poet - Maggie Francis lane


"In 2017,  she started writing poems.   Maggie Francis Lane is the name she adopted for fun, as a pen name.   

Maggie and Francis are the names of two of her aunts, from her mother's side.  Aunt Maggie, now deceased, and her Aunt Fran, whom, as of 2018, is still living in Logan, West Virginia.   "Lane" comes from her dad's side."


Aunt Maggie

Aunt Maggie, born in the 1920's, was a quiet, courageous, and independent woman.  She never married and lived in Los Angeles for several years before moving back to WV, where she was born.

Aunt Fran

Aunt Fran,  a beautiful, strong willed woman, whose style, personality, and demeanor were gracious and feminine.  

Poems By Maggie Francis Lane

If I Were a Bubble 
Writer, Maggie Francis Lane 

If I were a bubble 
I would alight softly on a tree 
And wait for a breeze to carry me off again 

I would float carefully and gently
Through the clouds 
and soar on the wings of a robin 

I would drift between rain drops 
In the middle of a storm 
And count on the current 
to keep me dry and warm 

I would give reflection to the moon each night 
And spin in space like the earth 
Round and round the sun I’d go 
Bouncing on a star 
Then in the flutter and whirling of the wind 
I'd waft back down again 

So feathery light and delicate, 
Of medium size and girth, 
I'd pose on a prickly pinecone 
Til the air in my belly bursts

Writer, Maggie Francis Lane

What do you hear? 
The howling of darkness and dread 
The song of your dreams 
The drumming of your toil and strain 
The anthem of your faith? 

The world is a cacophony of sounds 
From which those sagaciously attuned, emerge  joyful and victorious 
All others, whose ears are dull and simple, 
hear noise that weakens the body, wounds the spirit, and clouds the mind 

Listen to the voice of virtue 
And the wind of opportunity, while it is passing, for it is passing. 
Let it carry you into fleeting moments of greatness. 

By will, the ears of your spirit hear, so listen with much discretion to lovely words of honor and praise. 

Despair, that dreadful orator, whose tongue is a deadly arrow;  ignore his clamorous chatter and thunderous speech, for he will slowly destroy and bring you to ruin. 

Listen to the chorus of the hills and the earth; to the silent majesty of the rising sun; to the roaring ocean and the babbling brook; to the warmth of a dog’s love, and the comfort of your own bed.