Thursday, 29 May 2025

Five Poems by Fabrice B. Poussin

 






 

Four-Foot-Tall Genius

 

 

Bored on a Saturday before his plastic toons 

he picked up the ancient phonebook 

seeking names of those he might meet 

mysteries of realities hidden in unknown pasts 

parallel universes made of imaginations  

worlds born of so many fertile minds. 

 

What questions the mischievous grin 

would foster to the metamorphosed Gregor 

European trapped in the routine the boy fears so 

that it may too transform him into the unknown 

monster made of cubicle and nine-to-fives 

boarding a train to too many nowheres. 

 

It is easy to imagine him pondering the facts 

as he visits with the next victim on his list 

ready to formulate another query 

so he may return home with his answers 

to the sense he could make of this existence 

at the hands of a man whose home is below ground. 

 

Man, mouse, or worm, the young explorer 

will find it amusing that he resembles 

a frightening teacher in her decades-old glasses 

sometimes reptilian holding an antiquated iPad 

seeking a life in the lowest depths 

to be humiliated by the charming prostitute. 

 

What will the little rascal say when he faces  

the Norwegian prima Dona who dreams  

of the glorious death of the valiant knight 

so long as she can be its provocateur  

surrounded by luxuries very few enjoy 

in the name of suffering she can only imagine. 

 

At least he has his large furry friend 

to find refuge from the oddities of the world 

outside the realm of his childish den 

forget what insanities grown-ups fathom  

he only understands the questions the kid asks 

for indeed he has the answers to all the secrets of this life.


 

 

 

Kid

 

 

He acts tough when he says hello 

so early in the day as she is off 

to another school day. 

 

A few pancakes, a glass of juice 

and the ritualistic hug 

as he sips on his favourite brew. 

 

She smiles with the power of her eight-years 

the colourful bag on her back 

glad just to know he is hers. 

 

He too will ride to his daily duties 

a vast office on a top floor 

made of steel and glass. 

 

A quick lunch stolen amidst unending  

meetings of too many strangers; 

he only thinks of her. 

 

An eternity will pass before dinner 

her favourite TV show and 

her eyes of green growing heavy. 

 

His perfect moment when she dozes off 

her head in her lap, his fingers in her blond strands 

and the dreams he can only fancy. 

 

His little woman, delight of his days 

what a beautiful girl she will always be 

warm and peaceful in his arms.   

 

 

 

 

Plus Sizes, Blood Pressure, and Diabetes.

 

 

…and there are so many more 

important facets of their everyday going-ons 

to prepare for with every moment 

in the company of every acquaintance. 

 

The solitary wanderer cannot escape the diatribes 

of unsuspecting companions as they vent  

details of daily lives they all know too well 

made of Dr's visits and medication dispensers.  

 

Ageless they seem in the excitement of their teens 

walking in the twilight of a well-deserved retirement 

the so-called golden years spent in the sunshine 

of restful days a few days short of a terminal winter.  

 

All listen to the same advice, partake in similar prescriptions 

so they may enjoy another excursion on a crowded bus 

before it is too late, even to contemplate a Grand Canyon 

without an oxygen tank wheeling on a steel chair. 

 

A novel in his hand, the loner continues his journey 

his soul echoing with the names of unknown ailments, 

high blood pressure and newly discovered remedies 

questioning why it is not of life they discuss. 

 

 

 

 

The last siren

 

 

Shrieking to the sleeper’s tympanum 

the dog howls in unison with  

the last siren of the night somewhere 

south of 2 am.  

 

It follows the furious roar of the freight train 

all the way to another catastrophe 

of mangled rails tainted with a strange 

paint like crimson asphalt.  

 

The dog whimpers for a moment 

it looks to the left, the right, attempts 

to detect the scent of a life hanging 

there, between ground and heavens.  

 

Ambulances, fire Marshalls, sheriffs, and troopers 

they form a crowd about the scene 

too late to release a breath into the 

characters of the newest tragedies.  

 

Tis the way we live by the tolling bells 

going through doors to eternity  

perhaps the canine knows something 

about the numbered days of his human pal.  

 

But the body sleeps in the midst of the common din 

dreaming of handsome landscapes far away 

he may hope for the rescue the flashing lights 

blue and red will undoubtedly provide him.  

 

 

 

 

Truly


 

I have walked thousands of miles  

around your aura.  

never tiring of the automated motion; 

I may wear limbs to mere memories.  

 

Led by the great power of the  

divine omniscience.  

I will keep on the path to  

the end times.  

 

Taught by the omnipotent infinity  

I will shed this flesh to release  

the love God has for you.  

 

Humbled by the glory of your being  

my body longs to sublime.  

you may be divinity incarnate unsuspecting  

of your highest purpose.  

 

Thus, looking to unfathomable horizons  

I will never fear another step forward; 

you are the end of the journey  

where my soul has found eternal rest.









  

Fabrice B. Poussin's poetry and photography work has appeared in hundreds of magazines worldwide. Most recently, his collections In AbsentiaIf I Had a GunHalf Past Life, and The Temptation of Silence were published in 2021, 2022, 2023, and 2024, by Silver Bow Publishing.

 

No comments:

Post a Comment

One Poem by Deborah A. Bennett

  Diaspora walking on 16th street  the last temptation  city of angels  the red moon the red balloon  guiding me to the corner of  madison a...