soar

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“ Clouds for Dreaming ” – of ethereal things –

DSCN5848  Listen to audio

On a whim I can fly 

In a dream,

As I soar on wings

It thus seems,

Of ethereal things

Be a flight so real,

The ascent I can feel…

 

As I ride on the wind

I hear Zephyr sing,

Yet could not tell

If it spoke of Phoenix,

And his trip to hell

When rashly he’d fly,

Which I’ll ne’er risk

As so high he did fry,

For my soaring is fixed

In the dream I so fly…

 

Now on billowy clouds

Soft feathery things,

Their gentle pull bides

The while one clings,

To this surreal ride

Said fabric for dreams,

That dresses the skies,

In clouds made for dreaming!

 

           written at Amsterdam Airport

                                             © Jean-Jacques Fournier

                                                                   April 10, 2002

 

 

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“ I Am The Crow ” ~ in a grave dark world ~

 

I am the crow

In a grave

Dark world,

A soul in plight

Black as night,

Forced to soar

In a dying light,

On weary wings

And failing sight,

Yet made suffer

Endless flights,

Looking for path

To freedom I seek,

While agony looms

In this wasting meek,

Who’ll suffer hell

Or fly with the devil

For a ray of light,

That shows the way

To end this journey 

In the dead of night!

 

 

by

“ Solaris ” ~ in shades abyss ~

Sun must be shy

As he’ll not look

Me in the eye,

Nor will he soar

As had before,

We ruined his sky…

 

He may ne’er more

Want light our way,

We who fouled

His heaven’s air,

Spewing waste

Corrupting space,

Once known safe

In a world gone grey,

As Solaris fades away…

 

Alas the keepers

Have ignored,

Desperate shouts

Of world untoward,

Solaris suffers

Shades abyss,

Thus can but move

To light another place,

Leaving shadows

Till dark be  fate, 

Would end mankind

Starved of Solaris face!

by

“ Clouds for Dreaming ” ~ on ethereal wings ~

On a whim I can fly

In a dream,

For it seems,

I can soar on wings

Of ethereal things,

Be a flight so real

The ascent I can feel…

 

As I ride the wind

I hear Zephyr sing,

Yet cannot tell 

If this means ’tis hell,

As suffered Phoenix

When rashly he’d fly

So high he did fry,

Which I’ll not risk

Soaring so fixed,

For be in a dream I fly…

 

Now on billowy clouds

Soft feathery things,

Their gentle pull bides

The while one clings,

To this surreal ride

Said fabric for dreams,

That dresses the skies

In clouds made for dreaming!