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“ Where The Lost Abound ” – desperate to be whole –

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“ Where The Lost Abound ”

                      – desperate to be whole –

In small cafes,

I sat around

Watching arrays

Of lost abound,

There but to play

Said morose lives,

That slip away

With wary anguish…






I linger here





To write of life,





That so abounds





In abysmal strife,





Till muse absconds





Urge to describe,





Their sad parade





In a despondency





That blurs its find,





Yet when about





To write the line,





Their faces fade                                                                                      





 As tho I’m blind…










So as I glimpse





This pot-pourri,





A mere semblance





Of the reality I see,





In a poor writ play





Of wretched beings,  





Moving mindlessly





Looking for a soul,                      





As they move round, 





Desperate to be whole





Thru that turbulent sea,                                                                                     





Where the lost abound!





                                             © Jean-Jacques Fournier





Music, Lazy Sunday- by Smooth Jazz





Pictures , MD and private collection






			

			
						

	
	



			
				



	
	


		
					

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“ Losing ” ~ physical presence ~

	


		

		
 


In life held abstraction


Be corporeal existence,


Of evolutionary progress


In our accomplishments


Losing to physical presence,


When point volte-face


Be the visual circumstance,


Finds coalescence cast


In gradual fade advance,


Of body’s transient existence!


 



		
	

			

	
	



			
				



	
	


		
					

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“ Love By Any Definition ”  ~ be about admission ~

	


		

		
 


Love, 


Be what you sense, 


Bowing to your feelings…


 


Love, 


Be dreams


That come to be…


 


Love


Be thought


Provoking fantasies,  


Wanting of reality…


 


Love, 


Be images


Of cloudy definitions, 


Coming into focus…
 


 


Love,


Be emotions


You hope share, 


That will not fade…


 


Love, 


By any definition 


Be about admission!


 


 

			

	
	



			
				



	
	


		
					

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“ Yesteryears ”  ~ fading from clear ~

	


		

		
 


I yet agnize,


The voices


I still hear,


Their faces


I might see


As if now here,


Of people


Who now gone


Feel ever near,


Thus to compose


What had become


Of yesteryears,


Reminding me


Of what was dear,


But time alas so chose


Those yesteryears,


Now fade from clear!