“ The Consequence ” ~ of forgetfulness ~

You come to believe

Thru serene control,

Had then so achieved

A mind now set bold,

Held made concede

Put memory on hold,

Save too little known

Of significance told,

When recall has flown

To a mindless absent,

Tho spirit may mourn

Fickle fate will consent,   

With memory conform

To consequence bent,

Of forgetfulness shorn!

                                                                                    written in Italia, May 3, 2018

                                                                                            © Jean-Jacques Fournier

 

 

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“ I Walk Alone ”~upon this road ~

 

Life has me walk

This reach alone,

To suffer gauge

My weary bones,

With body’s age

I now but trip,

Upon this road

Lacking the fit,

Youth so defined

Tells be the image

Of ebbing time,

With faint recall

Can now but pine,

For home of old

When we explored,

First living bold

Did create lore,

Worth being told

Sufficient to entreat,

What equates hope

Though incomplete,

We’d learnt to cope

Life’s fickle sweeps…

 

I walk alone

In faded colours,

Upon this road

Of no return,

Held be my destined keep!

 

“ Uncertainty ” ~ a constant presence ~

Memory so defines
To image words,
Would illuminate
A state of mind,
Ought not disguise
The world we live,
To cease give weigh
Upon such thought,
As be life certainties
From our creation
Till we’re no more,
Thus to provoke
Such self deceptions,
One should fail heed
What man must live,
As constant presence
Bound by uncertainty!

“ Memory ” ~ of a memory ~

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!

“ Perchance ” ~ magnanimous ~

In an effort

To be bold

I may’ve lost

The whole,

For now but feel

The cold,

And suddenly

I cogitate on old,

As tho too soon

Death perchance

Is trying to take hold…

 

Whilst we’ve to pay

Life’s wage to play,

Albeit times more

Than bargained for

The risk we take,

That fate may grant,

To suffer fools

Or bold lost souls,

If memory serves

Said fate per se

Magnanimous,

Be not its chosen way!