Not Poetry. Quatrain Verse in English & Swedish. Dagsverser. On the Mundane & the Arcane.
The child’s mind is clearness
in unspoken dearness
in unbroken nearness
each moment as hereness
In the present time fulfilled
absent of pretension
mind by the most minute stilled
free from condescension
All in wonder of the mundane
in wide starry eyes ponder
not drawn to lofty or arcane
not off somewhere there yonder
Duck is a duck, no swan
no airs needing put on
Just about everybody including those:
With legs toothpick scrawny
or Tour de France brawny.
Celebs basking in fawning fame
or whose friends can’t recall their name.
Who are hard pressed to steer & pedal
or just won an Olympic medal.
Who are not obtuse:
So, what’s your excuse?
Unfazed by our own pretension
grasp of issues flagrantly hazy
Hard to listen, pay attention
when intellectually lazy
Fleetingly attracted
we find what’s brief protracted
Swiftly we’re distracted
too much from us exacted
Triggered as if by bump stock
with scant effort to aim
we keep spraying our stump talk
through story line so lame
Relieved when can finally defect
hopping on to a next fresh subject
Kusligt hur snabbt minnet minskas
Steget rangligt i yrsel
Tankar i sinnet försinkas
med otillräcklig styrsel
Krämpor uttrycker sin trilska
Mens utblick alltmer diffus
Lynnet i vanmäktig ilska
ångar i ångerns bakrus
Eller vem vet, efter år av konflikt,
öppnas nu dörren på glänt till insikt?
How we whip up the batter
amidst spills & splatter
with clanks & clinks & clatter
shall tastily matter
May frantically fiddle
watching out for mistakes
by the sizzling hot griddle
shaping up the hotcakes
Can the essence be found, sweet or awful
solely in the eating of the waffle?
hold it there, slow it!
uncorking the Moet
might overdo it
Calling oneself ‘great friend’
or ‘great at one’s craft’
part of self-absorbed trend
once unseemly daft
Like for self briskly clapping
would once been an aberration
as erstwhile own back slapping
frowned on as self-nomination
Now why wouldn’t it be our druthers
let any praise, come from others?
+)
moet = contrary to French grammar ‘moet’, when in Moet & Chandon champagne, is pronounced mo’wett
Dog eat dog
while cats scratch cats
frog jump frog
rats rat on rats
While animals are absolved of blame
might not humans gain from owning shame?
Humans to humans inhuman
nefarious plots thicken
Stirred by uncaring acumen
from rectitude we chicken
Through infallible perversity
humans create own adversity
May a crackling fire roaringly warm our chilled hearts
thaw our icicles of brittle self absorption.
A gallant gale scatter the heavy thoughts
howling through the dank caves of our darkness.
A brisk river douse our seething anger
firmly sweep it out onto the calm sea.
A gentle swell cradle our gnawing fears.
A hot summer sun dry our soggy soul.
May we not toss in anxiety and constraint
but float lightly in the restful peace of restraint.
We are on a mission
self-centered, all-out
in blazing volition
blinded to fall-out
That’s how the human neighborhood
by self-will been sent crashing
Who looks out for the common good
amidst all egos clashing?
Solidarity ignored
or even outright rejected
can it ever be restored
when we’re scattered disconnected?
Leaving each other in the dust shamelessly
while we’re trying to hog it all, blamelessly!
Are we on a mission
self-centered, all-out
in blazing volition
blinded to fall-out?
That’s how the human neighborhood
by self-will been sent crashing
Who looks out for the common good
amidst all egos clashing?
Solidarity ignored
or even outright rejected
Will it ever be restored
when we’re scattered disconnected
Left each other in the dust shamelessly
while we try hogging it all blamelessly!
Strive for the role of the avower
who explores the Truth together
Shun arguments to overpower
which makes us our lost bellwether
Don’t throw in that red herring
surreptitiously non-glaring
diverts the discourse, erring
away on fallacious bearing
Such a disingenuous hoax
throws off good faith dialogue
like the stick thrust in bike wheel spokes
leaves our quest crashed epilogue
Been losing our sweet tooth
for what erstwhile was Truth?