Francesca Martin Poems
Searching for Another Day
With magnifying glass in hand while pacing my bedroom,
I try to recognize familiarity
My security, my seclusion
My whole self
All seems foreign through exploring eyes
I am failing to hear the... more
Poet: Francesca Martin rating:  The passage of time; the passage of the mind
Trembling hands
A trembling mind
A father that smiles and laughs
Catches my trembling eye
I force my lips to turn the other way
Wondering if his, upturned in the same manner, could be genuine... more
Poet: Francesca Martin rating: Shallow-end
When will the responsibility rise
out of the steam when I cry
not for the person
but my troubles within
When will my eyes' telescope refocus
Flipping others from upside-down to erect
Not a... more
Poet: Francesca Martin rating: The Wind
The wind is a lost soul
And it swings on the porch chair
Swims in the lake
Climbs to the top of the tree
In a queer silence that causes us to stare
But at times it tears through our chilled bones... more
Poet: Francesca Martin rating: Pause
In the passenger seat
The music is hardly heard
As he looks in the side view mirror
To see her face strewn with strands of dark hair that beat in the wind
As she looks through the window
On a... more
Poet: Francesca Martin rating: Time
It belongs to a different era of my mind.
The sands flipped by careful hands
to start and end over again,
until the glass cracked.
Grains slipped through my fingers-
Memories passed.
I can... more
Poet: Francesca Martin rating: Fran
It is not simply a word
Do say it completely
Not for a conceited or selfish benefit
But rather as a monument to the exotic
The pleasures of a unique sound
And the laziness that comes with our... more
Poet: Francesca Martin rating: Tag, you're it
I did not see you,
Did not hear you
Though you said you saw my face
Called to me, but I ignored
Another one of those things
You toss across my mind
While I stand in the middle
Jumping back... more
Poet: Francesca Martin rating: I forgot the title...
In the end all we’ll have are our memories
But they will be skewed and out of order
And I’ll say your shirt was soft and yellow, though it was a blatant gray
And your hair was the color of... more
Poet: Francesca Martin rating: School's Out
Snow capped mountains
Deep red footsteps of experience
Trickled over 180 days
Rained from a heavy cloud
Could tell history over the course of ones life
Or notes of a histories past
Continuing... more
Poet: Francesca Martin rating:
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