– in a deadly race –
Pending we find
Be fated space,
Afore we in time
Do evaporate,
Past our assign
At carnage rate,
Thus so spent
Oblivious of state,
In a desolate bent
Of what we’ve left,
In a deadly race,
Too soon reduced
To depleted place,
Of carved out caves
We’ll surely face,
In dire need to stave
Forces waiting hungrily,
Held lowly knaves,
Who’d greedily engage,
Imperiling earthly space,
Albeit by then our grave!
written in Grasse, Fr.
© Jean-Jacques Fournier
– be the devil upstairs –
I’d know the music
Just by listening,
To the patter
On the floor above,
And the pulse
That cajoles her feet,
As she capers
To a mystifying beat,
Like it matters
To the dancer,
In whose rhythm
With melodic flair,
She so adorns
Be the devil upstairs,
To mirror,
The center of a storm
Frenzied to a level,
That shan’t be mistaken
As the dancer who conforms…
She’s the devil I can tell
Tho follow I with ease,
For her dance casts a spell
Which leads me to believe,
I’m destined to her hell
If she decides to leave,
Yet just so I can listen
To the rhythmic patters,
Bent by that devil upstairs
Be the dancer who so matters!
inspired in Vence, Fr.
written in Sweetsburg PQ.
April 21, 2003
If one could live forever
Might this hold being free,
Or confuse so the measure
Of a wishful thinking spree,
Else be of bent mind clever
The while deny bid’s plea,
To objurgate a moot debate
On life spans short decree,
By the gods of fixing fate
Who exact this mortal fee,
On mankind destined state
Beckons thus eternal sleep,
Tho beg delay expiry date
We’ve to exit existence’s keep,
Lest this life should be forever!
I see man shape
His self-decline,
Tis no surprise
Wants to escape,
This baleful bind
Free of bent state
Of herculean find,
His legacy spent
Now so apprised,
Suffers implied
Thus to surmise
Intervention failed
We’ll not survive,
His egoistic whims
Shaping our extant state!
Without I stray
From held entomb,
Said salutary stay,
I can but seek
Echoes of roam,
Thus to attempt
A nomad bent,
Steers me astray
In pro tem way,
Till time runs out
Of freed to roam!
Every season
In nature’s bent,
Finds purpose
For renewal,
That celebrates
Each wont advent
Not as infinity’s rival
But a cycle of revival…
Yet we creatures
Suffer brevity
Of a single stay,
A hoped-for reach
Though time decreed
Life be held brief,
And so ephemeral
Deemed beg amend
Wouldst be in vain,
To imitate seasons
That never fully fade,
Thus likely reason
Life then returns again!
Mirror, mirror
On the wall
Hard to show
My face at all,
You make it seem
Like it was mauled …
Mirror, nearer
Your torment,
Can have me cry
And looking bent,
Instead of shy
Of seeming spry
As I had meant…
Mirror, closer
You discuss,
A weathered face
Made hopeless case,
As craggy crust,
Shows in its place…
Mirror, mirror
You violator
Of melancholy state,
Alas to so deface
What shan’t be salved
Thru your efface,
Or torturous onguent
Inflicts a malfeasant!
written in Grasse Fr.
© Jean-Jacques Fournier
