Below average ride on a headless horse

Below average ride on a headless horse

Picture taken at Unterlinden Museum in Colmar, Alsace. Posted for Average at Photo Hunt.

This medieval ride cannot possibly have been very comfortable – also in view of the rider’s missing arms.

Milestone

As I walked through the arch on shore
into the water, deeper and deeper,
until the current gripped me
in the middle of the river Hull,
as the clouds above me chased by
after something surely forlorn,
as after a while I was carried off
my feet downriver in these mellow
waters which occasionally reflected
some sharply defined rays of sun
managing through breaks in the clouds,
I felt there was nothing to be lost
by simply drifting along in these
softly bouncing waves, going under.

– James Steerforth ( © 1989 & 2010 )

Posted for Sunday Scribblings #200, Milestone.

As the copyright indicates, this is actually an older poem. It was originally titled “Thunderstorm,” and some words, including those at the very end, were different.

I find the new title to be more appropriate, even though somewhat enigmatic.

A poem more than 20 years old. Sounds like very old, when in actual fact it’s only been 7600 days or so since I wrote it.

Old window

Old window at the Dürer House in Nuremberg. Posted for Wordless Wednesday.

Jolt, Ribbon and Zeal

or: the rules of cohabitation

Ivan was Jolt, Diana was Ribbon, and Henrietta was Zeal.

Diana was the ribbon that tied the other two when Jolt was jolting the triangle with one of his tempers or sullen moods or when Zeal became overly zealous in one of her several zeals, which included healthy fat-free cooking, bicycle riding in preference to car riding,  the right esoteric beliefs or railing about Jolt’s professional activity in molecular engineering and Ribbon’s work for capitalist enslavers.

The ribbon – easy-going Ribbon the part-time bank clerk – was stretched to the limit at times, or given tremendous slack – to the extent that Jolt and Zeal ignored her. Then she felt superfluous and depressed because her mitigating and gluing role was denied her.

But usually it took only hours until she was needed again as complaint post or confidante by Jolt or Zeal.

The sleeping and related arrangements were a source of trouble.

They were open-minded and non-jealous, all three of them, and had vowed to be right at the start. They were convinced that sharing the needs of the body and those of love was not only possible but simply a part of the beginning of the new age.

But still, whether she wanted to admit it or not, it pained Ribbon to meet Jolt and Zeal in the kitchen in the early morning, having buttered toast and Earl Grey in happy unison in pyjamas or less.

Just like Zeal was miffed when she came home from work at the Round the Corner Alternative Food Store in the evening to see Jolt and Ribbon in front of the boob tube, cheeks flushed and eyes animated, holding glasses of Bordeaux, the kitchen showing evidence of a preceding non-fat-free wok dinner.

It did not help to be casually waved at by the two smoochers and being told that some was left over.

How was Ribbon’s confirmed pregnancy going to affect the three of them? Would Zeal even things out in spite of her delicate health?

Soon to be continued.

– James Steerforth ( © 2010 )

Constructed around Jolt, Ribbon and Zeal from 3WW.

A poem by Hugo Ball

My demon

My demon has no brothers, no sisters, no kin.
My demon thinks time’s just a waste and a sin.
When God had made the worlds good enough,
My demon sat down in the grass for a laugh.
Cut his toenails in two in a dance,
And saw the whole world glide by in a glance.

Hugo Ball (1886-1927)

(translated from German by Johannes Beilharz, copyright © of translation by Johannes Beilharz 2010)

Original German poem

International poetry in English translation

Antiquish variations on a theme

… and best wishes for the New Year

Whither wilt thou hinder
Rigid journey anon

Journey on rigidly
Without hindrance

Whither thou journeyest
Hindered by rigidity

Ever and anon

– James Steerforth

Written to include Hinder, Journey and Rigid from 3WW.

Delicias

Delicias – delights – was a story I wrote a long time ago. The title came first and seemed appropriate even though the story is not specifically about anything that could be termed to be delightful.

It is set in Mexico, somewhere on Lake Chapala near Guadalajara, and is about a single man who has taken to drinking after his wife left him. He’s a mostly failed writer without any purpose in life.

One day he starts taking care of a crazy girl he’s familiar with from the city park. He chases off a sleazoid putting the move on the girl , who then proceeds to attach herself to him, accompanying him to his house and eventually staying with him for good.

She becomes his purpose, and at the end of the story he tells her something like, “You know how lucky you are? I’m independently wealthy, have nothing to do, happen to love you and like nothing better than to take care of you.”

Perhaps the title of the story reflects mostly my delight in writing it – something light, fairytale-like, with some sort of ironic happy ending in true unrealistic fashion.

– James Steerforth ( ©  2009 )

Written for “delicious” at Sunday Scribblings.

Undesirable

A photo posted for “undesirable” at Photo Hunt.

What or who was undesirable? Most likely the photographer – that’s why everybody hid their faces.

Happy poem no. 5

The sun is shining
On this December day
Which global warming
Has rendered warm

Just saw a magpie
Landing on a pine branch
After wondering if
All birds had migrated south

But they haven’t
There’s that said magpie
And there’s a lonely
Pigeon on a red roof
And that’s also said

– James Steerforth ( © 2009 )

NB: Everything told here is true and actually happened.

La pistola y el corazón

No sé como decirte
No sé como explicarte
Que aquí no hay remedio
De lo que siento yo
De lo que siento yo

La luna me dice una cosa
Las estrellas me dicen otra
Y la luz del día me canta
Esta triste canción
Esta triste canción

Los besos que me diste mi amor
Son los que me están matando
Y las lágrimas me están secando
Con mi pistola y mi corazón
Y aquí siempre paso la vida
Con la pistola y el corazón

No sé como amarte
No sé como abrazarte
Porque no se me deja
El dolor que tengo yo
El dolor que tengo yo

Esta noche tan oscura
Con sus sombras tan tranquilas
Y el viento me sigue cantando
Esta humilde canción
Esta humilde canción

Los besos que me diste mi amor
Son los que me están matando
Y las lágrimas me están secando
Con mi pistola y mi corazón
Y aquí siempre paso la vida
Con la pistola y el corazón

(from “La pistola y el corazón” by Los Lobos, released in 1988. Written by band members David Hidalgo and Louie Pérez)

The pistol and the heart

I don’t know how to tell you,
don’t know how to explain
that there is no remedy
for what I feel inside,
for what I feel inside

The moon tells me one thing,
the stars tell me another,
and the light of day sings me
this sad, sad song,
this sad, sad song

The kisses you gave me, my love,
are the ones that will kill me,
and the tears I’ve cried are drying
with my pistol and my heart,
and my life here goes by
with the pistol and the heart

I don’t know how to love you,
don’t know how to embrace you,
because this pain I feel,
this pain I feel
won’t leave me alone

The night is so dark
with its quiet shadows,
and the wind keeps singing
this humble song,
this humble song

The kisses you gave me, my love,
are the ones that will kill me,
and the tears I’ve cried are drying
with my pistol and my heart,
and my life here goes by
with the pistol and the heart

– English translation by Johannes Beilharz ( © 2009 )

Posted for One Single Impression and Migration – after all, this song has a migrant background.

Lyrics index – an eclectic selection of song lyrics.

Suggestive no. 1

Now why would she call me obscene?
I was her loyal love after all,
even after the accident

– James Steerforth ( © 2009 )

A what I would call ’suggestive haiku’ (or something like it, too not bothered to count syllables) written around Accident, Loyal and Obscene from 3WW.

Oh celery

Unforgettable —

classmates translating “Apogeo del apio”

Those imaginary stalks!

Unforgotten in thirty-odd years

Such trifles constitute eternity,

its small eternal bits

– James Steerforth ( © 2009 )

Written this very minute after dancing to Tanya Tucker, then putting on Heather Nova and walking away into my office. Looking for something to write, celery intruded by means of untraceable association.

The Spanish refers to a poem by Pablo Neruda, “Apogee of celery”.

Also a truly totally optional poem for Totally Optional Prompts.

He’s trying to talk to the woman he has been living with for three years

You are incredible!
he said,
I don’t know where
ugly little me
fits in there
with your lofty ambitions
any more.

– James Steerforth ( © 2009 )

Written around Ambitious, Incredible and Ugly from 3WW.

Author’s note: Not the least bit autobiographical, I’m happy to say. But such relationships exist in real life…

A lesser known preventive doctrine

Let’s engage in some mayhem before we disarm.

Contains the 3 words

engage,

mayhem and

disarm

from 3WW CLIV.

Could be said to be a variation of the Bushism “you disarm, or we will.”

PS: I noticed – belatedly- that I posted this on September 11. It’s just as well, then, that it alludes to George W. Bush.

A subject never raised

I would have loved to capture that Jinx – our Jinx – but, being her cousin, albeit twice removed and not much older than her, I did not qualify. Not that the subject ever came up.

Now she’s married, happily it seems, with two cute kids, and I get to see her every once in a while, at birthday or funeral parties, as it is among relatives.

– James Steerforth ( © 2009 )

Written around Capture, Jinx, Qualify from 3WW CL.

Island with Palms and Daffodils

Me alejo de mí mismo…
– Octavio Paz

Wiping the windows for hours
The stale blue cool coming alive
behind her eyes:
Little transparent one-cellular crumbs
She and her white and blue cotton cloth

are one

In the evenings we take walks
Then the daffodils are not so yellow,
and she says in a very foreign language:
Amru tys amry nos …

I open the steel-blue steel car door

She glides in

Or we go to a hula dance but she keeps watching me
through my black-rimmed glasses
and thick small-patterned dark suit,
my bulgy fifties self

But tender I read in her attentive eyes
Amru tys amry nos …

Her short-nailed fingers follow fine threads
and find islands easily

Buttons

And what do you have there? A piece of paper? And it says,

Keep this coupon?

Yes, amru tys amry nos …

– Johannes Beilharz ( © 1981 )

Note
I decided to post this older poem because I thought of it immediately after glancing at One Single Impression’s Windows prompt. This did not seem too far-fetched after rereading the entire poem because the themes of windows, transparency, looking through are all over the place.

She tells him

Don’t give me that
hypnotic sulk, you drip.

That used to work, but
it ain’t workin’ no more.

Go feel sorry for yourself,
I ain’t doin’ it no more.

– James Steerforth ( © 2009 )

Written around drip, hypnotic and sulk from 3WW.

A musical piece in three movements

For A.B., as usual

1 / Collapse

Several times he seemed
ready to collapse
under the burden of
pain from unhappy love

Yet always managed
to pick himself up –
by his own scalp,
so to speak

But there were moments
when collapse seemed
the sweetest thing on earth –

the final breaking of those
iron rings in his heart region
that would manifest pure love

2 / Sweet

An infinite sweetness
bearing no relation
to the object of collapse

Something truly
unconditional – an oath
not to ever betray

love, that particular love
regardless of anything
that might happen

3 / Yearn

Despite it all,
in the face of despise:
there it is – near-blind,
sighful yearning

The more un-
fullfillable
the better

– James Steerforth ( © 2009 )

Written around Collapse, Sweet, Yearn from 3WW.

Too many years

I opened the door and I found I was looking at danger
It’s been so many years but we’re hiding our faces like strangers
She says that she’s got to go but there ain’t no way
I’m letting her walk while there’s something to say
It’s been too many years
to watch our hearts die in this way.
She’s feeling a time for a seasonal change and she’s yearning
To shake the trees of our love in the streets where the leaves are for burning
All things on this earth were made for the dying
One look in my soul says there just ain’t no use trying
It’s been too many years
to watch our hearts die in this way
In an unwritten time I thought that life was for sharing
And living together was simply a matter of caring
But things did not work out like I planned
and alienation has left me here damned
It’s been too many years
to watch our hearts die in this way

– Jorma Kaukonen

The dilemma of seeming to know each other too well, for too many years, becoming almost strangers. Unfortunately, there is no rendition of this wonderful song by ex-Jefferson Airplane and Hot Tuna lead guitarist Jorma Kaukonen on Youtube.

Posted for One Single Impression and The Stranger.

Lyrics index – an eclectic selection of song lyrics.

I know you a little better now

Once again for A.B.

I know you a little better now
than before, will

know you better again tomorrow
and the day after

I knew the sparkle before,
the sparkle in your dark brown eyes

Last week I noticed the wrinkles
around your eyes – you’re

thirty-seven after all, I noticed them
from the side as we were driving along

And yesterday it dawned on me
that you’re also fickle –

capricious for capriciousness’ sake;
you call it spontaneous

And don’t tell me you don’t thrive
on compliments on your beauty –

I know you better than your daughter
who is like you,

dancing away throwing a mane of hair,
curious of its effect

“Did I do a good throw?”
she said over her shoulder

I can’t wait to hear what you will say
over your shoulder

The day after the day and the day
I will know you better

– James Steerforth ( © 2009 )

Written to incorporate Fickle / Sparkle / Wrinkle from 3WW.