“ Reaching ” – the edge, of life’s design –

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“ Reaching ”

  – the edge, of life’s design –

        

I’ve journeyed    
Far and long,
At times hurried
Thus to prolong,
That meagre stay
Palpably foregone,
A notable evidence
Recall diminishes,
By limited passage
Thru hazy distances
Now on the ledge,
Blurring defines
Life may allege,
Tho be insistent
Prays on a mind,
To suffer existence
In dwindling time,
Tho but an instant
By recall’s decline,
Reaching the edge
Of life’s design,
Fate shan’t pledge
Be shadows assign,
To offer life hedge
On finale it deigns,
Past illusion held fast
As image perceived disappears,
In the dusk of a lifespan once cast!  

  
              © Jean-Jacques Fournier 
    
                  written in Sweetsburg
                                 October 25, 2020
 
Imagery – MD & private collection –
Music - excerpt from Rimsky-Korsakov's Scheherazade op.35

“ A Hyphenated World ” – held fitting guise –

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“ A Hyphenated World ”

                   – held fitting guise –

‘Tis a fitting guise

A hyphenated world,

Of hyphenated people

Barely joined together,

By shortest of lines

Save in desperate times,

If but to stay alive

Until next apprise,

Holds indefinite man

If he is to survive,

Until discord subsides

Tho wanting to encage

He’ll once more fractionize,

By manipulating stage…

In a language to divide

That largely means create

A hyphenated bide,

Trusted so to populate

Heedless of unwise,

Words fixed to engage

By language brigade,

Who spreads confusion

Among the lesser wise,

Maximize demand

To maintain disguise,

Of the hyphenated men

Who power world divides!

                                               © Jean-Jacques Fournier

Photos – by Marianne D. & private collection –

Music – excerpt from Leaving, by Chet Baker –

“ Where The Lost Abound ” – desperate to be whole –

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“ Where The Lost Abound ”

                      – desperate to be whole –

In small cafes,

I sat around

Watching arrays

Of lost abound,

There but to play

Said morose lives,

That slip away

With wary anguish…

I linger here

To write of life,

That so abounds

In abysmal strife,

Till muse absconds

Urge to describe,

Their sad parade

In a despondency

That blurs its find,

Yet when about

To write the line,

Their faces fade                                                                                      

 As tho I’m blind…

So as I glimpse

This pot-pourri,

A mere semblance

Of the reality I see,

In a poor writ play

Of wretched beings,  

Moving mindlessly

Looking for a soul,                      

As they move round, 

Desperate to be whole

Thru that turbulent sea,                                                                                     

Where the lost abound!

                                             © Jean-Jacques Fournier

Music, Lazy Sunday- by Smooth Jazz

Pictures , MD and private collection

“ Friend ” – a singular entitlement –

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“ Friend ”

        – a singular entitlement –

Why do they call me friend…

What is their cause

Or purpose

To judge me worthy,

That they should levy

Such expression of regard,

Entrust this much

Responsibility,

To be bestowed

Upon my person,

Thus be asked to manage

With this impressive status…

And to this title friend

A singular entitlement,

Who finds possess

Such impartiality,

Could deem me deserving

Or indeed of capability,

To discharge such obligation

Required and implied,

One has that ability

When one is given title,

That of being called friend…

Why do they call me friend!

 

                                         © Jean-Jacques Fournier

                                                                           written in Vence

                                                                                     March 19, 2002

Photos – by MD & Private collection

Music – by Elegant Saturday Jazz