“ Where The Lost Abound ” – desperate to be whole –

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“ Where The Lost Abound ”

                      – desperate to be whole –

In small cafes,

I sat around

Watching arrays

Of lost abound,

There but to play

Said morose lives,

That slip away

With wary anguish…





I linger here

To write of life,

That so abounds

In abysmal strife,

Till muse absconds

Urge to describe,

Their sad parade

In a despondency

That blurs its find,

Yet when about

To write the line,

Their faces fade                                                                                      

 As tho I’m blind…





So as I glimpse

This pot-pourri,

A mere semblance

Of the reality I see,

In a poor writ play

Of wretched beings,  

Moving mindlessly

Looking for a soul,                      

As they move round, 

Desperate to be whole

Thru that turbulent sea,                                                                                     

Where the lost abound!

                                             © Jean-Jacques Fournier

Music, Lazy Sunday- by Smooth Jazz

Pictures , MD and private collection


			

“ Journeying ” ~ toward life whole ~

It has been told,

A man’s journey

Means to unfold,

From rather hazy

To a life whole,

With limits

Reaching bold,

When fate mandates

Man must have soul,

To suffer restless roads

And redeem his quondam hold,

For an ever unpredictable journey

We’ve to so effort toward life whole!

                                                                    

                                                                   © Jean-Jacques Fournier

 

 

“ A Garrulous Mind ” ~ in a conformist soul ~

 

In a held conformist soul,

Serves a garrulous mind

That won’t abort its hold,

And matters not be blind

To ludicrous not so droll,

Whatever reason binds

Purpose to feed its psyche,

As it tends to prattle on

Till weariness finds a hole,

For loquaciousness to be gone

In favour of enlightened whole!

 

                                                                        © Jean-Jacques Fournier

 

 

“ Man’s Hold ” ~ means to be fed ~

A singular being
Akin to whole,
Who so composed
Said worthy soul,
Be for man’s hold
Who means be fed
Criteria set at gold,
What he inclines,
Wouldst so conjure
His bidding designs,
So with wile he lures
A yet fallible mind,
However be times
Anguish will sway,
Doubt finds its way
To a vibrant head,
Where fate declines!