Not Poetry. Quatrain Verse in English & Swedish. Dagsverser. On the Mundane & the Arcane.
Watch us when milling around
in misapplied gumption
rushing ragged always bound
up in pride, presumption
For once when God spoke
of our earthly rampage
did God share a joke
our burden to assuage?
Once in a while is my humble belief
that us poor humans could use some relief
In stillness we need not strive for more
as its wind embraces in warm whisper
The past doesn’t whimper, future doesn’t roar
Thoughts may blur, while emotions feel crisper
Into stillness we’re gladly brought
it’s a place where we may be taught
Even when finding
pavement coarse
and street lights blinding
on Life’s course
might as well let it run it’s course
as not much we can change, of course
First Humans by God created
but then God decided to outsource
which turned out largely ill-fated
caused overpopulation of course
It blurred the line
of procreation
would more incline
to recreation
Is the purpose of Human Life
mainly to create more life
bringing more humans into strife
to suffering ever more rife?
As being swept away by passion
always an obstacle to ration
+)
first humans = Adam & Eve
My poor aging body
a ramshackle shack
Now worn down & shoddy
emitting pained yack
Whenever it moves around
ailments reveal therein
Feels beat down, close to breakdown
that’s life of the has-been
Now it’s only left for us to treasure
how in our prime it bestowed such pleasure
Careless years blown dissipated
lived ignorant of too much
Dull days closed down desolated
leaned too hard on booze’s crutch
I kept on churning on shallow laps
around & around & again
’til sounded inexorably taps:
Plainly mundane, nothing arcane!
For true happiness I’d sung in vain
ignorant of another refrain
Dawn fades in auspiciously
that’s how Universe turns
Doesn’t flow in capriciously
by how emotions churn
How to know this with certitude?
While I can’t know if am I
mere prisoner to attitude
bestowed when, by whom & why?
Surely I can’t be such big of a deal
that the very sunrise knows how I feel?
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?
Who can truly believe
something so chilling
that humans can’t aggrieve
unless God’s willing?
Still not even Gods
could create the same mess
as us humans clods
with more to come, safe guess
So when then collapse gets reprised
whom among us may claim surprised?
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-aggrieve = to afflict with pain, anxiety, etc; to oppress or wrong grievously; injure by injustice
-reprise = to execute a repetition of; repeat