Said of a minute
Born to life,
Be a need for it
Tho enters strife,
Despite commit
To its short site,
Life persists to emit
Tho maybe a plight,
Holds of portent
Yet it is swallowed,
By the hour
And this to follow,
As if to scour
Chose be the fellow,
To do another
As if led by the echo,
Of a wilful brother
Not for a minute,
Would let fate posture
To fix a mindless habit,
Of disaffected bother
Ne’er now or then submit,
Tho for but a minute, now or then!
© Jean-Jacques Fournier
People are played
To lend disorder,
Sorted by shade
Ranked in colour,
Thus to persuade
Reluctant objectors,
Thence to dissuade
They who so claim,
Black white or other
Meant be the same,
Yet ignore brothers
Made suffer in vain,
A hand that fosters
Segregationist game,
To ostracize druthers
While man plays blind,
To coloured skin cause
Gives marginalized time,
And its racists’ applause
Conjugates them by shade,
Fixed in fellowman’s mind!
oh to find survive, as a one people world,
with a rainbow coloured spine!
© Jean-Jacques Fournier
Poetry on a canapé 