Francie Lynch


Francie Lynch Poems

1081. Lighthouse Eyes 4/5/2014
1082. Red, Red 2/9/2015
1083. The Fucked For Life Club 12/19/2014
1084. Cicadas And Crickets 8/13/2017
1085. Worry Begets Worries -new- 9/11/2017
1086. I Get No Sleep 8/7/2017
1087. I Will Age 7/8/2017
1088. It's A Wonder Any Of Us Are Here At All 6/13/2017
1089. A Word To The Wise 5/11/2017
1090. Revolving Door 7/31/2015
1091. We're Not Laundry 12/8/2015
1092. Glasgow Cathedral 11/7/2015
1093. Talking To Strangers 11/10/2015
1094. Secrets 11/5/2015
1095. Everything's Back In Vogue 8/16/2015
1096. No Words 5/8/2017
1097. Life's A Puzzle 3/5/2016
1098. My Heart's A Boiling Cauldron 11/27/2015
1099. Death Is All Around 8/6/2015
1100. I Have To Pee 1/19/2015
1101. The Dogs' Days Of Winter 1/13/2015
1102. The Leprechaun's Ball 3/17/2015
1103. Active Vs. Passive 1/18/2015
1104. Ice-Cream 3/3/2015
1105. How I Measure Time 4/22/2015
1106. Teaching Lesson 7/30/2015
1107. Elegy For Dead Poets 9/26/2015
1108. Lucifer Wept 3/10/2016
1109. The Lads Are Streaming Porn 1/18/2015
1110. The Flight Ahead Of Me 4/1/2015
1111. My Poem Is My True Selfie 6/10/2014
1112. Not All Fathers Are Dads 6/2/2016
1113. Chaos 1/11/2015
1114. Were There Five? 1/31/2014
1115. Mary Jane Died Last Night 5/20/2015
1116. A Child Is Born 12/18/2015
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

Sliding Into Home

From here they filled the sidewalk,
Three abreast, heading east towards the corner
With their balls and sticks.
The flankers often turned their heads centre.
They'd return with
Bravado and shirts around their waists.
The stories I would hear, or read.

I recall Charlie beyond the rail and altar

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