Wer A sagt, muss auch B sagen, wer B sagt, muss auch

 

A near-miss haiku

So I was on my way to the store close-by,
only to find out, once I got there, that it was closed.
Well hell, I thought, that saved me some money
coz I’s about to buy me some clothes.
That’s what I call a close call
and less wear on the clothesline.

Written upon instigation by BlogFriday – seeking submissions for the word ‘closed.’ This haiku with its syllabic structure of 11 / 13 / 10 / 9 / 7 / 7 is not the only thing that’s a amiss here. Or a close call.

– Iself

Written in a not so sincere writing mood years ago and kept in drafts. Now it finally gets to see the bright lights of the web. Ooey!

Sammy’s less than perfect reputation

Avoid that lad named Sammy –
you've felt his hands – they're clammy.

Staying away from him makes triple sense
because he is also brutal and dense.

– Felix Morgenstern (© 2016)

Rhymed around clammy, brutal and dense from 3WW.

City poems

I

Hotels talk!
Noise, noise & life.
Ah, love!

II

Never fight a keed.
Exhaustion, work & love.

III

Where is the wiry building?
No shit – decay!
Noise, life & anger.
Zoos eat like old buildings.

– Iself (© 2014)

Note
This is a poem that had been sitting in this blog as a draft for many months. I don't remember when I wrote it and how I wrote it. It's possible that I had some help from some poem generator. Looked at, polished a little and finally allowed to see the light of the blogging world on this 10th of November, 2014.

Love is a dark truck ...

Love is a dark truck.
Why does the hood work?

– Iself

Created with the help of the Poem Generator. I clicked on the Make Poem button about 6 times before anything vaguely useful popped out of the machine.

Yes, that is a serious question – why does the hood work? Or does it?

The Nosobeme

The nosobeme prances
on its quadruple nose.
Accompanying it dances
its child, also on four of those.

In Britannica it has no mention,
nor does it in Wikipedia.
It sprang from the invention
of my own private cyclopedia.

And thus the nosobeme does prance,
with child, as said before,
both doing their special dance
on noses galore.

– Felix Morgenstern (© 2012)

A rather free (and Internet-age) translation of Christian Morgenstern's poem Das Nasobem.

Ode to the owner of an inkpot

Thank you, my love,
I forgive you not –
you gave me ink
in that old pot.
But on a cold day like this
it won’t make me hot.

– Felix Morgenstern (© 2011)

A demonstratively silly ditty upon instigation by One Single Impression.

In my backyard

In my backyard
I found a tart.

Says Jay, “Pray tell,
you might as well,

what will you do with it?”
“Whip cream, you nit,

put it on top
and eat the slop.”

– Felix Morgenstern (© 2011)

Written for Sunday Scribblings and My Backyard, this should easily compete with the silliest of Mother Goose.

Quitting

I quit
for abundance of wit

And you quit
because you are a nit

So there!

– Felix Morgenstern

For Sunday Scribblings.

Distant greeting by telephone

I call you on the telephone:
Good morning! – How are you, my dear?
I’m listening to your voice’s tone.
It’s lovely, soothing and so very clear.

Through wire I kiss you on your distant ear,
You’re mine – aren’t you, my sweet?
How ever I hurt you when I was near:
Please do forgive me – I entreat!

You’re fine? – Great! – Worried about money?
Never you mind, the cost is not that much.
I have to go now and hang up, my honey.
Next time I’ll write to get in touch.

– Joachim Ringelnatz (1883-1934)

Translated from the German (which can be found here) by Johannes Beilharz.

Note
This poem was written in the days when not everybody had a telephone and definitely before the advent of free local calls or flat rates. If Ringelnatz were alive today, he'd have to rethink and write about wireless communication and e-mail. No doubt he would.

Copyright of translation by Johannes Beilharz 2008.

Snail survival stratagem

The snail
with its stalked eye
spied a boot
which was walking by.

“Oh no,” he thought (or she),
“this big loud thing
is bound to bring
death or misery!

Down with my eyes!
What I can’t see
will never do
any harm to me.”

Narrow escape
and lesson learned:
If you close your eyes
you won’t get burned!

– Felix Morgenstern (© 2007)

Product liability disclaimer
Successful application cannot always be guaranteed.

Morgenstern zoology

The wingambat

The wingambat haunteth
through weerowarowood,
the ruby fingoor taunteth,
and cruelly laughs the drood.

– Christian Morgenstern (1871-1914), translated by Johannes Beilharz (*1956)

Note
This is a translation of Morgenstern's "Der Flügelflagel" (see preceding post).

Confessions of a poetry machine killer

I killed a poetry machine

Oh what shall we do,
that thing it is dead –
a poetry machine,
the best ever had.

It mixed black with blue,
it strung a mean word,
it bounced on a hue,
flipped many a bird.

You fed it a coin,
its wheels would spin,
it spat out a poem
that made you grin.

It got better at it,
more perfect each day,
that’s when I'd had it
and blew it away.

The best thing to do
now that it’s in peace
is to leave it alone,
and all at its ease.

– iself (© 2007)

Inspired by Keith O’Connor’s I killed my poetry machine.