Not Poetry. Quatrain Verse in English & Swedish. Dagsverser. On the Mundane & the Arcane.
The poor ischemic
with his clogging-up brain
so curdling hemic
short term memory’s bane
Pointless any polemic
beyond doubt endemic
needs no academic
to suggest systemic
Grievously no hyperbole
comes with the family tree
makes him into an absentee
fades to insularity
Shuffling around in confusion
inside the land of delusion
There was this peculiar geezer
a silly blabbermouth & teaser
but at last got wiser
then tugged on his visor
and ceased being such an appeaser
Ages since in my prime
and still striving to buck up
am racing against time
to turn into a grownup
While prospects for growth by now slimmer
still flickers hope in blurry glimmer
Enjoyed youth’s wits
Then in my senescence
wits called itself quits
Such now my quintessence:
Been left but with whits
showing up in mere fits
now unmoved by glitz
ain’t moping in the pits
Now dwell in my life’s sunset
in most tranquil a mindset
+)
whit = a tiny or scarcely detectable amount
While spared Life’s worst bludgeons
our decrepit curmudgeon
one of many gudgeons
drowning himself in dudgeon
Claims others kick & trick him
he’s ends up the poor victim!
If at times duplicitous
he would loudly lament
Seldom seen solicitous
or rarely heard repent
Little thought to others given
been unable to discern
how self-occupied and driven
for others lacking concern
Oblivious in his own smugness
blames others for his lack of snugness
In my erstwhile fast life bested
was constantly contested
Decades since my life crested
still feel oddly untested
As path ahead darkens congested
the present by my past infested
in midst of bathetic prattle
Now, who would have guessed?
Found dead, travel attired
clutching to his chest
Swedish passport expired
The world had once been his to roam
died a wizened homebody gnome
I’ve gone bald
too often galled
mostly stalled
no longer called
Turned too old
no longer bold
feeling cold
soon now I’ll fold
and were it not for those wondrous jokes
would think life might be a horrid hoax
Slow to warm up, old geezer
cozy home feels like freezer
Although the thermostat
that trusty technocrat
set on ‘high’ – no appeaser!
The bewildered geezer
slowing on uptake
finds much a brain-teaser
in outlook opaque
Now bumbling, befuddled
way less done than watched
by no smartphone cuddled
His past badly botched:
Got to live long to gain insight
given chance to make things right?
Or just fake alibis airtight
his slim obit to bedight?
Gets close now to Eternity’s Trip
so little time left to get a grip!