Not Poetry. Quatrain Verse in English & Swedish. Dagsverser. On the Mundane & the Arcane.
Imagine how she froze
in Winter’s bleakness faded
a sole overstayed rose
shivered but far from jaded
All comfort she spurned
no longer warmed or fed
How for Spring she yearned
though by then she’d be dead
While this story tragic
shows that anticipation
might well offer magic
short of participation
While hard to be farsighted
about what’s unrequited
At night the Past keeps appearing
would it only just leave me alone
but it keeps up grinning, leering
ensuring I can never atone
Its attacks mortifying
pounding unforgiving, searing
Might they be edifying
were I humble & god-fearing?
But what if merely random images
of my youth’s many hard lost scrimmages?
Did we hear she moved to Greenland
but ain’t that too far away & cold?
No, it was rather to ‘screenland’
gone ‘baaaa’, while foraging in the fold
She’s living there since years ago
thought first was just commuting
but each time returned more aglow
thus found ourselves confuted
Easy to tell when lost on Greenland
while unaware how lost in ‘screenland’
Underneath our ‘witticism’
on occasion it seems
lurks unkindly criticism
even lies & grim schemes?
As long as we don’t bore
or taking purloined pity
on those hapless we gore
what’s wrong with being witty?
Have we not learnt that life is unjust
so why do we still react nonplussed?!
Aren’t we obstinate slouches
when try hide from our deepest fears
on Life’s pillows & couches
where we’re sinking down to our ears?
Are we thoroughly deflated
or effectively effete
or only sadly stalemated
lacking courageous heartbeat?
Why not bravely pursue what’s life-giving
rather than consume mired in misgiving?
When the times feel overweening
we are promptly convening
us powerless, start house cleaning
Way to make sense, find meaning?
But to scrub off of common surface grime
way easier than power elite’s slime
After settles the sawdust
found himself again nonplussed
As an itinerant clown
why should he be relied upon
to still be sticking around
after the circus is long gone?
If notably the after-sensation
turned out to be humiliation?
Noticed someone stared
looking mighty unkind
stressed me that it dared
left me feeling maligned
Neighbor’s small dog’s nostrils flared
got me triggered, re-traumatized
with its rice-sized-shaped teeth bared
behooved me getting authorized:
to reclaim my fair share of trauma
indulge my symptoms in high drama!
“Am dying to be slim”, the rat had told them. Life Itself listened in.
A rat rotund felt bereft
been bemoaning his plight
of being fat. Didn’t look left
skipped as well looking right
He stepped into traffic
met a fate most dire:
En end grisly graphic
crushed by a truck’s tire
When found at daybreak
he had been flattened slim
While friends in heartbreak
sort of happy for him
Be careful how you use hyperbole
it may just turn into reality!
A scam victim might feel relieved
if felt themself neglected
While sensing they’re being deceived
‘happy’ to be selected?
Greedily they believe
gold of 25 carat!
Easily they perceive
a carnivorous carrot!
Smiles of scammers contrived
cloying, beguiling
Once they got us connived
they turn unsmiling
When unthinkingly we parrot
we may praise that of no merit