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Best Poems Written by Richard Francis

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

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My Green Thumb

My Green Thumb


Whenever I bought a plant and tried
To keep it watered and well fed
The plant just shrivelled up and died
Now all the plants I have are dead.

I gave them light or lots of shade
Did everything I was told
Talked to them when they seemed to fade
Kept them free from bugs and mould.

I babied them and gave them drops
The best earth is what I used
Made sure their roots had spacious pots
But they died, I’m so confused.

Well, nothing seems to work for me
A green thumb I can’t make
So if I want a plant or tree
I guess it will be fake.

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Abandoned

Abandoned


The house, it leans far to the right
But it still looked determined to continue its fight
Against time and weather and gravities pull
Only dreams of the days when it’s windows were full
Of clean clear glass and with curtains with frills
And children who ran through it then out over the hills
In search of adventure and caves full of gold
Through green pastures and forests oh! The stories they told
Cows in the barnyard calling for calf,
Someone in the kitchen sharing a laugh
With the children’s mother while she’s making the bread
And a cat and her kittens search for a mouse that has fled
Under the woodpile for its own safety sake
The chickens and roosters, what a noise that they make
And the cows and the horses add to the din
It was such a nice house for a large family to live in.
Then came the time when they all moved away
None of them wanted to but no one could stay
So they left the house empty and they were its heart
And a house left in that way will soon fall apart
The memories had echoed through the house for some years
But they stopped when the rain fell through the house just like tears
Windows were broken, the door off its hinge
Weeds in the yard, paint on the walls, no not a tinge
The well is now dry; the barn is no more
The tears of the house have rotted the floor
The chimney has fallen all down in a pile
Even the wood of the porch is drawn up in a smile
Windows without glass are like eyes that don’t see
And nothing shows now like it all used to be
One day it will die when the roof is laid low
And into the earth like old bones it will go
It’s so sad to see the house with its sad little lean
With only imagination to show the way it had been.

Details | Richard Francis Poem

Driftwood Fire

Driftwood Fire


Today, I walked the rocky shore
Enjoying the winds wild choir
And gathered there as I have before
The fuel for a driftwood fire.

Where came these twists of tortured wood?
That lay here bare and dry
From lands afar where once they stood?
Now come here bye and bye?

Or from its home, here, back once more
Wave tossed upon the sand
From fragrant woods, down tidal bore
Now to my eager hand?

It matters not from where they came
From what land or sea that they have been
Upon our shore they’re all the same
Left here for me to glean.

Then to my home I take these twists
Weathered grey, no colour do they inspire
Until winter’s cold and sea’s first mists
Give way to a driftwood fire.

Then castles tall with banners bold
Are built within the flame
With a sunset’s palette their stories told
And beauty they will regain.

Details | Richard Francis Poem

Best Friend

Best Friend

Sad were the eyes of the puppy born
On a fine day in the fall
Bright were its eyes but so forlorn
In something that was so small

Brave were the steps that first it took
Away from its mothers side
Happy was the tail that shook and shook
With excitement it could not hide

Pink was the tongue that licked my ears
As I hugged it close to me
Trust was the look; I have no fears
As it sat upon my knee

Safe were we from the threat of squirrels
That dared to come on its lawn
High it dances, prances and twirls
When the mailman has come and gone

At peace I feel when I scratch its ears
After a long and troubled day
All my worries it sits and hears
Though it knows not what I say

Patience it shows when its time to eat
But even it has its line
Joy it shows when it hears my feet
For it knows that they are mine

Too short be the years of which we share
Each one flies past so fast
Grey is its ears before we are aware
That the youthful times are past

Content are we as we watch the fire
In the last days we spend together
Sweet are the memories like the sound of a choir
As light as a goose down feather

Soft are the ears of this dog of mine
As she puts her head down last
I am at peace was her final sign
With the last look that she cast.

Details | Richard Francis Poem

Family

Family


The albums of pictures are dusty
I take them all down one by one
Even the pages are musty
And the ink on the paper has run.

Carefully I look at the strangers
Here is a history of me
I tried to imagine the dangers
And hardships they all had to see.

Some stood in a group, some were sitting
It seemed that they each had their place
I guess that they thought it not fitting
To have a smile on anyone’s face.

There were beards and scuffed old work boots
Some ribbons and lace for the girls
An old bowler hat and hair oiled to the roots
Some with bonnets perched atop curls.

As I looked at each generation closely
They started to look all the same
And under each picture, well mostly
Was written in ink, just a name.

The words written there on those pages
Have blurred with the passage of time
But the name has passed down through the ages
Because; it’s the same one as mine.

Details | Richard Francis Poem

I Am a Soldier

I Am A Soldier



I walk in the dust, in the sweat and the fear
So those who I love and hold so dear
Will never have to feel the stings
That hate and ignorance always brings

Death and fear walk with me each mile
Constant companions that are so vile
That on my soul they leave a scare
And dreams of home seem faint and far

Nothing seems real in this valley of death
While Satan blows his putrid breath
Upon the land time left behind
To death and hate of every kind

Seek not to bring me home until
I’ve searched the caves of every hill
And driven out the very hosts of hell
That in these rocky holes do dwell

And then, please, only then
Will I come marching home again
To heal my mind if not my soul
For the sweat and the fear will have taken their toll

But that is the price that I willingly pay
So that upon my judgement day
I will be able to proudly stand with the rest
And honestly say that I did my best

For I am a soldier.

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The Soul of a Unwritten Poem

The Soul of an Unwritten Poem


A tear slides slowly down a baby’s cheek
Wind in the trees and the grass
Deer in the meadow so quiet and meek
Sunlight through coloured glass

Sounds of water in a brook in the spring
Clouds making shapes in the sky
The sweetness of birds when they start to sing
What it must feel like to fly

The feeling you get watching moonlight on leaves
Or watching your children now grown
This my heart and mind truly believes
Is the soul of an unwritten poem.

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Decision

Decision


With bands of gold and rays of red
We say goodbye to sunlit day
To welcome Lady moon instead
Through sparkled heavens her course does lay
And in her turn she lays her head
Upon the distant edge of earth.

In like measure day and night
Sun and moon with starlit sky
Do keep the time of heaven’s light
In valleys low and mountains high
Upon the distant edge of earth.

As the beat of the celestial heart
Measures now the course we set
To follow or lead will be a part
Of the life we choose then place the bet
That it will be right to the end or start
Upon the distant edge of earth.

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Red Mist

Red mist collects in the corners of my mind
Clouding many images that should be clear
Confusion greets my thoughts I find
And my eyes begin to tear.

Revenge burns within me
Rage beats like I have two hearts
Contentment and peace I cannot see
Wait until the healing starts.

Come the day when all is forgiven
When, I cannot say
Weakness and pain now are given
At the end of each working day.

To this I am condemned most unfairly
No act of mine did warrant this charge
And now fallen I can raise my head barely
For my burden is overly large.

Please come the day when it’s finally over
And my waking won’t be with regret
Then I will walk in fields of sweet clover
And those wrongs I will gladly forget.

Details | Richard Francis Poem

The Oak

The Oak


There is some wood upon the grate
Within its bark are warmth and light
Waiting there till it gets late
To hold away the cold and night.
 
The wood was once a tall Oak tree
That stood beside a old stone wall
Its branches stretching high and free
A lightening bolt brought down its fall.

Branches bare except for snow
Forgotten strength no beauty seen
Stately oak by storm laid low
A shadow of what it must have been.

Saws and axes busy sound
Breaking up the ruined wood
A single acorn on the ground
Will grow up where its parent stood.

Cut and split then put away
Waiting for the time that when
Winters cold and shorter day
Show its beauty yet again.