The Face

– of fates longevity –

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The Face

– of fates longevity –

The Face
An ancient face
Sooner or later,
Made to look on
Hopeful for better,
To yet be around
Still a minds voice,
That opposites found
Best be natures choice,
Tho life gift a mite short
One hopes the cause moults,
But pleads will to make strong
Naught ye’d want source revolt,
Whilst held liable gods sleep along
Till shape be the face, of fates longevity!

                   © Jean-Jacques Fournier 

			                                            written in Sweetsburg
                                                                      November 26, 2022
					                          edited December 5, 2022

Imagery - Wikimedia Commons
Music - Excerpt of Fantasia for Soprano Saxophone 
               Heitor Villa-Lobos                 
Audio - Jean-Jacques Fournier

Wanting

         – to be heard –

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Wanting

– to be heard –

Pictured without sound
Tho can see be awaken,
As gyrations abound
With spirited dysfunction, 
Postures visibly found
In logic for malfunction,
Tells ye want to be heard
Baring ludicrous emotions,
Will use an extant voice
Thus, to bid without a word,
Might find to last forever
While given to be heard,
Hence in an unfettered world! 


                    © Jean-Jacques Fournier 


                         Written in Sweetsburg
                           November 12, 2022 
                        Edited November, 2022


Imagery - Domonique Fournier
Music - Excerpt of Pure Imagination by Scott Hamilton
Audio - Jean-Jacques Fournier   

Dreamscape – of a risky nature –

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              But for a little humour...

Dreamscape

         – of a risky nature –

Lapsed in dreamscape

Of rhythmic tossing,

By love’s enfoldment

Be aberrantly bound,

Beneath a quilt of pink

When aroused to a sound,

Of an angry voice on the brink   

She reaches for her lacy things

As her fiancé hollers, you harlot

And repeatedly hammers in fury,

While lover holds a rumbling door shut!

                 based on and old familiar story,
                               for a friend of errant ways...

                    © Jean-Jacques Fournier
		      Written in Sweetsburg

Short poem excerpt, of ov. Sounds - in an aberrant state - 
written in Grasse, Fr. 2006,... 
Imagery - private & public ...
Music - excerpt of Jazz Mood - BMG Channel ...
Audio – Jean-Jacques Fournier

“ A Distant Presence ” – stored in old memories –

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“ A Distant Presence ”

            – stored in old memories –

 

I feel a presence

Ever distant,

Lurking

In my memory,

Probing

Unrelentingly,                                                                             

To surface

Above reticence,

Ne’er forgotten

Be one’s musings,

Despite a dying voice

Caught in the shadows,

Of a haunting choice

Stays a distant presence,

Stored in old memories…

 

I feel its existence

Lamenting regret,

Of relic adolescence

Did tend to forget,

One’s life so harried

Time be left scattered,

Yet held little matter

Amid memory’s embers,

Despite imploring pleas

Woefully entreating time,

On symbolic knees

Ought allow to remind,

Before the while be no more

Than a haunting memory…

 

Tho still I hear whispers

Of a lingering voice,

Must be the patient soul

In its life’s awoken choice,

Holds stored in old memories

That of a distant presence! 

           

                        © Jean-Jacques Fournier  

                                           July 12, 2020             

            Music, Chet Baker – Almost Blue –

“ We The Homeless ” – not by choice – revisited

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“ We The Homeless ”

       – not by choice – revisited

It’s not by choice,

We’ve but the street

For our new host,

In this life gone bleak

It be thus a last resort,

Begs we’d not seek

Wanting as consort,

Held so to speak

Apt be a gritty ghost,

Led we live incomplete

Having lost one’s voice,

Mindful of our fate

Now being without choice,

In a discombobulated state

That be life on the street,

The while this last resort

Be until we are too weak,

To drag our bones to port

In a life of empty options,

That be for we the homeless,

Held fixed to muted notions

Reduced we be to nameless,

Drifting in crowded sad seclusion

We’ve to live as shadows on the street…

 

Suffer alas said we the homeless

In a populous fashioned by human apathy,

Offered in overwhelming abundance

To a growing number of ignored failed voices…

 

We the homeless, not by choice!

 

                                     © Jean-Jacques Fournier

                         Photography, by Marianne Dessis –

                                                              Music, by Kai Engel –

 

“ We The Homeless ” – not by choice –

It’s not by choice,

We’ve but the street

For our new host,

In this life gone bleak

It be thus a last resort,

Begs we’d not seek

Wanting as consort,

Held so to speak

Apt be a gritty ghost,

Led we live incomplete

Having lost one’s voice,

Mindful of our fate

Now being without choice,

In a discombobulated state

That be life on the street,

The while this last resort

Be until we are too weak,

To drag our bones to port

In a life of empty options,

That be for we the homeless,

Held fixed to muted notions

Reduced we be to nameless,

Drifting in crowded sad seclusion

We’ve to live as shadows on the street…

 

Suffer alas said we the homeless

In a populous fashioned by human apathy,

Offered in overwhelming abundance

To a growing number of ignored failed voices…

 

We the homeless, not by choice!

 

                                                          © Jean-Jacques Fournier

 

 

 

“ While I’m Alive ” ~ in that embrace ~

Before I reach

That lonely place,

Let me reside

While I’m alive,

Close by her side

In that embrace

Of each day’s best,

Which lets me hear

That joyous fest

Of her voice near,

Alluding to be clear

Love will survive,

Until I am no longer!

“ A Distant Voice ” ~ that beckons ~

I hear a cry

Tormented so,

Tears by the by

Do leave a wake

Of such dismay,

Mind has need

To find a way,

If but to still

A distant voice,

Whose forlorn cry

Allays not beckon,

Into the night

Its waning words

In dismal plight,

Wants restore whole

Thus begs relight,

Man’s dark lost soul!

“ While I Live ” ~ to not forget ~

 

The while I live,

Help me now

To not forget,

Afore I reach

I’m not to feel

Being near,

Or ever more

Able to hear

A voice so dear,                                                             

Nor taste again

The love of you,

The while I muse

Be cause regret,

Precious days

I might neglect,

To tell of ways

I loved you then,

The while I lived

This side of when,

Till I should reach

That quite place!