aim

by

Whatever Happened

         – to what’s his name –

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Whatever Happened
- to what’s his name - 
Tells of a social game,
In whatever happened
Be to what’s his name,
Or view face of whom
As recall slowly came,
Via beacon so illumed
For its curiosity’s aim,
That might’ve implied
See to be but so and so,
May hold a worthy ply
Save ‘tis another trope 
Put to what’s his name!
                       Ode to the face of reality…

	                                   © Jean-Jacques Fournier

Imagery - personal & Wikimedia Commons
Music – excerpt of Debussy, Chopin, Satie 
Audio – Recital, Jean-Jacques Fournier

                                                               written in Sweetsburg

                                                                      March 3, 2022

                                           

       
by

The Why – of it all –

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The Why   





       – of it all –





 Me, myself 
 And I,
 On the shelf
 Ye ask why,
 Of it all 
 Tho once shy,
 Not the lot
 Yet disguised,
 Or for naught
 Saves one aim, 
 To but hide
 Insecure,  
 Be underside 
 Awaits cure,
 To so bide
 Asks the why, 
 Of it all
 Has one cry,
 May find resolve! 
                                
              © Jean-Jacques Fournier 


    a simple aide-mémoire 
        to remember Conversations,
           save not of the kind to be mistaken 
              with that of Alfred Lord Tennyson’s poem line, 
                “Ours not to reason why, ours but to do and die”
                                                        ...    
            written in Sweetsburg                                            
                 December 31, 2020

 Pictures - private and unknown ...
 Music – excerpt of  Alone Together, by Chet Baker ... 



		
	
			

	
	



			
				



	
	


		
					

				 by 			

				
“ Reflexions ”  ~ of a butterfly ~

	


		

		




There be a time


To thus forget,


Pain would beset


Life’s burden set 


To metamorphosis,


All not immune 


To melee of egress,


Thru primal stage


Of intrinsic crawling,


Till that of taking flight…


 


I may have wished


Primordial remains,


Of furry ravager


Held caterpillar 


But butterfly be my aim,


Watching from on high


With lepidopteran view,


In wilting summer’s sigh 


Sipping morning dew,


The while in reflexion,


Upon world’s progression  


Neath a solstice sky,


Life  chose I’d be a butterfly!