Francie Lynch


Francie Lynch Poems

961. It's A Puzzle 3/5/2016
962. Dysphoria 3/8/2016
963. Euphoria 3/8/2016
964. Self-Introspection 101 (A Partici-Poem) 3/8/2016
965. Sackful Of Promises 3/9/2016
966. The Slap Shot 3/9/2016
967. Spring Is Waking Up Now 3/9/2016
968. Inverness Fog 3/10/2016
969. Between Seasons 9/12/2017
970. Life Long Friend 9/14/2017
971. My Mother's Brogue 9/14/2017
972. I Don't Like That Picture 9/17/2017
973. Dancing During The Night 9/18/2017
974. Who Reads Poetry Anyway 9/19/2017
975. Out Of The Closet 9/28/2017
976. With Who I Am 9/28/2017
977. Plot Summary 9/30/2017
978. Where Have All The Assassins Gone 10/1/2017
979. Measuring Up 10/31/2017
980. Kilmainhan Gaol 11/3/2017
981. One Moment 11/3/2017
982. I Am The Ark 11/7/2017
983. The Erin Rosary 11/9/2017
984. Foregone Forgiveness 11/12/2017
985. Still Lifes 11/13/2017
986. Going Viral 11/15/2017
987. Love 11/17/2017
988. If I Could Do It Again... 11/18/2017
989. La La Hollywoodland Buttercup 11/22/2017
990. To What Avail 11/24/2017
991. Outside The Envelope 11/28/2017
992. I Can't Forget What Never Happened 12/1/2017
993. Complicity 12/6/2017
994. Virgin Snow 12/9/2017
995. Tears And Blisters 12/12/2017
996. Frank Was Lying 12/14/2017
997. Sign Up 12/15/2017
998. Speakers 1/5/2018
999. Pretentious Poetry 1/8/2018
1000. Icicles (10w) 1/8/2018

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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

Usk

That field stone bridge, as bridges do,
Waits over brown waters, joing roads where
Legions marching, marched on and on.
Her waters breached the ocean, bringing back
Bottles, birds and songs.

In the morning between the columns,
The water breaks from sloping bends,
But under the evening light, when the house

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