Not Poetry. Quatrain Verse in English & Swedish. Dagsverser. On the Mundane & the Arcane.
Ever iridescent
loftily Perfection soars
allure effervescent
unmoved by she who implores
Through ages in vain beseeched
humans have grasped for Perfection
Hotly pursued, rarely reached
adamant in its rejection
Crimped as by pitiless pliers
or hammered flat on anvil, yammered
then thrown in to rejection’s fires
Still pursues our species enamored
then thrown in to rejection’s fires.
Still pursues our species enamored.
With valiant perseverance
in one united voice:
“We brook no interference
with Consumer Choice!
We blindly march in lockstep
while anger & planet smolder
We prattle, whine, chase & schlepp
Cassandras get the cold shoulder
How silly we’re beaming
unbeknownst benighted
O, humanity’s attraction
albeit just reactive
to ceaseless din of distraction
irresistibly tractive
Discord rarely averted
when our opinions brawl
amidst invective blurted
stretching the endless sprawl
Is rob Paul to pay Peter
merely ‘sound’ greed, no gall
thus no one is a cheater
for just wanting it all?
Merely business as usual
robbing Peter to pay Paul
only bottom line is crucial
so let’s try to rob them all!
Wrapped in impatience itchy shawl
splashing through Life’s icy squalls
letting mundane pursuits enthrall
gliding in fallacious valse
Whining, be it with passion,
plain fails to stir compassion
So try step out from yourself
as the Self a mere illusion:
A cruel mischievous elf
how she traps us in delusion!
By remorse acquainted
have tried paint over my past
but by past I’m tainted
so the gloss just would not last
My body dinged, dented
mind mushed, fermented
my poor soul tormented
A Life repented
On Life’s ladder I wobble estranged
fear being put in the ground unchanged
Seems I just glanced at her, sadly
should’ve looked her in the eyes, madly
While by Summer enchanted
she was gone by morrow
had taken her for granted
neglect turns deep sorrow
the more my life’s focus scatters
the more its flies by in tatters
When munching on bread:
Flowing field windswept
the rustling grain
soggily it wept
in bursting rain
When sipping coffee:
In heat shimmering
ripe the red beans
glowing glimmering
on hillside greens
When walking on a wood floor:
Stately tall the trees
branches sweeping the sky
swaying in brisk breeze
reaching where eagles fly
While when looking in the mirror:
My old face has since long been cast
recalls not the youth of its past