Literary Yard

Search for meaning

‘Home’ and other poems by David Francis

By: David Francis


When I went back to my ancestral home
I put on my old clothes
they were still there hanging
three years had come and gone

I went through all my belongings
I didn’t know I’d find those old photographs
half-expecting to cry, half-expecting to laugh
but to my amazement you still turned me on



You are revolving around
Does it bother you to think
that way?
If I were a king and
you a serf,
would you still love me
like a modern-day saint?
Or a clown or
as much as a newly-cut
We don’t like to think
that way.
It pains me to say
that I don’t think we
know how to love
or which way to begin
or which effective path
to take
or which rules not to break.
I’m still thin but
do you love me the less
because I’m not shaped
like the rest of the men?
Does it matter if my
face is like a heart
or a pear
or if it’s ruddy
or fair?
If I dare speak in
rhymes or
curse and offend,
does this tell you
where to begin?
You are revolving
and I’m never solving
the riddle of
where to begin.
Does it bother you
to think that way?



The streetlights go
far back into the night
but they do not go
far into the past
or in the right direction
to light a bridge beyond my reach
to her.

The storm is
a kennel
for all those lights
or constellations of animals.
Magic and imprisonment
exist in this world!
Prisoners learn magic,
recycling natural laws.

For construction
during a storm
two magics fight.
Whichever magic wins
will light the way
to her heart.


In a Diner where We Used to Meet

I think what if we
were here now
and things had con-
we had to keep up
with the trends
this is the kind of
place we would have gone
where now I sit alone
I remember weekday
business trips we
when we woke up wrong
on humid days
and how there was
scattered dialogue
now there would be
just the form of
you and me
aware of the divergence
from the lonely norm
only the alert is left
the red flashing light
without warmth


The Reunion

The one who gave you advice
sure didn’t treat you very nice

now look where he’s gone

but I couldn’t say anything
because she wore your ring

now look where you are

Now it appears that I was right
but saying it wouldn’t be polite

yet see how she stays

A friend of a husband’s hard to be
when you met as two, for a while there’s three

and see where she lives

I don’t feel real bad, or ecstatic;
from the surface it’s not too dramatic

you just had to go

I wanted you to know my aim
since I never mention her name

you had to feel free

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