Biography of Frederick Francis
I love poetry, it is the furthest thing from my profession and I think most people who know me would be totally shocked to find out I read and write poetry. I simply do it for my self. It makes me feel better some times, or allows me to put things in perspective. The reason I chose to put my poetry up on this website is because I started sharing my writing with a select few friends. I was totally shocked at how many of them just nodded and gave that smile of familiarity. What I concluded is that so many people are so similar in our experiences, good and bad, but many of us do not share them with one another because those conversations do not fit into out society. It is my hope that just one person will read something I have written and feel a little less alone.
Frederick Francis Poems
You are quiet until you are loud. You are deaf until you hear. You are blind until you see. You are mute until you speak.
I'Ll Be Okay
I wonder if when looking back We'll discover where we went off track? If I’ll understand why you turned your back? With such conviction you walked away.
Manner Of Manners
Two wrongs may not make a right But three wrongs means you’re on a roll. Let my apprehension flow out with the tide. Why not put one more to the final toll?
To The Man On Page Three
I hear solemnly on the morning news Of another too soon tragedy over sea. I turn the pages of the newspaper And find a self portrait staring back at me.
Coming Of Age
It’s a funny thing to listen to; their deep life concerns. One group they speak of money, the other, earth worms. Made of all the same material, and breathe the same air. But for one the effects of life show far less ware.
Awake In Bed
Success in life is an ambiguous term, Its many meanings I’m starting to learn. The road to my future is paved with tenacity
The Old Man
I met a man in no important place. Experience had now wrinkled his face. There was something about how he sat with a smile. I perched and watched him for quite a while.
Escaping Back To You
On this paper I wrote all that I wanted to be. It was such a wonderful tale of us together. You tore it to pieces right in front of me; Dashed each one of my dreams of forever.
A Matter Of Perspective
An affliction we all suffer is narrow mindedness. It does just what it says and allows us to see less. We come by it honestly; it is not a conscious choice. But occasionally make an effort to give the counter point a voice.
Out For The Night
The Pictures, they’re crooked like they were hung with no care. Black, white or purple, you’re all welcome there. With these familiar strangers you just feel at home. You don’t know a soul in the room but you don’t feel alone.
Get Over It
There’s not even a landscape, There’s not even that. If you fall off now, There is nothing to hit and go splat.
Start To Finish
A casual glance that turned to more, A smile never returned. An un-pretentious playful thought But your thought I could not discern.
A funny thing enjoyment can be. Sly, mysterious and difficult to see. If it is quantity you look for, the outlook is bleak. If volume sustains you, your outlook seems meek.
Just Feeling Good
When I wander through my world there’s beauty all around. If people have trouble seeing it, I wonder if their mind is sound. It is not in small things that require close attention, It’s so obvious and in your face I feel I need not mention
Coming Of Age
It’s a funny thing to listen to; their deep life concerns.
One group they speak of money, the other, earth worms.
Made of all the same material, and breathe the same air.
But for one the effects of life show far less ware.
Innocence is bliss, a seemingly careless existence.
But when given the opportunity we put up resistance.
The older we get, the less innocent we are.
Until we reach a point where we’ve just gone too far.