Monday, March 28, 2011

One Of The Kindest And Nicest

Gray haired and wrinkled she is ageing with grace But she has a kind looking and a beautiful face A seventy five year old widow her husband died a decade ago The biological clock is becoming her foe Her seven grandchildren into young adults have grown In her one bedroom flat she lives on her own A religious woman by her beliefs she lives Any spare cash she has to the town poor she gives Friendly and generous in spirit in her charming way When out walking she smiles at everyone she does meet and bids them a good day One of the kindest and nicest people on her side of the town Yet she does remain as a stranger to renown To her higher self she remains ever true Good Karma in abundance she surely is due.

Sunday, March 27, 2011

By Far Too Many

Too many with too much in the World of today And too many doing it tough it does seem this way And too many very wealthy who only think of their own need In this Human World where there is by far too much greed And too many homeless people and stateless refugees The victims of war malnutrition and untreated disease You may say to this tell us something that's new When i say that the compassionate, kind and caring are too few In a World where the gap between the haves and the have nots keeps growing ever wide And by far too many of a fair go are denied By far too many people are doing it too tough Without food and shelter living and sleeping rough And far too many like the greedy billionaire Who with the poor and downtrodden are never known for to share.

'Tis Said About Badgers

'Tis said about badgers that they harbour T B That they spread to cattle though with that some disagree The reason many badgers have died due to gassing in their sett Human cruelty to wildlife is always a cause for regret For the decline of many wildborn species of blame humans must take some share Badgers in their range now by all accounts rare Such beautiful creatures from the lamp of day In their underground homes they sleep hidden away From their only enemies humans and their dogs from their experiences they know That to badger kind some humans mercy never show The praises of human achievements some may like to sing But the cruelty of some humans to wildlife is a shameful thing And that badgers in their range are becoming rarer by the year To say the least is quite a sad news to hear.

Saturday, March 26, 2011

His Gods Do Play Football

To the rulings laid down by the Bishop of Rome to the letter she obey
One you'll see in her local church sunday and every week day
But her husband is very different to her his Gods do play football
The heroes of his favourite club adorn his bedroom wall
Their only offspring their eighteen years old daughter goes to church with mum whilst at the local pub
He sits with his drinking mates watching their favourite football club
On t v performing away from home in the big weekend game
One can say of him he lives his life in other peoples fame
As a family they seem to function well though different in some way
He is a football fanatic his wife and daughter to their God do pray
And yet despite their different ways they get along okay
Though his Gods like him are mere mortals destined to die one day
His wife and daughter very religious but pictures of his football heroes on his bedroom wall
And his Gods like him are mortals though they do play football.

The Older Man Than Me

A stronger, fitter and a healthier man is the older man than me
He still competes in half marathons at the age of seventy three
His lover in her early forties she loves her older man
Though the difference in their ages is a thirty years time span
A virile gray haired fellow full of the zest for life
A seven times grandfather divorced by his long time wife
Discovering his affair with the younger one did nothing for her pride
He has paid the price as most men do for his bit on the side
A healthy man the sexual drive in him is far from dead
He does not need cialis or viagra as most men his age do to prove himself in bed
With his younger lover at the local pub he drinks and dance all night
The ticks of time him yet to slow of age he does make light
He never talks about his past years to him the past is history
He makes the most out of the now the older man than me.

Friday, March 25, 2011

From My First Homeplace

From my first homeplace i do live far away
To many in Claraghatlea i'd be a stranger today
As well as a stranger to many i'd meet
Where i went to school in the Town of Millstreet
Where i grew to love Nature when i was a boy
And learning of her ways i still do enjoy
In fancy i hear the birds sing on a Spring morning at sunrise
Above old fields of my past when i do visualize
The past may be gone but the memories remain
Of things that i did and i won't do again
And of people i knew i may never more see
Perhaps even now they'd be strangers to me
The clock on my life keeps on ticking away
And the now is all that matters as some like to say.

I Do Not Wish

I do not wish to hear of the Valley of tears
Or an afterlife with the damned for an eternity of years
What you think of me is your business not mine
And what is your business with me does seem fine
You save your own soul since an afterlife you believe in
And leave me to pay for my damnable sin
I can only save myself from your imaginary hell
I am sure you will be happy where angels do dwell
An agnostic or atheist make of me what you may
For my soul's salvation why bother to pray
Since i believe after death i will remain as dead
You should pray for yourself and your family instead
Of wasting your precious time on trying to convert a sinner like me
Who with your way of thinking will never agree.

Thursday, March 24, 2011

Lisa Owen

In South West Victoria one quite well known
The bright and charming Lisa Owen
As a friend of Nature her friends in numbers have grown
One in a class of her very own
One blessed with a beautiful mind
Outgoing, compassionate, caring and kind
A friend of good causes and the human dispossesed
The stateless, homeless, downtrodden and the oppressed
One who believes on a fair go for all
No worthy cause for her too small
With curly brownish hair and a lovely face
The greatness in the higher self she does embrace
One against injustices who does speak out
Of where her sympathies are she leaves none in doubt.

If You Refer To Yourself As A Poet

'Tis true what is said about poets they are few
But one can add to that tell us something that's new
You will not find many like Burns and Mangan and Clare
Just to mention three great poets and their type are rare
Many who aspire to the greatness of literary note
Are known to refer to themselves as a poet
It is a great title the him or the her
On themselves have taken it upon to confer
On who is or is not a poet ask someone other than me
The paid literary critics on such never seem to agree
The music in poetry has died with the passing of rhyme
But few things stay the same through the decades of time
If you refer to yourself as a poet with me that is okay
But to yourself 'tis a huge honor you pay.

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Good People

The majority of good people are strangers to renown
They live as the quiet achievers of the town
They are at the forefront of the fight against poverty
Helping the homeless the pauper and the refugee
In order to help others they sacrifice personal gain
And for as long as they live as the unsung they remain
Good people they do their good deeds every day
To help others always going out of their way
Though they never receive credit to them due
To their higher selves they remain ever true
The World may be ruled by the merchants of greed
But of the kind and compassionate humanity is in need
Some love and comfort to those who need love and comfort they do bring
The praises of good people i am happy to sing.

In The Mountain Woodland

The higher branches of the tall mountain ash trees in the freshening winds wave
In the mountain woodland overlooking the Town of Belgrave
And the morning air echo to the voices of the pied currawong
The dark crow sized birds tell of rain in their song.

Where the lyrebird and whipbird and kookaburra reside
The Dandenong Ranges National Park it is known Worldwide
As a place where humans with Nature live in harmony
In the home of the tree fern and mountain ash eucalypt tree

The beauty of Nature is free for all to admire
And of singing her praises how could one ever tire
And in the Dandenong Ranges on the high wooded ground
Her unrivalled beauty at all times does abound

Where the tall mountain ash trees seem to touch the low clouds of the sky
The crimson rosellas do chirp as they fly
In the home to yellow robin and sulphur crested cockatoo
And the large dark brown parrot known as the weerloo.

Mind Poverty

He's a bit old to be worried by life's common cares
The depressed economy and falling stocks and shares
Since he has heaps of money far more than enough
To last him till he die though he feels life on him is tough
The wealthiest fellow on his side of the town
The state of the economy has him feeling down
Between assets and money he is worth three billion or more
Still he is one who has worries by the score
Unhappier than the homeless one or the refugee
He suffers from what is known as mind poverty
With eleven grandchildren he is eighty three
If you did not know how well to do he is for him you would feel sympathy
But sad for him his poverty is of the mind
Suppose in some ways one would have to feel sorry for him and his kind.

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Lucky Are They

Lucky are they who are happy and of worries carefree
All of the money in the World could not buy what they possess that's how 'twould seem to me
Yes money cannot buy you happiness just ask the billionaires
He and she looking so unhappy their faces full of cares
They do carry joy with them as they walk along the street
And share some of their happiness with everyone they do meet
Without their kind the World to live in would be a much duller place
It always is a joy to meet a happy smiling face
They do make friends so easily those with the inner glow
They are the sort of people that you want to get to know
The people loved by many on their side of the town
They bring to you a ray of happiness when life's cares have you down
They have something of which the billionaires may never come to know
And that is the gift of happiness born of the inner glow.

A Warm March Day

A warm March day by the seaside close to thirty degrees
The air is dry and humid with scarce a puff of breeze
But in the early Autumn time we do get days like these
The weather for us seldom near to perfect we must be hard to please
People swimming in saltwater to wash the sweat from their bodies away
For lovers of the sunshine this is a welcome day
Each passing day one nearer Winter the coldest time of year
And many people making the most of the warm weather that's how it does appear
White butterflies in abundance even by the ocean shore
In my lifetime i've never seen so many of them in sixty years or more
For March 'tis warm and humid lots of flying insects about
We are in a time of climate change of that there is no doubt.

Than I Have Seen This Fall

I have lived through many Autumns some sixty i recall
But i have never seen more butterflies and dragonflies than i have seen this Fall
They come out in the sunshine between the showers of rain
And when the sky clouds over and rain drizzles down they disappear again
Perhaps to shelter from the rain as we do 'tis an amazing sight
To see so many flying insects in the Autumn sunlight
Dragonflies of many a shape and size and millions of white butterflies
Above the roadways, parks and gardens so many of them Nature never ceases to surprise
Dead butterflies on the streets and roadways the passing cars on them take toll
At most as butterflies they live only a few days perhaps too tiny to have a soul
Some say the recent heavy flooding to the huge population of flying insects has given rise
Yet there is more to Nature than ever meets our eyes
I have seen many Seasons and of years lived for more than three score
But more dragonflies and butterflies i have never seen before.

Monday, March 21, 2011

I Often Do Think Of The Beauty I've Seen

I often do think of the beauty i've seen
When bluebells bloomed on the ditch of the bohreen
And hawthorns were cloaked in their white blossoms of May
In that old green Country from here far away

The dipper does sing where the Finnow does flow
Through fields where the rushes in clusters do grow
And where the shy male pheasant does cuck and crow
When the cool winds of Spring from the high country blow

The ever pleasant memories with me do remain
Of places in real life i won't see again
In fancy the male robin i hear and see
On a leafy branch of a silver birch tree

Up to the gray clouds of the mid morning sky
The little brown skylark carols as he fly
A fading speck till from view he disappear
His familiar music so pleasant to hear

The clock on my life ever ticks on and on
And the now is all that matters the past it has gone
Still in my flights of fancy the chaffinch does sing
In a leafy grove in the prime of the Spring.

The Honorable Bob Brown

He will never be Prime Minister of Australia more the pity that seems to be
At least anyhow that's how it seems to me
To be the leader of the Australian Greens party his greatest claim to renown
He remains untainted by politics the honorable Bob Brown

An honest politician his type are so few
On saying this i am not saying anything that is new
To his higher self he remains ever true
And great credit for that he is certainly due

His home property in Liffey Valley Tasmania some of his worldly estate
To Australia's Bush Heritage he did donate
One with generosity of spirit of him one can say
The most trustworthy politician in the Australia of today

In this twenty first century with the rise of narcissism and greed
Of people like the honorable Bob Brown the Human World is in need
He stands up for the natural environment and people who are doing it tough
The homeless and refugees and those who live rough

To be the Australian Greens Party Leader is his best claim to fame
But that he will never be Australia's Prime Minister to me seems a shame
In a Political World shrouded in deceit
He remains untainted by greed and conceit.

You Win Some And Lose Some

You win some and lose some in life does seem true
And your turn in luck to you is overdue
But all things 'tis said come to those who do wait
And your turn will come to you to celebrate
Financially wise you are not doing well of late
You feel like cutting your losses and moving Interstate
But with your wife and your children you feel obliged to stay
And work very hard for less than award pay
You realize so many like you living in poverty
You are one of those who does have empathy
You say if you win tattslotto first division some of your winning you will share
With some you know doing it hard you are one who does care
For others beside yourself your luck will change for the better one day
As you deserve better Karma it does seem that way.

Sunday, March 20, 2011

The Friendly And Silent

The lovely young woman full of charm and grace
With a beautiful smile on her beautiful face
The twenty three year old mother of a baby boy
She carries with her and spreads the gift of joy
With blue eyes and shoulder length wavy hair of brown
Few pretty as her on her side of the town
Her partner a twenty seven year old builder different to her in every way
To anyone he never does say good day
Opposites do attract to them has to apply
Why in some cases this can be relative one must wonder why
Out walking with her partner and pushing their baby in his pram on the park and the street
She smiles and says hello to everyone that she does meet
But he in silence by her side seems stuck for words to say
The friendly and silent people are this way.

A Dream Sacrificed

Have you ever struggled to choke back the tears
That yearned to flow for your far better years
When you were a young man and in your life's prime
Before you became a victim of the passage of time?

To old Bill who drinks at the pub what i ask does apply
He often talks of his life of the forever gone by
When he was an athletic and a healthy young man
And full of the energy of youthful elan

Two times mile district track champion six decades ago
Many Seasons before time did become his foe
One groomed by athletic coaches for an Olympic career
A dream sacrificed in his lust for the beer

By far in his youth the best local athlete
But at the National Championships and Olympics he never did compete
Before his twentieth birthday his last race he had run
Than training the pub atmosphere to him was more fun

A grandfather ten times and divorced by his wife
When drunk he sheds tears for his mistakes in life
In his youth the greatest athlete in the town
Though than that he may have known of far greater renown.

A Rhymer I Will Be

I am addicted to it of that i won't lie
A rhymer i will be till the day i do die
The sort of stuff i do post to the internet site
Is the sort of stuff anybody could write
I am an addictive rhymer that's how it seem to be
The poets can write poetry but rhyme is for me
Though partly to blame for my financial poverty
Of my rhyming addiction i will never be free
I have written one can say a whole pile of stuff
One poetry purists refer to as a mere rhyming buff
My best days in life to the forever gone
But i will keep on rhyming and keep on keeping on
The poets can write poetry rhyming is for me
In life 'tis each to their own would you not agree?

Saturday, March 19, 2011

Far South Of Kinsale

He is one quite partial to his pot of ale
The son of a fisherman from distant Kinsale
He enjoys the beer and pub music and craic and sing song
And he is happy for to join with the sing along
A likeable fellow in his outgoing way
One who tries to make the most of every day
Some twenty two years near the peak of his prime
He works for to travel and have a good time
In a few months from now he'll travel to elsewhere
To see more of life in the big World out there
Full of the joys of youth and of manly elan
The lust of the wander is in the young man
He enjoys the pub sing song and his pot of ale
Far south of the Cork fishing Town of Kinsale.

Millstreet's Forgotten Man

Recognized to be one of the finest singer songwriters of his genre in Europe over a two decade span
But in his Hometown in Millstreet in Duhallow the forgotten man
In Europe he is revered by music lovers in many a town
One of the few who has risen above local renown

Step forward Eugene Brosnan and you take a bow
You may not be celebrated in your old Hometown by the Finnow
But of all of the entertainers from Millstreet perhaps you are the best known
And on what you are good at in a class of your own

To what is only right one can only stay true
And credit always ought to be given to where it is due
That Eugene Brosnan's successess seem to be overlooked in Millstreet to me seems a strange thing
And why leave it to me his due praises to sing

Some two decades touring in Europe time does not stand still
One loved and admired by many far from the Town by Clara Hill
One far from his home-ground more famous elsewhere
And one who has known of renown in the big World out there

Of him great talent and originality cannot be denied
In Europe he has entertained far and wide
For as far as i know for more than a two decade time span
But in his Hometown of Millstreet in Duhallow he is the forgotten man.

On Griffith Island

On Griffith Island in Port Fairy where the Moyne meets the sea
Renowned for it's huge breeding short tailed shearwater colony
The shearwaters are present there from early Spring to early Fall
Of the Southern Hemisphere shearwater colonies the biggest of all
Is at Griffith island near Port Fairy Town
For it's natural beauty and it's annual musical festival a place of renown
Though the short tailed Shearwaters in numbers decrease by the year
Due to climate change and a shortage of food or so it does appear
They are not in danger of extinction and it would seem fair to say
That they will be breeding on Griffith Island long after my remains have gone to decay
Port Fairy in Victoria of great natural beauty has a charm of it's own
For it's shearwater colony at Griffith island by birders well known
Great travelers of the World oceans who raise their young in burrows in the ground
Though once far more plentiful in numbers they still do abound.

Friday, March 18, 2011

March By The Finnow

On a budding birch tree the male robin on song
Near where old Finnow river goes babbling along
Though the wind from the high country by Clara Hill
Does blow with a touch of a wintery chill
In mid March in the earlier days of the Spring
When the early nesting birds are commencing to sing
The swallows not yet back on their breeding ground
And the chill of the Winter it is still around
And the old Finnow River in flood waters of brown
Babbles through the fields and bogs by Millstreet Town
Though in shady places by ditch and hedgerow
The wildflowers of Nature in the blustery winds blow
Where Finnow from the high country the Cails does meet
Just west of the Duhallow Town of Millstreet.

The Leaderless Fellow

Apart from the local community he seems to have grown
The leaderless fellow with a mind of his own
He does not play golf, cricket, tennis or football
In fact he does not play any sports at all
As if to the local community he does not belong
And many who know of him will tell you with him something wrong
But he is a nice person to talk to and meet
One untainted by the arrogance of self conceit
One who is never seen in the local pub
Nor is he a member of any social club
At tweny two years near the height of his prime
He is a leaderless fellow though that is not a crime
He does not have a girlfriend though of women he has slept with quite a few
And sexual liasions to him nothing new.

The Man Who Knows Of Stress

His head is full of worries the man who knows of stress
Lack of money his main problem his finances in a mess
With a wife and three young children and a home mortgage and other bills to pay
He never looks too far ahead he just lives for today
One who does not smoke or drink alcohol one devoted to his children and his wife
He works hard for small wages he lives an honest life
On the look out for a better paying job but jobs of any sort are few
That is a simple fact of life and that is nothing new
He never seems reluctant for to smile his feelings he disguise
But in him you see the worry if you look at his eyes
On monday to friday he wakes before daybreak and cycles to the work yard
One can surely say of him that he is doing it hard
Yet an asset to the Country is the man who knows of stress
And of him can one cannot say that he is a great success.

Thursday, March 17, 2011

He Has Seen Many Years

He has seen many years and seasons come and go
And the clock of time it has become his foe
He walks with a cane and he feels tired and old
Back in his prime years he was dashing and bold
What hair he has left on his head is a silvery gray
And clearly he has known a far better day
Back in the mid fifties the hero of the town
In the district grand final he won his renown
After the final siren he kicked the winning goal
But time on the best of them does take it's toll
With the local club his grandsons now play
The young football heroes of the town today
And their granddad an example of the wear of time
The dashing young hero in his glorious prime.

Where The Brown Wannon Flow

Across the sparsely treed countryside cool Autumn winds blow
Where the babbling brown waters of old Wannon flow
Through an old land that does not have a known time span
That has existed long before the birth of the first woman and man

A land that was old in the dinosaur time
That has inspired the makers of story and ballad and rhyme
To pen stories and poems and songs of this ancient countryside
Whose dark and brown soil many secrets do hide

The graves of the first Australians have never been found
They had their gatherings and corroborees on their tribal ground
On the banks of the Wannon in the shade of the trees
They often did dance in the warm Summer breeze

Their laughter died with the sound of their didgeridoo
In the land where they hunted the gray kangaroo
By foreign invaders they were dispossessed
And in the land home to them they became the oppressed

Across the old country where few trees do grow
The freshening winds of the late evening blow
And on a stunted gum a dark pale eyed crow
Is cawing in the gloam where the brown Wannon flow.

In Illowa Hall

The beautiful brown haired young woman athletic and tall
That he met at a bush dance in Illowa Hall
From Southern Cross now does live far away
In California in the U S of A

With him anyway it was love at first sight
In Illowa Hall on that warm Summer's night
So lovely to look at and a fine dancer as well
And so light on her feet like a sprightly gazelle

The feeling of love for her in his being did grow
But 'twas only as a friend that him she did wish for to know
Unrequited love it can be such a sad thing
And heartache to one it always does bring

An Aussie and Southern Cross woman born, raised and bred
She loved an American to him she is wed
With twin brown haired daughters in primary school
She live far from Southern Cross between Koroit and Warrnambool

Whilst he sits on his own in the pub at Hawkesdale
With a sad look on his face as he sips on his ale
Yet to father children and without womanly love or a wife
And yet to get over the great love of his life.

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

The Bold Feathered Minstrels

In all sorts of weather at all times of year
The song of the magpies so pleasant to hear
The black and white birds with the beautiful song
Once seen and once heard one cannot get them wrong
Of all of the birds of Australia few are as well known
The bold feathered minstrels have a charm of their own
On their breeding season they sing in the night
How lovely to hear them pipe in the moonlight
Their borders the males do fearlessly defend
In their breeding season any males of their own kind to them not a friend
The silver billed birds with the beautiful voice
I've seen them kill small birds and i've seen them kill mice
To see them fight amongst each other is a common thing
But they have a beautiful song for to sing.

Fond Thoughts To My Mind

Fond thoughts to my mind always seem to be near
The song of the robin i fancy i hear
In March when the first flowers of Spring do appear
In old fields in sky miles a long way north of here
The weather still chilly though milder days ahead
And the cattle fresh out of their wintering shed
Enjoy the young grass a welcome change from living on silage and hay
On nourishing grass they gain weight by the day
In bare fields by the hill young lambs around their mothers play
Youth does have it's fling as some are known to say
And swallows will soon be back from wintering grounds far away
To breed and chase flying insects above home fields every day
Brown flood waters flowing in the roadside drain
And darkening clouds tell of imminent rain.

Up To You

Up to you to live as a good woman or man
And those in need of helping do help if you can
Compassionate people are caring and kind
And to ways of materialism seem uninclined
Such people are always a pleasure to meet
As they are unaffected by greed or conceit
There is more to a good human than living for me and my own
So many yearn for wealth and fame and to be admired and well known
It is seldom the most admired one in the town
Who comes to the aid of the one financially down
Compassionate people with others do share
In the helping of others no effort they do spare
The compassionate and caring good causes do embrace
And they live as a credit to the human race.

Tuesday, March 15, 2011


A decorated war hero in his prime a mighty man
He proved himself in battle in the jungles in Vietnam
A bullet from a Vietcong gun he was lucky to survive
Now in his latter sixties he is very much alive

But those who know him better say him do not believe
Bill never was a soldier in his words he deceive
'Tis all in his imagination he believes his own lies
Above any foreign battle field he never witnessed a sunrise

He was never out of Australia those in the know do say
Though his stories seem convincing of his adventures far away
In his need for recognition his imaginary stories he do tell
Of a war he never fought in where so many young men fell

To any stranger he meet he does tell of the war medals he won
But his lies are not malicious they do not harm anyone
That he was a Vietnam war hero he believes in his own mind
His way of seeking respect and recognition there are many of his kind

His heroics on the field of battle he feels so proud to recall
But he never was a soldier never fought in war at all
To the admiring stranger his war stories he tell
Of his young years in the sixties when he fought in Earthly Hell.

Where Idiots Do Meet

The brawl at the pub has spilled on to the street
There is always trouble where idiots do meet
The pub tribes are warring in a free for all
The post script to a local game of football

The brawl on the street that began in the pub
Is between fans of the local and a rival football club
This is what happens when idiots alcohol drink
Of the consequences to them they never do think

At least thirty police have arrived to break up the affray
They arrest the drunken brawlers they will be for court next day
When drunken idiots meet trouble is not far away
For youth out of control there is some price to pay

When drunken idiots meet a brawl bound to begin
Though in a pub punch up the supposed winner never win
They face a heavy fine or a term in jail
To bring out the idiot in one the grog never does fail.

When Nature Is In An Angry Mood

Of the length of any human life no guaranteed time span
The earthquake followed by a tsunami in northern Japan
Claimed the lives of young and old and people in their prime
Nature can erupt in anger anywhere as well as at anytime
The living are left to grieve for their families and friends dead
For the survivors of Nature's wrath there are tough years ahead
When Nature does grow angry she leaves death and injury and heartbreak
And once great buildings are reduced to rubble by her anger in her wake
The images of the Japanes tsunami make for an awesome sight
The huge waves sweeping boats and cars and houses before them rushing through coastal towns at a great height
When Nature is in an angry mood there can be hell to pay
She flattens and kills everything and everyone that does get in her way
The World's only super power has wreaked havoc in Japan
To combat the might of Nature there is no human plan.

Monday, March 14, 2011

The Last Red Rose Of The Autumn

The last red rose of the Autumn her scattered petals lay
On the grass beside her thorny mother tree for Nature's gleaners of decay
The dark to gray wingless insects who live their lives on the ground
Where fallen leaves and flower petals are such life forms to be found

A week ago she bloomed quite beautiful in the bright sunshine of day
But beauty quickly fades to time since that is Nature's way
The last rose of her mother tree who will give birth to more roses next year
The Autumn winds blow cooler as Winter days draw near

The fall of leaves, blossoms, flower and rose petals insect life form sustain
The loss of beauty to the rose tree to them has been a gain
I only say what is a fact and facts do never lie
For one to live in Nature another has to die

The last red rose of the Autumn her petals have become food
As were the petals of her sibling roses for the crawling insect brood
Nature goes on forever her life forms to her come and go
And the rose tree soon will be white in Winter's first fall of snow.

You May As Well Be Happy

You may as well be happy and sing and laugh and dance
Since our gift of life is terminal and only comes to us by chance
So few do wish to know you when you are feeling down
It is not to your advantage to be a sad sack of the town
The happy and the carefree one others seem to wish to know
Amongst others they share their gift of happiness those with the inner glow
You may have a good reason to be feeling out of sort
But only a true friend at such a time will offer you comfort and support
The human mind has feelings unlike a rock or stone
And 'tis such a sad way for to feel in a depressed mood and alone
Our mental state a fragile thing does change from day to day
Suppose for us to be human it has to be this way
But suppose you may as well be happy is easy to be said
If you are one who has to live with worries in your head.

One More Doggerel Day

I am one with words who likes to have a play
For me it has been one more doggerel day
The stuff comes to my mind and i just pen it down
But never for money or any hope of renown
But so much to write about for anyone that way inclined
Though if poets are few poetasters not hard to find
'Tis easy so easy for one to pen rhyme
But only a poem does stand the test of time
Though your worth as a writer yourself you may doubt
There is always so much for one to write about
And if you enjoy writing as much as i do it is not a waste of time
Not to write at all would seem more of a crime
It has been one more doggerel day for me
Suppose we are what we are that's how it seems to be.

Sunday, March 13, 2011

I Was Told By Someone

I was told by someone confidently
That someone was not saying nice things about me
Though he would not tell me the rumor monger's name
Or even the source from where the rumor came
The lie spread about me had the smell of taint
And whilst to admitting that i am not a saint
Of any truth in the rumor to him i denied
I told him i did not have anything for to hide
But for a crime i did not commit some price i have to pay
For mud sticks as some have been known for to say
I am not the first this has happened to nor i will not be the last
As such has happened to many others in the past
There is a darker side to humanity
False rumors are spread by those afflicted by spiritual poverty.

The Funeral Bell Is Tolling

The funeral bell i heard tolling today will one day toll for me
Someday in the future whenever that will be
Perhaps not the same bell but some bell for me will toll
And someone may even whisper God's mercy on his soul
The person the bell tolled for surely one not without a friend
He or she knew happy and sad days from the beginning to their life's journey's end
For Whom The Bell Tolls according to Hemingway it's relevance lives on
As a symbolic last farewell to the one to the forever gone
The funeral bell to those who do hear it serves as a reminder to all
That for each and everyone of us there is a final Fall
And time on us keeps on ticking and ticking away
It does never wait for anyone life ticks on as some do say
The funeral bell is tolling one day 'twill toll for me
For the longest life in time not long that's how 'twould seem to be.

The Legend Of Ring

His legend in death outlives his Worldy fame
The Christy Ring Bridge in Cork is to honour his name
Of Ireland's great hurlers arguably the greatest of all
His name is synonymous with the sliothar ball

His record in hurling may never be beat
Eighteen Railway Cup medals a remarkable feat
Munster and All Ireland and Cork County Championship medals the hurler supreme
In the hurling field an invincible or so he did seem

Good hurlers are many great hurlers are rare
In Ireland's National game a decorated player
One never found to be wanting when put to the test
He played against and overshadowed Ireland's best

Greats of sports like all greats to the Reaper do fall
But the legend of Ring hurling purists recall
Eighteen Railway Cup medals his record will stand
Never to be equalled in hurling in Ireland.

Saturday, March 12, 2011

The Things That Ought To Unite Us

The things that ought to unite us some of us do divide
Such as patriotism and love of Country and national pride
But having said this it would seem fair to say
That no two do look at anything in the very same way
Those who use their love of Country as an excuse for feeling superior to others do have it all wrong
Their sort of thinking to xenophobia only does belong
Thinkings of superiority of cultures or superiority of race
In love of one's Country does not have a place
We belong to the Country and to the Country's land
That is something some do struggle to understand
Flag waving and nationalistic proclaimations seem egostistical to me
Though many with that may choose to disagree
Suppose we all look at things in ways differently
That is how it is and it always will be.

The Rhymes Do Keep Coming

My worth as a writer i always do doubt
But i'm never short of things for to write about
And though more than three decades beyond my life's prime
I never do seem for to run out of rhyme
I am not a poet though such i'd love to be
But still the rhymes do keep on coming to me
I write for enjoyment that and little more
That is something you may have heard me say before
From life as we live we do learn every day
We never stop learning as some like to say
I have been a rhymer since decades ago
Addicted to doggerel this well may be so
But rhyming makes me happy of that i won't lie
And i hope to be penning stuff on the day that i die.

Compassionate And Kind People

Those who judge other people have darkness of the mind
But i will happily sing the praises of the compassionate and kind
To help those in need of helping they go out of their way
And they perform a good deed sometimes two every day
In their words compassionate and kind people never put others down
They are the humble and the quiet achievers of the town
To the higher self they do remain ever true
And good Karma to them surely will be their due
For those doing it tough they do feel sympathy
The people blessed with the gift of empathy
People like them are never known for to harbour a grudge
And they never condemn or they never do judge
The goodness in humanity they do embrace
They are an asset and a credit to the human race.

Friday, March 11, 2011

Only For People Like Me

For my age little in money and assets i do have to show
And of life and it's ways not much i seem to know
But each day i can say i learn something new
And those who can say that are more than a few
Like many i struggle just to make end meet
There are battlers like me living on every street
We do have life choices as some like to say
For some but not everyone it is that way
Not for the children of homeless parents in dire poverty
Or not for the children of a refugee
Or not for the children with parents in jail
From an early age they are condemned to fail
Life choices are only for people like me
Therefore i do not have an excuse for my poverty.

Who Is Or Is Not A Poet

Who is or is not a poet is not for me to say
Though years ago when i was a boy in a place from here far away
A knowledgeable ageing woman of poetry she knew
Told me self proclaimed poets are many but true poets are few
From wise and knowledgeable ageing people life insights we gain
Though long in her grave her words with me remain
Anyone can proclaim themselves to be a poet
Though not everyone seen to be worthy of literary note
'Tis said we receive from life what becomes our due
In arts and in literature this may be true
But having said that self promotion does pay
At least that's how it does seem in the Human World of today
And who is or is not a poet does it matter anyway
Though many of such do like to have their say.

For As Long As I Live

For as long as i live a memory to enjoy
Of Summers long ago in distant Lisnaboy
Above the old fields the dark swallows did fly
And the meadows scented sweet of the freshly mown hay of July
I may be ageing but my memories young remain
And in my flights of fancy i visit again
Old places embedded in my memory
Not hard to visualize the what used to be
The buzzings of the wild honeybees taking nectar from the flowers
That bloomed in the fields after the recent showers
The gift of memory is such a wonderful thing
In my mind i can hear the birds of song sing
In the leafy groves of Lisnaboy from here far away
When the Summer meadows scented sweetly of hay.

Thursday, March 10, 2011

A World Without Birds

I loved them for their beauty and songs even as a young boy
And learning of their ways i still do enjoy
But due to habitat destruction and climate change it does seem sad to say
That bird numbers are dwindling in the World by the day

Some birds quite familiar to you and to me
The children of the future may not hear and see
The Wildlife of the World face an uncertain fate
That does seem a sad thing for to contemplate

Their beautiful colours the songs they do sing
To those who love Nature such joy they do bring
Of us they do live independent and free
A World without birds how sad that would be

Distinct from each other by their colours and and chirps and their song
The freedom of Nature to them does belong
But it is sad to think they are becoming rare
The thought of a World without birds is a thought hard to bear.

So Many Things To Write About

Some famous names of the Literary World tell of their spells of writers drought
Though there is so much of everything for one to write about
There is Human Life and Nature and things we see every day
This writers drought an over rated thing that is how i see it anyway
I have been told by a few that i do waste too much of my time
In trying to satisfy my addiction to penning of doggerel rhyme
Though it never does occur to them that writing brings me peace of mind
Suppose to make the Human Race it does take every kind
Subject material for to write about in plentiful supply
In urban areas and the countryside in land and sea and sky
The flora and the fauna the things we see and hear
So many things to write about every day of the year
Just an average amateur writer my better days long gone
But writing brings me happiness so i'll keep penning on.

The Multicultural Three

There should be more of music as well as dance and song
These three bring people together in that there is nothing wrong
They transcend race and borders and are a great uniting force
Of old mistrusts and hatreds they can be a healing source
No one race can lay claim to music as well as dance and song
They are of the greater human race and to the Human World belong
A bonding source of cultures whilst other things divide
They bring a lot of happiness to people Worldwide
Some use music, dance and song to highlight their difference from others the narrow Nationalistic kind
In every town, city and village such people you will find
But many love the music, song and dance of every race as if it were their own
As a uniting force between races and their cultures such people are known
Song and dance and music the multicultural three
Between people of all races they can create harmony.

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

To My Own Self As A Person

To my own self as a person i can only stay true
And to the individual pay the respect she or he is due
And that goes to all people of every race and creed
Since red is the colour of our blood when we bleed
To live as a good person your best you can only try
And the right to a fair go of none we ought to deny
Racists live in every city and village and in every town
Yet you only put down yourself when in your words you put others down
What you give in life in Karma you receive
That is my opinion on that i believe
With my way of thinking on this matter many may disagree
But i only say how it does seem to me
And to me a man or a woman in their ways are small
If they do not believe on a fair go for all.

Where The Araglen Flow

In fancy i can hear a silver back crow
Cawing on a beech tree where the Araglen flow
On to the Blackwater it babbles it's way
Through old fields of Cullen by night and by day
From the Duhallow high countryside of Kiskeam
The Araglen by thousands of centuries has preceded it's human given name
The old river that has inspired the bards to rhyme
Will flow on forever through the Seasons of time
In early Spring in March on a budding birch tree
In song the red breasted robin proclaims territory
And where old river Araglen babbles along
The white breasted dipper sings his scratchy song
On to the Blackwater en route to the sea
The Araglen babbles on eternally.

If There Is A Hereafter

If there is a hereafter and since to a God i do not pray
For the sins of my life some price i'll have to pay
There are some choices in life that are ours for to make
And the choice that could cost me soul damnation i am willing to take
I could not believe in the existence of a God or a life after death just for believing sake
Though people who questioned God's existence in centuries long gone were burnt at the stake
If there is a life after death perhaps i'll be in Hell
Amongst the worst of the worst i will forever dwell
Though i fear the Reaper of lives more than i fear soul damnation for eternity
For death is forever that's how it seems to me
If there is a life after death soul damnation may be my due
But to my higher self i can only be true
And my higher self tells me life ends in death
That nothingness for us begins when we draw our last breath.

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Tim Lehane

To be an Irish 64 Kg's boxing champion is his to be proud of feat
The best in the Country in his class he beat
Something Aubane's Tim Lehane would have daydreamed of as a boy
His great victory did have him jumping for joy

In Mushera Valley the Lehanes are well known
And the people of Aubane would have celebrated the boxing success of one of their own
One who trains with and refines his pugilistic skill
With the Rylane Boxing Club from where he lives just over the hill

On saying this i am not saying anything that is new
That good boxers like Tim Lehane in Millstreet to say the least are few
In boxing as in life for every big winner many have to lose
He can enjoy more boxing successes if so he wishes to choose.

The best of the Rylane Boxing Club and Aubane's and Millstreet's pride
Beyond the borders of Duhallow he is known far and wide
Against the best young boxers in Ireland to compete and succeed
For Tim is quite a remarkable achievement indeed

Young Tim Lehane of Aubane two miles from Millstreet Town
In the boxing ring one who has carved his own renown
For the Irish Title he won a memorable fight
When the ref raised his hand in victory he jumped with delight.

The Pride Of Boherbue

In her younger years the Pride of Boherbue
She has lived in Australia since nineteen sixty three
Her hair silver gray it was once chestnut brown
She grows old in Victoria in old Colac Town
A widowed grandmother she turns seventy in May
Time tells on the fairest as some like to say
And time does not wait for anyone it ticks and ticks away
She would be a stranger in Boherbue today
She left her first home at the height of her prime
Young beauty like she was inspire bards to rhyme
She left when bluebells bloomed on the ditch of the bohreen
And in Boherbue was never more to be seen
A Duhallow beauty many decades ago
But the passing of time on her starting to show.

On Hamilton Lake

In the reeds the moorhens and coots their dark young do hide
In Hamilton Lake where the musk duck reside
The male with a fleshy bag hanging under his bill
That at ease he inflate and deflate in life his given skill
For it's varied species of waterfowl a place of renown
The beautiful lake close to Hamilton Town
Home to ducks such as pacific black, hardhead and the gray and chestnut teal
A lake that to lovers of waterbirds holds great appeal
Where the yellow billed and royal spoonbill and a bird beautiful and graceful in it's own way
The solitary snow white great egret can be seen every day
Where black swan and black and white pelican and a waterbird with feathers of a purply sheen
The eastern swamphen are regularly seen
On Hamilton Lake by Hamilton Town
Amongst the Southern Grampians ornithologists a place of waterbird life renown.

Monday, March 7, 2011

In The Age Of Narcissism

To the flaws of others some are totally blind
They do make small gods out of ordinary kind
The narcissistic with them always do have success
Self praise the impressionable never fail to impress
In the age of narcissism it does seem sad to say
That the humble never know of success in the Human World of today
In the twenty first century humility does not seem to pay
Success and a big ego go together it does seem that way
The humble quiet achievers to say the least few
On saying this i am not saying anything that is new
The impressionable the egotistical to power elevate
And give to the quite ordinary the tag of great
The egotistical the impressionable always seem to befriend
Some are not hard to impress of that why pretend.

Michael Kelleher

He has lived in Australia for forty three years quite a good span of time
He arrived in Victoria in sixty eight six or seven years short of his life's prime
He worked for a few years with one of his mum's brothers his kind uncle Phil
A long way south of Claraghatlea by old Clara Hill.

Some four decades ago he married Rosemary nee Cronan his beautiful and devoted Aussie Wife
They now have grandchildren as their blessing in life
Fond memories of his young years with him remain
But Michael Kelleher's great loss to Millstreet is Australia's gain.

A likeable character to many well known
As a great layer of sewerage and water pipes his reputation in Victoria has grown
As a drainer with the best of them he still does compete
One of the great workmen to come out of Millstreet

Australia has been good to me you will hear him say
But his best memories are of a place far away
Called Claraghatlea where as a boy he often hunted with his black white faced dog
In Matty Owens fields and in Mary O's bog

The Claraghatlea he loved is a changed place today
And time does not wait it keeps on ticking away
Michael Kelleher is ageing his best days are gone
But like the great warrior he keeps on keeping on.

Those Who Can Laugh At Themselves

Those who can laugh at themselves have become a rare breed
And more of their sort in the World we do need
They never do take themselves too seriously
A good sense of humor is in them naturally
With them you need not choose the words that you do say
As they are not over sensitive in any way
Other people in their words they would never wish to offend
One who can laugh at him or herself would be good to have as a friend
Such people are never in a position of great power
Though as an individual he or she does bloom like a beautiful flower
The self centred and power hungry never laugh at themselves and seldom do laugh at all
Their outlook on life to say the least seems small
But those who can laugh at themselves to say the least seem few
And in saying they are great is not saying anything that is new.

Sunday, March 6, 2011

Age Can Be Relative

Some men in their prime years feel older long before their hair turn to gray
For age can be relevant to the person it can be a state of mind as some do say
And some women in their forties use hair dyes and anti ageing creams for to combat time's decay
'Tis natural to wish to look younger to others to be vain is the human way
A woman is as old as she looks and when a man stops looking he is old
Words of advice that i recall from my young years by a local elder to me told
Some may look on that as a bit sexist though make out of it what you may
What once was known as humorous and witty out of place in the politically correct World of today
I feel the years creeping up on me i am not the man i used to be
Though i was never athletic or handsome age has created an uglier to look at me
The boys and girls i went to school with i may not recognize them today
The years seem to go by so quickly and youth with anyone does not stay
The poets write of love, youth and beauty and the singers of it do sing
But it is true what some say in their wisdom that age can be a relative thing.

In Your Love Life

In your love life you may be quite lucky you may have a devoted wife
Though in thinking to you she's quite different with a different outlook on life
Few people for each other perfect at least that's how it seems to be
That opposites in thinking have been known to get on well together seems a contradiction to me
We were all born for to be different though not all have a mind of their own
Some are leaders and others are followers some are anonymous and some are well known
There are no two who think exactly in the same way and on all things do see eye to eye
Perhaps that's the way Nature made us for all things there's a reason why
The survival gene makes us self centred though some in ways than others more so
It does take a very special person to go through life without making a foe
In marriage some opposites get on well though 'tis an advantage to share common ground
In the human mind even the most rational complexities seem to abound
Some spend fifty years of their lives together that is something to celebrate
They did pass the true test of true love in each other they found a soulmate.

Katie With The Dancing Feet

Her ageing husband in the pub is getting sloshed on booze
Katie with the dancing feet where are your dancing shoes?
On his way home from work each day he has his fill of grog
She sits at home and waits for him her only friend her dog

Their only child a married mum in her early forties lives in another town
In time it has been many years since Katie's hair was a natural brown
in her mid sixties a well known dancer when in her life's prime
She has lost some of her beauty and dancing skill with the passing of time

'Tis true enough that love is blind that's why she married Fred
Always quite good at drinking grog and he was good in bed
She fell for him in a big way he turned on the charm
Not much good as a husband though he's never caused her physical harm

She did give up a thing she loved for to be a good wife
For dancing meant so much to her in her young years in life
With Fred she has fallen out of love and she feels she has lost the dancing skill
At sixty five for to make a comeback she lacks the confidence and will

She sits at home and waits for Fred he once was her soul mate
With him she has fallen out of love him she just tolerate
She resigned from dancing for to marry him sometimes we err in how we choose
Oh Katie with the dancing feet where are your dancing shoes?

Saturday, March 5, 2011

Sad To Contemplate

You may have three billion worth in assets with two billion in money to spare
And be renowned far and wide as a known billionaire
But you cannot stop time on you it does tick on
And your best days in life to the forever gone
And with your money you cannot bribe the Reaper of Death
Time on you will tick on till you draw your last breath
Just like the earthworm and the one in poverty
You too have been born into mortality
Though many may claim you to be an extraordinary man
You are one like all with a given life span
Of time however long that may be
And then you become ordinary as ordinary as me
With everyone else you'll share a common fate
And that for you must be sad to contemplate.

That Is The Canine Way

Unloved by your children and forsaken by your wife
Friends always seem to come and to go from your life
But your dog as your friend faithful to you does stay
As your trustworthy companion that is the canine way

Your cat as you stroke her may purr on your knee
But to you she is not faithful as the word can be
Her independent nature does not make her reliable as a friend
For loyalty on her you could never depend

But with your dog it is different one who takes friendship seriously
He or she loves you and trusts you and enjoys your company
For a few pats and a few kind words and a daily feed
Your dog will be with you in your time of need

Though a better friend one could not wish to find
Some people to their dogs are not known to be kind
But even a cruel master his dog love and obey
To be faithful till death that is the canine way.

The Autumn Has Arrived

In the blue sky a few woolly looking clouds of gray
So good to be living on such a nice day
In the sunlit park to where i'm standing near
The song of the magpie lark pleasant to hear
On this the first day of March the first day of the Southern Calendar Fall
In near to perfect weather with little wind at all
Today a pleasant high of some twenty degrees
Brown butterflies flying around sunlit flowering trees
The flute of the magpie melodious and clear
The silver billed bird who sings all through the year
Their bright colours amazing in the clear sunny sky
The beautiful crimson rosellas do chirp as they fly
The Autumn has arrived on her wings of brown
At midnight she quietly flew into the town

Friday, March 4, 2011

Though To My Thoughts In Fancy

I do live far south of Hibernia's Shore
And even further in distance from the roadway from Millstreet that leads to Rathmore
But in my flights of fancy distance disappear
And what is far in mileage to my thoughts are near

The dipper does sing where the river rapids flow
And i can hear the cawings of daw, rook and gray crow
Far north of here my love for Nature did grow
Though little of her ways i can claim to know

Any of the stuff i have written may not live on in time
But of Nature and her ways i've penned reams of rhyme
My first rhymes came to me from here far away
In a place i've not lived in for many a day

I do live far south of the silver tongued rill
That babbles to the river from the field by the hill
Far north of this Land thousands of miles of sky
Though my thoughts in fancy to there often fly.

Compared To Them I Am So Lucky

They know all about fear and heartbreak the oppressive warlords they fled
Many of their family and friends and relations in mass graves with the unremembered dead
In the refugee camps of the World there are millions of refugees
The victims of war and of famines they know of life's worst miseries
Compared to them i am so lucky though without reason i'm one who does complain
Though i've never been homeless or hungry or have never known of mental pain
Their life stories are of oppression the victims of torture and fear
They know about want and depression many of them have been homeless for many a year
Some of them travel in unseaworthy boats owned by people smugglers to unwelcoming Lands far away
In hopes for a better and a safer future what little money they do have they do pay
But few of them are successful in applying for asylum and are deported back to from where they fled
To be tortured and unlawfully imprisoned and die of beatings to the body and head
They know all about fear and heartbreak and about homelessness, hunger and poverty
Compared to them i am so lucky that is how it does seem to me.

Like The Legendary Noel Browne

The newly elected T D's are feted by their suporters in Ireland in every Irish city and village and town
But 'twould seem the tough job is ahead of them since the Irish Economy is down
It would seem that the good times are over in Ireland the Celtic Tiger died with a weak roar
Once more young Irish people in their droves are leaving Ireland to seek work on a distant shore

In Ireland nowadays as in so many Countries 'tis the populist politicians win renown
Though nowadays in Irish Politics the people need a great thinker like the legendary Noel Browne
In his Mother and Child bill he made life better for many though for that he became a maligned man
Though he was a fair minded fellow and as Minister for Health for the young of Ireland his was a great plan

One who fell foul of the Irish Clergy though Ireland's revolutionary thinker of his day
Noel Browne for his Mother and Child Bill by the ignorant powerbrokers was made to pay
The one who had brought change for the better to many in Ireland was treated in quiet a bad way
And to think he is almost forgotten does seem such a sad thing to say

In Ireland the elected politicians by their supporters are held in high esteem
And in Ireland the winners are grinners though the losers are many 'twould seem
In Ireland the poor are getting poorer in every village and city and town
Irish Politics again need a natural genius like like the legendary late and great Noel Browne.

Thursday, March 3, 2011

At The March Horse Fair

The weather it was cold and windy the rain steadily drifted down
From the gray clouds above old Duhallow on the March Horse Fair in Millstreet Town
Of the calendar Spring the first day though Winter was still in the air
The sun seldom does shine in Millstreet on March the first at the horse fair

Farmers and dealers and travelling people from Cork and Kerry with and for horses to buy and sell
The food caterers and publicans of Millstreet despite the weather did quite well
But nowadays things at the March Horse Fair are different at least that is what i am told
I do not move on with the changes i remain in the days of old

Nowadays before the Town Horse Fairs Travellers horse drawn vans parked by the crossroads one doesn't see
The changes keep happening in Ireland in the twenty first century
We live in a fast changing World where few things as were stay the same
At a place that has not undergone changes there is not one that i could name

It has been twenty four years since i was at the March Horse Fair in Millstreet Town by Clara Hill
On the last one i was at i remember the wind did blow with a cold chill
And as you might guess it was raining but the buying and the selling went on
The memories remain of what once was though the past to forever has gone.

Where The Sugar Cane Grow

Her hair is as dark as the wing of a crow
The girl from the place where the sugar cane grow
With a beautiful smile and lovely eyes of brown
She is a rare gift to the southern town
But in South Western Victoria she will not stay
She yearns for the coastal lands of Byron Bay
For her old Hometown homesick in her homeland
Nostalgia for place not hard to understand
That the lust for wander may be strong in some people this well may be so
But nostalgia does go with one to where-ever one does go
Her home far north of here by railroad or railway
But she will be back there by late Fall in May
Where the warm sub tropical winds through the coastal lands blow
Of Northern New South Wales where the sugar cane grow.

Far North Of South Australia

He is from the home of the dark pale eyed crow
Where old River Murray through bare brown paddocks flow
A flat landscape where only rough grass tussocks grow
As near to the Pacific it crawls on deep silent and slow

It has been awhile since he last saw Tailem Bend
An old Town where he did have many a friend
But going back the years that now seems long ago
In time he does reckon three decades or so

In Tailem Bend he feels he'd be a stranger today
His once brown hair now looking silvery gray
There he fell in love for the very first time
As a teenager six to eight years from his prime

He turned fifty on his birthday last year in July
On looking back the Seasons how fast time did fly
The son that he fathered is now twenty three
As a six month old baby him he did last see

Far north of South Australia he is living today
Where the Murray to the Pacific slowly winds it's way
Through a very old countryside flat bare and brown
By Tailem Bend and by Old Tailem Town.

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Who Your Friends Really Are

You own a big home and an expensive car
And to find one quite as wealthy one would need to travel far
Your wife and son and daughter own brand new mercedes as some like to say
Money speaks every language it does seem that way
Your new friends in numbers every day seem to grow
But who your true friends are you do not seem to know
In thinking this way you are not wrong to me
I cannot say on that with you i disagree
It is when you are living in dire poverty
And homeless with life on you tough as can be
Financially and spiritually and mentally down
An outcast on the poorer side of the town
Where from the journey to success for you seems a journey too far
It is then you will know who your friends really are.

Nature's Gift Of Rain

A few months ago the paddocks were bare and brown
In the flat countryside bordering Castlemaine Town
That was before the onset of the heavy rain
That overflowed every creek and every drain
And in the once bare paddocks young grass sprouted again
And Nature's greenery returned to Castlemaine
The last time i was here the landscape looked bare and brown
In and surrounding old Castlemaine Town
Amazing changes that a few months can bring
Nature's gift of rain is quite an amazing thing
The value of rain a thing none ought to deny
The last time i was here the creeks and drains were dry
The paddocks of Castlemaine look healthy and green
In my many visits the best i have seen.

You May Say Without A Friend

You may say without a friend in life you'll get by
But on saying that a simple fact you do choose to deny
That without a friend the loneliest person in the World is you
I only do say what i think to be true
No male or female is self sufficent why otherwise pretend
There are times in life when we all do need a friend
You are the loneliest person in the World when life has you down
And you even do not have one friend in the town
Without a friend you do become your own foe
No one to confide in during your times of woe
Us human beings have feelings as opposed to a stone
It is not good for any person to be always alone
If you delude yourself into thinking that at least one friend you do not need
Then you are a sad person very sad indeed.

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Paddy Dineen

In Knocknapogue and Millstreet in the flesh never more to be seen
Quite a likeable fellow was Paddy Dineen
He lived to a good age in time time quite a span
One can say of him quite an honorable man
He will be remembered where card players meet
At forty five drives in and near Millstreet
He and Clement Kelleher were a formidable pair
No soft tricks with those two though they always played fair
On their farm in Knocknapogue with his beloved deceased wife
Paddy Dineen spent the best years of his life
There they raised their children and outlived their prime
And witnessed the changes with the passage of time
One can only hope that his parting from life was a painless release
Fond memories of him will live may he now rest in peace.

You Shed Your Tears For Her

You shed your tears for her yet she is doing all right
She is making love to another tonight
Of love the poets write and the singers do sing
But love it is not always a blissful thing
Unrequieted love has it's heartaches as some have reason to say
Love does have it's sorrows since life is this way
The one that you love your feelings may not share
In the Human World unrequieted love is not even rare
She loves someone else about that nothing you can do
Why yearn for the love of one who does not love you
She sleeps with another why for her shed tears
Unrequieted love it can linger for years
There are nasty thorns on the stem of the rose
Not that unlike life one would have to suppose.

The Same For All

The same for the pauper as for the billionaire
The life of anybody the Reaper does not spare
On all life forms Nature's Reaper has the final say
For the babe of the present there will be a last night and day
Since the age of the dinosaur thousands of centuries have come and gone
And life on the Planet as usual goes on
The fact is all life forms are mortal and fact as we know never lie
Except Nature the only immortal the one never destined to die
Yes Nature whose creatures live everywhere in ocean and on land and on every shore
She is the World's only immortal and she will live forever more
Nature's Reaper treats all life forms equal from the biggest and greatest to the small
He treats the pauper and the billionaire as equals the great scythe of death is for all
Not one to show respect for wealth and renown
He visits the poor and the wealthy side of the town.