Not Poetry. Quatrain Verse in English & Swedish. Dagsverser. On the Mundane & the Arcane.
on checking your mirror
that whistles blew, bells would chime
seeing yourself clearer?
That in reflection
on inspection
saw not perfection
or affection?
Mere mediocrity, schmuck!
Rarely reached, often worse:
Barely scraping by in luck
until pulls up the hearse.
(+)
schmuck = (Yiddish) a jerk
My presence turned sallow
gotten gray & old
Insipid & shallow
shuffling like a troll
Seeking out quietude
and tranquility
scrounging each interlude
for sanguinity
Uneasily did plumb
the depth of my soul:
Found it still callow, numb
though perhaps bit droll?
In my youth I held higher hopes
than retire as one of Life’s dopes
By remorse acquainted
have tried paint over my past
but by past I’m tainted
so the gloss just would not last
My body dinged, dented
mind mushed, fermented
my poor soul tormented
A Life repented
On Life’s ladder I wobble estranged
fear being put in the ground unchanged