Not Poetry. Quatrain Verse in English & Swedish. Dagsverser. On the Mundane & the Arcane.
Trying to dance to an aria
or speed skating on ice Spring thin
or run red lights under Sharia:
Risky, neither a likely win!
Yet a rare chance
to live fast
in heady prance
that won’t last
Still we’ll engage in hell raising
not like docile sheep just grazing
In unstirring whiffed cottage jammed
stepping over those scattered
slumbering tightly, mushroomed, crammed
Surfaces gleam beer splattered
Morning of the young artist
tall still in hope, slim hipped
no 9-to-5 trudge ‘valse triste’
bearing still straight, rose lipped
Indolent black cats stir both
white pawed, green marbled eyes
now stretching, compassion loath
killers in cutesy guise
Morning dawns subliminal
in night’s lingering haze
Above rocks ravinial
sun’s first tenuous rays
From above stillness violated
through mufflers crescendo aggrieved
dawn’s purity adulterated
nature of her stillness bereaved
+)
-from above = here: from the road above the gulch
-ravinial = (by license) anything in or of a ravine
While out this day crisp & clear
in late Winter sun bleak
while squinting in light austere
fleetingly caught a peak:
of Spring Herself, behold
in season preview
impervious to cold
Hope now springs anew
It is She, Spring Vernal
bubbling brook blithely!
Her return eternal
enlivens sprightly
While smile evanescent
she’s still sheer delight
as well effervescent
heart-heating & bright
Her advent demure
hemline proper
still wondrous allure
a crowd stopper
With wide eyed gaze unblinking
I sneaked another peek
imagined She were winking
then pecked me on the cheek
Elated about this ‘fling’
with the now approaching Spring!
Sun rays gleaming, bolting through
streaked clouds down to foaming sea blue
Sandy crescents fade below
shimmer in nostalgia’s hue
Our turbulence shook plane is winging West
giving for now Baltic folklore a rest …
+)
sandy crescents = here: white sandy sweeping, curving beaches of the Latvian coast
There! The thud on the porch
paper is brought in by Rose!
It lights her morning’s torch
settling in reading repose
The pose of her nose close
leaning in perfect adjure
reading in morning’s throes
absent acclaim or abjure
Every page she’s scouring
all news vacuumin’
All newsprint devouring
unmatched acumen
As long as it is all prose
it grabs the affection
of our ’suction cup nose’ Rose
Except the sports section
Expect a sunburnt smile
with white teeth gleaming
in any market isle
in trendy streaming
Spouting catchy metaphors
in tilting lilting idiom
Driving cool wheeled dinosaurs
in bumper to bumper ‘freedom’
Headed for the erstwhile Golden West
on to land abundantly blessed
in irresistibly upbeat quest
Too late, turned crowded, worn out, stressed
In unrelenting motion
have been pumping most of its oil
polluting air & ocean
depleted the bountiful soil
Time to wake up from faded dreams:
It’s getting ever hotter
fires blaze on hills & in ravines
rivers, lakes drained of water
We’re culprits of reckless squander
stared down by unblinking drought
Wake up from fantasy’s wonder:
Face it. No way, none but out
Days gone when LAid back seemed easy
brimming with optimism breezy
+)
LAid back = laid back as in LA
edited 10/14/23 1345
Radiating heater glowing
nearly grilling Joyce’s butt
Internet fun & jolts flowing
lifts her out of morning rut
She’s cozying up in her ‘cave’
Reads emails of rants & raves
Her clients’ situations grave
and she be the one who saves
But not for long in tether
so to stay strong & trim
she’s braving ‘Arctic’ weather
heading soon for the gym
Deep dark rueful shadows
lit in hued moon light
edge silvery meadows
of metallic bright
Shine unperturbed bright stars
beyond Earth’s cold skies
Way beyond Moon and Mars
hide unanswered ‘whys’
In morning’s early light
shadows turn shallow, skies warmed
Forthwith, wake up, hold tight!
Awe for the Earthly returned:
Fades away night’s perfect stillness
elbowed by day’s messy shrillness
On Fridays before dawn
us cans are back at the curb
on the strip by the lawn:
A recycling cheering blurb
Listening for the garbage truck
while we’re bulging overfilled
how exciting, again in luck
now on our street, we’re all thrilled!
We get lifted, shook, tumbled
our bearings & loads lost
Elated, swiftly jumbled
back on to the curb tossed
Lids left open, gaping
happens every week
There is no escaping
recycling’s mystique!
+)
canster = a can being a member of a recycling ‘blurb’
rushes the frantic fool
dizzy, common sense dented
like a kid out of school
We’re unfazed
hasty, dazed
our eyes glazed
all sense razed
Aroused to love romantic
what thrilling perception
our life’s unrivaled antic
of passion, deception
A game by a Creator ‘demented’
assures new generations tormented