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Flyacious flight in Fall

They used to all together
peskily be swarming
flew in all sorts of weather
as well farm ‘barn storming’

Now one buzzes alone
feebly, risking stall
by cold, shifting winds blown:
The Last Fly of Fall

Flight pattern erratic
dropped altitude
traumatic, near static
down on attitude

Hark jarring vibration!
Horror! Airspeed drops!
Fatal vacillation!
Tail spin, then fly flops!

It has crashed, feet in air:
its worn wings wrinkled
lit emergency flare
shows fly parts sprinkled

A fly whom the Gods love dives young
still vivacious, hellacious!
Those who fly too long live unsung:
turn loquacious, vexatious!

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The situation is hopeless but not desperate

Had hoped for another dimension
of roaring and soaring ascent
trying to stand up to convention
been dreaming of dashing dissent

By now I’m better versed:
found species mainly slighted
Human existence cursed
on plundered planet blighted

While the situation seems hopeless
grant me be courageous and mope less!

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Grinding coffee by hand

The grinder manual
a squeaking jewel
of process natural
zestful ritual

Among machines
manual is ‘end’
that fulfills ‘means’
in transcendent blend

We shall be finding
pure peace of mind
when by hand grinding
New shifts align:

Caffeinated manna
wondrously falls, wends
In pure dulciana
fragile fragrance scends

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Dancing on the pedals

Give your proud legs the chance
to warm, to limber
then set out, watch them prance
in cadenced timbre

Pure pedal powering
in strongest mettle
like petals flowering
in finest fettle

Below blossoms gliding
tires spinning, scouring
boundless bounty riding
while miles devouring

Dancing away on the pedals
in purest joy mystical
beyond mere racing for medals
Living movement lyrical!

+)
cadence = the measure of rhythmical motion; cycling: the number of revolutions of the crank per minute

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When weltschmerz abates

My poor heart’s own share of weltschmerz
abates by writing each day
While measured still in kilohertz
keeps disquietude at bay

as well when on bike rides
or admiring a flower
then restlessness subsides
dims futility’s glower

Absorbed in a calm pursuit
in and of its own end
whether in itself minute
ain’t that when we transcend?

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Unfolding petals lustrous, contrasting humans blusterous

When Spring blossom releases
with inexorable mettle
bit like coming to Jesus
amidst bursts of finest fettle?

Unfolding petals lustrous
bursting in anthesis soundless
Contrasting humans blusterous
in their nauseous noise boundless

Ethereally endowed
each staunch bantam blossom
grows eternally unbowed
fulfills presence awesome

While Nature stays in full control
mere arrogance the human role

+)
anthesis = the flowering period of a plant, from the opening of the flower bud

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Flawless Summer streaming

Flawless Summer streaming
muffles all human shrillness
we’re awake whilst dreaming
float in shimmering stillness

Movements oneness
Heavens soundless
Warm Earth boundless
Nature wordless

By nature’s glistening surfeit
our mere mortal senses brimmed
Resting now from clawing circuit

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Daybreak

Daybreak birds of searching screeches
as bleak sunlight softly infuses
soaring beyond treetops’ reaches
eager flock, the new day beseeches

Where night & day intersect
her head, arm lightly rest
as nature, humans affect
on his warm, heaving chest

Not for long: Trust human’s stubborn devotion
harmony to squelch in jarring commotion

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What is it coming to this world?

Stolid Sweden 1950:
Grandma daily read the news
Life then was safe, sane & nifty
even so she ‘cried the blues’

Bemoaned through ages old persons:
“What’s it coming to this world?”
Alarming how quick it worsens
changes nakedly unfurl!

These days no longer perception
It’s here: Impending Collapse
way beyond aging’s deception
For humans its ‘bugling taps’ …

 

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Flailing words of squawk & schlock

Mortal Socrates and Jesus Divine
left behind not a single written line

Since then many others have rather
penned in infinite profusion
Much, be it elegant, still blather
compounding human confusion

Swift, countless like birds
in shrieking flock
failing, flailing words
of squawk & schlock

Awkward sentences churning
leave us achingly yearning