Not Poetry. Quatrain Verse in English & Swedish. Dagsverser. On the Mundane & the Arcane.
Impending climate collapse
worsened by inequality
hastening Cold War relapse
by ironclad causality
In these times so off-centered
(insight hereof hardly arcane)
we indulge lives self-centered
cowardly, not caring, inane
But then courage and compassion
these days severely on ration
Narrow roads edge dusty deep ravines
up & down, contorting, twisting
slicing faded cliffs more brown than green
Curve following curve, persisting
With tenuous roadway traction
cars squeezing mere feet apart
no place to indulge distraction
where driving a martial art
Just guessing at what’s up ahead
heedless of ravine-plunging dread
Cresting cliffs, mindless of ravines
in youth we indulged aspiration
silly fantasies, hopes & dreams
Then woke up from exhilaration
On whatever life’s journey bestowed
winding roads shall turn less thrilling
Time, strength, guts & prospects all erode
aging’s rain drizzles bone chilling
Just beyond the very next bend
awaits too soon our journey’s end
What am I doing tomorrow?
Why? Busy right now today
not yet ready letting it go
not wilted yet its bouquet
Who am I meeting tomorrow?
Why? Met with someone today
must I suffer the same sorrow
of more demeaning affray?
Let’s await the next day’s dawn
before its worries we spawn
In ever worsening malfunction
humanity heads the wrong way
Amidst dialectic dysfunction
society turns disarray
Just can’t allow my mind turn lazy
when my heart pounds rapidly, sad
Just won’t do living a life crazy
be it our Species going mad
As life for some of meager pleasure
it won’t do to just vote ‘present’
Life is still the abundant treasure
to be lamented if misspent.
Seas roaring, winds howling
Shredded clouds racing
under dark skies scowling
Wild whitecaps chasing
Above clean blown ocean
fowl soaringly strewn
sail in spray splashed motion
below moody moon
Crashing on to stolid rocks
waves implode, plundering
Washing over creaking docks
winds in gusts thundering
Watching in deep emotion
stirred by my life far flung
on wild waves of commotion
by raging regrets stung
My own past as well
been too windswept
then calmed in slow swell
relieved I wept
+)
-swell = the undulating movement of the surface of the open sea; particularly non-breaking waves following a storm
By day’s end our body yearns for rest
for the next morning’s rebound of zest
At night as our senses lose sway
swift images flow in streams
while faded away the next day
galloped madly in our dreams
While our valiant heart may know best
still pumps away at whose behest?
Picked flowers in a vase
through phototropism
still reach for light with grace
in short struggle, schism
A servitude bouquet
its buoyancy endeavored
for just another day
after their roots got severed
Each stalk struggling upright
trying its shoulders pulled back
corolla may look tight
but soon too in grieving slack
Gently drops each petal
knowing not of haste
bounces softly, settles
demise calmly faced
In a few days all die
serene in their goodbye
mired in rapacity
would attempt get it righted
be just audacity?
What if human lives go awry
because burdens be lightened?
Ain’t humanity getting by
despite it’s unenlightened?
Grab instead for distraction
as pastime gleaming stuff
easier than take action
which seems risky & rough
So keep smiling hoping to impress
in a dapper suit or low-cut dress
Might we lived our life
differently
not ducking from strife
diffidently?
Of course if no ‘free will’
we may relax, chill
life but a puppet drill!
Can’t let it go still?
But then clearly & consequently
we cannot WILL living attently
Finally, at long last
done with my past unfolding
slammed the door shut, steadfast
without regret or scolding
For the wizened dawdler
is not life’s true bestowment
as for the rushed twaddler
peace of mind in the moment?
When focusing on a worthwhile current chore
we may find peace now & the next twenty-four
+)
twenty-four = 24 hours