Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Sep 2016 · 548
Don't Move That Stone
Francie Lynch Sep 2016
It's usual when one moves a stone,
There's things there that one finds;
Someone tries selling a car,
To rear-end us and our hind.

Amazing all the deals one's offered-
Insurance to seal us in our coffins;
Stocks to secure our future,
Anything to get our lucre.

The stone can be a pebble,
Inocuous at first glance;
But move it and one finds oneself
Involved in false romance.

Roll a boulder,
Lift a rock, of any make or shine;
Well find someone's beneath our heels-
The blind leading the blind.

The creepy, crawly bottom-feeders,
Are waiting for our kind.
Sep 2016 · 339
I Can't Stop You Falling
Francie Lynch Sep 2016
I can't stop you falling
When you're not in my arms;
I don't hear you crying
When you're in foreign lands.
I can't hear you calling
To me from afar,
And I can't spread a balm
To cure cuts and your scars.
Your plight's universal,
But personal to me,
Your growing pains hurt
When you learn to be free.
But,
If I could just hold you,
Behold and enfold you,
The first thing I'd do
Is probably scold you.
Francie Lynch Sep 2016
Where will I sit?
Will I make friends?
Do I look okay
On my first day?
Do you think
I'll do alright?
Is it like learning
To ride my bike?

     *Congrats, my child,
     You're doing fine,
     You've just learned
     The first day's rules.
     The fears, anxieties
     And self-doubts,
     Are life's hard lessons
     We could do without.
     There's no teacher
     Or book of stories
     To allay your ever-present worries.
     The stress now filling up your head,
     Is with you til the very end.


*But I want to stay home!
Sep 2016 · 1.3k
Hell To Pay
Francie Lynch Sep 2016
When my time finally arrives,
Finality holds no surprise;
But please remember
To close my eyes,
Shut my mouth,
End my lies.
Lace polished shoes
On my feet,
Cross my hands
Upon my chest,
Comb my hair,
Let me rest.
And tell the truth
When you speak.

(and if it's not an imposition,
lay me in the right position)


Dispense with the hyperbole,
There's hell to pay,
I assure you.
Aug 2016 · 391
Rhyming Poesy
Francie Lynch Aug 2016
I find readers still like
Meter and rhyme,
But the rhyming words
Must be sublime
When dangling at
The end the lines.

If you've a message
To get through,
Rhyming lines
Do it for you.
Don't get me wrong,
Free verse is fine,
But I only remember
One or two lines.
A poem that rhymes
Is easily recalled,
All of us do it
All of the time.
I like all poetry.
Aug 2016 · 2.5k
Stratford-Upon-Avon
Francie Lynch Aug 2016
A leaf fell, twisting in the Fir Green Square,
Like a spear thrown through the air;
A dog, distant and real,
Has barked five hundred years on Sheep Street.
Holy Trinity, the bone keeper, keeps doors open.
The Avon, not so sweet now, flows on;
Swans swim and preen, and tonight,
Henry will rage on Agincourt again,
Calling on his brothers, and me,
To breach the vicious cycle of lonely barks
And the immutable march of time.
Take my hand, look into my eyes,
My brotherhood of men.
Aug 2016 · 531
Death By Ballot
Francie Lynch Aug 2016
In the pitch of sleep
On a hot, humid night,
From a depth so deep
I woke in fright.
The overhead fan
Swirled the air,
The bedroom window
Was drawn and bare.
Out from the dark
I heard the scream
Penetrate and join my dream.
It slammed and splattered
On my screen,
An anguished cry,
An animal dies
Caught by a red-eyed predator.
I couldn't help but think
Of death,
Coming this November.
Francie Lynch Aug 2016
If you'd been here
When I was young,
You'd not forget
What we'd have done.

We'd climb roofs,
Jump in the river,
****** neighbour's pears,
Then skedaddle,
Laughing with sweat-matted hair,
Wiping off those grown-up cares.

We'd bumper-jump in four inch snow,
And never let our parents know.
Oh, such fun we two would do,
If I could stay as young as you.

We'd skate and bike,
Play street ball,
Act up in school,
Stand in the hall;
We'd hike with jars
Along country brooks,
Read and trade
Our comic books.
Lie in the sand,
Burn in the sun,
Forgetting it was time for home.
We'd never tire of our treats,
And often we'd forget to eat
Because we're having all our fun:
If you'd been here when I was young.

We'd play Tag and Red Rover,
Flags and Chase,
Then have sleep-overs.
We'd swap tomorrow
For daily pearls,
Then swap each other
For pretty girls.

We'd be up to our shenanigans,
Sleep the sleep,
Then start again.
This is the way
We'd have our fun,
If you'd been here
When I was young.

But now you're here,
And I'm much older,
The things we'd do
You'll do with others;
But when you need a  boost to climb,
This old man has a shoulder.
Yes,
I'll sure have lots of fun,
For you're here now.
That keeps me young.
For my new Grandson, Xavier (b. July 23rd.)
Thanks for all your readership and support. I hope you enjoyed the read as much as I enjoyed the write. Peace.
Aug 2016 · 480
Feeling Right
Francie Lynch Aug 2016
Don't feel wrong
When things go right;
Like running out of gas
With a station in sight;
Or you're wearing
A few pounds,
But you're still feeling light.
Too many sins
Have filled our heads,
Those of omission
Or some thoughts instead.
Strip off the guilt,
Bury the shame,
It's good to feel right,
No one's to blame
For you feeling so good.
Unclog the drain,
Open your pores,
The weather will change
Whether you're in or outdoors.
Seize this feeling
Of feeling so good;
It's good to feel right,
When you feel it your sure.
Aug 2016 · 754
Golden Penny
Francie Lynch Aug 2016
She's raised high
On the podium;
Pool water drips
With sodium;
She clearly sees
From lofty height,
Her training
And her sacrifice.
Our shining Penny
We behold,
Won Bronze, then Silver,
And now struck Gold.
Penny Oleksiak, 16 year old Canadian phenom in the pool at Rio. Congratulations Penny.
Aug 2016 · 340
Burn Baby Burn (10W)
Francie Lynch Aug 2016
If you're callous
Towards Humanity,
Expect heat blisters
In Immortality.
Aug 2016 · 598
August Moon
Francie Lynch Aug 2016
Look to the moon of August
From any place or time;
Write a little poesy,
Name it in a rhyme.
You can call it Sturgeon,
Red, Green Corn or Grain;
No matter what your outlook,
It still looks the same.
You can call it Dog Days,
Fruit, Dispute or Lightening,
And calling it a Woman's Moon
Gives rise to all that's ripening.
Aug 2016 · 590
The Id Grid
Francie Lynch Aug 2016
You were born with a ticket
For an ego-trip;
Languished on the axis
Of the Id Grid;
Dryed your hair with a comb
Before the vanity mirror.
That's how it was
When we were at home.
You fit many uniforms.
You never learned;
Never broke stride,
Now
You say good-bye.
Re-wind,
On slow-mo,
Review the moves
Then go.
Flip the rear view mirror;
It's bigger than you.
Aug 2016 · 351
Choose to Dream
Francie Lynch Aug 2016
I'm flippant with
My fictional facts;
Patching words
Like a coverlet,
Designed with loom and needle.
I've stitched the lines,
Woven the words
To make them more credible.
But it's only a poem
To strike at the bone,
A source of strength
Who's vigor's unknown.
A garment to wear
With invisible seams:
Wrap it 'round you
If you choose to dream.
Aug 2016 · 906
Free Loaders and Hoarders
Francie Lynch Aug 2016
A scurry of munks
Are eating my garden;
To you they're cute,
But my heart's hardened.
They chirp at the trough
Of my labored crop;
Like double-dippers
They pouch and they run,
They sound like they're laughing,
Like they're having some fun.
I curse and complain,
But the munks keep returning,
Like a recurring refrain
Of free loaders and hoarders.
Should I feel such disdain?
After some thought,
We're much the same.
Aug 2016 · 2.3k
Grapes
Francie Lynch Aug 2016
Love and disdain
Are two fruits
On the same
Clustered vine.
When picked
And fermented,
They make
Fine wine,
Or bitter vinegar.
Aug 2016 · 2.7k
Another Gladiator Fell
Francie Lynch Aug 2016
Another gladiator fell
Watering the field in blood.
His head was sheathed,
He never cut through the net
That descended from the stands.
The iron-****** trident
Brought thumbs up from the spectators
Indulging in the beer and nuts.
There are always some to be sacrificed
To placate the mob in the colosseum
Beneath the night lights on Mondays,
When Coke is the drink of victors,
And jerseys are sold to the trainees
Who now put on their spikes.
These are ours
Running headlong into the arena.
Aug 2016 · 414
Labor of Love
Francie Lynch Aug 2016
She has tomato red lips,
And kale green eyes,
Strawberry cheeks,
And warm earthy thighs.
I tend to her daily,
My garden of delight,
And I'll harvest
My labor of love
Tonight.
Aug 2016 · 501
Cast of Thousands
Francie Lynch Aug 2016
What's this?
A set-up?
I never volunteered
To be the patsy.
A whipping boy?
Don't like the story line,
Or being the understudy
Of a flip side;
An expendable.
This is a con
In night gallery.

I'm in the crowd,
In the frame,
And the shot is printed.
Success at shutter speed.

Then you wrote a letter,
Started it endearingly,
Signed it with an old promise
That once was clear to me.
Aug 2016 · 799
Hypocrites
Francie Lynch Aug 2016
From this hypocrite
To all others,
Let's not pretend
We're all brothers.
Stop the smile,
Stop the shakes,
The vacuous pats,
The thumbs up signals
That we're great.
I know you haven't
Got my back.
Let's assume
We're new strangers;
Start again,
Yet still pretenders:
It still comes out the same.
Jul 2016 · 560
July Moon
Francie Lynch Jul 2016
Each night
The sliver grows
Like young buck antlers,
Gambolling
Beneath the thunderous claps
Gathering
Over our part
Of the world,
In July.
July moon is known as the "Full Buck Moon" or the "Thunder Moon."
Jul 2016 · 337
Re-Cycling Day
Francie Lynch Jul 2016
Four clear bags lay waiting
On the curbside;
The recycling truck
Comes today,
Tuesday.
A For Sale sign is planted
On the lawn;
Mary's gone to stay.
Death of a neighbour.
Jun 2016 · 687
Us Has One U
Francie Lynch Jun 2016
My life has always been about us.
Not a group us,
But the me in us.
The I, me, mine.
Wear my things, I strike out.
I buy duplicate gifts,
Compliment with vacuous airs of envy.
Invitations are scarce. A dollar a stamp.
Then you appeared
To show me the you
In us.
Tip of the cap to George Harrison's "I, Me, Mine."
Francie Lynch Jun 2016
Should poets be like good Romans,
And fall on their pens
When they loose the fight;
Or should we take flight,
To write another day?
Jun 2016 · 634
Endearing Words
Francie Lynch Jun 2016
She calls me names
You never mouthed;
I hear the unfamiliar, Sorry.
And *** stings my ears.
You called me nothing,
Or anything;
You knew no need
For words of endearment.
Today, you're loudly missed
By the sounds of your vacuous absence,
By the atoms we once crushed
In the melding point of names.
Do you squeeze out terms of entaglement,
Now?
False hope on rising pride,
To hold the darkling years ahead,
To keep him in your bed?
Jun 2016 · 3.2k
June Moon
Francie Lynch Jun 2016
Our Strawberry Moon,
Now waxed in June,
Brings crops to bloom;
Like a balloon:
All gone too soon.
Eleven more to follow.
Jun 2016 · 705
Know-It-Alls
Francie Lynch Jun 2016
There's a drastic reduction
In the number of Know-it-alls
Since cellphones have decreased
The mounds of *******
We were subject to.
Google anyone's story for factual support.
Jun 2016 · 2.2k
A Drive to Stratford
Francie Lynch Jun 2016
On Sunday, my S.O. and I
Drove to see Chorus Line
At the Stratford Festival.
A matinee. Beautiful day.
We left the Refineries of Sarnia
For fine entertainment.
The Avon flows gently
Buoying white swans gracefully.
Blah... blah... blah.
All very real.
You can see why it's called, Stratford;
There could be no other name.
A good choice.
Best Shakespearean Festival in N.A.
She explained all this to me on the drive.
If contrary people suffer
From low self-esteem, I didn't help
The situation.
As we drove through rich, green farmland,
Grazing cattle.
She asked why some barns
Have ramps leading to the barn doors.
Well, says I,
The farmers, because of the economy,
Have to sell their livestock in parts,
So the ramps give easy access for the animals
Back to their stalls.

Huh, said S.O.
That's so thoughtful!
Timing is everything.
Sincerity in voice, critical.
Hurry on to a new topic.

Someday, for sure, she'll tell someone, somewhere
About the considerate farmer.
She will.
Timing.
Like the kick line.
Like a *punch line.
Stratford, Ontario, Canada
Sarnia, Ontario, Canada
Jun 2016 · 911
When Dads Do Well
Francie Lynch Jun 2016
I would've given birth
To you,
Endured whatever
Mothers do.
Instead, I did
What Dads do.

I rocked you
Til my future shook;
Watched you til
I couldn't look.
As you changed,
I changed too,
To do the things
That Dads do.

You were bathed,
Dressed and fed;
I loved you so much
I was saved.

If there's credit,
Well, I get it,
For teaching you to read.
I took the blame
When you got bored
With school's ABC's.

I followed you
In all your roles,
Your teams,
Your solos,
Your trips,
Your shows.
First to clap,
Last to sit;
I taped it all,
From start -
To finish.

I taught you
How to tie a lace,
Ride a bike,
Golf and skate.
When time arrived
For you to drive,
You learned
On standard,
Never stranded,
You came home alive.

Your highs
I took in stride,
By example taught
Humility's pride.
Your lows,
I couldn't internalize,
I dropped my guard
With my eyes.

When Dad's do well
It's a double edge,
The future wedge.
The world
Revealed
Desired you too.
I don't dismiss
What mothers do,
But when Dads do well,
Both lose you.
Happy Father's Day (Repost)
Jun 2016 · 501
Gifts
Francie Lynch Jun 2016
She gave me a stone,
And her turkey wish-bone,
She'd been saving.
Then presented a pen
She'd hid in her sock
Under her bed,
In her special box.
These are her gifts;
They're all that she's got.
Gifts from a child,
Giving and smiling.
She's not eccentric,
To her they're aesthetic;
If I'm worthy,
Tomorrow,
There's a blue-ribbon stick.
Jun 2016 · 1.9k
Misdemeanors
Francie Lynch Jun 2016
The courtroom was buzzing,
Deals were struck,
Before Her Worship
Heard from the docket.

Will Luke be saved.

A line of roguish consorts
All on Legal Aid,
Paraded before Her,
In judical chains.

And the lawyers are asking
About The Game of Thrones.

There are too many cops,
All creased and shiny,
Carrying file folders,
Outling the crimes.

I was a spectator,
Small in my corner,
As Luke went to stand
Before his maker,
Before his deal breaker.

All charges dropped,
As if a matter of course;
Except for the charges
From the laswyer and court.
Simple possession charges in Canada will soon be expunged when *** becomes decriminalized and legal.
Jun 2016 · 693
The Sweep
Francie Lynch Jun 2016
Maura gave me a watch
Many Christmasses ago;
Time and again its hands
Moved me.
It had a crystal face,
Nickel-plated case,
A golden crown,
Calendar window,
And a dial with Arabic numerals.
A ten dollar Timex
That made me feel like a million.
The brothers didn't have a watch,
But I had a second hand
For accurate readings
Of who could **** the longest,
Hold their breath for two minutes,
How long it took for the kettle to boil,
Or a snail to crawl.
Everything could be timed,
And timing, like my watch,
Was everything.
I was the timekeeper,
And took duties seriously.
I wore it on my left arm,
One day the sweep second froze,
The big and little hands stopped.
A spring or something broke;
The date was a constant
Grim reminder.
Jun 2016 · 1.7k
Half a Brain
Francie Lynch Jun 2016
Great people die,
Just like you and I.
We all came the same,
Naked, with a brain;
Walked, then talked,
We're all the same,
But great ones do it
With their brain.
Size doesn't matter.
You can be a pea brain,
Or a nit wit:
Why, if someone says,
You've half a brain;
That shouldn't be
Cause for shame.
You never know
Who's got half a brain:
It's been proven,
Sometimes half
Is greater than the whole.
Use what you got,
Live your fullest.
Jun 2016 · 1.3k
Let the Darkness Out
Francie Lynch Jun 2016
John wrote,
I read the news today...
He recounted accidents, wars, ***-holes.
I did too... today.
I read about charity runs,
Music under the Bluewater Bridge,
Teachers receiving National Awards.
There are many sections to the paper
I read through my wire-rimmed glasses.
I'm getting older, all the time,
So I avoid the nastiness with my morning coffee.
Is killing terrorists good news?
Oh boy!
What would John read into that.
We need some help!
I may skip the news tomorrow,
And make some holes
To let the light in,
The darkness out.
Jun 2016 · 782
Holding Court
Francie Lynch Jun 2016
I'm holding court
In my home,
Not so regal
On my throne.
The peons line-up
As I moan,
Trying to pass
My kidney stones.
Jun 2016 · 658
Fourteen Billion
Francie Lynch Jun 2016
Fourteen billion isn't big anymore.
For some, it's chicken feed.
When big business and governement
Talk finances, it's chump change.
It's smaller now.
Why only fourteen billion years ago
We exploded, were carried by stellar winds,
Along with every atom for every star;
For every one of us together,
Equal and indestructable.
We travelled, unknowingly, at light speed,
With family, friends and strangers,
To unknown destinations,
Through the dark,
Into the light,
Into life.
Fourteen billion years is really nothing.
There are no atoms in boundary lines.
We shouldn't let a few billion years
Come between us.
Jun 2016 · 534
White Space
Francie Lynch Jun 2016
The black between our stars
Is not a void;
It's the same black matter
Between us,
Keeping bodies apart,
To the naked eye.
But I'll focus on the white space
We're immersed in.
It shares the waves and molecules
With blackness, but more visible
In the light you stand.
White space attracts
The materials of poetry and art,
Connecting like the dots
Of a new constellation,
Here, the thirteenth sign.
We call it
What we want.
Jun 2016 · 609
Good Piles
Francie Lynch Jun 2016
A life built
With the finest materials
Needs a well-formed foundation;
A deep footing.
Your piles are now beneficial.
Jun 2016 · 476
Come
Francie Lynch Jun 2016
Come hither.
Come by.
Come soon.
Come whence.
Come forth.
Come up.
Come hence.
Come often.
Come now!
Come back.
Jun 2016 · 1.0k
Pens for Shovels
Francie Lynch Jun 2016
I can be engaged
In anything,
When the sense of shovel comes.
Smothering cold ashes.
I'm looking at your eyes
Til the sockets stand out;
I'm planting gardens
For growth;
When I installed the French Doors,
I heard the lid clap.
Everything's archetypal:
Snakes, cruciforms, swastikas.
Looking up, they become more profound
In the contrails and puzzles beyond my skies.
When Neanderthal heeled the first blade
To plant something or someone,
He didn't know the theory of the chaos effect.
His effect.
This would suffice as my last poem.
My pen is my shovel,
And I'm heeling it now,
Into you.
Jun 2016 · 2.1k
The Greatest: Ali
Francie Lynch Jun 2016
Two sluggers emerged
From Louisville;
One fashioned from ash,
One molded from Clay.
One is The Greatest.
Ali.
The Greatest
Jun 2016 · 462
Fire, Not Water
Francie Lynch Jun 2016
The Ash Tree is metaphor
For the disappeared;
Like Mayans,
Liberals and fair play.
Nasties bore through
Looking to survive.
Not for ivory or painted fur,
Not for all the cod.
Check out the bins behind restaurants,
The methane valves in neighbourhoods,
Geysers in Bear Creek,
Toddlers vanishing into preshcool,
The tainted years of our elders,
The ones who've failed to launch.
Fire, not water,
Urns, not coffins.
I think of these as I water my tomatoes,
Not for survival,
For sanity.
Jun 2016 · 1.3k
No Hickory-Dickory Here
Francie Lynch Jun 2016
Jesus Christ Almighty!...

     *What?


A mouse ran up my nightie!...

     Ohhh...

He bit my ***!...

     Dear me!

Then ran lickety-split,....

     Where

*Slipping on my ****,

Squeaking for being so naughty.
Jun 2016 · 584
Peace (10W)
Francie Lynch Jun 2016
The verdict of world opinion
Is in;
*Keep the Peace!
That's all a judge and gavel need say.
Jun 2016 · 1.3k
Not All Fathers Are Dads
Francie Lynch Jun 2016
We lived
In our Goodwill bathing suits
During our arduous summer isolation
From school and friends.
They were shiny, silk-like.
The scrotums were always
A size too big,
And so, sagged,
Exposing us like water snakes
Raising heads from darkness.
We sat in the back seat of the Rambler
Like three monkeys,
Towels wrapped sarong-like.
The heated air rose from the hood
As visible reminders.
This was Mammy's idea,
Hoping he would feel obliged
After many hours of hoeing and weeding.
Just an hour at the Beach.
I longed for the sound of slowly crushed stone
Beneath the tires as we backed out.
He emerged from the house,
Walked to the garage,
Never glancing our way,
A half hour later we got out.
But I saw, I heard, and now I speak.
Some fathers are never Dads.
May 2016 · 7.1k
A Little Knowledge
Francie Lynch May 2016
I know.
You know.
I know you know.
You know I know you know.
We're very knowledgeable
With what we know.
You know?
I know!
So.
We  do know?
May 2016 · 580
Veteran of Domestic Wars
Francie Lynch May 2016
I was well-armed,
And I dug in.
Bolted the garrison gates,
Posted my defences on turrets
Of pity and self-loathing;
Attacked with self-righteousness
And posturing.
After the expected one hundred years,
You retreated and fled,
Yet I awaited another on-slaught,
Sharpened my sticks,
Mounded my stones,
Prepared for a signal.
The Keep has long fallen,
The moat is weedy and dry,
But I've left the drawbridge down,
Dismissed my guards,
Examined my scars.
I am a veteran of domestic wars,
With no benefits.
May 2016 · 445
The Volume Is Constant
Francie Lynch May 2016
We can cry rivers,
Sweat buckets,
But never add an ounce
To the earth's volume.
We can salivate over ***,
Express our fluids of desire,
But we'll not add a milliliter.
Jesus knew this so well:
Don't worry!
So spend tears of joy;
Embrace the sweat of work and sun,
Cleanse our bodies,
Accept the known and unknown,
For we'll not add one day
Fretting and pacing
Over our human condition.
May 2016 · 2.9k
Honeybee
Francie Lynch May 2016
A honeybee hovers
Over my lawn,
Scouting nectar
Like a drone.
He hums a song
I love to hear:
Honey, he hums,
I'm coming home.
A bit of poetic irony.
May 2016 · 431
A Place
Francie Lynch May 2016
Did you have a place
As a child,
A spot to hide
For a little while,
Until your fears could subside?
A shack, a tree, a copse or cubby,
A niche away
From your toils and trouble.
Reach back through the mists of time,
Re-visit that place and there you'll find
The peace you found
When you were a child.
Next page