“ Conversations ” ~ with me, myself and I ~

I am curiously held aware

Being conscious of converse,

That it’s natural to beware

In an age amorally perverse,

Where humankind despairs

Of conversations so adverse,

Suggesting interest to be fair

Yet holds intent to be averse…

 

Tho it be of and by myself

I fancied be a person free,

That which would dominate

The better part of early me,

Who’d ideate a perfect fate

To fill that emptiness I see,

In dreams imaging a wake

Conversely so I want to flee…

 

Be a time knew not of fast

Nor forcing to make haste,

Or find way to further last

In concert with moral taste,

Whose worth would so cast

The value of contented state,

While forgetting not the past

To help shape avert mistakes,

In conversations that will task

Beyond with me, myself and I!

                                                                         © Jean-Jacques Fournier

 

 

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“ Life ” ~ be but a minute ~

As journey’s impart

Finds  compose,

A life held chart

Of  fading echoes,

Images seek focus

On a wistful past,

As recall delves

In dormant baggage,

Where marks a start

Of minute’s living,

Which is to be our life…

 

As life be but a minute

I’ve no time left to waste,

So overlook my rancour

If you crowd my space,

Or find ye be  anchor

In my short-lived race,

Tho I sound rather terse

I’m not without candour,

So empathize my strife

For with so little time,

I’ve reason to make haste…

 

I might have shown fear

Or shed a meagre tear,

To decelerate the process

That fixed  fall’s arrival,

In the wake of all that dies

As will a prized September,

Thus with all it finds allied

Seek peace with December,

For soon you’re gone to rest

To lie neath earthen blanket,

Should minute’s life end next!

 

                                                                                    © Jean-Jacques Fournier

 

“ In Early Morn ” ~ I see time hurry past ~

When I awake

In early morn

I linger there

The while beguiled,

Envision the while

A rousing storm,

Albeit semiotics

Tells  I am born,

This day again

to keep alive,

Impulsive ways

To but survive,

In life too fast…

 

Hence so I wake

To contemplate,

A constant haste

That cannot last,

Yet would so blur

Time hurry past,

More than before

Worries  my stay

As it contracts,

To illuminate

Most every day, 

Thus in the wake

Of early morn

Find to invalidate,

Time hurry past!