Not Poetry. Quatrain Verse in English & Swedish. Dagsverser. On the Mundane & the Arcane.
My tepid thoughts shiver
quintessentially
Its conclusions quiver
inferentially
Then like light squall
sweeping gust
in fleeting thrall
comes distrust
Gathering breeze
brings a chill
more ill at ease
than ill will
Is my mind chagrined
by happenstance
scattering downwind
by circumstance?
Or just dueling with dementia
while distracted by dyslexia?
Here’s a story that rocks
for persons with feet
who are wearing out socks
Here details replete:
Involves a old married couple
their romance erstwhile torrid
Neither bodies or minds supple
shuffling in socks un-florid
Socks not blown off any longer
but no surprise still worn through
spotted, when peeled off to launder
without alarm or ado
Her socks wear first at the toe
without an exception
while his heels the first to go
By clearest perception:
sock sorting thus infallible
merely check where’s found the hole
The couple’s union affable
in perfect sorting control
Watch the ephemeral waves
on oceans eternal
those wary warrior braves
their persistence vernal
Days raced in the froth of my youth
like driven waves, white capping
while now I’m a laggardly sleuth
usually caught napping
Am a poseur among knaves
a most tiresome recluse
one who cowers from the waves
gushing pretexts profuse
Flotsam on stormy ocean
oblivious, obtuse
swept in howling commotion
in existence abstruse
+)
-flotsam = floating wreckage
Having found Gothenburg pedantic
I had since childhood quested West
hence peered over the edge of my nest
on to horizons romantic
Clearly I inclined to manic
so sailed off to The New World
but turned no trip Magellanic
merely cruised in restless whirl
Stranger in Reality
so when I did arrive somewhere
never in finality
rarely found a tangible ‘here’
‘Far away’ may not endow
this I can sadly avow
+)
Gothenburg = the major port & industrial city on the Swedish West coast
From turgidity no rest
while life’s journey thwarted
Grab hold rigidly with zest
hurry, get it sorted!
So wake up, go & aspire
or find your life wasted
Do so before you retire
or suffer lambasted!
No peace found in breathless rushing
or pride felt from slack-jawed gushing
You may ask what I’ll be doing today
of what is left for me to aspire?
If listlessly wiling the day away
why would anyone want to retire?
Gone now ‘prime of life’ energetic
barely just passably kinetic
But no, am not mired in an impasse
Boyle’s law explains it in this way:
Chores behave like decompressing gas
while few they fully fill each day
Now my life (on whose behest?)
is wantonly waning
am adrift, feeling bereft
of what joy remaining
On many days flatly harrowed
unmeritoriously
up paths steep & ever narrowed
shuffling laboriously
Led a life inglorious
deftly dissipative
Even found notorious
as opinionative
Our faces turning craggy
Synapses misfiring
Jowls & butts sinking saggy
Worn thinly brain’s wiring
Daily routines found conspiring
full of setbacks & wrinkles
New challenges cause perspiring
Long since we felt goose pimples
Civility sorely lagging
Screeched promotions propitious
abound posturing & bragging
pitches puffed-up, suspicious
No punishment but reward
when in old age we’re ignored
+)
-propitious = indicative of favor; presenting favorable circumstances
-wrinkle = a trick or dodge; crease in the skin
Stolid Sweden 1950:
Grandma daily read the news
Life then was safe, sane & nifty
even so she ‘cried the blues’
Bemoaned through ages old persons:
“What’s it coming to this world?”
Alarming how quick it worsens
changes nakedly unfurl!
These days no longer perception
It’s here: Impending Collapse
way beyond aging’s deception
For humans its ‘bugling taps’ …
Our bodies, minds now fraying
of erstwhile bounce bereft
Our wrinkles deepened, graying
hair of what little left
Years bland or full were they deft
countless days in reprise
Dragging us by heft & theft
closer to our demise
Arrived at earthly life’s edge
we must not age apart
allow between us no wedge
Together, let’s take heart!
Our bodies, minds now fraying
of erstwhile bounce bereft
Our wrinkles deepened, graying
hair of what little left
Years bland or full were they deft
countless days in reprise
Dragging us by heft & theft
closer to our demise
Arrived at earthly life’s edge
we must not age apart
allow between us no wedge
Together, let’s take heart!