He’s not immune
To implausible dreams,
Those he dares
Meant be so bold,
He’ll forego care
That be not in tune,
To imaged notions
Of man-made reason,
For his give life
To every season…
—
Shovelling clouds
He clears a path
Thru stayed emotions,
That but dictate
One ought fear life
Of dreams that urge
We build a world
With clouds of wonder,
Thus so forsaking
Man’s dreary rituals,
He’ll shovel clouds
To so lay bare
The dreams he dares!
© Jean-Jacques Fournier
Ode to Denis Chagnon
I am the crow,
In a grave
Dark world,
A soul in plight
Black as the night,
Forced to live
An endless flight,
Looking for a path
To the freedom I seek,
As anxiety nears
This wizened meek,
Who’ll suffer hell
Or fly with the devil
For a ray of light
That shows way clear,
To end one’s journeys
In the dead of night!
I’d know the music
Just by listening
To the patter
On the floor upstairs,
And the pulse
That cajoles her feet
To a mystifying beat,
For she capers
Like it matters
With melodic flair,
In a rhythm she adorns
Be the center of a storm,
Frenzied to a level
That shan’t be mistaken
As a dancer who conforms…
She’s a devil I can tell
As her dance casts a spell,
Thus follow I with ease
If she decides to leave
Tho it led me right to hell,
Just so I can listen
To this dancer’s patter,
On the floor upstairs!
He still sees clearly
The laughter
In her eyes,
Often times
Meant but to hide
The anguish
Felt inside,
Or to hold back
A mother’s tears
When in its stead
A warm embrace
Would take its place…
While yet unknown
As sheep said black,
Set to make tracks
Upon a world untried
He’d soon discern
Life’s perilous facts
Bids not an easy ride…
More than enough
Of life’s reflections,
He thus awakens
To look back
On years ago,
Where lines of colour
Now so blurred,
He barely sees
The faded image
Of what he’d lived,
Ever more obscured,
Thru reflections
Of a changing eye! Ode to mothers…
A bold feeling
Has not so many
Liberal days,
Free of inhibiting
Worthy sway,
When sceptic minds
Ignore the freedom
Of emotive ways,
That bold feeling
Which whispers
Of its presence,
And has you feel
More than alive…
So reach out
To such a gift,
That it should stay
If ‘tis your wish,
In spite the risk
Want be in vain,
That a bold feeling
Whispers not again!
I question why
The best of life
Be ephemeral,
And chose be late,
Thus in no haste
To hear the voices
That decry
The slower pace,
To reach in time
That treasured place,
Where equipoise
Finds peace of mind,
Tho meager space
This longed for state,
When man rejoices
From wisdom’s take,
Which will but come
In the twilight
Of his journey…
And so I look
Across the table,
Where I see light
Reflected bright,
In eyes that tell
Of the best in life,
I’ve yet to live! Ode to Marianne D
I might’ve been aware
There’d be a day,
When musings then
That feed the mind,
Could end,
Thus ne’er to reach
Its destiny,
And tho the thought
‘Twas meant be there
To foster the way,
A durable stay
Would be no longer,
Its journey gone astray…
Alas my musings
Of minor import
And meagre birth,
Or modest merit,
Some bent so odd
Did come to naught,
But thoughts they be,
And some of which
Destined to build,
Perhaps of worth
To spark ones will,
Would’ve so fashioned
A rare but noble thrust,
To achieve a notability,
Tho now an egress lost
Would fail to reach,
Such musings
That fed my mind!
At last a thought
Did find its way,
To a mind lost
Hence so to stay,
Without decline
That thus in time
Ought so entice
Others should find,
Compose ensemble
Might come to mind,
Where thought
Had once left off,
The while lost
On limbo’s cusp,
As thought to mind!
I am the hawk,
Not a devil’s soul
Seeking to swallow
Whatever life holds,
I can fly or glide
By a rich man’s side,
The while I express
My freedom best
On the wind I ride,
Tho choose not thus
In this my kingdom
What man will lust,
Hence the prey I seek
I’ll not hoard spoils
For greed’s replete,
Like man deems fit
To exploit the weak,
Be they man or beast!
I’d come full circle
With my existence,
And in the process
Rediscovered
The long absence
Of a functioning soul…
Having once wagered
With the devil,
To challenge his evil
And supposed power,
I felt so bold
As to believe
I’d be too strong
For him to hold,
Yet thus for naught
My reckless bid
For I did loose the lot,
And so my soul
Remains well hid
In Lucifer’s control…
With meagre aspirations
I plot to recover
My soul in devil’s stead,
The while I remain
Feeling short of dead,
In Lucifer’s domain
As I seek reunion
With a soul unread!
Poetry on a Canapé 