Be fortunes lost,
And later read
Of human cost,
Be of men dead
By fortunes lost,
Near nation wide
While few survived
Those who did cried,
Brother please
Can you spare a dime,
Was prelude to the times…
While not my bide
Yet fore I’m dead,
Be my expired hide
That you have read,
Might you not now
Allow some doubt,
On held debate,
To spare the while alive
Afore we be deaths bate,
Just but a time,
To be a brother mine!
ode to a lost brother
An old but timeless story, from biblical to ongoing times,
alas of generic proportion…
© Jean-Jacques Fournier
Poetry on a Canapé 
Haunting poem, Jean-Jacques.
Yes, it rather is haunting, isn’t it… though with the ever-increasing speed with which we are forced to adjust and adapt, thus to relate to each other, if but to survive in today’s life, makes that long ago depression era street cry of “brother, can you spare a dime” come to mind, in a more dramatic and frightening manner. Save a dime won’t cut it anymore, because non-breathable air and dead water will get us anyway, unless ???. It must be naivety that keeps me hoping!
Thanks for the inspiration, dear Francina…
Jean-Jacques
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