Not Poetry. Quatrain Verse in English & Swedish. Dagsverser. On the Mundane & the Arcane.
Of pride an overdose
dense, too bellicose?
but would be grandiose
to try diagnose
Trying to philosophize
on the meaning of existence
is a frill that ossifies
best focus on co-existence
Try just belong
let’s not be headstrong
“To Get Along”
ought be our theme song
Listen closer to bird song
until our common swan song
The child’s mind is clearness
in unspoken dearness
in unbroken nearness
each moment as hereness
In the present time fulfilled
absent of pretension
mind by the most minute stilled
free from condescension
All in wonder of the mundane
in wide starry eyes ponder
not drawn to lofty or arcane
not off somewhere there yonder
Duck is a duck, no swan
no airs needing put on
How we whip up the batter
amidst spills & splatter
with clanks & clinks & clatter
shall tastily matter
May frantically fiddle
watching out for mistakes
by the sizzling hot griddle
shaping up the hotcakes
Can the essence be found, sweet or awful
solely in the eating of the waffle?
Dog eat dog
while cats scratch cats
frog jump frog
rats rat on rats
While animals are absolved of blame
might not humans gain from owning shame?
Humans to humans inhuman
nefarious plots thicken
Stirred by uncaring acumen
from rectitude we chicken
Through infallible perversity
humans create own adversity
May a crackling fire roaringly warm our chilled hearts
thaw our icicles of brittle self absorption.
A gallant gale scatter the heavy thoughts
howling through the dank caves of our darkness.
A brisk river douse our seething anger
firmly sweep it out onto the calm sea.
A gentle swell cradle our gnawing fears.
A hot summer sun dry our soggy soul.
May we not toss in anxiety and constraint
but float lightly in the restful peace of restraint.
Strive for the role of the avower
who explores the Truth together
Shun arguments to overpower
which makes us our lost bellwether
Don’t throw in that red herring
surreptitiously non-glaring
diverts the discourse, erring
away on fallacious bearing
Such a disingenuous hoax
throws off good faith dialogue
like the stick thrust in bike wheel spokes
leaves our quest crashed epilogue
Been losing our sweet tooth
for what erstwhile was Truth?
While in erstwhile hushed times
we were allowed to slow down
sounds of lingering chimes
listened to with smile, not frown
Those were the days of reflection
by humans of circumspection
Where trampling consumer herds graze
among shrill sales pitches sclerotic
with perked up ears, their screens on face
stampede in commerce idiotic
With grasping hearts ice pack cold
snagging shiny contrivances
by acts as quick as they’re bold
in persuasive connivances
While they barely break in sweat shopping
still being on a track all sopping
“Just ride it out”, says my cheery wife,
“watch a video, write a verse
enjoy your late life without the strife!”
Until carted off in the hearse
But spared suffering, struggle & strife
how can humans live well in life?
If trivial coasting til last breath
we’re not alive before our death?
And how to pretend Life is smooth sailing
while throwing up bent over the railing?
+)
railing = here: a ship’s (hand) rail
The frazzled frayed old man
in light breeze shivers and creaks
Sensing end of lifespan
fuzzy his thoughts, paled his cheeks
Did he ponder too much about human history
rather than enjoying his life’s daily mystery?