Tea Toast & Trivia – An interview By Rebecca Budd with Jean-Jacques Fournier

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“ 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

 

 

“ Love ” – of my life –

There is a love

In my life,

That is the love

Of my life,

And far above

My recites,

Or gods of love

Who bid light,

A state defines

Exquisite sight,

Fate so assigns

For my delight,

Until life runs

Me out of time!

                                                            for and about Marianne,

                                                                         love of my life,

                                                                              in its 17th year

                                                                                     of  thaumaturgy delight…!

© Jean-Jacques Fournier

P.S. this poem will appear in my new published book #16, soon to be released, entitled;

Love – by any definition –    A Collection Of Love Poems … in a Poetry on a Canapé book…

 

 

 

“ Dream Merchants ” – be not what they seem –

The merchants of dream

Are not what they seem,

Hence I caution beware

If ye chance let them in,

Apathetic to a risky dare

Know exploit they within,

As dream merchants play

So to get neath your skin,

Till trapped made to stay…

 

Of their dreams be alert

Tho you might judge fair,

They’ll distort and divert

As you indulge their spin,

What’s at stake be aware

You may find but chagrin,

And a pawn for their fare…

 

Ye soon find be soul bare

Tho merchants find grin,

At feed of deviant affairs

Best not chance ye begin,

For wise ought avoid airs

Of the narcissistic strings,

Held to keep you unaware

Of dreams ne’er fated fair…

 

Dream merchants shroud

They but sell their hot air,

Fake fine weather clouds

And what gullible bears,

Of ne’er ending sunshine

During hurricane seasons…

 

Their dreams of effusion

Suggest wouldst be real,

Are but empty illusions

With an unfulfilled zeal,

When too late to discover

Soul they managed steal,

As self crafted merchants

Of dreams meant disappear!

                                                                 a dedication to vivid imaginations,

                                                                        in search of honesty and meritocracy…

                                                  © Jean-Jacques Fournier