poems by Fabrice B. Poussin

The Ditch

Here a journey ended
Water runs through the bones
Attempting the ultimate cleansing
Of a lost soul.

Prisoner within the feeble cage
A vision subsists of a clear azure and
it wonders when at last it will reach on high
to a next adventure.

It was not so long ago after all that
The strange creature of crimson metal
Skidded away as thieves do in the night
Guilty as sin.

It may have been eternities in fact since
Little visitors hungry for a chance to fly
Came buzzing in a bright cloud feeding
On memories now to die.

No pain, as I gaze into deep space above
Alone still tickled by the gentle stream alive
Almost content to be at rest only perhaps I wish
For a last good bye.



Feeling Eternity

I saw a gentle muse dissolve in tears this day
arching a back stabbed by the lightning of a memory
she had pushed into an underground vault.

I felt those who follow her bowing under the yoke
of yet another icy stone upon their young days
a funeral slab carved with treacherous verse.

A distance of eons and endless voids stood there
but the screaming came carried on a great many ruins
in the middle of an illusory peace as a troubling quake.

I recall the overwhelming joy of this triptych
as they sat watching dusks and dawns in fiery passion
one again in the instant of unmistakable agony.

A debt gnawed at the soft entrails of innocent lives
a penalty for crimes committed by absent barbarians
to reverberate into an ongoing murmur to the walls of time.

Soon again, those breasts will giggle and laugh
heaving with the great substance of their eternal resilience
for now I share their collapse and cry with them.




The trio belongs in a temple to posterity
Angel under an aura of gold and precious stones
center piece to worshipping eyes of a tender age
mother she sits eyes closed a caring soul.

Upon the altar to a simple quest the triptych rests
hidden treasure within the mysterious chapel
Rembrandt’s tone upon the light of three hearts
shapes vibrate of an incomparable glow.

Madonna tilting eternal kindness to the side
she loans two tender curbs to the fragile cherubs
they two forgetful of the world nearby
appear without a care for much else than this.

In a perfect embrace they hold the instant close
model to eons of those who may still dream
coming on their humble knees to pray for a hope
the triptych trembles of a life powered their forever.




A faint spark in the desert once
as if a glimmering speck of infinite sands
far from the oasis hope failed to nourish
she struggled but for a brief moment.

She must have wondered why the light died
in the intense sun of an August drought
exile among exiles forgotten of the living
neglected in a mere instant of joy.

Infant in infancy, she cried out for help
while images of future dreams and deeds
flashed before that brand-new soul
so much desiring to grow a fertile womb.

But darkness overcame her blueish vision
blinded by the memories she would never have
tears perhaps would have save her little life
if only her name had been written upon the dune.




Do you remember at six, frail and silly
in a summer-dress so very stiff to fit
and a bathing suit made of a bony girl.

You were that then, toy to mom alive
playing with curls, giggling at your antics
pride of you, challenge to the other, jealous
of the blues envious, of the gold in even waves.

I think of you today no more of six years
but twenty more; envelope silky, shiny
so soft to make a life safe, your womb loves
your breast alive with the little one.

Girl no more and yet still making a life
an ear to you listens patiently for months again
as you grow loving, no longer unique
but alone in your soul, star in a darkest sky.

I see you within, little bones so frail
no power, I know your strength in every fiber
a miracle, or is it? For you, an everyday affair
as you softly breathe and digest a world whole.

It is there, little, and larger, just a bit more
your hand feels a life, your smile tells a tale
giver, nothing can stop it, but evil alone
you glow no longer girl, but lady of dreams.

poems by Fabrice B. Poussin

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