Francie Lynch


Francie Lynch Poems

881. I, Spongebob 5/8/2017
882. Kim 5/8/2017
883. An Endangered Species 5/8/2017
884. Keep Chiselling 11/10/2015
885. Tinder 11/10/2015
886. An Only Child 11/10/2015
887. Play It Again, Will 11/11/2015
888. Skye 11/11/2015
889. Missing 11/13/2015
890. Tea And Scones 11/14/2015
891. I Didn't Do It 11/16/2015
892. At My Door 11/18/2015
893. Peace In My Mind 11/20/2015
894. I Will Surely Be Second 11/20/2015
895. It's A Crime Scene 11/20/2015
896. The Stopwatch 11/20/2015
897. Reclining Into A Smile 11/21/2015
898. Standing On His Head In A Bucket 11/24/2015
899. A Most Pleasant Irony 11/24/2015
900. Daily Signs 11/24/2015
901. Found 11/24/2015
902. There Is A Stopwatch 11/24/2015
903. Aine's Toes 11/25/2015
904. More Or Less 11/27/2015
905. Never Wasted 11/29/2015
906. Leaving The Past In The Past 12/6/2015
907. The Domino Effect 12/7/2015
908. Songs Of Innocence And Experience 12/8/2015
909. Comb-Over For Herr Donald 12/10/2015
910. Doomed And Left Drooling 12/10/2015
911. El Nino El Nino El Nino 12/11/2015
912. The Sexagenarian 12/15/2015
913. Why Do I Write 12/15/2015
914. Slippery Slopes 12/17/2015
915. It's A Puzzle 3/5/2016
916. Dysphoria 3/8/2016
917. Euphoria 3/8/2016
918. Self-Introspection 101 (A Partici-Poem) 3/8/2016
919. Sackful Of Promises 3/9/2016
920. The Slap Shot 3/9/2016

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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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