Looking

– wide eyed –

Looking

– wide eyed –

Holding a thought
To ponder its worth,
Sagaciously ought
Ye honor its birth,
Be erudite sought
Observe held bide,
Thus not be fraught
Looking wide eyed,
As tempted to flirt
With fool’s divide, 
Tho find to divert  
The while lets slide,
Implies shan’t avert 
Held fixed be last ride,
Shan’t so flaunt its worth!

                         Ode to inevitable fading memory...

	  © Jean-Jacques Fournier


     written in Sweetsburg                   
     September 11, 2022

Imagery - National Galleries of Scotland

A Place

         – said earth –

Listen to audio

– said earth –

Tho crave
From birth
To grave,
For worth
Ye want save, 
A place
Said earth, 
Now must skirt
To suffer waste,
Tho be alert
Of mans tricks, 
Ample so to burst
A planet at risk, 
Not find accept
Failed mortals akin,
In state of gorged excess 
Hides yet a desolate grim,
Obscuring a need for address
While mans memory grows thin, 
As he begs for too long ignored access!
                       

	      © Jean-Jacques Fournier

	                        written in Sweetsburg 
                                       July 21, 2022

Imagery - Marianne Dessis 
Music – Tenderly by Chet Baker
Audio - Jean-Jacques Fournier

“ A Space ” – held in awe, be our planet earth –

                                  Listen to audio       

A Space

– held in awe,

be our planet earth –

 ‘Tis a space,
 Held in awe
 Our planet earth,
 A place we crave
 Thus so we may,
 From birth to grave
 Tho be fates play,
 One you can’t save
 Nor meant we stay,
 On its passing wave
 We’ll not want stray
 Tho holds your breath,
 With its waning taste 
 Wouldst suffer death, 
 To extend embrace... 

 Held in veiled guise,
 Tho bares one’s face
 Who finds will hide, 
 Said man’s disgrace
 And denigrating bide,
 Of our earthly prize,
 Whilst apathetically
 Man in kind deface, 
 To discombobulate
 Our memory’s state,
 Tho while held in awe
 Insentient of its worth,
 Denies many having place
 For all to be on planet earth! 

                       © Jean-Jacques Fournier 
                                          November 17, 2020
  
 Photos - public collection...
 Music - Excerpt of, If I should lose you, by Chet Baker...                     

“ The Book ” – of blank pages –

  An author’s torment – revisited –

                                                     Listen to Audio

“ 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 life of Butterfly ” – be caterpillar’s fate –

                                                                        Listen to audio

“ The life of Butterfly ”

         – be caterpillar’s fate –

There be a time

Chrysalis soon,

Needs to forget

Life isn’t tuned,

Pain fails beset

Nor be immune,

Suffer progress

Metamorphosis,

Feels be regress

In awkward state,

Of primary stage

Be caterpillar fate,

It dons final phase

Of innate crawling,

To find taking flight…

 

I may have wished

‘Twould so remain,

Thus circumspect

Sheltered from rain,

In cocoon darkness

Tho bar delighting,

In early morn sun

A colourful ravager,

Who once could see

At leaf perspective,

When as a butterfly

Explores new birth,

From watch on high,

Now a ravaged earth                                                                                                          

Thru sad tearful eye,

From fugacious berth

In wilted summer sky,

Once caterpillar’s fate

All the while reflecting,

On the life of butterfly!

                                                    written June 4, 2020      

                              © Jean -Jacques Fournier

                                              Photos, M. Dessis & anon.

                                                       Music, by Kai Engel

 

“ The Child In Me ” – held shades of used to be –

  Listen to audio

The Child In Me

           – held shades of used to be –

Though many say

He’s but a shadow,

Held shades

Of used to be,

I play their game

But truly feel,

He’s still the same

The child in me…

 

Some even doubt

He still be there,

And more maintain

I am for naught,

The child is gone,

My hopes are fraught

With dreams

Of used to be…

 

But I say not,

I know the child

Yet lives in me,

And always must

As part of man,

From birth

Until that day

We turn to dust…

 

It matters not,

Though but a shade

Of used to be,

I know it’s him,

And so insist

He still exists

The child in me!

                                          written in Vence, Fr.

                                                  © Jean-Jacques Fournier

 

“ The Book ” ~ of blank pages ~

A book in search

Of giving birth

To pages blank,

Hopes but record

Views so composed,

With words’ accord

To author predisposed,

Might ease the way

That dare initiate

A scribe’s want say,

Upon a virgin page

Empty so, intimidates

The while a book awaits

Words chose breathe life,

To uninhabited blank pages!

“ The Prodigy ” ~ of conception ~

 

I’ve travelled since                                                 

Beyond that birth,

I could not know

In mother’s darkness,

A black night’s swallow

Taking life form

To journey my way out,

Pushing thru a state

Of her laborious pain,

Till life flails about

For reasons hazy

I know not to explain,

Or why now be without

The comfort of her reign…

 

Thus epoch thin

That underside,

Of child’s memory

Natures proscribe,                              

Where life begins

Tho details of a million

Must stay afloat

In shadows left within,

Yet matter of account

Survives not giant step,

As bond to womb dissolves

And blurs its natal travel,

To vanish at birth’s arrival…

 

Alas the comfort

Of birth’s darkness    

Long ago abandoned,

Now too lies buried

In a gentle mother’s grave!