Not Poetry. Quatrain Verse in English & Swedish. Dagsverser. On the Mundane & the Arcane.
Opposite people attract
and if titillation
they may end up tightly packed
Bring on captivation!
While those birds of a feather
flock together tamely
those odd ones gladly tether
pressed together gamely
It shall majorly matter
among life’s klutzy clatter
His looks sallow carotene
that shamelessly lying brawler
a sick psyche philistine
in pursuit of that next dollar
Utterly Orwellian
but that’s not by far all
a shameless chameleon
with heart and hands too small
Still those who got him elected
feel elated not dejected
Such light & lovely wheat
not like grumpy rye
While she’s so gushy, sweet
he’s reticent, wry
Shall we know their true faces
within their home’s four walls?
Hurling invectives, vases
then making up in schmaltz?
Us humans but fleetingly decorous
while we’re rarely-failing obstreperous
Well anchored in the mundane
a kindly well wisher
won’t worry about methane
was never a phisher
A good parishioner
proudly pragmatic
never a missioner
vaguely dogmatic
Another human afraid & flawed
seeking shelter in a world of fraud
Ever iridescent
loftily Perfection soars
allure effervescent
unmoved by she who implores
Through ages in vain beseeched
humans have grasped for Perfection
Hotly pursued, rarely reached
adamant in its rejection
Crimped as by pitiless pliers
or hammered flat on anvil, yammered
then thrown in to rejection’s fires
Still pursues our species enamored
then thrown in to rejection’s fires.
Still pursues our species enamored.
Down yet another alley
on yet another day
by yet another sally
stirring another fray
Such manner leads us astray
Let’s tread another pathway:
One that lets us live life caring
not taking but in giving
Our predator teeth not baring
Not blaming but forgiving!
+)
giving = also: the quality or state of being resilient
Seems I just glanced at her, sadly
should’ve looked her in the eyes, madly
While by Summer enchanted
she was gone by morrow
had taken her for granted
neglect turns deep sorrow
the more my life’s focus scatters
the more its flies by in tatters
At night as become the rite
we blessedly tether
Then before the dawn’s scant light
we wake up together
We shall find comes daybreak
that the harsh world is still there
but jointly to partake
shall be easier to bear
We’re feeling supported thus bolder
when completed by each other
Watching over the other’s shoulder
glad to be here, nowhere rather
While one of us one day
may shiver alone
we shall suffer what may
But not bitter cold:
for by The Past’s glowing embers
warmed, as he or she remembers