Biography of Francie Lynch
Born a while ago in an area of County Monaghan, Ireland, called Loughegish (Lake of the Learned) . When the flax mill failed my father went to Canada and we emigrated six months later to Sarnia, Ont. I grew up here, worked in Education for my career and am happily retired writing poetry.
- Garbage -new-
- Imitations of Spring -new-
- Ice-Cream -new-
- My Thoughts Are Photoshopped -new-
- You Will Return -new-
- LLAP -new-
- Winter Is Not Death -new-
- Scotch and Water -new-
- The Master of Deception -new-
- Photoshopped Memories -new-
- Pantomime -new-
- Goliath's Wife -new-
- I'm Afraid of Spring -new-
- I Have Dough Inside My Head -new-
Francie Lynch Poems
The Lads Are Streaming Porn
The lads Are streaming porn. Don't be too quick To scorn;
The Dogs' Days of Winter
Those dog days of summer Near forgotten and gone, Are stored for the winter, Now remembered in song.
My Poem is My True Selfie
My poem is my true selfie, An X-ray of the inner me, A snap-shot of reality, A close-up of what's really me,
Active vs. Passive
When you write Your next verse, The active voice Is a better choice.
Don't Tell Me What To Do
Don't Tell Me What To Do When I was two
Deja Vu Again
We live our lives In past review, Sometimes we get A snap preview;
If You Need a Poet Laureate
If you want a ballad On a tragic conflict Of important people, With a little magic,
The World Is My Cathedral
I've walked The flat lands Of Alberta, And ascended the foothills.
No Hurry to Worry
There's no hurry For one to worry About the end Of days.
Til We Hear the Final Crack
On the coldest day We'll try ice-fishing, In warm huts Without winter's sting.
Winter School Days
School days in winter Were such fun Without a care, When we were young.
The Gypsy Woman
'Whist, is what Mammy said, As she whisked us off to bed. Usually we'd go quietly.
Kathleen Avenue still has houses, But people left, and trees were felled; The canopy across the street Has lost some limbs
I Was Just a Witness
A light cracked the door,
And then we hear:
I witnessed Justice
Behind the glass, in a box:
He scratched and stretched
Skin over his eyes and brows and stubbled face,
Needing a fix for his appearance.
Something was unbalanced