“ Inadvertency ” – a lapse of memory –

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“ Inadvertency ”

– a lapse of memory –

 Mindful, be unforeseen
 That memories will fail,
 Hopeful not to extreme
 For fear of minds derail,
 In a posit made sombre
 Thus be forever fraught,
 From a lapse of memory
 Errant as to be brought,
 By its narrated stumble
 Be of words gone awash,
 Has one in a new bubble
 Giving notions to curse, 
 Aired not as a mumble
 Views now but adverse, 
 Left to exist in a jumble... 


 ‘Tis sad state of decline
 All the while you watch,
 Feel its thought melting
 As a reoccurred botch,
 That a word will mend
 Holds cause be reborn,
 Extant failure finds end 
 Tho ye suffer self scorn, 
 Despite held to append... 


 Whilst pained to so find
 An apprise of words lost,
 Tells of old fails conveyed  
 Wants inadvertency tossed! 


                       ode to over worked minds...

 

                   © Jean-Jacques Fournier
                                                                  
                           written in Sweetsburg   
                                        November 23, 2020  
  
 Pictures - Personal & Public Collection...
 Music - Stone, by Hara Noda    


“ That Pope ” ~ be but a man ~

Who is that man

We know as pope,

Speaks of his god

In guarded hope,

Yet but a notion

He finds to cloud

Anomic motion,

Thus  pope’s nod

Tries realize,

Deeds  worth born

Thru wise contrive,

Wants reach out

To obviate scorn

Of all who doubt,

Self-serve beliefs

Of ambiguous gods,

Begs we question

Ill fated concepts,

Whose insecure souls

Must suffer its tenet,

Said reflections of man mad

In a world of self-destruction!

                                                                                ode to Udo for inspiring

                                                                       this poem on now Pope Francesco,

                                                                    possibly the greatest in modern history!

“ The Alternative ” ~ living serendipitous quest ~

 

I try decide

If worth remains

Be but prosaic ride,

In life sustained

That ought derive,

A sense of feel

Beyond just alive…

 

Hence so to find

That level in time,

I’ll need so strive

To thus contain,

Time marked

By temporal stains,

That reappear

In shades of pied fear…

 

The alternative bides

Tho we testily scorn

What fate decides,

Of longevity’s thorns

As eventual prize,

Be living with zest

For remaining alive,

In serendipitous quest!