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Best Poems Written by Anthony French

Below are the all-time best Anthony French poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Anthony French Poem

All Seeing Eyes

Paint, the blood of an artist's hand
with words as wealth to understand;
and music pure to feed the soul
with sounds of song and joy.

Chalk and charcoal scratch as nails
across the fabric of the sails
of things as seen by open minds;
embroidered stitches made in time.

Through each and every tapestry 
of all the woven life they see.

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When Opportunity Knocks

Uncrowned 
kings and queens of madness walk
through halls burning with self confidence. 
Nervous incandescent eyes peer down from rafters 
unsure how their flesh and bone hosts
will survive visibility. 

What do they see
these eyes of ghosts? 
In reference frames 
made so close
to images of what they know 
behind shields of darkness and of doubt.

Drop into the heat 
with the kings and queens of madness;
feel the flames sear your skin
as color once more fills your eyes.
Enjoy your walk in the fire 
below the rafters.

For cold dark dead
with no shine but smell
will paint itself,
perfectly
over you in time.

Details | Anthony French Poem

Trying To Understand

The straw making the base of the basket stayed there.

She bent to pick up the heavier of the stones 
put them in her pockets 
and began to bruise the tops of her thighs. 

She was so angry that her plan had failed;
beating herself harder now
with her free hand until tears came
as they always did. 

Later
smiling 
against the chill of evening 
she laid out her now washed beautiful stones.

Around the place mummy is.

That night 
under fluorescent plastic stars
she remembered her Dad's smile
before he had pulled her door to.

As the whispers of sleep nudged her
she forgot 
just a bit more easily 
how dark and cold it had been.

Details | Anthony French Poem

There In the Shadows

Yes love is scary-
but it's more what comes after
that stops me trying.

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Word Power

Lighter than dry leaves
the capacity to burn;
held in what you say.

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In Control

Path of trod packed gray snow
berries on trees around its edges grow.

Fine drawn tails of branches bared
bud less 
against a sky that covers sun and high clouds;
over this place lost in time.

Shrill yet sweet bird song adding to my sense 
that certain things are best not experienced alone.

Mind elsewhere I slip
my boot twisting down and under an exposed root
leaving me half sitting and cursing.

Having done its work
in delivering thoughts of you 
it frees my foot.

As I cross Lovers bridge over the rushes
with my newly acquired hobble
I find myself playing with a thought ..

is it better to believe I am strong
than to try to love?

Details | Anthony French Poem

Writer's Block

Light inside the pen-
hidden as is past abuse;
unable to shine.

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9

Calcified bones from spent lives 
etched in stone above and around you.
You lie with others 
unable to hear 
or meet these words on any page.

It's cold even though you won't feel it.

Part of me wants to introduce the
others with whom you lay
to somehow warm that place
with blankets of sunlight. 

That would make me feel better about you being there
since you have to be there.

Another area of my mind faces
an equal challenge: 

Whether I should be thinking about you 
as my Dad, or as a person or after 9 years, 
as being gone.

Details | Anthony French Poem

6

Taste the morning mist-
smell the dampness around you;
only sound your steps.