Two Poems by David Francis

SENTIMENTAL PAST


She has a sentimental past
of old friends, of an ideal love
of friends she misses dearly,
of shared laughter that leaves an ache
that no one new can now ease,
no one else can ever fill,
you can never take
their place: nor should;
they remain, but are far away…
but when her face looks sick, or dead
and she thinks of him instead
of a passion still-smouldering
if only for a full instant
like a toppling revelation
of a colossal mistake
the realisation
of being on the wrong highway
that is to say: with you --

She has a sentimental life
of homesickness and heartbrokenness

I know
because the tears start to flow


WHAT IS THE WAY?


A compliment is the way to your heart
but your heart perversely seeks its pleasure
and, latching onto him, would rather smart
than be its boring admirer’s treasure.

Intimacy, pure and undemanding,
falls into your lap and graces your day --
how have you merited understanding
and now with indifference throw it away?

“How” is the question one wishes one knew.
Meanwhile, apathy makes all hopes shatter.
When you said “You don’t know me” was the clue
and the rest, all the rest doesn’t matter.

For now you’re left with him and I with me
as sun rays glance opaquely off the sea.

David Francis has produced seven music albums, Always/Far: a chapbook of lyrics and drawings, and Poems from Argentina (Kelsay Books).  He has written and directed the films, Village Folksinger
(2013) and Memory Journey (2018).  He lives in New York City. 

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