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Francie Lynch Oct 2022
So many things happened
So many years ago.
You hitch-hiked to have tea with Mammy;
But not me.

You scaled the Mount to succeed;
Without me.

We slid the Fiat into a Rambler,
Before your big night.
The front got bent out of shape,
But we still went,
Drinking whiskey from the bottle.
Nothing stopped us. We couldn't bother.

We stayed at Sean's,
Or various friends,
At Inns, or canvas tents;
All were means to our ends.

It was fifty years ago...
Half a century of years;
Decades of joyous laughter,
With many unanswered tears.
Francie Lynch Sep 2022
We've been cautioned to surrender
Before jack-boots hit our streets;
It was an open warning
With podium bleats like sheep.

They side-stepped all discretion,
They pivoted 'round masked stealth;
They aired their anonymity
On the media's lips of wealth.

And there, behind the curtain skirts,
Lurking in the wings,
In shadows and back street doors,
They listened,
Pulling strings.
Francie Lynch Aug 2022
The third incarnation
Of the green blob
Tenaciously grips the drain lip,
Threatening
A fourth invasion.
How many variations of a viral chest infection can one get in a year.
Francie Lynch Aug 2022
I have a difficult time saying, Awkward.
And it's not easy to spell.
It isn't forward, or backward,
Just awkward.
Oh! That was awkward, the duped say.
He's awkward, but will grow into those feet, quipped the coach.

When I met you again,
Awkward hardly was enough to define the moment.
And, months later, it's still awkward being near you.
I need to touch your hand, purposefully,
To get over this awkwardness, because
I don't see it in your eyes,
Or hear it in your voice.

We don't have time for awkwardness;
A word so onomatopoeic,
It's awkward saying it.
Francie Lynch Jul 2022
The Big Bang is soundless.
The galaxies dim.
The universe contracts.
Compared to you.

Evolution has peaked.
Humanity is humane.
Nature can nurture.
Compared to you.

Family takes root.
Generations prove lineage.
I, Me, Mine are ours.
Compared to you.

Life has no end.
Death has no beginning.
Compared to you.
Francie Lynch Jun 2022
Don't believe, for one second,
They'll hear nice things from me.
Were you dying for some kind of originality?
Well, let me just say,
It's still death by stupidity.
I'm telling you now,
I have nothing to say.
No one will hear of your generosity
(though we all benefitted);
Or your loyalty (of which I know firsthand);
Your discretion (none ever accused you of less).
I can't find the words. I'm speechless.
I warned you.
Stop smoking (both)
Stop drinking (especially every morning, afternoon and evening)
Stop being idle (and your posture *****)
Stop being a lap dog (stop licking boots)
Stop this slippery ***** of a lifestyle (there's ground below)
Stop taking bad advice.

You didn't Stop.
Now you're stopped.

That's all I have to say. Not much. Is it?
Another one is dying and it could have been put off for years.
Francie Lynch Jun 2022
She said I was her first true love,
And one day she'd marry me.
I told her another might object to that,
For I'm not what you seem to see.
You see, there were three others,
That said the same to me;
And I married the one,
The only one,
The Mother of those three.
Ah, daughters. How a father loves them, and how they first love their Dads. I miss my young girls, and love my adult girls. Tempus fugit.
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