“ Today ” – a gift –

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“ Today ”

– a gift –

 I am alive
 Today,
 The gods provide
 Another day, 
 Thus be a gift
 To find its way,
 As they so deemed
 That I might stay,
 Be not a dream
 For on this day,
 Again it seems
 I am alive,
 Tho by all means
 Perhaps again, 
 Yet be but for today! 


                     © Jean-Jacques Fournier 
 Poem recital,  by Jean-Jacques Fournier
 Music - Excerpt of Time After Time, by Chet Baker ...
 Pictures – Private, unknown and audio closing,
 epitaph excerpt, of John Maxwell Edmonds...
  
                    written in Sweetsburg
                         January 9, 2021  

“ The Little Red House ” – on the corner –

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“ The Little Red House ”

– on the corner –


 The fairy tale picture
 Of its little red house,
 Sitting on the corner
 Sure lure for a mouse,
 Or little Jack Horner
 Ye find eating his pie,
 Holds be a reminder 
 The while we walk by,
 Tho soon we be older
 Can but wonder why,
 Be the little red house
 That sits on a corner,
 Seems ever so ageless
 Lends we reminisce,  
 Shoulder to shoulder
 Share memory’s bliss,
 Each day walking by
 As we pass the corner,
 Of that little red house! 
                   © Jean-Jacques Fournier       
  
 For Marie Bertrand, once her grandmother's actual house ... 

 Photos by MD & JJ        
 Music – If I Should Lose You, by Chet Baker ...
  
                                             written in Sweetsburg
                                                   January 6, 2021 

“ A Day In A Life ” – to live as tho twice –

a0830b601d1dcad0fa7b3f064f292f4e--i-robert-stretched-canvas-prints                  Listen to audio

“ A Day In A Life ”

         – to live as tho twice –

If I could but live

A day in a life,

Fate chose to give

Be without strife,

One might feel free

To hence display

The whole that I be,

For today I’d not wept

Holds a day of all days

With euphoria I’ve kept,

Fix this day as a guide

So that I now can see,

All my life till I died…

Such a day in a life

Would be held rule,

Thus to fix the way

Would purge redicule,

And learn to let go

As to feel what you see,

Be the birth of it all

Like a bursting of buds,

On a flowering tree

As spring yawns away,

And dawn’s early hours

Sets sight towards May,

To a first summer’s day…

Yet all of the while

You’ve but time

The gods lend,

Hence a day in a life

From beginning to end

You must live as tho twice,

For that may be all

You’d be given of life!

                                          © Jean-Jacques Fournier    

                          Originally written in Vence, Fr.

Pictures – Public and private collection …

Music – exerpt of Orfeu Negro, Brazil …

“ Life Is But A Minute ” – held implied as a lifetime –

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“ Life Is But A Minute ”

              – held implied as a lifetime –

The Journey starts

Tho soon too fast,

And way off chart

Predestined cast,

Scarce one recalls

What life is to last,

The span of its all

Save less ye forget,

Said be our lifeline

This nascence day,

Thus a minute past

Had found its way,

A birth ye may ask,

As it came together

Seeks its short stay,

In echo of ones other…

 

Life soon will wither

While none to waste

Pardon my rancour,

Of they who crowd

Or find to anchor,

On my fleeting pace

With so little living,

I reason make haste…

 

With hint to soon rest,

Lying neath memories

Of its life’s alleged fest,

My back to its epitaph

For all who have been,

Knew well to find daft

Held implied as a lifetime,

Denies life is but a minute!

                                 © Jean-Jacques Fournier

              Music, One Minute Waltz, (1847) Fryderyk Chopin

“ We The Homeless ” – not by choice –

It’s not by choice,

We’ve but the street

For our new host,

In this life gone bleak

It be thus a last resort,

Begs we’d not seek

Wanting as consort,

Held so to speak

Apt be a gritty ghost,

Led we live incomplete

Having lost one’s voice,

Mindful of our fate

Now being without choice,

In a discombobulated state

That be life on the street,

The while this last resort

Be until we are too weak,

To drag our bones to port

In a life of empty options,

That be for we the homeless,

Held fixed to muted notions

Reduced we be to nameless,

Drifting in crowded sad seclusion

We’ve to live as shadows on the street…

 

Suffer alas said we the homeless

In a populous fashioned by human apathy,

Offered in overwhelming abundance

To a growing number of ignored failed voices…

 

We the homeless, not by choice!

 

                                                          © Jean-Jacques Fournier