Francie Lynch


Francie Lynch Poems

801. Woodies 12/17/2016
802. A Room And A Spoon 12/18/2016
803. Wear The Wellies 12/19/2016
804. The Power Of Prayer 12/19/2016
805. The Average Joe And Jane 12/19/2016
806. God Removed His Hand 12/21/2016
807. Solstice (10w) 12/21/2016
808. Her Poem Is Born 12/21/2016
809. First Christmas: The Gift Of Giving 12/25/2016
810. Good Health To You 12/30/2016
811. Nuclear Family 12/30/2016
812. New Star In The Night 12/30/2016
813. Sincerely, Mary 1/1/2017
814. Predilection: A Petition 1/2/2017
815. Win-Sin, Sin-Win 1/4/2017
816. The Daily 1/4/2017
817. What Was It That He Said 1/5/2017
818. Overdue 1/7/2017
819. You Know Who You Are 1/7/2017
820. Potatode 1/8/2017
821. Running For Cover 1/10/2017
822. Your House And Home 1/13/2017
823. I Count Dead People 1/14/2017
824. Arms That Once Held Me 1/14/2017
825. George Gordon 1/17/2017
826. Race Has No Second Place 1/17/2017
827. If You're Naked, Laugh 1/21/2017
828. Crazy Katie Digs Up A Dog 1/23/2017
829. When I Was Young And Free 1/29/2017
830. Mexico 1/29/2017
831. Attention, First Class Private Poet 2/6/2017
832. Damned For All Time 3/27/2017
833. The Cream Between The Wafers 3/27/2017
834. Being And Nothngness 3/27/2017
835. Just Plain White Loaves 3/27/2017
836. Or Something Just Like That 3/27/2017
837. Happy Or Content 3/27/2017
838. Tell Tchaikovsky The News 3/27/2017
839. March Break 3/27/2017
840. Stupidstitions 3/27/2017

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Best Poem of Francie Lynch

A Child Is Born

I don't know destitute.
I could use the bathrooms
In McDonalds,
If I eat there.
I'm no refugee.
Neither are you.
We have computers, not canvas.
I warmed up the coffee today
And the dishwasher needs to go through
For the third time this week.
Homeless: We have them.
Poor: We'll always have them.
Hungry: Look to the soup kitchens.
Sick: The gurneys are lined in the halls.
Death: It's all around, and increasing.
And still, in that tent or Uber taxi
A child is born to change all this.

Read the full of A Child Is Born

Winter Lights

Between autumn's offerings and spring's wings
Our winter lights are everything.
Crisp sky nights string tinsel streams, and
Crystal air heils winter's dreams.

Poplar trees that snowed in summer,
Are treasures held in winter's slumber.
Bare branches reach in silhouette,
For crowning stars where none now sit.

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