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Best Poems Written by Frankie Gaynor-Archer

Below are the all-time best Frankie Gaynor-Archer poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Busy

They took the guile and base for me
prostrate outside the gate for me
when I was four
I asked for more
they said they'd do their best for me
They knelt beside my bed for me
when I was sick with leprosy
I cried all night 
by candlelight
They sang a song of clemency
Instilled my life’s integrity
with vigilant intensity
such memories
glow easily
intelligence adhered to me
With discipline I should abide
with inspirations far and wide
to school I went
with confidence
and pick-axe handle by my side
But now I'm so much older
though heart is so much colder
I'm also so much stronger
in need of care no longer
I haven't got the time for you
I'm blessed with better things to do.

Copyright © Frankie Gaynor-Archer | Year Posted 2007



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Reprimand

I'm in charge here 
I am your chieftain.....your Lord and Master                         
the head of proceedings...the king of the castle...the cat with the cream,
the orchestrator, the pivotal point, the emphasis, the edict, the axis, the access, the exit, 
the designer, the generator, the detonator, the grand wizard, 
the power and the glory, le chef du paquet 
I....the ventriliquist....you the dummy 
my hand your body....my thoughts your actions....my voice your labour 
This empire is the result of my structured efforts.....not yours 
my potent planning, my vigorous devotion, innovation, dedication, generation, agitation, 
They queue a mile long awaiting your ragged eviction 
Scrutinize your daily contribution before considering financial furtherance 
delegation issues are my division 
I demand nothing more than your obedience, stagnation and repetition. 
Cower...like a bullied infant when in my presence 
if not me, then another would devour then empower you 
better the devil you know to oppress and stifle your elaboration 
get down on your bended knees and acclaim my perception 
I could have you bombastically purged from my premises 
harried into the streets with my hounds snapping at your brittle ankles 
watch my honey's callously terrorise your vicinity with impish exuberance 
Laugh?......I'd surely die 
creased up double as you ultimately capitulate exhausted in a heady stupor in the gutter 
diluted to that rag doll status you've become accustomed to 
saturated with reluctant tears upon that childlike, crumpled little face of yours 
a fine example to all and sundry of my hostile leadership. 
Watch you twitch and shiver in frustration at my complacent feet 
you're nothing but a faeces.....a parasite......an odour 
An exquisite education could have aided your wretched evident predicament 
not for being inadvertantly plagued with ignorance in abundance 
oh those school days wasted playing truant and cackling as teacher narrates 
classroom pranks won't raise your profile here my love 
So with what did you wish to convey a plausible challenge to my authority? 
a rusty nail and a hammer are no match for a pistol and a good lawyer 
Accept your dire situation grudgingly and return to your station 
your workhouse associates await your disconcerted reverse to duty. 
The Gods may presently commission my comeuppance as I dictate 
pigs may fly and cats may direct busy traffic congestion in Time Square 
Ahora si usted me excusa...... yo están ocupado.

Copyright © Frankie Gaynor-Archer | Year Posted 2009

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Wish List

I wish I hadn't come here
I wish I hadn't seen that
I wish I hadn't bought this
I wish I my hair was longer
I wish I was physically stronger
I wish I was orchestral and volumetric when in the presence of nobility
I wish I was commanding and vibrant when amongst the petty crowd
I wish I'd studied more at school
I wish I was financially secure for damn sure
I wish I was rich beyond my wildest dreams
I wish I was systematic, diplomatic, enigmatic or something equivalent
I wish I could afford to be flippant like an aristocrat's only spoilt child
I wish I had a leather jacket like that
I wish I could dance like Michael Jackson, James Brown or Nijinsky
I wish I could entice, excite, enlight, enrich
I wish you'd shut up and sit down.......in that order
I wish you wouldn't do that
I wish you'd stop swearing...........and spitting for that matter
I wish to be appreciated..........not depreciated
I wish you were here instead of me being tortured
I wish I was somewhere else being pampered
I wish God was here in my hour of need
I wish I hadn't said that
I wish you'd sit down and be quiet
I wish the sun and the earth would collide and thus rid me
                          of these crippling debts and continuous bad health
I wish I could sleep at nights without the aid of tablets
I wish to retract that last statement
I wish Priests Court was a dual carriageway
I wish you'd stop shouting and moaning and pushing
I wish to be excused
I wish the train of good fortune would for once....if it's not too much trouble........stop long 
enough for me to participate
I wish to be adored and envied by no-one in particular
in fact.........
I wish to be called Gloria in future.............if you don't mind
I wish you'd stop laughing .....I jest you not.....it's a serious matter
I wish you loved me
I wish you were obsessed.......to the point of sickness
I wish you were mine basically.
I wish I'd met you years ago.

Copyright © Frankie Gaynor-Archer | Year Posted 2010

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Isaacs Revelation

Arise young man
for you're sat in my chair
it's a black and tan fact that I always sit there.
My body's effete
I envisage a pause
insipid responses are'nt helping the cause.
Disrupting proceedings
congesting the room
I shall rain on your head a disparaging tune.
Who gave you admission
who gave you the ball
you pitch in Zimbabwe, Yemen or Nepal.
You're dropping your drivel all over the place
I'm brewing a mixture to foetor your space.
Contemptuous derision of cultured advice
and cute disrespect of our country's entice.
You hustlers got rhythm
you hustlers got stance
us shufflers are hoofing the Floral Dance.
I'm standing...you're sitting amazing the court
reciting us Shakespeare and Pinter and Holt.
You're devouring my dinner
then guzzling my tea
the resident kookies are cracking with glee.
Are they your wheels hogging the hub of my drive?
that's it mate....you're finished....I'll skin you alive.
This bale revelation has made me uptight
to retrieve my location I'll hammer all night.
........Get up I say
that's my bloody chair
it's a black and tan fact.....that I always sit there.

Copyright © Frankie Gaynor-Archer | Year Posted 2011

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The Village Ritual

We groomed him to perfection
lured him with our lights
cooed him with our sizzles
blurred his dreams and sights
We slotted him in awkward
hampered his imput
laced his drink with moonshine
on his fingers shut
We cautiously immersed him.....while his mind involved
then cut him in slow motion.....as our pills dissolved
Goons staggered in his footsteps
cracked behind his back
baulked him in the darkness
saddled him with black
We gathered to ignore him
clashed in crude mischief
receptive in our duty
deceptive in our sleep
The schoolyard's sang his story
the children gagged and quipped
in church his face was gory
in time his name be ripped
So a section dress to party
forfeited his invite
we'll designate the barmy to blind his way tonight
Attire obtuse and tarty
a slice above the knee
let's prey on his exclusion from pagan history

Copyright © Frankie Gaynor-Archer | Year Posted 2010



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The Power of Prayer

This big ship lugs only one that's me
it deluded it's anchor barren lost at sea
I was swept unaware of its lease of life
she was cast by a mariner's survival knife
there was no-one to heed my sorry cry for help
with a drip and a gurgle as the anchor fell
but the wind willy nilly tossed us to and thro
such a drastic location as the thunder roared
I was woke to a rapping from the stray detail
a dyslexic reception call was bound to fail
the response sought me un-aware and cussed my fall
with an eye barely open view a vibrant crawl
I reflected religiously in search of light
was I cursed to a rota of eternal night
overhead congregating swarmed the vultures best
I recoiled back in horror as the scavengers messed
with the deluge relentless I redressed below
horrid rooks started tripping on the cabin floor
with the rain no deterrent and the gusts no threat
they deliriously powered as their eyebrows met
with their heads full of anger and the promise of rum
they ferment to the rhythm of a distant drum
As they ripped out a panel with a tribal yelp
I recited a passage as I plied for help
well thank the Lord for the power of prayer
as above helicopters towered in the air
and the sun came out and the sky turned blue
but the stains remained though I'd broke curfew.

Copyright © Frankie Gaynor-Archer | Year Posted 2007

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Dark Red

Don't mention the name in vain if you value your life
there's an angry mob on the loose
and they need no excuse for abuse of a goose named Red
He may be a slayer within his own head
but you're being unkind Michael... said the Barrister's Wife
for he carries no knife
if you value your life you'll withdraw
and leave the eclectic alone.
For they speak of atrocities long since gone not attractive to some but his mum
though where was he primarily from.
A path leering deep in the gully rues his childhood pen
as his friends need not frequent and then
The city's are spilling with streets not easy to thread
where his father would spin on his head for a dollar a time
while his mother now bays 'neath a blood stained shoal at last
averting her eyes from his craze
he's been wearing that beehive for days
We're truly amazed he remembered his station
so long in the tower he crashed
As a rapacious vision surveyed Katherine's gaudy shack
in a long black mack and tack to bind the vessel near
Foilage irks the diminutive throng who's pursuit is pensive in the stark and mud
Then a thud as a body slumps an assailants stump as chaos erupts in the dark
their lanterns not aiding the cameraman's plight
but Michael will sleep rough tonight
The pendulum's set, the terrain is wet, the serpeants awake, he didn't forget
now Red's fully equipt to withstand their writ.
with a barrel of ale and a bucket of spit.

Copyright © Frankie Gaynor-Archer | Year Posted 2009


Book: Shattered Sighs