“ Conjugated People ” ~ by shade ~


People are played

To lend disorder,

Sorted by shade

Ranked in colour,

Thus to persuade                                                        

Reluctant objectors,

Thence to dissuade

They who so claim,

Black white or other

Meant be the same,

Yet ignore brothers

Made suffer in vain,

A hand that fosters

Segregationist game,

To ostracize druthers

While man plays blind,

To coloured skin cause

Gives marginalized time,

And its racists’ applause

Conjugates them by shade,

Fixed in fellowman’s mind!

                                       oh to find survive, as a one people world,

                                                         with a rainbow coloured spine!

  © Jean-Jacques Fournier



“ Life’s Time ” ~ left behind ~

In my life past,

I may have left

Some time pass,

Thus feel bereft

So precious be,

Its loss apes theft

Be sad discovery,

 One shan’t forget

Its careless waste,

Fills me with regret

For time left behind,

Thru foolish neglect

With risk ne’er find,

Be days edged lost

Has me resigned,

Demons tilt recall

Beg gives attention,

Save be offer small

Could ere well lead,

To one recovering all

With ostensible speed,

For it’s ne’er too late

To find time left behind!


“ Idle Wade ” ~ to escape pathos ~

Ye squander time

Lacking the know

Of rapid decline,

Or how long to go

Before its consign,

Will find abuse

Hence so resign,                                                           

From inert pursuit

Of animate minds,

Whose idle wade

Be comatose blind,

In a pathos shade

Of life’s meagre time!


“ My Septembers ” ~ for a time beguiled ~

It seems a long long while

Since my first September,

When I was but a child

With little to remember,

Would for a time beguile

What mind found render,

Bar be time on my hands

Allowed youth meander,

To later years September

Till too soon understands

A day there’ll be no other,

For life assured ill stands

Save to reach life closure,

Tho not a very long while

Measures the meagre stead,

From first steps to immobile

Held borders bland to dead,

Said be last of my Septembers!

“ You Want Black ” ~ in a world so marred ~

You want black

It won’t be far,

You find tracts

Of spirit’s char,

You want dark

Just look about,

Man fixed stark

And imaged sad,

In fare he’s spun

Yet ne’er regard,

The ruin he runs

To distort colour,

That will blur sun

Thus attain pallor,

Till dark turns black

In a world so marred,

There be no turning back!

                                                           ode to Leonard Cohen



“ A Short Death ” ~ be nocturnal sleep ~

One comes to terms

With nocturnal sleep,

Be cause for concern

It stays as brief keep,

Of enduring sojourn

To enjoy its breadth,

Save in transient term

Be but a short death,

That has us come back

In a day breaking way,

Tho ne’er assured fact

Let wishful thought play,

Thus so for more than a day!