Not Poetry. Quatrain Verse in English & Swedish. Dagsverser. On the Mundane & the Arcane.
Before sunrise he’d be found
like clockwork our rooster
on his fiefdom’s barnyard mound
as his own best booster
Perhaps wound tightly
but hens find him knightly
Comes across sprightly
takes a stance uprightly
Repeatedly he must crow
to hear his own voice inflection
In dedication aglow
offers, as it is, protection
Aren’t we all doing our utmost
while taking good care not to boast?
I bombplan ovan Gaza
dess piloter glida
där de vräker ner fasa
i anfall perfida
Sanningen grymt bestriden
när hävdas Israels ‘försvar’
En verklighet förvriden
i en hjärtlös repertoar:
En hel kultur rått rånas
av hälsa, mat, sin jord
Att Arab barn utplånas
anses ej längre mord!
Må från Israel-US oss bevara
djävulskt hur de påstår sej blott ‘försvara’!
To our neighbor on a birthday:
Our Yana is still (sort of) young
with mind crisp, of civilized tongue
What looks, heart, style & dare!
all exuded with such flair!
In her presence we’re left unsung
Aren’t 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 smart phone
Long gone when dialog was between two
now it takes a three- or foursome to coo
+)
three- or foursome = 2 persons + 1 or 2 smartphones involved
A limerick on a birthday of a neighbor who’s both an accomplished scientist & in his youth gymnast:
There was a youngish man called Igor
who treats all he meets with ardor
a man of great science
with strong self-reliance
Among Norse gods resembles most Thor!
*)
Why Thor? Because they both rather swing a thunderbolt hammer than just sit around and yammer
Were I to receive an insight
it may not bring my neighbor delight
but rather give him or her fright
notably if I chanced to be right
as one person’s presumed breakthrough
may show up others as cuckoo
Fruktar nu att i senaste laget
fast utlovades stor förändring
Vid det här laget nog tappat taget
bättre framtid förblir en hägring
där som upptagna av jäkt å gräl
när vi borde oss i stället gräma
Varför svider det ej i vår själ
när ovilliga att oss bekväma?
Att ta sej samman tyckes starkt oss förfära
av konsumenter för mycket att begära
sur att vara skattepliktig
köttbullar livsviktiga
ansvarskänslan underviktig
I kroppar överviktiga
uppförande struntviktiga
trots tandborstar formriktiga
om hjälpsamhet försiktiga
Fast känsloikoner rikliga
djupsinniga känslor svikliga
+)
känsloikon = emoji
Inte i ‘livets höst’
är det var jag nu slinter
men med hostande bröst
stelfrusen i ‘midvinter’
Har tappat hopp på mirakel
att en försonande röst
kan nå oss på dödens tröskel
men blev hittills utan tröst
Har trängtat efter förståelse enkel
men fick visst aldrig tag i livets hänkel
Crisp days freshly dawn
hold hope of perfection
But by dusk forlorn
faded in dejection
Takes guts & strength of mind
never just by fingers’ snap
Sounds like same old tired grind
as joy doesn’t sit on our lap
So if we think it can be achieved
by just staying in the slipstream
we’re allowing us to be deceived
lost in that American Dream
where we’re entitled to score
while putting in less, not more