Francie Lynch Poems
|1162.||How I Measure Time||4/22/2015|
|1164.||Elegy For Dead Poets||9/26/2015|
|1166.||Active Vs. Passive||1/18/2015|
|1167.||The Lads Are Streaming Porn||1/18/2015|
|1168.||The Flight Ahead Of Me||4/1/2015|
|1169.||My Poem Is My True Selfie||6/10/2014|
|1170.||Not All Fathers Are Dads||6/2/2016|
|1172.||Were There Five?||1/31/2014|
|1173.||Mary Jane Died Last Night||5/20/2015|
|1174.||A Child Is Born||12/18/2015|
Comments about Francie Lynch
A Child Is Born
I don't know destitute.
I could use the bathrooms
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.
I Was Just A Witness
A light cracked the door,
And then we hear:
I witnessed Justice
Behind the glass, in a box:
He scratched and stretched
Skin over his eyes and brows and stubbled face,
Needing a fix for his appearance.
Something was unbalanced