Morning exercise

I woke up earlier than my friend,

Had to be quiet, did not want to pretend

To still be asleep, so I went out

Lay on the ground, grass under snout.

I breathed in and extended my back,

Felt the movement of the muscles, then felt the crack.

It didn’t hurt, just woke me up,

No pain whatsoever, yup yup.

Side extensions and planking as well

This Sunday morning was turning out swell.

A silent solace as my body sings,

As I stood up, I noticed my wings.

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A bird of bad weather

Pahanilmanlintu, a bird of bad weather (pahanilman = of bad weather [paha = bad, ilma = air/weather], lintu = bird).

 

Someone who always foretells bad future,

A doomsayer, a human psychology-moocher,

In Finnish is called a bird of bad weather.

I like it, a small, frail creature of feather

Singing in its voice of a rain that’s coming.

You can always try to drown it out with humming,

But the melody is there always bringing you down

The bird gets happy if it ever sees a frown

Starts singing louder, with enhanced vigor.

To keep your cool, you require some rigor.

The bird gets off on making you annoyed,

Afraid, stressed, slightly paranoid.

Its singing doesn’t reflect the reality at all,

Just a good way for it to feel tall.

Ignore it, live your life like you do,

When bored, it’ll go. Not if you shoo.

Company of friends

I’m mostly comfortable when I’m with friends

Telling all the jokes that don’t make any sense

Being too loud and slightly too physical

Expressions of love, nonstandard and quizzical.

With a group of strangers, downcast eyes,

Which, in the end, is not very wise.

Not one for you and even less for me

Along good friends is the best place to be.

But even better is to make it always so,

How to do that, is what I’d like to know.

I could be me in a company of thieves

Company of farmers, company of Jeeves.

I will now embark on a quest for knowledge

To learn this secret not taught in college.

Kayak trip

I went on a kayak trip today and I’m pooped.

So very tired, muscles too tightly-grouped.

It’s pretty fun, though, fighting the waves,

To use them right, make them my slaves.

90 degrees is just the right angle,

To break their spines and to not entangle.

Against them wasn’t as much fun as with,

Like the difference between the Jedi and the Sith.

The sun, super-hot, might’ve been my death,

But luckily there was a cooling breath,

Caused by the enthusiasm of my technique,

Not that efficient, but good for the physique.

My friends complained something about the splashes

And the unintentional kaya-crashes,

But “Stuff happens to the Doer”, as we say in Finnish,

And our good moods never did diminish.

Afterwards when it was the time for a meal,

The fork felt heavier than a beam of steel.

Warm recommendations from me to you

Kayak if you can, enjoy the endless blue.

On the edge

Standing on the precipice of an endless void,

If you fell in you would be destroyed,

But you can’t escape, it draws you in,

When you look down your head starts to spin.

So you stand there fearing for a thousand years

Stuck in one place, controlled by your fears.

Would you jump in to an almost certain death?

Would it be better than feeling its cold breath?

Perpetual fear or possible demise?

At least falling down you might see endless skies,

That is, if you could, falling might be lies.

Pollinating

Ow! That was almost a liter of me!

It’s almost as if you weren’t really a bee

Pollinating my earlobes with good intent

But a neck-biting bloodsucker fresh from lent.

But I trust you Alucard, my dear friend,

You must be a bee with the way you ascend,

With a buzz of your two large leather wings,

Not really a buzz, hmm, funny things…

It was nice to see my friend once more,

But, boy oh boy, does my neck feel sore.

I’ll have to pay more mind to how I lie

Now when I nap, or as I try,

As I feel tired and just a bit faint,

Which makes me snore without a restraint.

Being pollinated takes its toll,

But I have to play my designated role.

Rain surfing

When it rains and you’re just a bug,

You’d think the droplets would give you a tug

Or even worse, they’d make you crash,

But no, most people would pay good cash

To surf on them like mosquitoes do,

As they home in on me and on you too.

Big fat droplets or the tiniest drizzle

Will not cause them to plummet and fizzle.

I think they enjoy it, they like it alright,

They must do it in secret in the short summer night.

None of us around, they organize a school

“Surf in the air: Even you can be cool!”