– in a deadly race –
Pending we find
Be fated space,
Afore we in time
Do evaporate,
Past our assign
At carnage rate,
Thus so spent
Oblivious of state,
In a desolate bent
Of what we’ve left,
In a deadly race,
Too soon reduced
To depleted place,
Of carved out caves
We’ll surely face,
In dire need to stave
Forces waiting hungrily,
Held lowly knaves,
Who’d greedily engage,
Imperiling earthly space,
Albeit by then our grave!
written in Grasse, Fr.
© Jean-Jacques Fournier
I’ve want to find
But simple words
Held be accessible,
Though at times
May fail to rate
Idea of equitable,
To compose state
Complex in thought,
That fosters lend
Worth contemplate,
Cause means intend
Reason perceived
Despite a mindful bend,
Bar should frustrate,
Appeal to intellectuality!
I’ve had secrets
Rate not keep,
Some by and by
Merit not a peep,
And one or two
Made me so blue
I’d gave a bye…
But I’ve a secret
Shades my life,
I’m made to keep
Tho cannot share,
Thus held to bear
In futile weep,
Without concede
While I’m awake
Or in my sleep,
A secret gloats
As my soul bleeds,
Yet stays afloat
And implies feed
Upon its need,
To be a secret
I’ve to die with!
Poetry on a Canapé 