Francie Lynch Poems

We're nearing as we ready
The home with green and red;
A deflated Santa on my neighbour's lawn,
Canned snow sprayed in window corners,
...

You know Comey and Spicer,
Sessions and Tillerson,
Priebus and Haley,
Flynn and Bannon,
...

They warned us not to worry,
Just do our best in school;
Those worldly professionals,
Taught us work-to-rule.
...

The most rhymed word
In the poetry world is
Me.
That reveals volumes about
...

Tolstoy was a boy,
Ibsen was Henrik's son
Hardy had a father,
And see how well they've done.
...

When your time closes in
Faster than sound or light,
I wish you to be worn out
And threadbare,
...

Whose toes are these,
I'm sure you know,
Curled and peeking out below,
Beneath their nose,
...

My use of personal pronouns
Puts me in my poem;
I can roll a rock with Sisyphus,
Be in a ceiling flame in Rome.
...

The Sansui turntable still works well.
Like memories, round and round,
Needling me. And the more I play them,
The more they itch.
...

My friend's Father,
Who's just that,
Has a Papa Francis.
And her entire congregated family
...