Frederick Francis Poems

So blessed are the blind,
Those who can see with eyes’.
Those with no insight into mind.
It is this sight I despise.
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The ripples that fade back to tranquility.
My smile diminishes in much the same manner.
You are the stone, cast to break the calm surface.
Noticed at the point of impact, then fading out of sight.
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Apprehension of what’s to come, experience of things past.
Our fear of re-occurrence, quite a shadow it can cast.
Enough to always rob the joyful light of something new.
Deny it all you want, you know this to be true.
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When I wander through my world there’s beauty all around.
If people have trouble seeing it, I wonder if their mind is sound.
It is not in small things that require close attention,
It’s so obvious and in your face I feel I need not mention
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A funny thing enjoyment can be.
Sly, mysterious and difficult to see.
If it is quantity you look for, the outlook is bleak.
If volume sustains you, your outlook seems meek.
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A casual glance that turned to more,
A smile never returned.
An un-pretentious playful thought
But your thought I could not discern.
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There’s not even a landscape,
There’s not even that.
If you fall off now,
There is nothing to hit and go splat.
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The Pictures, they’re crooked like they were hung with no care.
Black, white or purple, you’re all welcome there.
With these familiar strangers you just feel at home.
You don’t know a soul in the room but you don’t feel alone.
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An affliction we all suffer is narrow mindedness.
It does just what it says and allows us to see less.
We come by it honestly; it is not a conscious choice.
But occasionally make an effort to give the counter point a voice.
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I met a man in no important place.
Experience had now wrinkled his face.
There was something about how he sat with a smile.
I perched and watched him for quite a while.
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