Not Poetry. Quatrain Verse in English & Swedish. Dagsverser. On the Mundane & the Arcane.
Riga straddles the mighty river
for all vitality it’ll give her.
She strides on heels stiletto
elegantly arrayed.
Drools over Rigoletto
cultured through her free trade.
Riga shows spires & beauty
from centuries of booty.
+)
mighty river = The Daugava forms deep in Russia and flows out in to the Bay of Riga
edited 09/09/21 1805
Am a wreck in howling storm:
My old knees bit stiff to fold
poor heart runs chilled & warm
wrinkly hands too cold to hold
With ears worn thin and wary eye
I observe Life’s mystery:
Us humans (although we deny)
do hatch our own misery!
In a next life lets apply prudence
as well as ‘uncommon sense’ shrewdness
and melting down in glower
let’s hang back & closely observe
the gentle limber flower:
Allow her abiding stillness
to squelch our contentious shrillness
Whether blatant or demure
enticingly ardent
glistens feminine allure
perfectly in guardant
Watch how sprightly us men prance
nudged by a woman’s charm
a lovely lingering glance
rarely fails to disarm
When women stare men shall wither
once locked on women don’t dither
Some time ago Yana, our neighbor, emailed that “in these mean dark times my energy is momentarily diverted into a self-administrated, complete pedicure. For now I’m bettering the world one shiny toenail at a time.”, which inspired this verse:
In moral grime
election slime
among war crime:
She’s right on time!
In these mean dark days
she keeps hope ablaze
cutting through the haze
our Yana allays
Items unfurled
artistic
Rosy toes curled
yogistic
A pedicure
nail by nail.
No sinecure
much travail!
Got wrongs to abolish
with elegant polish
Yana standing tallish
Evil to demolish!
As nostalgia torments
in downpour mistfully
then anemoia augments
in dankness wistfully
Yearnings seize us listfully
churning in eerie whistle
Longings languish fistfully
pounce in zinging sizzle
But why to murky feelings abide
when today awaits saddled to ride?
makes us viewed ‘opinionated’
But glossaries too overweening
& leave us intimidated!
Are words merely something we say?
So might as well be snappy
no need for syntax to obey
Let them roam free & happy!
Are words just something we utter
in verbose clutter & din?
Let them frivolously flutter
& cascade freed from chagrin?
Have words gotten just something we say?
Besides who are listening anyway?
If it requires boundless words
then is it worth saying
bar for literary nerds
conceitedly braying?
But when needs to be addressed
then let’s articulate
Let it be tersely expressed
avoid pontificate
Dazzle us not with harsh Kliegs at night
but bathe us in morning’s soft sunlight
Trend chasing & smart phone prattle
sound to me like empty rattle
It keeps fading my persistence
feeling drained & depleted
Asking haven’t I gone the distance
or am I just conceited?
May I just be left alone?
Chances of change long blown
feeble, soggy my backbone
Hope, once stout, long since flown
In what small time may still be left
please let me not crumble bereft!
In 2016 Hillary Clinton treated voters like neglected dogs, which even so should somehow be expected to happily wave their tails at her. After all one of her slogans mightily presumed: “It’s her turn!’. Some of these long suffering dogs bit her instead.
While low were voter expectations
So what? Been so for generations
Bleak, tawdry that election
discourse stuck inchoate
while she was the selection
of Israel, Kuwait
Worn people like soggy dogs
tails tween legs, buzzed by fleas
on muddy slippery slogs
shook off Hillary’s bees
Campaign’s debates were largely disingenuous
the candidate’s grip on Reality tenuous