Tuesday, November 21, 2017

I Am Just A Fellow

I am just a fellow of rhyme doggerel
And of any successes in life i do not have of to tell
Even of my own praises i feel unworthy to sing
Though i am one of those who likes doing my own thing
Just one of those who has penned pages of stuff
For many years i have been a rhyming buff
As is said rhymers they are many and poets are few
Though you may say to this do tell us what is new
It was my love of rhyme made a rhymer of me
I penned my first rhymes in nineteen seventy three
In human years this seems a long time ago
And time that rusts iron has become my foe
I am just a fellow who pens doggerel
And of any success as such i do not have of to tell.

Self Love Gone Wrong

It is said of narcissism it is self love gone wrong
To true love of self it does not or will never belong
The one who loves self has love for to share
And of the feelings and needs of others is aware
But narcissism is self love in it's most extreme
Of the egotistical absorbed in their own sense of self esteem
It is only to self to that they can relate
The successes of others they could not celebrate
Narcissistic people of the needs of others are never aware
For self and self only they only does care
People without kindness or compassion or empathy
For themselves only they can feel sympathy
Infatuation with self in every narcissist is strong
Narcissism has been described as self love gone wrong.

Some Of The Old Blokes

Some of the old blokes who drink in the local of the good times grown lazy and fat
Like to tell their dubious stories of how they have been there and done that
And true to their type they even believe their own lies
All men do grow older but only few do grow wise
In the pub for drinks every Saturday evening they meet
And of their adventures as young men in their stories compete
Of their successes in life to each other they do relate
It is true that the crave for recognition does not have a use by date
In their stories each other they try to outdo
Trying to prove to each other i am better than you
Though self praise is no praise as the wise one does say
They do not seem for to see it in this way
On Saturday evening they meet in the pub for drinks and a tongue wag
It does not cost them any money to brag.

Monday, November 20, 2017

It Cannot Be A Sense Of Pride

To us humans it cannot be a sense of pride
That many species of wildlife are facing extinction Worldwide
Due to climate change and destruction of their natural habitat many creatures on extinction brink
That children of the future may not see creatures living free sad of to think
That extinction is forever only true for to say
For human greed this is one price we must pay
We should live in the World with other creatures to share
Though many of this do not seem aware
More animaLS and birds are displaced when more trees are cut down
To build more houses and factories in the industrial town
Large animals being killed by poachers for financial gain
Us humans inflict on innocent creatures so much suffering and pain
To us it cannot be any source for pride
That we are responsible for the decline in wildlife numbers Worldwide.

A Successful Man

His mum and dad were often financially down
And he knew of poverty on the poor side of the town
One of the few children of the lesser gods
Who in his life's battle has beaten the odds
A grandfather ten times his hair silver gray
He and his wife of fifty four years live in a two storey house overlooking the bay
If living today his mum and his dad would feel proud of their son
Of how well in life for himself he has done
As a boy he was one who with hope did keep faith
And as is said every thing does come to those who do wait
In life he availed of every opportunity that came his way
And he lives as a wealthy and contented person today
With the woman he married the love of his life
The mother of his children his devoted wife.

By The Boggeraghs In May

Golden buttercups bloom by the silver tongued rill
Babbling down from the high fields by Mushera Hill
When the hawthorns are cloaked in their white blooms of the May
By the Boggeragh Ranges from here far away
Above the high wood in the twilight gray
The male woodcock is flying in his courtship display
With muffled sort of grunts that ends in a shrill sound
Perhaps as a warning to other male woodcocks that this is his breeding ground
In fancy the songs of the male songbirds i hear
In Duhallow in Spring the greenest time of year
Memories of such beauty are with me today
The past lingers with us as the wise one does say
And perhaps until death the memories with me will stay
Of the high green countryside by the Boggeraghs in May.

Sunday, November 19, 2017

Tied To The Past

From life they have not learned much though they have lived for many years
The very conservative old blokes and old dears
That some only grow older but not more knowledgeable or wise
Should not be in itself in any way a surprise
Though the clocks on their lives ever keep ticking fast
They remain in their ways tied to the past
Though decades of years past their physical prime
In their opinions they seem to be frozen in time
Even change for the better in their words they oppose
But then we are what we are one does have to suppose
Their parents are lecturing them from their graves
To old ways and old thinking they remain as slaves
Not open to learning or to change of them one might say
And time on their lives ever ticking away.