Francie Lynch Poems

These walls are wet
Where I've kept
Myself entombed
Too long.
...

One mustn't read
Poetry;
One must listen
And expeience
...

Tergiverate.
You're talking.
Equivocate.
I'm listening.
...

If your heart
Is racing,
Rest between
The steps,
...

There's a sleeping giant
On the floor,
Snoring, blocking
All the doors.
...

Not listening!
Any jack-ass
Can carry
Heavy burdens
...

Spirits are demons,
It's alluringly clear;
Cordial at first,
With smiles
...

A father is a tree.
He is sappy at times,
And once distilled,
He's sweet.
...

Don't call me Honey,
I'm not that sweet;
Don't call me Sugar,
I'm no beet;
...