Not Poetry. Quatrain Verse in English & Swedish. Dagsverser. On the Mundane & the Arcane.
Här klottrar en gammel
ner ännu en dikt
som ses som blott svammel
utan vett å vikt
Fastän skriven på rim
ger den de facto reson
mens bland omvärldens stim
florerar alltmer fiktion
Så om vi endast klickar en emoji
förblir vi ignoranta i fantasi!
Are we idling in the wings
until phone imposes?
Listlessly until it rings
then: All else forecloses!
In hyper connected times
everywhere a free zone
where lights up & crisply chimes
our exacting smartphone
Not long ago humans would interact
without smartphones in their hands to distract …
While new snappy language stilted
uses facts, logic wilted
no longer do they feel guilted
Delivery un-lilted:
in the youthful trend
of first initial burst
trailing off at end
speakers’ voice volume nursed
Guess for newfangled mangled effect
as what’s being said hard to detect?
I höstlöv upp till hjulnavet
plöjde nyss med knapp styrfart
likt förr på Sargassohavet
försinkad handelssjöfart
Det var då. Allaredan
vägbanor av frost belagda
så trampar ängsligt medan
släta däck slinter försagda
Väl bäst alltid ta sej fram på sin vakt
i livet krävs ju iskall balansakt
+)
-styrfart = minimal fart för att ett fartyg skall lyda roder
Oh, with what speed it occurred
losing love of Reality
Oh, how easily line blurred
crossing over to Fantasy
Once there how to return
to sense & order
when bridges behind burn
sealing the border?
Didn’t contemplate what we would miss
lost now in Fantasy’s hug & kiss
With each & every breath
we are descending
the very stairs to death
when old: impending
Not owning a single day
our only bestowment
(while ever blooming cliche)
being each sole moment
So what? Anchors away!
Hold on to that toupee!
In-fashion words travel in herds
rolling easily of lips
of those fawning nattering nerds
lacking substance, merely quips
Carelessly dragging anchor
tearing up concern & anguish
dim projectiles of rancor
when not in effeteness languish
Few but fleetingly distinct
not too soon when gone extinct
Ej är vi här för att oss roa
å förvänta allt ska gå bra
Vettigare att sej oroa
fastän helst förstås måttligt, va?
För annars vid livsslutet
gråter vi uppgivna
medan ej uteslutet
likväl övergivna
Livsförloppet hjärtlöst allvarligt
därtill skoningslöst oförklarligt
‘Age’ ain’t necessarily 3/4 of ‘sage’. Start getting used to it!
There was this fellow called Brian
who made it through six full decades
From now on no longer a lion
as his years ahead shall cascade
He’ll be peering out from under his visor
and wonder how come he’s gotten no wiser
My wife Crabby & me Grumpy
our bodies frail, minds flabby
now on our Life’s home stretch bumpy
Recall gotten bit shabby …
… but never shall we let the Memory to pale
of our Wondrous Journey finding the Holy Grail