“ The Last Train ” – may have gone –

I’d bought in too

A youth’s fallacy,

Ye want find true

Save failed to see,

Fate shan’t renew

A life forever be,

Tho we continue

Frivolously free,

To ponder pursue

And endlessly roam,

Tho state of askew

Too far from home,

Long past ye renew

Will find one alone,

When the last train

Now may have gone!

             © Jean-Jacques Fournier

 

 

 

 

“ Silence ” – for gratuitous reason –

Why must I bide

To hear but sounds

Of silence,

At times a virtue

Now but a chide,

Thus weary I be

Ever waiting                             

On verbosity,

That might reflect                                                           

A hint of life…

           

Might I propose

In shades betwixt,

Effort compose

To so thus fix,

The emptiness                                                              

Of inert silence,

And the tedium

Of verbose prolix…

 

A word or more

I so implore

Even neath

The aural norm,

Albeit to tease

In lieu of please,

To save from silence

Held for gratuitous reason!

                                                             © Jean-Jacques Fournier

 

 

“ The Gift ” – of you –

I want not to forget

Fail having tried,

Or simply accept

I’ve reason to regret,

Mindful so I could

Be able to affect,

Without need to try

As if I could deny,

Our love grew beyond

You being easy on the eye…

 

I wanted to recall,

The times you tried

Offering your all,

And I too blind to see

Might’ve realized,

You so needed me,

As I you even more

Tho the gift offered,

I ne’er realized before

Had always been of you …

 

Doesn’t tax one’s memory

To recall there’d been many,

But none the worth, if any

Yet didn’t know enough

I’d the gift of you to hold,

But only now can tell

When grown wiser old,

While you, now too long gone

Be the gift, for someone else to hold!

 

                                                           written in Grasse France           

                                                                                     © Jean-Jacques Fournier

 

 

 

Love – by any definition –

I am pleased to now announce…

the publication of my 16th book of poems !

LOVE  – by any definition –

                 A collection of Love Poems,

 

A new book of Poetry on a Canapé

Untitled   Love – by any definition –

A Collection of Love Poems,

For more information, and preview of the book, click here

 

 

“ We The Homeless ” – not by choice –

It’s not by choice,

We’ve but the street

For our new host,

In this life gone bleak

It be thus a last resort,

Begs we’d not seek

Wanting as consort,

Held so to speak

Apt be a gritty ghost,

Led we live incomplete

Having lost one’s voice,

Mindful of our fate

Now being without choice,

In a discombobulated state

That be life on the street,

The while this last resort

Be until we are too weak,

To drag our bones to port

In a life of empty options,

That be for we the homeless,

Held fixed to muted notions

Reduced we be to nameless,

Drifting in crowded sad seclusion

We’ve to live as shadows on the street…

 

Suffer alas said we the homeless

In a populous fashioned by human apathy,

Offered in overwhelming abundance

To a growing number of ignored failed voices…

 

We the homeless, not by choice!

 

                                                          © Jean-Jacques Fournier

 

 

 

“ Don’t Stop ” – for egoist thought –

There’s a part of us

That will not stop,

Tugged by the other

With egoist thought,

On all that matters

Of living life sought,

As an ultimate factor

Would dissertate not,

What the other fosters

Said vantage together,

For what soul bought

And so found garner,

As life’s integral state

Should now discover,

Be of dubious grace

Soul can but borrow,

Of ones meagre space

Held bogus of equity,

Amounting to nought

Put aside the self-pity,

With brief time’s allot

For extent it shall hold,

That may ne’er realize,

Dream of eon time bold

In life borrowed implied…

 

Yet want part of don’t stop

From newborn to grow old

Hence want reaching till dust!

 

                                                       © Jean-Jacques Fournier