Not Poetry. Quatrain Verse in English & Swedish. Dagsverser. On the Mundane & the Arcane.
Truly it has been achieved
be it much belated
existentially relieved
by breakthrough elated
Been presumptive in perspective
each stodgy, rigid mistake
but since woke up, turned affective
much quicker now the uptake
This moment in this lifetime
whether in role calm or aghast
here & now is my showtime
in the part which I have been cast!
Long overdue to start my true role
old one been taking horrid a toll
Finding true peace of mind while with zest
hoping to show off how we’re ‘blessed’
struggling intensely to stay abreast
with those most elegantly dressed?
Are we lacking in discernment?
Won’t silly life usurp us
mire us in mundane internment
oblivious to purpose?
While acquisitive restraint much maligned
perhaps a journey of most wondrous kind?
So let us trudge along
gulping mega fudge
trying hum freedom’s song:
‘Mustn’t ourselves begrudge!’
while mired in deep despair
not going anywhere
Over diverse diets
getting ourselves mesmerized
Emotions run riots
by repeat failure chastised
Such is life in consumer cultures
where nothing is ‘overdoing’
while life as insatiable vultures
clearly assures our undoing
Takes so much more for us to lose weight
than by what we don’t serve on our plate
Of pride an overdose
dense, too bellicose?
but would be grandiose
to try diagnose
Trying to philosophize
on the meaning of existence
is a frill that ossifies
best focus on co-existence
Try just belong
let’s not be headstrong
“To Get Along”
ought be our theme song
Listen closer to bird song
until our common swan song
I’m no ‘poet’ hifalutin
mere ‘versifier’ callow
who does his own in foot shooting
writing rhyming verse shallow
A superficial spin drier
of phrases oddly acquired
Just dressed up in pretend attire
for yet a show uninspired
Proclaim prim ‘poetry fellows’:
“Let’s send that versifier
off to illiterate gallows
that foul, faux falsifier!”
But while ‘poets’ opine with such gumption
what if they’re just sloshing in presumption?
Just about everybody including those:
With legs toothpick scrawny
or Tour de France brawny.
Celebs basking in fawning fame
or whose friends can’t recall their name.
Who are hard pressed to steer & pedal
or just won an Olympic medal.
Who are not obtuse:
So, what’s your excuse?
While in erstwhile hushed times
we were allowed to slow down
sounds of lingering chimes
listened to with smile, not frown
Those were the days of reflection
by humans of circumspection
Faces may look ashen
of cyclists vintage
look as out of fashion
as penny mintage
But on self-selected rounds
cyclists rarely feel repletion
as riding the ups & downs
rarely results in depletion
But they find life off the bike middling
movement without pedaling: piddling
While us mediocrities much maligned
viewed as hapless maidens dowry-less
humans see matters clearer when sidelined
uninvested, as well powerless
What presumption of the Power Elite
skewed sense of selves & cluelessly effete!
Fall’s last leaf quivers
in duty most steadfast
in chilled winds shivers
determined to outlast
The last leaf on the branch
to past Summer hanging true
A rousing rear guard stance
or just blind loyalty’s glue?
When loses its gallant grip
last one to abandon ship!