“ The Book ” – of blank pages –

  An author’s torment – revisited –

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“ The Book ”

         – of blank pages –

A book in search

Of giving birth,

To pages blank,

Free of dearth

Hopes but record,

View so composed

Of words in accord,

To author predisposed

Might ease the way,

That dares initiate

A scribe’s want say,

Without hesitate

When he finds a play,

Empty of intimidate

Upon a virgin page,

The while a book awaits

Words chosen to breathe life,

To the uninhabited posed state

Held be the book, of blank pages!

 

                                    © Jean-Jacques Fournier

                                                     Written in Roma, It. 2013

      Music, Gymnopédie No.1 – Erik Satie …

 

 

“ The Man ” – of two glasses –

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“ The Man ”

       – of two glasses –

He sits to face

Across the table,

An empty space

Tho hardly able,

From time ago

The chair since bare,

Remains aglow,

To still reflect

The face he loved,

There upon the glass

Of a pale rosé…

 

Each forlorn day

In vain he stares,

With musing’s say

One can near feel

Her presence there,    

His mind will trace

Upon that empty chair,

A memory of her face                                                

That will not part

That special place,

Fixed in his heart…

 

Alas the man

Said of two glasses,

Sits so to face

As time so passes,

That empty space

He for a moment dwells,

On a memory only he can tell!

                                                © Jean-Jacques Fournier

remembering the sadness of an habitué,

chez Lou Fassum’s grand dining,

on la Côte dAzur, France …

written in Grasse, November of 2006  

Music, Misty by Stan Getz

   

Ma Bibliothèque – des anciens scribes aux modernes –

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Photo, Bibliothèque Monastère Melk, créer au 12th siècle

Music, Night Driver par The Whole Other

 Ma Bibliothèque

           – des anciens scribes

                         aux modernes –

 

J’ai une bibliothèque

Qui déborde

De livres

Que j’ai lus,

Et d’autres

Se répandent

En histoires

Sommeillant,

Au creux de l’âme,

Pour des yeux las

Avides de vivre

Pour ainsi lire,

Avant de périr…

 

J’ai des livres

Dans les veines,

Me tourmentent,

En peine

D’être écrits

Au lieu de poèmes

Qui me saignent,

Et imprègnent

Les pages vierges

De maints recueils,

A dire vrai

De naissance

Au dernier ancrage,

La destinée finale!

 

                           ôde en quelque sorte, aux bibliothèques…

 

                                                © Jean-Jacques Fournier

 

“ My Bibliotheca ” – from old scribes, to new books –

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Picture, Benedictine Monastery library founded in 1074.

Music, Book The Rental With It, by Rage

“ My Bibliotheca ”

                  – from old scribes,

                                to new books –

I’ve a library

Overflows,

With books

I’ve read,

While some

Want doze,

Tho be tale

Old that flows,

To ones soul

And so wait,

For old eyes

To be fed,

A said read

Afore avid dies…

 

I’ve books

In my veins,

That beg

Till it pains,

To be written

In stead,

Of poems

I’ve bled,

Would imbue

Near all said,

Tells it true

Of held books,

Be page anew

From birth,

Reaching out

Fated to end,

In man’s final berth!

             ode per se, to books held in one’s library…

                                           © Jean-Jacques Fournier

“ La Joie ” – imaginée –

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“ La Joie ”

         – imaginée –

La Joie réelle

Atteinte,

Je n’en croyais

De mon vécu,

N’était qu’un rêve,

Perçu toutefois

Comme de la soie,

Quoique doublé

D’une vie ridée,

Même si parfois

Brodé de roses,

Semblait une joie

Sans cause

Que l’on s’impose…

                                                                                                                            

Et pour cette joie

Affaire imaginaire,

De rêves déserts,                              

D’une vie non façonnée

Qu’incite à découvrir

Une joie faussée

Quand même remplie de vie

Et de beauté non inventée,

Une joie d’un amour éprouvé!

                               A la recherche d’un souvenir de jeune homme!                                               

                                              © Jean-Jacques Fournier                                                                            

Art, La Joie de Vivre, Henri Matisse

Music, Kai Engel, Cabaret

 

 

 

“ A Joy ” – imagined –

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Art, The Joy of Life, Henri Matisse

Music, Kai Engel, Cabetet

“ A Joy ”

      – imagined –

A joy extant infers

Fate lets attain,

I find imagine

What ought contain,

Stuff be of dreams

Imaging the silken,

Rather than lined

In matters coarse,

Though often times

Joy be dark horse,

To masquerade

Masked as a rose,

In joyless shade,

Wanting but dispose…

 

Yet be this joy

Illusion’s dope,

Thirsting to enjoy

We live in hope,

Yet sadly fantasize

In musings empty,

Waiting joy incites

A moment of delight

To more than but survive!

                        A young man’s search recalling joy…

                                                © Jean-Jacques Fournier

“ Life Is But A Minute ” – held implied as a lifetime –

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“ Life Is But A Minute ”

              – held implied as a lifetime –

The Journey starts

Tho soon too fast,

And way off chart

Predestined cast,

Scarce one recalls

What life is to last,

The span of its all

Save less ye forget,

Said be our lifeline

This nascence day,

Thus a minute past

Had found its way,

A birth ye may ask,

As it came together

Seeks its short stay,

In echo of ones other…

 

Life soon will wither

While none to waste

Pardon my rancour,

Of they who crowd

Or find to anchor,

On my fleeting pace

With so little living,

I reason make haste…

 

With hint to soon rest,

Lying neath memories

Of its life’s alleged fest,

My back to its epitaph

For all who have been,

Knew well to find daft

Held implied as a lifetime,

Denies life is but a minute!

                                 © Jean-Jacques Fournier

              Music, One Minute Waltz, (1847) Fryderyk Chopin

“ A Vortex ” – has ye bound –

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   Painting, Cavalier Michele Federico, early 1900s

              Music, Kai Engel –Brand New World…

“ A Vortex ”

            – has ye bound –

Held the mind

Is as a vortex,

Of firm define

In ones cortex,

That be vassal

Has us bound,

Yet bedazzled

In otiose sound,

Will so frazzle

While ‘tis said

Sets a ground,

That unfolds

For its ascent,

Aims behold

Fated meant,

To be so bold

In bid chance,

Ye are in wake

Of life’s dance,

Young or old

To find taste,

While it holds

For too soon

We are waste,

To be strewn

Without grace,

As out of tune

Thus to find face,

For underground

Option said place,

Short on rebound

Despite vortex mind,

That alleges has ye bound!

                                                         © Jean-Jacques Fournier

                                                                     June 2020

 

“ I Am The Colour ” – of human disorder –

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“ I Am The Colour ”            

                    – of human disorder –

I am the colour

Of human disorder,

That shades the stay

Of man made suffer,

While held at bay

Be cause of such pallor,

In ominous way

With spurious cover,

Feigning fair play

To thus be so coloured,

With doubtful recover

For fated mankind,

Bears not colour’s assign…

 

I an the colour,

Of human disorder!

 

             © Jean-Jacques Fournier

Music, Dark Cloud…

 

“ Sandboxes ” – and rainbows –

                                                   Listen to audio

“ Sandboxes ”

              – and rainbows –

                              revisited –

Time played us so

Carefree of puerile,

As though forever

We’d live the while,

In wishful rainbows

That so beguiled,

Till hint of shadow

When of a sudden,

We’re cast adrift

Of childhood days,

Denied of sandboxes

Thus to find our way…

Now adult vision

Edges to fashion,

Of chance choices

In unlike passions,

Be soon worn thin

Held best assume,

Find remote whim

Of wearisome spins…

Yet period plagues

With insipid wishes,

And easy daydreams

Of undying rainbows,

In sandbox dwellings!

                        © Jean-Jacques Fournier

                                    o.v. 1^st written Summer of 1983, in LA, California

         Painting, Children playing in a sandbox by James Le Jeune

                     Music, Kevin MacLeod – Incompetech Air Prelude #15