Oh so often we apologize
Just to make amends,
Or avoid being chastised
We effort find portend,
Till failing begs apprise
We seek impede condemn,
Fated waning enterprise
Of which we learn contend,
As time gorges on our pride
That leaves but dust to mend,
With a soupçon of recall guise
For the loss of once held friend,
With otiose apologies to expiate demise!
© Jean-Jacques Fournier
He runs to flee
The feel of death,
With a fearful bent
Fixed on his breath,
No doubt be spent
On a hapless plight,
Spinning out time
Thru day and night,
Desperate to shed
What blurs his mind,
Held be fixate
He must so mend,
Before it’s past late
For a dispossessed,
Who so condemned
Must live obsessed,
Save he should find
Plight’s end in time!
I incline to contend
The gods so intend
We’d endure assume,
There’d be an end
To bonds we groom,
With they in whom
Such love might lend,
Live beyond affability
Yet fail we find mend
With true held friend,
Gesture furthermore
With inanimate look,
In lieu of bid to restore!
I should’ve known
There’d be a day,
When musings then
That fed my mind,
Might find suspend
Held dedicated mend,
Hence ne’er again
Succours one find,
Alternate that allays
Soul nurturing ways,
Save musers badly frayed!
I feel reverberate
A sound that be
All but discernible,
Tho not quite dead,
There be no doubt
In not optimal state,
Yet man so begs
While fading voice
Sadly abates,
In time we hear
That erudite mind
Might effort mend,
To save held dear
Lifeblood amend,
For air we breathe
And water deemed
‘Tis equal to survive,
Save our world ends!
Poetry on a canapé 