Not Poetry. Quatrain Verse in English & Swedish. Dagsverser. On the Mundane & the Arcane.
Flows impassibly
the eternal refrain
stains irascibly:
Life’s suffering & pain
How we seethe
in temptation
How we breathe
for redemption
Both fear & hope us urge
in unyielding distinction
back & forth on the verge
very soon now: Extinction
Life let’s us fleetingly think we have won
while it controls when each of us is done
Upward in the crackling fire
of human commotion:
heated words flare, float in ire
howling in emotion
Prancingly they spew
ephemeral
through wide open flue
hotly feral
Swooping out like larks
from shades mislaid
burning, zinging sparks
cool off, then fade
Those cruel words of agony
stay seared in our memory
as if galloping cavalry
pounded them to emery
Every regret’s ember
dooms us to remember
Tirelessly our hapless Tongue
so recklessly wagging
Keeps hurling havoc far flung
bragging, ragging, snagging!
Our self-righteous racing Mind
contentiously nagging
How unrestrained we’ve opined
in pursuit unflagging!
Let our Hearts be more than pumps non-excitable:
The place where we live ‘tinderly’ ignitable
+)
‘tinderly’ = interweaving ‘tinder’ with ‘tender’
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
Lives desiccated deprecated
desecrated by vanity
Human habitat depredated
with hubristic profanity
Most could surely have been averted
yet why do we not feel ashamed?
While a few moved for change concerted
most found wanting – but not all blamed
Too weak to act, lost heart, guts & shirts
Temperatures & oceans rise
Serving on children our ‘just deserts’
heaped in gleaming china of lies
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 quick, impatient words
flapping in ad lib
like flocks of ‘take off’ birds
swift, screeching & glib
Our phrases cheerfully poured
over facts, rationale
‘cleverness points’ to be scored
regardless of morale
‘Rolling off tongue’ phrases
sink without a trace
scattered in odd places
as bystanders brace
While endless subjects of banality
keep splashing amongst the plurality
Just hung on the tree
did a green leaf
seemed happy & free
beyond ‘beleaf’
Was ‘leafing it up’
just blowing in the wind
brimming its life’s cup
in sunlight widely grinned
Then from clear sky a tear
fell on its body, wet splash
happiness turned to fear
by a single raindrop brash!
That’s where it went awry
so there goes the ‘treeborhood’
To Heavens it would cry:
there goes my good ‘leaflihood’!
So goes the whining of the leaf-alarmist
in a too lightly triggered, poor me ‘valse triste’
Background music obtrusively
coddle days flap unflagging
keep on churning elusively
prodding, nagging then sagging
Been seeing our hopes quelled
though flashed fleetingly
tantalizing til knelled
then fade cheatingly
If on our life’s path we’re dawdling
what on earth are we modeling?!
edited 06/21/22 1010
Show us all we can grab
how to get our way
as we prefer to nab
not give or allay!
Thus abet
rather than care
just forget
what’s like to share
Have now learned to manage
(spurred on by own greed)
taking full advantage
of those in dire need
Indulgent we’re beaming
finest wines we swill
lounged amidst stuff gleaming
huge thick steaks we grill
But aboard in yachting delight
cruising in the starlit night
cradled in self-absorbed birthright
oughtn’t our collars feel bit tight?
+)
-collars feel bit tight = here: feeling a strain of anxiety about whether we’re steering a compassionate course on life’s ocean