Francie Lynch

Francie Lynch Poems

There's a Revolution coming,
The boots are on the streets;
It's calling from the graves,
We're stirring from our sleep.

The younger sister
Of the second wife
Of my dear friend
Of forty-five years

... still Laughing
I was told Goody's gonna die Sunday.
It's Nascar Weedkend,
Now Thanksgiving will never be the same.

I don't know destitute.
I could use the bathrooms
In McDonalds,
If I eat there.

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,

We lived
In our Goodwill bathing suits
During our arduous summer isolation
From school and friends.


Dark at day,
Light at night,
Chaos mocks us
With villainous smiles.

There were four high pines, straight, that branched out

over the hedge with holes.

The lads
Are streaming porn.
Don't be too quick
To scorn;

The ravens survey
The gated community,
Scouring for a meal.
They swoop low,

It was forty years ago today,
In New York where he longed to stay;
Near the doors of his apartment rise,
With devil's envy rising in his eyes;

Throughout my life,
I've been afraid;
It started with shadows,
It'll end with the grave.

Her shield, displayed,
Shunned errant knights.
The force field, impenetrable!
She was armadilo-like, but

My translucent skin is looser now,
I'm loosing my gray hairs;
Teeth are kept beside my bed,
My ears aren't on my head.

New windows are transparent,
Free from tarnish and smudge.
I was such.
Clear-eyed gazing out,

Monday, December 8,1980.10: 50 P.M.
I was sound asleep. Work tomorrow

Tuesday, December 9,1980

I'm a loser.
I'm a loser.
And I'm all that I appear to be.

Can you feel the seismic rift.
Shift your weight. Keep your balance.
Hold steady.
The ground is moving beneath.

If I was a bigot,
Or xenophobic,
Or prejudiced,
Or sexist,

The hands have moved.
The sun is up and down.
Stars shift.
Tides advance and recede.

Francie Lynch Biography

Living in Sarnia, Ontario, Canada)

The Best Poem Of Francie Lynch

A Revolution's Coming

There's a Revolution coming,
The boots are on the streets;
It's calling from the graves,
We're stirring from our sleep.
There's a hunger in the eyes,
The troops are on their feet.
The revolutions's coming
And the enemy's in retreat.

The mob appeal
Is running lights,
Towered minions
Join the fight
To rein in one percent
From their lusty heights.
Desks in towers,
Facades of power,
Will tumble to defeat.
The gravity of their greed
Will drag them through the streets.

The bell at four
Will sound no more;
The chorus chants
For a holy war,
For salvation
In one bleat.

There's a revolution on the way,
We'll re-write all the laws,
We'll line up all the Romanovs,
We'll give up all the Shahs.
There's a revolution coming
And it's coming
With just cause.

Francie Lynch Comments

Bharati Nayak 12 February 2022

But I have films inside my head Of desires that we fed. And so, I sit here, And I see you there, In gray cardigan and gray hair; But in my head we're in a field Of long grasses that we shared.

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Bharati Nayak 12 February 2022

Just read your new poem-'The Field'.A very realistic and touching write.I liked the last two lines.

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