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

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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

 

“ Of The Children ”~ be life’s lot ~

Who are these children

Man recognized not,

Though too be then

But a child fraught,

As adult apprized

More often forgot,

When the more wise

Yet forever the child,

None the less be life’s lot!

                                                                 for my friend Hülya N Yılmaz

 

“ Uncertainty ” ~ a state of mind ~

Be reasons fraught
Of matter not forgot,
That perches now
Upon my brow,
Hiding mind’s frown
For it so sought,
To not have caught
Reflections of a sort,
Memory so defined
Meant for abort,
Best left behind
As be points mute,
To image words
Would substitute,
A state be mine
Ceased to give weight,
Upon such thought
Found to provoke,
Beyond the where
Resides no hope,
And self deception
Ignores one heed,
Life breathes uncertainty!

“ The Child In Me ” ~ tho but a shade ~

It matters not,

Be but a shade

Of used to be,

He does exist

The child in me…

Many will say

It can’t be he,

For what we see

Is but a hint

Of said once be,

I play their game

Knowing full well

He’s still the same…

 

Yet more claim

I am for naught,

The child is gone

Tho I think not,

For we remain 

One and the same…

 

I know the child

Yet lives in me,

As so he must

From birth

Until meant day

One turns to dust!

“ One Day Here ” ~ the next not ~

 

One day here

The next not,

An inherent pull

Said begot,

Has you gone

Somewhat fraught,

Be hardly mindful

Of surrounds,

Fate chose impose

Wills you bound

To board its purpose,

Hence to compose

You hold return

To haven born,

And so arrive

Thus feeling worn,

Tho far from decomposed!

                                                                                ode to Edgar Allan Poe