If It’s Friday
Marcel Toussaint ©2005

What happened to the four days week
when I would have three days left to rest
it would bring into my life some zest
and much time to give my thoughts a tweak.

If it’s Friday
It’s my day.

How I wished for the four days week
finding two days too short to enjoy
three days would get me to deploy
time to find what is chic.

If it’s Friday
It’s my day.

Man needs a four days week
for he needs to balance his time
with work and pleasure sublime
so that his mind and body do not turn weak.

If it’s Friday
It’s my day.

What happened to the four days week
it never went into effect
for man is seldom wise and much less perfect
he nixed it all and turned my life bleak.

The Fifties Gone and Done
Marcel Toussaint © 2008

I do not miss the fifties at all.
I am glad they are done
and gone!
They were too “basic” for my taste.
They built ugly buildings,
businesses were like shacks
clinging on along roads.

New boxy homes,
with low ceilings,
were the rage.
There was not enough
air conditioning at all.
It was the start
of the window kind.
Few people had them.

Offices were badly lit
with dull light bulbs
that gave out dull light,
or with fluorescents
that flickered
giving you a headache.

My cars were hot, hot.
I took two showers a day,
changed shirts twice,
perspired
for the first time
in my life.

I wondered
what I was doing here?
Having left living along the coast
where the cool air came over
from the sea,
where the sun
was not so threatening and hot.

Seriously,
I wondered
what I was doing here?
I do not miss the fifties at all.
I am glad they are done
and gone!

And
I am still here!

Run Into The Night
Marcel Toussaint ©1997

Run into the night where are no faces
Run until out of breath, your heart races
who you are, you are now close to forget
It does not matter, you have no regret.

The past not to be encountered is gone
clear is your mind in the waiting of dawn
run into the night to a new domain
run until out of breath. Your mind unchain.

To park always in the very same space
stops to see what elsewhere may warmly grace,
see if besieged you have become a pawn
of a new outlook it is time to don.

Search into the unknown for new venues
search even where lodged are the known taboos
run into the night, gone is what was there
run until out of breath. Much left to share.

Run into the night where are no faces
Run until out of breath, your heart races
take on the boldness spark of a new dawn
becoming the knight, and never the pawn.

You Must Make a Poem of your life
Marcel Toussaint ©2002

You must make a poem of your life
give it rhythm for it is not strife,
color the leaves surrendering in the fall
quietly anticipating winter without a brawl.

You must make a poem of your life
celebrating with drums not a shrill fife,
get wet and splash in puddles after a rainfall
letting the foamed waves drench you at the seawall.

You must make a poem of your life
swim with style and dive in a jackknife,
bounce back as if you were a ball
when times are hard to spring up very tall.

You must make a poem of your life
with music, song and emotions not rife,
accept that soon it will be nightfall
dropping the curtain on all that did enthrall.

Making Our Past Part of the Present
Marcel Toussaint © 2009

As I accumulate years
I find that my present cannot be
without the past and its detours.
I did not get to this stage in a straight line.

Zig-zagging from events to events
has been met with success, some impasse
as if in a repeated cycle over time,
nothing ever perfectly perfect, always an hindrance.

Luck was that I did navigate
with fortunate management
of whatever was encountered
not without trauma along the way.

Pain and difficulties one had to bear
we expect them and must be prepared
to overcome any obstacle
thrown in our path by fate or opponent.

Success attracts curiosity, admiration
but ill meaning antagonists as well,
those who cannot succeed on their own
and want to see that you do not as well.

When time has comes to look back
mostly what went well reach our minds
we rejoice of a life well spent
making our past part of the present.