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Best Poems Written by Francis Cooper-Mckenzie

Below are the all-time best Francis Cooper-Mckenzie poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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I Must Walk Little Steps

I Must Walk Little Steps......

From a day called the beginning;
to the one christened contemporary,
I must have certain understandings
of what has gone before,
I must consequently;
truly understand wise words of council be,
when written on manuscripts past,
that before I can be great
I must humble myself!
so, I can understand,
that I must walk in the shoes of another,
and before I can truly love
I must embrace a child,
then before I can be wiser within myself,
I must talk to the elders of my space
then before I can confess to knowledge
I must understand the pasts
and deeper still to engage my forefathers
I therefore must walk little steps.

Francis Cooper - Mac

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Untidy House

UNTIDY HOUSE 

Untidy house!
Round and round
Racing ‘round like headless fowl
Cleaning, cleaning frenzy is the go,
Guests are arriving nearing so
House of daily living though
Is not what they want to see?
All spic-n-span is not of daily grind.
So your visiting folk
Are introduced into a world
Of a falsehood here
But for them all they want to see
Is You!
The person of the house,
The rellie,
Or the one they call friend
And the one they’ve come to know.

Untidy house!
Tis equally same
As some wearing tattoo,
Ring nose piercing,
Being wheel chair bound mobility,
Speaking with a lisp,
Walking with aide of stick,
For those same souls
Maybe disfigurement 
And if it’s that
Then over time
Magically a disappearing act
Therefore all the world to see
The real person in the skin within.

Untidy house no more......

Francis Cooper - Mac © 22-Jun-20

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Empty Cup

EMPTY CUP

Oh!  Empty cup
On a saucer, you do sit,
All alone
In a cruel, cruel world,
That has made you
Have this feeling of rejection
And made to feel all dirty
And stained and gutted too!

Oh! Empty cup
Not that long ago
Was when sweet lips
Savoured the pleasure
Of the offering you gave,
Because you satisfied,
You warmed,
You imparted
Pure pleasure to the receiver.

Oh! Empty cup,
You gave all of yourself,
You were drained,
You’re all empty now,
You’re all alone
You feel so unwanted
And totally rejected too,

Oh! Empty cup
In a rack with your friends
Until the next time
When you supply the need
Of someone passing by
Who will use you
Who will abuse you,
Then cast you aside 
Again and again and again…

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As a Kid and Beyond

AS A KID AND BEYOND

did I ever wonder?
what my upbringing brought for me;
and did it disappoint
or just bring feelings to resurface,
but never sensitivities 
of deep down and personal,
and did I really care
of what there was to share,
or did it make me 
to have bitter heart,
from what had happened 
to me at that time,
and did I condemn them later on,
of those who kept the secrets
of past events,
or was the feelings like 
well things do happen!

For many days in the past,
I had trouble adjusting
to what was a muddled mind,
in the terms of growing beyond;
the nappy stage
and teething rings,
for there were secrets with my birth,
and a father who was not my dad,
and I wonder if it messed with 
in me being an angry boy,
who found no joy?
of being who I was,
so as for today; 
that when allowed to cry,
emotionlessness is ingrained feelings,
in never being allowed to articulate
of deep-seated emotions of consciousness.

and that I as person; 
or back then as a child,
could not have changed a ruddy thing,
or have I as this grownup person be, 
chosen to ignore
or have conveniently forgotten, 
bout what had happened in the past? 
or do I firmly believe;  
that if you particularly and specifically 
have chosen to live in the times of yore,
that never will you be blessed
to see the light of day.

however, for me today in my way,
I have chosen for my life to be on
a somewhat different tack,
and elected to become 
an examiner of intimate documents;
a genealogist of family trees,
only ever wanting to know 
what did make my family tick?
and where did I come from
and why certain things did happen,
and why was I a second-hand kid,
always feeling unwanted,
or unloved to extremes,
when it appeared to be
or so it seemed at the time.

but my mission in life as it is of now,
for on my computer back in the files,
in my file marked descent
there appears to be,
that I do have this somewhat fractured
family tree with missing parts,
and many unresolved answers,
and even these questions be 
are slowly being determined;
with careful consideration 
and instance overall,
for in genealogical circles,
my role in all of this
I have to be detached,
virtually emotionless to my task
which is why that how could I? 
make a sound judgement of past events.

for when as a kid
in my time of growing up,
always felt unloved,
only ever hand-me-downs
nothing ever new.
I was a snotty nosed
with a piece of rag in pocket,
and with scruffy boots on me feet,
and even they were;
from generation to generation,
pass me downs to the next in line;
of a McKenzie kid.

never encouraged so
to express myself externally,
or show the gifts and talents
that might I on show could offer,
for in amongst this wall to wall
of kids
totally misunderstood;
of why I wet the bed
as another slap prevailed,
on a daily basis spent,
totally upset the applecart;
for mum having to wash 
another set of sheets,
and my mattress laid out to dry
on a day-to-day basis done. 

a loner was I,
for in amongst the tribe,
I felt misplaced did I,
always wondering why
did we have to move?
never settling down
of staying in one place,
forever;
like a band of roving gypsies,
always on the go,
never having friends
only overbearing kids.
always in a fight,
never really understood
of why I stood me ground;
as an argumentative sort of bugger.

but! 
from I what I believe back then
‘twas a very unsettled childhood,
I have grown up to be;
the man 
that I am today,
with wife, kids and grandkids.
for my journey up to now,
has seen many episodes,
of toil, struggle and grief,
but also; 
many days in growing up
and having an awareness,
of understanding past events,
whereas; I can understand that now,
I have more days
of sunshine and happiness
which is ever surrounding me.

consequently, in my present day;
I have become a descriptive soul
of how I feel in words,
and having a pure pleasure
in transcribing down on paper,
for my journey has been long,
sometimes being wrong,
sometimes a colorful one,
sometimes fraught with danger,
sometimes without feelings of kind,
therefore, when the final curtain closes
will my story be told?
of a scruffy skinny kid with freckles;
who made something with his life?
and loved his mother deep.

Francis Cooper - Mac

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I Met Darlene Today

I MET DARLENE TODAY

I met Darlene today
and read a descriptive work,
expressed from her spirit being,
the heart of this great wordsmith
was beholden to my soul,
great inspirational words indeed to behold,
a love of passion to transcribe, 
and to narrate and a great desire to put down
what is felt from her heart,
I met Darlene today;
and was totally blessed by the experience.

Thank you Darlene for our meeting online.

Francis Cooper – Mac © 09-Jul-20

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My Life

MY LIFE

What life has previously portrayed for me
That not quite often, unfortunately,
Have I ever seen the overall picture unfold?
Or heard all the untold story told,
Sometimes I have felt that life has passed me by
Where confusion, hurt, and anger 
From an early age has reigned,
And still today it seems it rains down on my everyday parade,
Feelings of not quite being in the family mould it seems,
Hunger a mainstay for breakfast of the day,
Where angry outbursts was an upfront method
Of expressing how I felt in any given breath,
And never, never really understanding 
Surrounding circumstances that embraced me in its arms,
Where hand-me-downs were elegance of dress expressed
An embarrassment in amongst my peers always sensed,
Love, encouragement, and understanding of self,
Just words never articulated and corporal punishment
The reinforcement to one’s deeds of expressing self,
And now in my twilight times of reflection, I can look back,
I can see and wonder about my circumstances,
Knowing that from within an inner strength of greater power to mine,
I have seen this overall picture unfold,
And the man I am today is not the one
Where confusion, hurt, and anger
And hunger was the mainstay of the day,
With wisdom, counselling, and advice infused into my soul,
I am a much better soul to peacefulness
And my epitaph chiselled shall read “blessed.”

Francis Cooper – Mac © 19-Mar-21

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A Reflective Ploy

A Reflective Ploy...

it is a reflective ploy;
on the part of me,
when proofreading
all this work of mine;
and do I really care?
that a full stop.
don’t!
or that commas;
are often too many
or misplaced.
now semi-colons
are useful dudes
to slam!
two slightly related clauses
- together. –
and as for the colon
is quite a pain to introduce!
“quotation marks”
are to be used at your peril;
and only if you know
what you are doing.
and as for an ellipsis;
really,
confuses me head
in where to place the dots.
exclamation mark!
is a serious contender
of becoming nothing more;
than a glorified emoticon!
and a question mark
asks the question?
“are you amazingly clever?”
and as for (brackets),
you can either be;
amazingly clever with their use,
or just plain dumb!
(Parentheses) makes you smart!
[ square brackets]
designed to confuse you!!!
the hyphen, en dash or em dash –
confuses those illiterate of us,
with their proper place
in ‘Da Queen’s Inglish.’
the apostrophe is one of those cats
in this punctuation test;
where we don’t just understand,
where it goes and when.
braces are not your dental thing;
and before you know it,
are always used in pairs,
if you understand the theory
of having a  
in a sentence of your choosing.
a slash
is not going out the back for a wait-n-see;
but a most useful punctuation tool
to distinguish two terms,
such as she/he.
“punctuation marks!’
in this day and age
of texting…
on a mobile thing,
has become a lost art.
so, in rhetoric!
what does the future hold?
for a ‘little black duck,’
in writing
musings, thoughts and words,
in a reflective ploy
this is a never-ending riddle.

Francis Cooper - Mac

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Did We

DID WE?

Did we
Or do we?
Lose another today,
Of one who cried,
Another despaired,
Of one caught in a mindless trap,
Or felt all hope disappear
From someone who played the game,
And like receding tides
Emotions drift in and out,
And of those who look upon
But don’t understand,
The inner turmoil thoughts inside,
Of a warrior’s war
And their dance with demons of their past,
And for those who’re responsible
Have they played their part,
In helping recompense a just cause
And given hope to another today,
Or did we?
Or do we?
Lose another today.
I hope not 
To hear their cry.

Francis Cooper – Mac © 30-Jun-20

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A Hairy Mess

A HAIRY MESS

Oh they were the days
When treading the stage of life,
That as a ‘billy-lid’ a curly crop did reside
And father did his rendition as a barber 
Outside on verandah six monthly, 
With clippers held in pause for an endless attack
And no quarters given to my screams
“Dad! It bloody hurts,”
And a basin top dictated the fashion
And off to school with ridicule it became,
Then as growing lad in teens
Crew and flat tops were all the rage 
For a well-groomed kid with a quid from wage, 
Then as life progressed and on the dotted line I signed,
Where under hat was mine
Outside naval possession taken, 
And as life progressed in time frames as it does
Not much notice of what was happening slowly
To the curly mop on top retreating from skull,
And now in life as days surrender to age
And what was above the eyebrows,
For now I reminisce about what was there,
And now for me
A throw across is my miserly attempt,
To pacify me
That maybe,
Just maybe for me there is hope
Of a revival with dreadlocks displayed in glory,
And I pontificate 
“Oh! My kingdom for a comb.

Francis Cooper – Mac © 01-Jul-20

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Forgotten Wife

Forgotten Wife -

WHY?
I’ve asked the question, 
A thousand times or more,
What more could I have done?
As I really didn’t understand
What changed?
What had changed this man? 
That man I first married.

Ever a handsome fella 
Dressed in khaki clothe,
Fresh-faced,
Gentle, caring,
Considerate loving husband,
Before going off 
To that stinken foreign war,
Off to an unknown uncertainty.

But the return of my warrior
With loving arms a beckoning,
For him
Discharged and released
Into this brand new horizon,
Subtle changes first unnoticed
In having my man returned
Expecting a life of wedded bliss
And endless joy of peace.

However I the wife
Began to have this battle
Of fighting an unknown war
Where bouts of anger,
Sulkiness,
Depression,
Suspicions easily aroused,
Periods of unexplained darkness
Of something bottled within
Easily the order of the day.

His children who knew naught
Of happenings abound,
From a father who found 
Everyday faults so many
Drove a wedge 
Between parenthood 
And the siblings of his groin
Forcing them out into a world 
Of the unexpected
Out there 
Into a misunderstanding world of unknown.

As loyal wife of long ago,
Taken vows “till death us do part”
Now a suffer in total silence,
Tormented by the grief
Sometimes in disbelief,
This deep-seated anger, 
Which smoldered 
Like an un-erupted overdue volcano 
Deep inside the belly,
Every day became like torture
In trying to understand
What really changed my man?

As I now do sit
On this carpet 
Of lush green grass,
A lonely tear rolls down 
Head bowed 
In deep respect,
For me now a reality,
He has left the place
Truly gone forever,
Off to his lastingly resting place
And for this old soldier boy
‘Tis for him a much better rest
Than all the confusion of his mind.

I gaze!
I fix my eyes on his bronze plaque
His name, 
Rank and serial number inscribed
An azalea grows in a terracotta pot
Marking the spot
Where they lowered the casket
Three days after that fateful day,
The day they buried my man.

I being the widow,
The mother, 
And once his wife
Must now have inner strength,
“O God I wish I had more,
But why Lord oh why!
When he returned,
I still ask the question
What did change?
My lover,
My husband,
My man!