Brother – can you spare the time –

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Brother

       – can you spare the time –

The while not my bide
To thus beg for a dime,
For my perishing hide 
Too soon had its time,
Hence afore I’m dead
Mightn’t one not tout,
If you hadn’t yet read
I am no more about,
For ominous debate 
May but allow doubt,
Afore I be deaths bate 
Ought find while alive,
Can you spare the time,
A word or more tho late
To be that brother mine!


                           ode to a lost brother…


		                   © Jean-Jacques Fournier

Recalling those stories
Of the great depression,
In 1929 to 1933 to WW2
Be common to the times,
Being prelude to ill ease 
Found compose a poem,
Implores please, Brother 
Can you spare a dime, 
As the situate entreats
Thus to spare the time!

Images - Private & public
Music - Misery, by Jani Ukkonen
Audio recital – Jean-Jacques Fournier



	             ov written in Sweetsburg
	                   January 19, 2013
                            abridged edition 
                              June 21, 2021

“ Stop The World ” – I want to get off – revisited –

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“ Stop The World ”

            – I want to get off –

Stop the world,

I want to get off,

Its lethal whirl

I’ve had enough,

Held toxic while

Man efforts cure,

To anew beguile

Alters not lure,

Of endless excess

Or denied blame,

Nor will it redress

Its damage insane,

Man culls confess

Of liable fed game,

To play you along

Be without shame,

Of what suits best

For his world cast,

That yet but infests

So increasingly fast,

And gives not a rest

Despite beg antics daft,

With now barely time left!

                                           Ode to voices of empty rhetoric

                                                                    © Jean-Jacques Fournier

                                                                                         July 10, 2020

             Music – Stravinsky’s, The Rite of Spring

 

 

“ 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

“ A Thought ” ~ I beg hold ~

On my mind

Be a thought

I beg hold,

Plead ought

Despite told,

Stated recall

Running cold,

As age’s gift

Aims uphold,

Its fated way

To so define,

A wary play

For its time,

Be a thought

In grey mind,

Slipping away

Denied bind,

Despite sway

Means to find,

Its abject guide,

That it may stay

As thought of worth ,

To indulge fading days!

                        © Jean-Jacques Fournier

 

“ Hiding ”~ inside time ~

We chose hiding

Thus not to see,

Days accumulate

In fulgent degree,

Beg to decelerate

Its senescence art,

For to compensate

By young at heart,

Would inside time

Only suffer to hide,

From fading mind

We allege ‘tis alive,

In its state of decline!

 

“ Finding One’s Legs ” ~ for walking you have left ~

You’d expect legs,

Knowing they be

More than we see

Do what one begs,

From beyond when

You knew not then,

Legs meant to carry

Shortly thereafter

We had been born,

Till body falters

Without we’d known

Legs made of bone,

Rust in wearing flesh

Yet hold their own,

Destined to walk

Or stand alone,

In just such stead,

Save loosing legs

Least not till we be dead,

Thus find no reason

To lament or beg,

Save fate chose compose

You won’t last the load,

Tho you want them back

Means to find one’s legs,

Be now cane, stick or peg

For the walking you have left!

                                                            ode to the pleasures of aging,

                                                                   and the friends who’ve arrived.

“ Men In Doubt ”

Still matters not
What matter be,
Keeps us in doubt,
When we need beg
Man finds beware
Be signs of drought,
Denies survival’s fare,
Wants mankind other
Save watching brothers
Who snoop to but ensnare,
Thus pry on one another!

“ A Voice Unheard ” ~ be living dead ~

 

A voice unheard

Means spur oppression

To drown its pleas,

Thus unquestioned

Holds reaching out

To hence be saved

From living dead

Suffer suppression,

The while obscured

One yet but hears

Appeals that beg,

The ever lifeless

Misanthropists,  

Who’ll ne’er permit

A voice free to be heard!