A work in progress…

Listen, I now will tell you a story fair,
Of queen Arabella in a distant land
Her wisdom as wonderful as the golden hair
That playfully flowed over shoulders bare -
Like sunrays glittered every strand.
Her knowledge had no discernful bound;
Every problem graceful answer found
And loving eyes of coolest blue
Like radiant sapphire in their hue
Shone from her head with emerald crowned.
And a multitude of roses gently sprung
From softest soil onto her castle walls
Which made of whitest stone so nobly swung
In rosy arches over ancient halls;
And through those halls her silvery laughter
Rippled like streams in early spring
And gave joyous voice to every living thing
That dancingly followed her thereafter.
Throughout all the kingdom spread her fame
And from far beyond the people came
To see the glory behind Arabella’s name.

…to be continued

(written 2010-07-25)

I wish I had a 9mm gun!
With such a thing, I know I would have fun!
I could wave it ’round,
And make a deaf’ning sound,
And act somewhat like Attila the hun!

I wish I had a nuclear submarine
Gliding ’round, so perfectly unseen!
I’d launch a nuke or two,
Rogue nations to subdue
And laugh inside my evil aqua-machine!

…or maybe not.

It’s hard, an evil genius to be
When there’s so much beautiful to see.
- A flapping butterfly;
White clouds in big, blue sky -
And the love of Christ for such a nut as me.

(skriven 2010-09-24)

Se här, här är nu en speciell adress
Som kommer orsaka mycket stress!
En som i vårt system ej får plats!
Vem, säg vem, är denne Mats?
Utomlands han flyttat, sägs det här
Nej, oj, det blir bara till besvär!
Hör fellistor i vår central skrivs ut,
Och ingen här kan fatta nåt beslut,
För denne Mats, som flyttat västerut!
Nej, nu slår vi stopp – stämpla! – fram med
Blankett arton sjuttiofem, och ge besked!
Fyll i på både bredden och på tvären!
Kontrollera noggrannt alla formulären!
Nej, på pappersexercisen finnes inget slut,
För denne Mats, som flyttat västerut. 

Hej och hå.

Slowly and quietly
Like the meandering river Don
Sears’ Customer Service flows

Watching all the brightly-colored leaves
On bright & sunny autumn days
And how they’re falling off the trees
In their whirlwind kind of dancing ways
Makes me think of how this gentle
Browned-eyed woman swept into my life
And in ways most accidental
Through a strange and wonderous grace
You become my cherished wife.

You are beautiful, mysterious, and sweet
Your love of cheese has seen no bound -
Your grace has swept me off my feet
And in your arms, a home I’ve found.
So with these words, remember this
Said from a heart so full of bliss
In every possible way
I love you, today
You make my heart complete.

I had a strange and curious dream last night
I dreamt my heart grew wings and then took flight
Flew far and wide o’er hills and fields of green
Above those golden clouds, to things unseen -
Plucking roses sweet that never grew
And singing childish rhymes all while I flew.
I touched the sky, I think, with outstretched hand
Drew fine-art paintings in the ocean sand
And swiftly sailed across the deep blue sea
To search for wonders named in poetry.

In this dream I had, I know it’s strange
I dreamt I leaped across a mountain range!
The pinnacles where draped in snowy white
And gleaming in the shining sun so bright.
But linger long up there was not for me,
What worlds that lay beyond I had to see.
Quickly went I down the mountain side
T’was there I saw the meadows open wide.

I stood in flowery grass so tall and green
Such wonderful flowers; I had never seen!
The field rolled gently down towards a stream
Beyond which a city seemed to softly gleam.
It was a city made of purest gold
Of its glory every psalm and hymn had told.
At length I stood there, taking in the sight -
Until a voice spoke softly to my right.

The joy I felt I cannot ever tell
Suffice to say, on my knees I quickly fell.
And on my cheeks, round tears then softly broke
As He, my King of Kings, so sweetly spoke.
“This is the home”, He said, “for you I made;”
“Do not fear, the price has all been paid.”
And from His love I then began to weep -
T’was then, that I awoke out of my sleep.

I had a strange and curious dream last night
I dreamt my heart grew wings and then took flight.
The day will come again when I will fly
Beyond those golden clouds in sunset sky.
And nevermore will I this planet roam
For somewhere over there is home, sweet home.

In the end, what good is this
When gone are all the words you wrote
As time itself, with poignant kiss
Through passing years does now demote
When thoughts expressed, so fresh and young
From ink and pen with boldness sprung
Now lies forlorn in a database remote?

What good is it, when that silvery ideal
That in early dawn then shone so bright
And smithed together with utmost zeal
In words of eloquence and grammatical delight
From indexed view now softly slides
As other fancy memes the public guides
From light of day into a distant night?

So seasons come, and seasons go
And fancy words and posts inane
Like falling leaves in wind and snow
Mutedly are left to fade in vain.
Perhaps, a few, or one or two
Did strike a deeper note with you
What more from this to hope to gain?

Thus like thousand snowflakes in the sky
Unique, thoughtful and succinct
Our blogs and thoughts and posts blow by
Some full of wisdom; and some, indistinct
Into this silent world-wide web of thought –
A brilliant backdrop of ideas that’s wrought
From a world of pages interlinked.

Vi har en duva på kontoret här
Som smiter in och ställer till.
En riktigt förslagen duva den är
Som bygga bo under disken vill.

Se, dörren lämnas öppen en liten stund
Och vem tittar då nyfiket in?
Lilla duvan, som vill få en blund
Under mörka, kalla disken sin.

Finns månne här plats för en liten duva?
Finns det rum för det i vår vision?
Som snällt vill lägga sig och ruva
Eller blir det därmed en kulturkollision?

Blir alla då på duvan arga?
Trots att den är så snäll och fin?
Folk ryter och vill lilla duvan sarga
Och slänga den i en högtrycksturbin?

Kanske det är bäst att låta den flyga
Och bygga bo någon annanstans
När vi ej våra känslor kan tygla
Så den inte får nån sportslig chans.

Så stänger vi försiktigt dörren vår
För vi vill nog inte ha något duve-bo
Trots värmen i alla rum och vrår
Bäst ändå att jobba i lugn och ro.