

China's Wonderland Turned Horrorland

The Disneyland copy planned outside the gates of Beijing never materialized because the owners of the land asked for more money. All the amusement park has to offer are a few ruins and skeletons of buildings quietly decaying in a barren landscape. Good news for the farmers who used to farm here and were to make space for China's move into the world of Amusotopia. They're coming back.

An educational ghazal

Said my teacher, Mrs. McKesson,
"I'm afraid you'll have to learn a lesson.

Had you listened to me from the start,
I would not have to teach you this lesson.

Had you learnt your tables by heart,
you would have understood my lesson.

Had you, as I requested, recited biblical verse,
I'd not be adverse to up your grade for this lesson.

But as it is now, I can only teach you a lesson
and flunk you," said Mrs. McKesson.

– Felix Morgenstern (© 2012)

As requested at Sunday Scribblings for lesson.

Sweet and Sour Grapes

You don't have to be a cook to tell whether something tastes good or bad.

– Leonard "Sweet Grapes" Blumfeld

Written in response to Sour Grapes at One Single Impression.

All too often a critical statement or attitude is discredited as "sour grapes," with a comment like "Oh come on, you're just envious because you can't do better." But, as I say above, it's possible to tell (and say) whether the grapes are sour or sweet without being a grape specialist.

Daniyal Mueenuddin / In Other Rooms, Other Wonders

The book of interrelated short stories (centered around Pakistani landowner K. K. Harouni) I'm reading these days. Well-written, mostly a depressing look at the human condition.

Picture taken at Fiumicino Airport in Rome while I was waiting for my flight.

Sorrow

Utterly lost
with my head in my hands
and my hands in my head

– Leonard "One for Sorrow" Blumfeld (© 2012)

Written upon seeing this photograph at Poets United:

Sorrow by Dechobek at deviantART

The Shiva machine

I dropped the change in the slot.
Nothing happened,
nothing was returned.
Hey, that's no way to change,
I told myself.
Change is not loss.
Or is it?
Is it the beginning of change?

– Leonard "Shivji" Blumfeld (© 2012)

Posted for One Single Impression and Change.

Proverbs from the Chinese VII

Do not demolish resolution.
Transform.

– Leonard "Proverbially Yours" Blumfeld

Another puzzler from the infinite well of Chinese wisdom. Since it's so close to the beginning of the new year and its resolutions, the advice appears to be particularly appropriate.

Includes the words demolish, resolution and transform from 3WW.

Red & blue no. 1

For S., who actually said it

Light turned red
out of the blue.

– Leonard Blumfeld

Basho on the end of the year

The moon and the snow,
I live and look at beauty,
The year is ending.

– Matsuo Bashō (1644-1694)

Posted for the end of the year. Actually a translation from German, which itself, of course, was a translation.

A fairytale

Prince Pygmalian II, on a walk in the forest in the proximity of Castle Tsvitskenstein, could not believe his eyes – there was his beloved Cinderella, rendered immobile by a hideous red-bearded dwarf, who was fondling her to his heart's content with his callous and – most likely – smelly hands, all the while emitting lustful grunts.

Oh what to do to avoid equal immobility, restore Cinderella's mobility and seek retribution?
The prince, counting on dwarves' proverbial greed, thought of a plan that might possibly work.

"Pray, my dear fellow, I would reward you handsomely if you told me how to immobilize someone like this girl you have here," he said, stepping forward.

The dwarf was visibly annoyed but also instantly tempted.
"And what might such a handsome reward be, my dear prince?"
The dwarf had immediately made out that the prince was a prince by his princely garb, the politeness of his speech and a few other princely attributes.

"I have some gold coins with me," said Pygmalian II, "but can also offer you dollars or euros."

Like all princes, Pygmalian II always carried with him a sizeable number of gold ducats and bills in major currencies.

"No, gold is best. The other two have lost a lot of their market value lately."
"Will 15 ducats do?"
"Make it 25, and we are in business. My craft does not come cheaply."
"25 it shall be, then."
"I take cash."
"Of course."

The prince took out his heavy wallet, counted 25 gold pieces and handed them to the dwarf, who counted them scrupulously, which took a while and required some shuffling because he did it using the seven fingers of both hands.

"Shall we shake hands on the deal?" the prince said.
The dwarf proffered his hairy hand.
"But before we do, please tell me your name, my dear fellow. I always like to know who I do business with."

This request clearly did not please the dwarf.
"We normally do not disclose our names to your kind," he eventually replied, "but be it for business' sake. I am called Rumple, and I'm of the illustrious line of the Stiltskins."

The prince shook hands and immediately had to suppress an urge to wipe his hand.

"Now, dear Rumple Stiltskin, please reveal to me the immobilization magic."
"You say, 'Freeze, oh,' and then the name, all the while looking into the eyes of your victim, err beloved," the dwarf explained.

"Thank you, dear fellow. I shall practice this magic real soon. – How would you like to earn some more?"

Rumple licked his fat red lips.

"Wouldn't be adverse to it. Something to add to my stocking for retirement. What other magic is it you wish to know?"
"Well, it might come in handy once in a while to restore mobility to someone. You don't want to leave statues around all over the place."

"I'll take 30 for that one," the dwarf declared smugly.
"As you wish! I've never been known to be stingy."

Once again the prince took out his wallet, counted 30 gold pieces and gave them to the dwarf.
"Thank you, my prince."
"What are the words, then, dear Rumple?"
"They are, 'Unfreeze, oh,' followed by the name. But you have to stand behind the person when you say these words."
"And will they work on any moving creature, big and small?"
"Anything that is alive, guaranteed."

Looking into the dwarf's eyes, the prince said, "Freeze, oh Rumple Stiltskin!"

The dwarf froze instantly, the beginnings of outrage showing in his face.

Then the prince stepped behind Cinderella and spoke, "Unfreeze, oh Cinderella!"

Cinderella was released from immobility and gave the prince her best Hollywood kiss.

And if you take a walk in the forest near Castle Tsvitskenstein and come upon a garden dwarf, do not stand behind him and utter the words, "Unfreeze, oh Rumple Stiltskin!"

Because there is no guarantee that Rumple Stiltskin would react kindly upon his return to life.

As to Prince Pygmalian II and Cinderella, they lived happily ever after, doing whatever princes and princesses do best and gaining exposure through tabloids.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2011)

Written for 3WW (immobile, proximity and retribution) and Sunday Scribblings (Fairytale).

So what fib no. 7

Did
get
a hair-
cut this week-
end, played games and drank
beer with friends. So what, you say, that
hardly broke ground. Oh,
I forgot
to men-
tion
this.

– Leonard “In Crisis” Blumfeld (© 2011)

Seeking refuge

Mi verso es un ciervo herido
Que busca en el monte amparo.
– José Martí

"So what's a wounded fawn doing in the forest, quoting poetry?"
I had to laugh at my friend Ramesh's deadpan understanding of things.
"The fawn's not quoting poetry. The fawn is wounded and seeking refuge in the forest."
"That sounds realistic enough. So where's the poetry connection?"
"José Martí says that his verse is a wounded fawn –"
"– seeking refuge in the forest. I get that all right, I'm not that dumb. I just fail to see the point."
"Come on, Ramesh, you just refuse to see it."
"Oh, I get his drift all right. Poetry is frail and all a-tremble in the forest, shaking with fear to be read by critical and analytical souls like me."
What could I say? I'd never be able to convince this agnostic, this nonbeliever in the frailty of poetry.
So I quoted more Spanish poetry at him:

La poesía es un arma cargada de futuro. *

That made him chuckle.
"This one I like a lot better," he said, "but that weapon charged with future is probably what wounded that frail fawn in the forest."

You just can't win against Ramesh in matters of poetry. Or Spanish language poetry, to be more precise.

– Leonard "Seeking Refuge in Poetry" Blumfeld (© 2011)

* Title of a poem by Gabriel Celaya.

Written in response to 'seeking' at One Single Impression.

Notes
The first quote may be familiar from the song Guantanamera, which is based on the poem by Cuban poet and national hero José Martí.
While the above dialog is entirely fictitious, my friend Ramesh does exist and, with his typical distrust of things not traceable by science, might have responded in this very manner.

From the office

Occasional mouse
clicks and the roll of traffic
outside. Steps going by.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2011)

A slightly overstuffed haiku. Oops! Somebody might die from that. But the truth and nothing but the truth.

From Gertie Dreary's diary

I simply had to get to L.A. to see my auntie Nell as she was about to leave for Nepal. They did not renew her job with the UN. Being an attractive young girl, I drank lots of my favorite cherry liqueur to muster up the courage to hitch a ride in the deep dark night. Too late for buses. And no money for a taxi, not even to the nearest train station. Who knows how long the train would have taken anyway. Also, my experience with trains is limited and bad. However, all went well as I got a ride from an elderly gentleman in a vintage white car with white hair who reminded me of Kenny Rogers. He played country music and smoked cigars, but what do I care. Kept telling me about his five ex-wives and the twelve children he had with them, and the grandkids. Remarked with a smile on the cherry flavor I kept burping up. Told him about my nervousness and how I overcame it and how I was praising the Lord to have found such an excellent ride with such a lovely old man. He gave me a look then I thought was a little on the lecherous side, so I quickly changed the subject, asking about his current wife Louisy Ann, or how ever that's spelled. She's a sexy little fox, he said, and I'm looking forward to a lot of lovin' once I pick her up at L.A. International Airport. That made me burp some more, with a cherry flavor so strong I could smell it myself, and he kept his head turned towards me for a long time so I had to remind him to watch the road as everything was pitch black. But it all went OK as I wrote above and before any more cherry burps and lecherous looks could happen we were in my auntie's neighborhood, where he dropped me off, telling me on parting that there sure was going to be a lot of hot lovin' once he'd picked up Louisy Ann, that sexy little fox and sixth wife of his, at L.A. International Airport.

– Leonard "Speaking for Gertie" Blumfeld (© 2011)

Written using drank, hitch, muster from 3WW.

You are here

Well, at least they took the precaution of carrying a torch!

Goes to show that not all "you are here" posts, even though they help locate you, are necessarily what you really want. Posted for Sunday Scribblings and You are here.

Leonard "Lost and Found" Blumfeld

The Atacama desert stone fib

Have
been
there for
two million
years, rubbed smooth by earth-
quakes – clang of a thousand hammers.

– Leonard "Deserter" Bloomfeld (© 2011)

Note
Scientists from the University of Arizona have discovered that earthquakes are the reason why the rocks in the Atacama desert in Chile are smooth even though there has been no water there for two million years. The Atacama is shaken by earthquakes with a magnitude of 5 or more every four months on average, so that the rocks have been subjected to an estimated 50,000 to 100,000 hours of polishing.

Proverbs from the Chinese VI

Never surrender or let any impact of fate deject you.

This Chinese proverb again happens to include the 3 words from 3WW – eject, impact, render. Well, two of them only sort of. Pretty sound advice this time around, I'd say. Best fortune cookie quality.

Thank you, Andy Sewina, for your suggestion to complete the proverb. Now it reads like an Allen Ginsberg-style American Sentence indeed.

Dedicated to Sadhana, who has exactly this attitude.

– Leonard "Impacted Again" Blumfeld

Proverbs from the Chinese V

Only those who are truly cherished can guarantee nausea.

– Leonard "Proverbially Yours" Blumfeld

The fifth proverb translated from the Chinese. It happens to hold the words cherish, guarantee and nausea from 3WW.

Proverbs from the Chinese IV

Observing the heart erodes,
observing from the heart does not.

Yet another Chinese proverb in English. A faithful translation, but again a wee bit enigmatic. But that's what Chinese proverbs are all about...

Contains the three words erode, heart and observe from 3WW.

– Leonard "Puzzled Again" Blumfeld

From the work front

Oh my, it's one of those days of doubt.
Is what I'm doing worth anything?
Apart from fogging up my brain.
Rubbish comes in, I process rubbish,
rubbish comes back, I deliver rubbish.
It's the life of a junkie.*

– Leonard "Exasperated" Blumfeld

*In the sense of one dealing with junk, i.e. a garbage man, with the difference that this garbage doesn't stink in the literal sense.

What else can fail

For S.

Got in the shower, no hot water.
The sky clouded over, I was in my office,
switched on the light. No light.
Decided I needed coffee,
but the machine did not work.
Went down to the garden in back –
all weeds. When had they sprung up?
A drive would cure this blues
for sure, I thought. But where
had I parked the car?
Now what else could go wrong?
It was then I realized that I was
writing this whatchamacallit, this
poem, and on the computer no less.
At least I was working
to some extent, and my fingers were,
and my electronic servant was.
And then a message arrived
from Rome and told me that my
lovely love was with me. So there!

– Leonard “Sunday On Strike” Blumfeld (© 2011)

Posted for One Single Impression and ‘weed.’

Proverbs from the Chinese III

To drag a mumble out of a rock
is to penetrate great depths.

Whoever has ever tried and achieved this will know that great depths are reached that way. Conveniently, this translation from the Chinese again includes three words from 3WW: drag, mumble and penetrate.

– Leonard “Cookie of Fortune” Blumfeld

Proverbs from the Chinese II

Mute not the viable gasp.

This translation of another Chinese proverb includes the words gasp, mute and viable from this week's Three Word Wednesday.

Once again, the meaning is not entirely clear. Does it imply, for example, that a non-viable gasp ought to be muted? What exactly makes a gasp viable?

– Leonard "Wisdom of China" Blumfeld

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.