Not Poetry. Quatrain Verse in English & Swedish. Dagsverser. On the Mundane & the Arcane.
Planet worn, poisoned, overheated
strife & wars endlessly rumble
The most vulnerable maltreated
while those ‘well to do’ just fumble
Though not much time shall remain
on my own life’s pathway
I keep struggling to sustain
‘peace of mind’ through the day
We must alter our mindless stance
if our Species shall stand a chance
Så de gapar å slåss
ovettiga, svettiga
(så inte alls som oss
glättiga å vettiga)
Förstås missbelåtna
under deras arbetstid
Annars självbelåtna
dagens käcka individ
som blev för cool för det andliga
upptagen med att grunkintriga
+)
-Majken = min mor (1915-85), men existerade hennes ‘Ordentliga Sverige’ nånsin?!
Is your life barely OK
save for that odd celebration?
Wishing to live every day
in pulsating scintillation?
A robust sense of humor
is the sharp-edged lancet
that cuts out boredom’s tumor
So do cut loose, chance it!
Don’t languish in disquietude
just lighten up your attitude
+)
lancet = a small, extremely sharp bladed instrument used for surgery
My sweet childhood culture
made me feel much guilt
vexed me like a vulture
daily, to the hilt
Got me uncertainty inbuilt
of something vaguely guilty
left me watch all self esteem wilt
down to limp fish gefilte
Such rearing brought me to adult life
where it’s causing awkwardness & strife
+)
gefilte fish = a limp, soft dish from grinding several species of fish
I midvinterns kyla
vårt sinne dystert
såsom en varg yla
ensligt å bistert
Stammar av björk
nätt å jämt glimma
i gryning mörk
genomvåt dimma
Bakom diset av regn
likt ett skynke grått
skymtas gården bak hägn
Mens trots allt så smått:
även i vinter svår
så går det ju mot vår!
The unfeigned hypocrite
lies cavalierly
senses not counterfeit
as fakes sincerely
When clouded our perception
lying becomes ingrained
When can’t sense own deception
our claims flow unrestrained:
Creates one endless reckless game
of blame, denial & points lame
Sent to a friend encouraging her to get on with her painting:
Wonders she: what’s the big rush
what’s this your nagging plaint?
Won’t there always be a brush?
Won’t there always be paint?
Thus cheerfully we chime
by lingering lure:
There shall always be time!
But can one be sure?
Such hope may prove mere delusion
Don’t attempt another feint
and waste talent in confusion
Don’t tarry, get going paint!
Go ahead, show us your heart
do stare down your easel
allow us enjoy your art!
No more words of weasel!
edited 03/21/22 1020
We try ‘signal virtue’
to ingratiate
like when those in church who
self-felicitate
As we in presumption
lay claim to be ‘woke’
then with purloined gumption
in pretense we cloak
Of course it takes temerity
to fully fake sincerity
Our keen shopping ideologue
in her gushing travelogue
pours over every catalogue
for stuff with apt epilogue
Ongoing bacchanalia
found at IKEA
of sharp paraphernalia
So here’s the idea:
That if she can snag
that which is plain out-sized
(except its price tag)
then she’ll be idolized!
+)
-epilogue = here: a purchase that fleetingly pleases – but not for long as that would slow down further purchases
The bosom left untouched
delights utterly
While the one been retouched
may bulge udderly
Still produces rapture
in the gaping fool
held frozen in capture
with unseemly drool
Much rather than the jounce
of breasts enhanced unsightly
I laud the innate bounce
be it scant, that flows lightly