Not Poetry. Quatrain Verse in English & Swedish. Dagsverser. On the Mundane & the Arcane.
Why let days blur by in caprice
like, glimpsed through train windows, power poles?
There’s only in the moment peace
for our harried hearts & arid souls
Whether dawns again the morrow
or fades yet another day
lets relish joy amidst sorrow
Or tell me another way?
I’d maintain living in The Moment
is Humanity’s best bestowment …
When young he hid out in the shadows of life
only in shallowest waters he’d wade
Reluctant to engage Life’s beauty & strife
rarely testing whether would make the grade
Pedaled quietly head down
flaunted Life’s ‘how & why’
with a ‘look am busy!’ frown
hoping just to glide by …
His Earthly Welcome now overstayed
turned old, cold, bowed, slowed, frayed & staid
His entrails twisted by ‘regret’s blade’
The ‘grave digger’ fingers his spade
A geezer mildly fearful of Hades
long time now since in his modest heydays
With aging it may prove opportune
willingly to depart the stage
with dignity to face our ‘high noon’
turn the age appropriate page?
Better renounce the charade
before boos & whistle
All performances shall fade
fidgety crowds bristle
Rather leaving still carried by cheers
spared humiliation, crying
if having been thrown out on our ears
midst rotten tomatoes flying
Step aside, pointless to feign
time to bring out the champagne!
+)
-high noon = here: facing something unavoidable if we aspire to some measure of courage & integrity; title of 1952 film
We grin while from all sides beset
gleaming gadgets stock-piling
slogging in usurious debt
but offers so beguiling!
When jokes rarely hilarious
what remains entertaining?
In crowds we fake gregarious
Clarity of thought waning
Jaded discouragement reigning
fizzled our aspirations
Interest, engagement feigning
parched by drought our flirtations
Energy too quickly drained
Events uninspiring
Faculties eerily strained
Even sleep turned tiring
Taste blandly the same most meals
Phone & computer hacked
Distracted by doltish deals
Life’s precious china cracked
So, would it not be overdue
to leave Life’s ‘silly season’
where way too much has gone askew
and instead pursue reason?
Life, o so bright and carefree
when nibbling sweets dainty
at mannered afternoon tea
sipped with persons fainty
But when living shallowly
our yearnings end up quenched
leaving us stuck callowly
From Life’s game we’ll be benched
There is simply no shelter
from Life’s worries & welter
Saving time only to see it squandered
on ‘easy come, easy go’ paths wandered?
Time rules in our enslaved existence
so we keep up the frantic fuss
traipsing the ‘path of least resistance’
and allowing it to own us
In ‘me first’ scuffles we collude
amidst unrelenting rush
Noses to multiple screens glued
Gush, much fuss. Not enough blush
So then why not let ‘mindful & slow’
rather than ’scurrying nonplussed’
prevail as the default way to go
chancing to let settle the dust?
Living at our own pace
let’s us wander with grace
Av regnig tung snö kysst
sviktar trädets veka kvist
snön slinter utan knyst
p.g.a. kylig platsbrist
Innan fotspår sällskapande
vilar snöns mantel orörd
Innan skottande, skrapande
låg stillheten helt ostörd
Trots att vackert utan måtta
otåligt måste vi skotta
Sun rays still Summer tinted
amidst boisterous breeze
We peer at, through eyes squinted
cartwheeling grounded leaves
Letting go, sailing from trees
leaves piling up wilted
as cushy carpets cerise
yellow & brown quilted
Leaves losing grip, bailing
Naked branches wailing
I do hear you, sure
but my ‘pastime’
silly, bit obscure
is quatrain rhyme
Perhaps corralled conceit
shuffling in dull dance?
Mere bleats from verse effete
in limping cadence?
Surely slight nuisance compared
to all that what you’ve been spared?
edited 07/14/24 0835
In universe, who knows ‘created’
most human lives cold & cruel
precarious while inundated
by predators’ gnash, growl & drool
Human character malicious
too many a morsel wrenched
in tempers raging flagitious
out from pale fists tightly clenched
We’re contused in careening
searching Life for traction
Agonizing for meaning
detoured by distraction
If Life’s a ‘circus’
strive to be its lions
who in poked percuss
still roar in defiance
By vicious whips cracked
as raw welts burn
odds cruelly stacked
Still breathe to yearn
But never lose hope
with courage, flair
try changing the scope
Stare down despair:
Straighten from our serfly stance
from talk in abstraction
Embrace your life as romance
with steadfast exaction!
Human Life’s but a fleeting dash
til it ends in merciless crash