Not Poetry. Quatrain Verse in English & Swedish. Dagsverser. On the Mundane & the Arcane.
Wondering as morning light fades in:
“Did I get the starting time wrong
time soon for my Real Life to begin?”
Well, it’s been throbbing all along
Was a mailed engraved invite expected?
If you’re Twitter or motion-activated
take a deep breath, try ‘inner directed’!
Because ‘taking charge’ can’t be delegated
If of change you keenly aspire
act now! Your life may soon expire …
When my spouse was enthusiastically on a raw food diet:
Dicing
mixing
fixing
whisking!
After peeling
with feeling
not done chopping
til dropping
Yes! resoundingly to: drying
No! abhorrently to: frying
Raised overhead her clenched paw
when serves another meal
Joyce to the world: “All go raw!”
She’s got you a raw deal!
+)
-go raw = here: a raw, i.e. uncooked diet
When twenty with insolent surety
did he dance on impunity’s floor
At forty untouched by maturity
At eighty wondering: What’s in store?
Rigidity gels primmer
Slender skills keep slimming
Gruesome prospects grow grimmer
Short term recall dimming
His a portrait that rankles
clownish in aging’s rust
Slogging up to the ankles
in Life’s circus sawdust
While squandering social security
in self-obfuscating obscurity
Watch him, in comfy chair, swivel:
Pontificates, pronounces
Spouts such tiresome piles of drivel
ridicules & denounces
Regurgitates like a pup
one which hungrily licks
up the breakfast just thrown up
in never changing fix
You’d think had he his wits
he would’ve called it quits!
Heavy breathing, hoarse wheezing
Lungs pumping, thighs in pain
Gripping handle bar, squeezing
Stretching the squealing chain
Guts, strength & stamina explored
Cresting the flat road my reward
Youth’s breezy wide grin:
‘Have got it handled!’ look
Chiseled upbeat chin
behold the crisp paged book
Aging’s wheezing scowl:
‘Can’t figure it out?’ look
Sagging dangling jowl
behold the well worn book
So act while you’re still a prancer
when got every quick, right answer!
Mere inches from apron sliver
impatient cars stream, squeeze by
Pedaling & sweat in quiver
we’re a balancing bull’s eye
In their ‘behind the wheel seduction’
impatient, sometimes arrogant
drivers may view us as obstruction
at best a minor irritant
As their foot the gas pedal kisses
do drivers know what he/she misses?
edited 06/24/22 0905
When striving to grasp reality
how is it recognized if found
as surely abject futility
with life now in fantasy gowned?
Our personal credulity
shapes up what’s reality
Endless our gullibility
as we crave hyperbole
All faded to triviality
including hate’s lethality
Beware of life in frugality
hail corporate mentality!
Thus our personal immorality
became societal normality
Through 4-way stops
flashy cars glide by
past cutesy shops
Below happy sky:
Honk, honk
check my new wheels
clonk, clonk
watch my new heels
Bodies fit or sagging
Kids dragging, lagging
Spouses hugging, nagging
Machos swag, bragging
Watch both bouncing soft belly guts
& perfect bodies with boards
stepping out from their daily ruts
the beach culture’s serfs & lords
While lacking existential traction
dwell fleetingly in rhapsody!
Beyond ‘daily grind’ satisfaction
what fun albeit fantasy!
Been rotating with agility
while precisely ‘hanging in there’
in serviceable docility
next to gurgling porcelain chair
Squeezable white roll flowingly gowned
personality tightly bound
gradually becoming unwound:
Can’t handle one more flushing sound!
Then after no more sheets to be ripped
lost in predicament mirthless:
Tossed away naked to the core, stripped
abandoned, overlooked, worthless
But behold! By a tiny child found
the roll’s core now joyfully blown
Dreams of fulfillment finally crowned:
Roll reborn as gleaming trombone!