Thursday, September 21, 2017

Kenny

His yearn for the wander did bring him far south
Of the fields of the badger and waterways of the brown trout
And his better days in life he surely has seen
Kenny from the countryside north of Aberdeen
One who never did have children or a wife
Though last year he lost Jane to cancer she was the love of his life
They had been together for twenty five years
He cared for her in her illness and farwelled her in tears
In his life's seventy eight year his balding head silver gray
He retains the accent he brought with him from far away
An amiable fellow well liked and well known
Without the woman he loved growing old on his own
Though good memories of his younger years he does retain
Kenny will never see Scotland again.

Who We Look Up To

Those that you admire says more about you
Than any words could ever hope for to do
The one you admire most you wish to emulate
Our own mortal gods in our minds we create
Admiration can cloud human flaws in our eyes
We learn as we live most do come to realize
Those we look up to mere mortals just like you and i
We are born to life to eventually die
We all need our heroes or heroines one has to suppose
But the poor person looks wealthy dressed in expensive clothes
As has often been said appearance can deceive
But what our eyes tell us we only wish to believe
Most of us have our heroes and heroines it does seem this way
And who we look up to of us says more than words can say.

In Green Old Lisnaboy

Good memories live on in us and remain as a source of joy
I often think of happy Summer days in green old Lisnaboy
When i was a primary schoolgoing lad more than a decade from my physical prime
This now seems many years ago some six decades of time

From the sunlit Summer meadows the sweet scent of grass mowed for hay
Come wafting to my memory from Duhallow far away
With the sun on their dark wings chasing flying insects in the sky
The migratory barn swallows did chirp as they did fly

On looking back the Seasons time seems to hurry by
The young birds in the hedges chirped in the warmth of July
The wildborn brown honeybees were buzzing gathering nectar from Nature's flowers
In the old fields looking lush and green after recent Summer showers

Good memories of our younger years a lifetime with us stay
In the shade of the leafy trees the cud chewing cattle lay
Such scenes of rural beauty in memory does remain
And on my flights of fancy i go back home again

Us people like the Seasons come and go but the old fields look much the same
And most of them i do recall had their own given name
Old memories last a lifetime and are mine to enjoy
Of my many happy Summer days in green old Lisnaboy.

Wednesday, September 20, 2017

The Autocrat

Though the majority of the Nation's people his praises will not sing
The old man loves power and to power he does cling
And he hopes to cling to power until the day he does die
That power does corrupt is not a lie

Those who oppose him too scared to speak out
His soldiers and police quite ruthless does not leave anyone in doubt
That if they do oppose him and in public any negative things of him say
That imprisonment or worse death is the price they will pay

No protests against him held in any city or town
Since people realize that any public demonstration against him would be ruthlessly put down
By his soldiers and police who would shoot to kill
The main reason for a public revolt against him there is not any will

Those who oppose him in public against him dare not speak
To keep your silence in fear of your life does not prove in any way that you are weak
To resign as leader he does not have any plan
Until he dies he hopes without any pain as a very old man.

After The Recent Heavy Rain

The countryside looking lush and green after the recent heavy rain
And brown stormwater overflowing in creek, river and drain
And flooding the paddocks by every waterway
For the past month it has rained every night and almost every day
The crop growing farmers for to plant their seed
For the ground to dry out of dry weather in need
But the long range weather forecast for the coming week says it will not be dry
That there will be more precepitation from the clouds of the sky
In coastal south west Victoria it has been a very wet Spring
But how pleasant for to hear the nesting birds sing
Of recent Springs the weather has been acting strange
But then we are in the age of Climate Change
In the ponds, dams and drains the singing frogs one does hear
Spring it is their breeding time of the year.

Sheila Becker

In Claraghatlea west of Millstreet Town her journey in life began
She was born and raised as Julia O' Sullivan
Married to the late Gay Becker a successful and honorable man
Nine decades of memories Dr Sheila Becker does span

A good mother to her family and to Gay Becker a good wife
Her life story tells of a very successful life
From the green countryside where the waterways meet
One can truly say of her the best of Millstreet

Nothing in life to Sheila ever came easily
She did work so hard for to achieve her doctorate degree
With the great gift of hope she is one who keeps faith
It is true that all things in life come to those who do wait

Her life story in book form it has been told
One can say of Sheila she has a heart of gold
She does speak her mind and is not one to pretend
And to those she does love she remains a good friend

To me it remains as a sense of regret
That in the flesh she is one i have never met
She and i were born and raised in the same countryside
And knowing of her achievements to me is a source for pride

In Michigan her own opportunities in life she did create
And recently her ninetieth birthday she did celebrate
Her family and friends did sing happy birthday
To the woman who came from a place far away.

Tuesday, September 19, 2017

Not Supposed To Rhyme

Most who fancy themselves as of literary note
Will tell you that a rhymer is not a poet
That twenty first century poetry is not supposed to rhyme
And rhymers are out of date by decades of time
The literary dons say blank verse is the in thing
The praises of non rhyming poets they do like to sing
The humorless writers they only promote
And rhymers to the status of poetasters they do demote
Rhyme nowadays by literary critics considered a thing of the past
But few things over time ever does seem to last
That they have the power to create literary celebrities of the literary critics it can be said
They dismiss rhymers and rhyme as of the literary dead
Who is or is not a poet the literary critics decide
And that their written words carry power of them cannot be denied.