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
Memory, ah memory
Now cause for woes,
Has turned tormentor
And wretched close,
Alludes suffers bleak
This recall once bold,
As mentor grows weak
While in vain I yet seek
Tho memory goes cold…
Now who’ll replace
This recollect trace,
That I may survive
The far reaching void,
And reason with time
Holds sane my mind,
Though the memory
Of memory once mine,
May well ever be gone!
‘Twas a story above
A false sense of love,
Orchestrated per se
By one ne’er able,
To find so indulge
In a passionate way,
This invisible being
Too cold to be told,
Fated be, but a lonely soul!
Alas old crows,
Ever so black
Fly by in rows,
Tho rather old
For winter flights,
Must suffer cold
And failing sight,
Be on spent wings
Bide dying light
Heading for spring
To end their plight,
That they might rest
Thru dead of night!
I reached for you
Yet somehow knew
I’d touch shadows,
I voiced your name,
To hear but echoes
Sounding awash
And doleful lame,
I looked to find
Cold had replaced
A familiar warmth,
And when wake
Would feel you be
There by my side,
Not in a limbo’s tide…
As I await
For your escape
I see a tearful face,
Among the shadows
Of a limboed place,
Thus beg for morrow
That you be guided
To the end of sorrow,
Ne’er more to find
Lives in your mind,
The dark of limbo!
Poetry on a canapé 