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Francine Roberts Poem
Winnie the Pooh and Mickey Mouse
are painted on walls of green.
A maple crib stands in the corner.
It's a picture perfect scene.
There is only one thing missing
in this room so perfectly designed.
The baby was never to take a breath.
You have to wonder what God had in mind.
Winnie the Pooh and Mickey Mouse
live behind an ever closed door.
To look at the would-be parents
you couldn't tell who was grieving more.
Not all plans have happy endings;
some endings never seem to end.
How much sadness can two people take
before they break instead of bend.
Winnie the Pooh and Mickey Mouse
are painted on walls of green
in a room now shrouded in sadness
where no child will ever be seen.
~~~ 03/01/2013 ~~~
Francine Roberts
Copyright © Francine Roberts | Year Posted 2013
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Francine Roberts Poem
He threw the dart,
it missed the board,
it hit my foot instead.
The next dart flew.
it hit a wire
then ricocheted t'wards my head.
It's a dangerous thing,
the game of darts.
Not for the faint of heart.
"Cause once they're drunk
they miss the board
and try, your hair, to part.
I can add
and I can subtract
so I don't mind keeping score.
But when those darts
miss the board
they don't always hit the floor.
I have scars
and I have bled
from darts, like missiles, thrown.
But if they don't stop
aiming for me
they can bloody well score their own.
Copyright © Francine Roberts | Year Posted 2013
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Francine Roberts Poem
What I wouldn't give most days
to run from the world and just hide
in a corner nook, with a storybook.
I'd immerse myself and time I'd bide
A foreign land, a new romance.
Swept away by the written page.
Where love is forever, happiness reigns
and every heroine's passions rage.
Life can be repetitive, numb,
but immersed in stories everything's new.
The best escapism is by far
found in a good book, this is true.
When day is done and time my own
I'll curl up in that corner nook
and let myself be taken away
inside the pages of a storybook.
22/04/2016
Copyright © Francine Roberts | Year Posted 2016
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Francine Roberts Poem
on the day we met
he brought me orange roses
their vibrant colour
matching the fire in his eyes
I caress the soft petals
in the center of
my love's well tended garden
orange roses bloom
through tears I pick a bouquet
to brighten his lonely grave
Copyright © Francine Roberts | Year Posted 2013
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Francine Roberts Poem
You try to entice me
With the smell of coffee and pancakes.
I bury my head deeper under the covers
And ignore your ploy.
Naked, I walk into the kitchen,
My turn to entice.
I run back to the bed and dive beneath the covers,
Giggling.
The pancakes are cold,
I win.
Copyright © Francine Roberts | Year Posted 2010
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Francine Roberts Poem
It's one week till Christmas
And we've had enough
Of grumpy old shoppers
Complaining about stuff.
They hate the line-ups,
They hate the cashiers.
They won't be happy
Till they have us in tears.
The things they are after
Are long gone from the store.
They find it incredulous
We won't be getting more.
Last minute shoppers
Are a pain in the rump.
Each night by closing
This place looks like a dump.
One more week to go,
I sure hope we make it
But in the meantime
We'll just smile and fake it.
Copyright © Francine Roberts | Year Posted 2010
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Francine Roberts Poem
Welcome , Dear Carolyn, we finally meet,
Please come in , won't you have a seat.
Let's sit on the deck and we'll watch the deer.
There's no need to whisper, they have no fear.
I'm so glad you're spending your vacation with me.
We'll get to know each other over this pot of tea.
I am so looking forward to showing off my home town.
Did you bring comfortable shoes for our running around?
Dear Carolyn, I know such good friends we'll be,
So just tell me 'everything' while I pour the tea.
for the Michael's "First words over coffee" contest
by Francine Roberts, about the wonderful Carolyn Devonshire, whom I would
absolutely love to meet
Copyright © Francine Roberts | Year Posted 2011
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Francine Roberts Poem
into blue skies
pink wings take flight
ripples on the pond
Copyright © Francine Roberts | Year Posted 2013
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Francine Roberts Poem
The ocean softly laps the boat
as I watch the setting sun.
I drop the flowers and watch them float,
relieved this day is done.
Ashes are scattered in the sea
followed by flowers of white.
I watch an eagle soaring free,
flying into the night.
Tears slip silently from my eyes
as the waves gently lap the boat.
I turn back home in darkening skies
while the flowers and ashes float.
Alone, I head the boat to shore.
My heart, bereft, forevermore.
04/07/2012
Copyright © Francine Roberts | Year Posted 2012
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Francine Roberts Poem
lazily the waves
lap the pebbles on the beach
a crab scurries by
to burrow beneath wet sand
a prisoner of the tides
Copyright © Francine Roberts | Year Posted 2013
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