Not Poetry. Quatrain Verse in English & Swedish. Dagsverser. On the Mundane & the Arcane.
Have we noticed less yelling
these days in tight traffic
less impudent labeling
fewer gestures graphic?
Do we drive more like adults
with manners to be commended
lessened the need to insult
and slower to get offended?
If so, it might be truth to say
for fear of being blown away?
At times has been avowed
my enthusiasm gallant
while sparingly endowed
with any useful talent
Hence I’ve barely begun
at age eighty-two
to get hoped-for things done
with some derring-do
But as by now glaringly way too late
I’ll keep playing to my ‘strength’, i.e. prate
Before sunrise he’d be found
like clockwork our rooster
on his fiefdom’s barnyard mound
as his own best booster
Perhaps wound tightly
but hens find him knightly
Comes across sprightly
takes a stance uprightly
Repeatedly he must crow
to hear his own voice inflection
In dedication aglow
offers, as it is, protection
Aren’t we all doing our utmost
while taking good care not to boast?
A limerick on a birthday of a neighbor who’s both an accomplished scientist & in his youth gymnast:
There was a youngish man called Igor
who treats all he meets with ardor
a man of great science
with strong self-reliance
Among Norse gods resembles most Thor!
*)
Why Thor? Because they both rather swing a thunderbolt hammer than just sit around and yammer
Behold that fresh youthful look:
Youth’s upbeat breathless grin
crisp cover of unread book
sculptured, jutting out chin
Behold the wizened old look:
aging’s out-of-breath grin
thumbed cover of well read book
sagging skin, drooping chin
At which point cannot count on audacity
but hope for tenacity, veracity
Crisp days freshly dawn
hold hope of perfection
But by dusk forlorn
faded in dejection
Takes guts & strength of mind
never just by fingers’ snap
Sounds like same old tired grind
as joy doesn’t sit on our lap
So if we think it can be achieved
by just staying in the slipstream
we’re allowing us to be deceived
lost in that American Dream
where we’re entitled to score
while putting in less, not more
A Limerick on the occasion of Conner, a grandson, returning home to Sunset Hill in Seattle after serving as a paratrooper with the IDF.
There was a young man from Sunset Hill
with many talents & of strong will
As a paratrooper Conner
served IDF with honor
For now, I suspect, he’s had his fill
+)
IDF: Israeli Defense Forces
On my life’s path not much time left
but got all the time in the moment
so primed still & ready to heft
& to welcome Life’s next bestowment
Right now am feeling far from done
never mind how long my run
who will not be hemmed in by confines
In an ever changing world
charges she, banner unfurled
She won’t just cheer on from the sidelines
Urged on by (their voices shrill)
jingoistic sheeple
train Baby Faces to kill
die for other people
If instead us Middle Aged were called
many a war would surely have stalled
+)
sheeple = (derogatory, slang) people who unquestioningly accept as true whatever their political leaders say or who adopt popular opinion as their own without scrutiny