Tuesday, January 31, 2012

We Reap What We Sow

For my sins against others to karma i will pay
At least this is how i see it anyway
We reap what we sow in our lives every day
What goes around comes around as some do say
Since the Universal Karma does apply to us all
Our sins against others become our downfall
The good or bad we do unto others in turn we receive
This is how karma works if on such you believe
Though the law has failed to catch you and you are not serving jail time
To karma you will pay for your serious crime
Though it's very existence some may well deny
I do believe karma to everyone does apply
We reap what we sow this is how it will be
At least anyhow that's how it seems to me.

By The Araglen Waters

At a time of year when grass refuse to grow
The Boggeragh Hills in their white hats of snow
And the cold winds of January from the northlands do blow
In bare fields of Duhallow where the Araglen flow

From it's distant birthplace it journeys on down
Swollen by heavy rains in flood waters of brown
On towards the Blackwater it babbles along
The old river that has inspired story and song

At temperatures of zero or a degree or two of it below
The cattle in farm shed for fodder bellow
In the cold of mid morning the harsh cawing of gray crow
And migrant redwings are chirping on the windswept hedgerow

Ten weeks maybe more from the warmth of the Spring
When the birds of Duhallow commence to nest and sing
And the swallows are home from warm climes far away
For to build their mud nests on shed rafters in May

When the old fields made lush and green by mild April showers
Are looking resplendent in their Nature's flowers
And cattle out on young grass gaining weight by the day
By the Araglen waters from here far away.

Monday, January 30, 2012

A Heartbreaking Thing

It does seem that you will pine for her for years
Yet she does not love you she is not worth your tears
She married another rears his baby boy
A young mother in love her life she enjoy

Of the praises of love many happy to sing
But unrequited love is a heartbreaking thing
One can say of it that it is love's sadder side
And it even has led some to death by suicide

Time is the best healer as some like to say
The sense of loss you feel will slowly fade away
The ache will grow less as the weeks tick on by
Why lost love cause such heartache one must wonder why?

Pointless pining for somebody who to someone else is true
She left you for another her thougths are not of you
Suppose for every up in life there has to be a down
Unrequited love has left you as a sad sack of the town.

On Julia's Pokies Backflip

That P M Julia Gillard went back on her word to Andrew Wilkie ought to come as no surprise
Since she is a politician and most politicians do tell lies
In Australia the pro poker machine no gambling limit lobby does pack a lot of clout
And staying P M for Julia is what it is all about
We know of Julia Gillard at all costs to power she will cling
Though she has her detractors some her praises too do sing
Australia's first woman Prime Minister is a politician first of all
And we know most politicians in their ways can be small
As for Tasmania's M P Andrew Wilkie he is new to the political game
For believing Julia Gillard he only has himself to blame
He may have withdrawn his support for the government but Julia as P M will survive
For two more years her opponent Tony Abbott of power she will deprive
It is true for our life's lessons there is some price to pay
And that goes for anti gambling M P Andrew Wilkie who has learned in the hard way.

Sunday, January 29, 2012

He Is From The Place

He is from the place of yellow tail black cockatoo
The large dark brown parrots known to some as the weerloo
Fresh in from the high country and new to the big town
The tall slightly built young man with hair of nugget brown.

A story like his you would have heard before
He moved to here for self betterment and nothing more
Where he was born and raised job opportunities few
But life very different here to the life he once knew

Back in his home country amongst the tall trees
The harsh cries of the white cockies are carrying in the breeze
And the familiar calling of the pied currawong
The crow sized dark birds who have rain in their song

Where the often familiar loud laughter like cries
Of the kookaburra can be heard in the wood at sunrise
The voices of Nature that he has known well
Not to be heard where people in large numbers do dwell

To the big town life he is settling in
And he is getting used of the suburban din
Like the noise of the traffic on the busy highway
Many miles from where he was raised and first saw light of day.

Jessica Veal

A kind hearted young woman is Jessica Veal
To her the ways of the natural world does appeal
Happily married to Karl and mum to Otto their bonny baby boy
Taking care of injured wildlife is a thing she enjoy
It is something she has been doing for more than a decade of years
At the plight of injured wildlife she feels moved to tears
She has nursed back to health birds and animals in danger of death due to injury
One who has done so much for Nature's wild family
In helping the wild creatures of help most in need
For her future good karma she does plant the good seed
A true friend of Nature of her one can say
Caring for injured wildlife brings joy to her day
For sick and injured birds and animals one willing to care
The Jessica Veals of the Human World are so rare.

Saturday, January 28, 2012

A Brave Fellow Then

On his younger years one willing to have a dare
A brave fellow then such men are always rare
In Vietnam decorated for bravery forty seven years ago
That was long before time did become his foe

One who displayed true courage when under fire
From stories about him a man to admire
But the passing of the Seasons has him walking slow
And time even on the best does eventually show

One who never fathered children or never had a wife
His addiction to alcohol ruined his life
Many of his friends from his young years are amongst the dead
His best years behind him old age of him ahead

What hair he has left on his head silver gray
And clearly he has known a far better day
A quiet sort of a person even with a few beers in
One who never does add to the local pub's din

For bravery under fire one famed and widely known
On his sixty eight year he does live on his own
A man amongst men the ageing man of today
He risked his life to save an injured comrade in a war far away.

Friday, January 27, 2012

As For Me I Love Living

Success in my life is not mine to recall
Though that does not bother me one bit at all
I leave it to others their successes to celebrate
As for me i love living and life it is great

Yes the great gift of life is a marvellous thing
And i hope to be living to see in next Spring
When in the sunshine wildflowers will nod in the warm coastal breeze
And nesting birds chirp and sing on the bushes and trees

Though a little of either would be nice just the same
I do not envy others their money and fame
I do not wish i would be them and they would be me
It is each to their own would you not agree?

Many of us do experience our moments of self doubt
As some might say this is what life is about
The near perfect people to say the least few
To say to be flawed it is human is not anything new

One can make the most of life it does seem this way
And i'm not complaining since healthwise i feel okay
The pee wees are calling in the park by the bay
It is nice to be living on this nice Summer's day.

Thursday, January 26, 2012

So I Will Cling To Life

We are born as mortals why otherwise pretend
For the most successful of people life comes to an end
The Reaper does not respect money or fame
To him all are equal he treats all as the same
We are born as mortals and death is our fate
And on us like all life forms there is a use by date
For the monarch and president a last night and day
The Seasons pass quickly and time ticks away
Of the supposed life after death i am not to know
The doubt of the existence of such only in me does grow
Since any of the deceased people i've known have not come back to me to tell
Of the existence of a heaven or of the existence of a hell
So i will cling to life for as long as i can
And hopefully die without pain as a very old man.

A Greater Force Than Her

A greater force than her i for one could not name
When angry she is the one humans cannot tame
She topples great buildings shakes them to the ground
And under her destruction death is to be found
She bends strong steel guilders as if they were straw
The one not answerable to anyone who lives by her own law
Her voice when she is angry is frightening to hear
And before her the bravest they have fled in fear
Yet when she is sunny and sky bright and clear
How pleasant and beautiful she does appear
When angry she creates havoc in the town
Causes earthquakes and tsunamis and blows great building down
To be the World's only immortal her enduring claim to fame
Mother Earth or Mother Nature she is known by either name.

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

What Matter Is

It should not matter who you are your religion, color or race
What matter is that you are a good person making the World to live in a far better place
Always willing to help one in trouble you do your good deeds every day
For to help those most in need of helping you always go out of your way
It does not mean that you are a good person if you drive around in a big car
And it does not matter what tribe you belong to what matters most is the person you are
It is true that kindness and compassion only ever bloom in the mind
And they are such marvellous people those who are compassionate and kind
To be willing for to help those in need of helping such a gift is a marvellous thing
Such people who are so kind natured their praises feel happy to sing
Your money, assets and material possessions all to your advantage 'twould seem
It is true money speaks every language and does great things for one's self esteem
And though those who do judge other people in their own ways are rather small
If you wish to judge try to judge fairly or better do not judge at all.

From The Seeds Of Worry

Your's is not a big problem so why worry about it at all
When compared to some your biggest worry seems small
And worrying about it will not make it go away
Only make your problem seem bigger and grow and grow by the day
Compared to the losses of some your's does seem a small loss
Your's to me does not seem a huge financial cross
It will not be of hunger or thirst you will die
But of stress related cancer and this is not a lie
A bad situation not so bad when seen in a different light
And worrying about anything will not make it right
It may be true that your loss has become someone's gain
That one grows financially wealthier at the expense of another beyond me to explain
Just leave it to experience and get on with your life
From the seeds of worry health problems grow rife.

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Unconditional Love

Of the praises of it i feel obliged to sing
Unconditional love is a beautiful thing
Since it is given without expecting anything in return
Of such a love the flame it ever does burn
Of love in it's many forms we are aware
But amongst us humans the unconditional sort of it seems to be rare
For to give without expecting anything in return is a great gift indeed
And of far more of such people the Human World is in need
Though them the human masses never celebrate
Those who give unconditional love as people are great
Of them it would only seem fair for to say
That they are not selfish or self centred in any way
Of the praises of it i feel obliged to sing
Unconditional love is a beautiful thing.

Of Birds And Their Ways

It is not very often one does get them wrong
Most birds one does get to know by their chirping or song
Many of them from us do not live far away
We see and we hear them many times every day
Some of them migrate to Winter far from their home ground
But when Spring comes to their homeland for to breed they are homeward bound
Whilst some of them in their home territories stay
And they never do fly off to lands far away
Of birds and their ways little i can claim to know
But my wonder of them only does seem to grow
I have been learning from Nature since i was a boy
And i owe her for giving me pleasure and joy
Her wild birds every day i hear and i see
And many of them are familiar to me.

Monday, January 23, 2012

The Great Gift Of Life

The past is the past though to memory not dead
And the now is all that matter as is often said
And who is to say what the future will bring
I hope life is in me to welcome next Spring
The great gift of life is a marvellous thing
And i hope to be here when the nesting birds sing
And pink or white blossoms bloom on the fruit bearing trees
And butterflies are dancing in the sunshine and breeze
On the length of any human life there is no guarantee
The Reaper of lives too will claim my greatest gift from me
But i want to live for as long as i can
And to die without pain as a very old man
When Spring is in the air and the nesting birds sing
The great gift of life is a beautiful thing.

Tank Driscoll

Forty years ago i met him going to Croke Park on a football train
And fond memories of him with me does remain
A gentle giant of a man without any conceit
Once a household name by the fans of Millstreet

A stalwart defender in the gaelic football game
He was built like a tank and Tank was his nickname
He was of Clondrohid and was widely known
And in Millstreet the Club that he played for they claimed him for their own

Though back then in the early seventies he was getting old
A barrel chested giant of a man to behold
I was in my prime then as i do recall
But standing near him i did seem rather small

In Millstreet stories of Tank Driscoll abound
In his prime a stronger man than him was not to be found
One never found to be wanting when put to the test
Any forward who collided with him came out second best

A man amongst men of him one can say
He must be in his nineties if he is living today
On the train to Croke Park he was one i once met
The gentle giant Tank i will never forget.

Sunday, January 22, 2012

A Claraghatlea Fellow Is All I Can Be

I have not been back there for twenty five years
And for what i used to love i've shed all of my tears
But to deny my past would be foolish of me
Since a Claraghatlea fellow is all i can be

I was far from a bright boy in primary school
In Millstreet Town far north of old Warrnambool
But that does not matter much to me today
Since the clock on my life does keep ticking away

'Tis memory alone that links us to the past
But on looking back the Seasons time did tick on fast
And perhaps i will never again hear the lowing of a cow
On a summer twilight in a field by the River Finnow

Of what we loved in the past the good memories remain
And in fancy i walk in the old fields again
But where i once was known i may be a stranger today
And the now is all that matters as some like to say

Though to some what i like doing seems a huge waste of time
Of my first home-place i've penned many a rhyme
Each to his or to her own would you not agree
And a Claraghatlea fellow is all i can be.

Such People Do Talk

As long as you've never harmed anyone in any way
Doesn't matter what others of you have to say
Some have not learned from life since they first did walk
They are of the judgemental and such people do talk
Not to be judgemental seems beyond their control
The judgemental minority who like to pigeon hole
On living incomes and standard of education between people they differentiate
If rank and class distinction were not in place them they would create
Since to their higher selves they can never be true
Why worry about what they do say of you
By their judgemental ways in their minds they are small
What they think of you ought not faze you at all
The praises of those they feel are successful leave it to them to sing
You just carry on and keep doing your own thing.

Saturday, January 21, 2012

Never Too Small

Any act of kindness is never too small
Since kindness along with love and compassion amongst the best gifts of all
Kind people love doing their good deeds every day
And to help others happy to go out of their way
Yes the great gift of kindness is a great gift indeed
And of more of kind people the Human World is in need
For to help one out of kindness is such a wonderful thing
Of the praises of kind people i for one love to sing
I feel lucky that a few kind people i do know
And my admiration and respect for them only does grow
Though seldom the subject of story and rhyme
In helping the have nots they selflessly devote their time
The unsung heroes and heroines of the town
Who help those who by life are feeling let down.

The Real Unsung Heroes

Sad to think that brave men and women are now serving time
In Countries where to speak against the government is seen as a crime
Such people are so brave as brave as can be
They have far more courage than not so brave me
For were i in their position i would dare not speak out
For my self preservation i would keep a shut mouth
Those who against oppressive regimes are prepared to speak their mind
Are most courageous people of the bravest kind
The people who speak out where silence is ruled by fear
Of their amazing courage we read of and hear
They speak against injustice though for them the cost is huge to pay
The real unsung heroes of the Human World of today
Unafraid to speak out despite the dire consequence
In Countries where free speech is a criminal offence.

Friday, January 20, 2012

If Aunty Had Balls

If aunty had balls she'd be uncle as some used to say
A saying from my younger years in a land far away
That perhaps to some would not seem as appropriate or as politically correct today
At least to the more gentrified anyway
The word If often used to describe what might be
If the obstacle  that did get in the way of me
Of getting that job or of knowing of more personal success
If an excuse used by most for their failure to impress
That someone of importance or of an opportunity you failed for to take
For such the word we use when an excuse we do make
For what might have been but for us did not come true
Though perhaps in reality we receive from life what is our due
If aunty had balls she'd be uncle that may seem rather crude
But do pardon me if to you i sound rude.

In Hawkesdale

On the roadway to Hamilton 45 k's from Warrnambool
Is a village with a secondary college a pub and a swimming pool
That locals like to refer to as a town
The paddocks of Hawkesdale in Summer are brown

Where few acres of grain or root crops are sown
Though for cattle and sheep farming Hawkesdale is well known
In Winter the countryside wide open to cold wind and breeze
For in Hawkesdale there does seem a scarcity of trees

In Hawkesdale i've seen long bill corella and wallaby and white cockatoo
Though there i have yet to see gray kangaroo
In late Fall to the Spring the Moyne Shire looking green
When Hawkesdale at it's very finest is seen

An ageing fellow i know who does live near Hawkesdale
Is planning to leave there his house is for sale
In winter the unsheltered countryside for him too cold
He will move to South Queensland to retire and grow old.

Thursday, January 19, 2012

It Does Seem Long Ago

Perhaps i would feel a stranger now where i lived as a boy
Where my first lessons from Nature i used to enjoy
Most of the mentors of my childhood in eternal rest lay
And even on those younger than me time ticking away

The Winters were cold and wet there as i do recall
And the cattle in farm sheds to Spring from late Fall
But April brought green growth with mild seasonal showers
And the old fields looked lovely in their Nature's flowers

When the dipper was singing in the silver tongued rill
That babbled to the river from the field by the hill
And the blackbird and song thrush and robin were on song
In memory my links to the past remain strong

When the hawthorns were in their blooms of white to gray
The nesting wrens and finches were singing in the green woods of May
And the swallows were home from warm lands far away
Chasing flying insects above the old fields all the day

I remember with fondness though no longer with tears
The place i was born in where i spent my younger years
From there i've been long absent and time is my foe
And since i last lived there it does seem long ago.

Little In Common

Have you ever felt your life is going nowhere
Ted your best school friend is now a multi millionaire
Though you were far brighter than he was in school
Where he often did sit on the dunce's stool?

As a director of a big company he is widely known
And as one of the town's most influential people his reputation has grown
No longer your best friend with the town's  successful he socialize
That money speaks every language you have come to realize

No longer your best pal though not one of your foes
School friends drift apart one would have to suppose
Nowadays you do not see him often except for the rare time on the street
Though no chat just a friendly hi in passing when him you do meet

You are well educated with a college degree
Though a  materially successful life such things one does not guarantee
Your former best friend Ted a primary school drop out is now a millionaire
And little in common with him you now share.

Wednesday, January 18, 2012


when alcohol has drunk men talking ballyhoo
You get more sense out of monkeys at the zoo
Who often scream at each other in a heated rage
In their noisy disagreements that lead to conflict in their cage
At the local pub late on saturday the voices are loud
Where twenty drunk men becomes a noisy crowd
The way some men often are with too much alcohol in
When their loud voices become an incoherent din
You may ask what is ballyhoo 'tis the babble of noise
The sort you hear amongst young children when playing with their toys
But drunken ballyhoo often does lead to fight
At the local pub on a saturday night
When alcohol strips the mind of common sense
And some drunk at a shouted word does take offense.

A Strange Sort Of Devotion

A strange sort of devotion it may seem quite odd
That some religious fundamentalists will kill one who disagree with their views for love of their god
For love of their god they do on to those who beg to differ ill
Though Moses fifth commandment clearly states thou shalt not kill
A minority they may be but they bring on their religion shame
By committing wilful murder in their chosen god's name
Though the god they do claim to worship and to whom they do pray
Would not wish them for to behave in such a criminal way
But the fruits of the karma we sow we have to reap one day
What goes around comes around as some like to say
Everyday people over religion and borders and cultures in the foulest way die
And in life what we sow we receive is surely not a lie
And a strange sort of devotion it does seem indeed
That to kill for their god some in them have the need..

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

Old John

Old John is a patron of the local pub
In his younger years a player with the town's football club
Fifty years ago he booted the goal that won the premiership flag
Though of such a feat he is not one to brag

The hair left on his balding head silver gray
And clearly he has known a far better day
Last july his wife of forty six years Linda passed away
Her he does miss more than words could ever say

Their only offspring Kate in her forties married in the U S of A
In distance more than half of a world away
With an eighteen year old daughter and a son of sixteen
It has been a few years since them he has last seen

Old John who drinks at the local is well liked and well known
On his seventy fifth year he lives on his own
Fifty years ago the hero of Grand Final day
But of how great he was you will not hear him say.

Rhyming Gives Me Pleasure

An ordinary rhymer i pen rhymes every day
And though some say in rhyme i've said all i can say
And perhaps it is time i give scribbling away
Any heed to their advice i never do pay
For why should i quit what gives pleasure to me
On my behalf this would not be wise with that would you agree?
Though any hopes of literary success from my thoughts now long gone
Rhyming gives me pleasure so i will rhyme on
Though my worth as a rhymer i often do doubt
No shortage of things for me to write about
The pee wees are calling in the park by the bay
On what one might say is a nice summer's day
And another rhyme it is forming in my head
The rhyming bug in me seems so far from dead.

In His Face Without Eyes

The mirrors to his soul he had chosen to disguise
As he briskly walked my way in his face without eyes
Behind dark shaded sunglasses from view hidden away
Though the morning was sunless and the sky gloomy gray
I said hello to him he did not reply
My greeting he ignored as me he walked by
As he walked to the train station his mind seemed elsewhere
Perhaps somewhere else in the big world out there
The mirrors of his soul were hidden from me
It seems to bother me so when one's eyes i can't see
Your eyes tell of the sort of person you might be
Though with my thinking on such many may not agree
Without seeing his eyes cannot say if he seemed callous or kind
Only know that to my existence he did seem quite blind.

Monday, January 16, 2012

Crossley's Rose

With shoulder length wavy brown hair so graceful and tall
At the dance in Crossley the fairest of all
Of her type of beauty songs written and sung
Just watching her dance would make an old man feel young
Since she is one i had not seen previously
I asked a middle aged local fellow who she might be
He said you mean the brown haired one with eyes blue as ripened sloes
Why she is a local she is Crossley's Rose
As she wheeled to a reel with a smile free of care
Gobsmacked by her beauty at her i could only stare
What i was beholding i could scarce believe my eyes
That in Crossley such rare beauty could bloom to me a big surprise
In her beautiful green dress she danced around the floor
And for one more jig or reel she joined in the encore.

Down With Cyber Bullying

Down with cyber bullying it ought to be treated as a serious crime
It has brought young victims to suicide years from their life's prime
For to drive their young victims to an early grave
For the cyber offenders such a cowardly way to behave

The people to others with such a bad attitude
Down with cyber bullies they are far worse than rude
Cyber bullies ought to feel ashamed of the type of people they are
They carry their dislikes and jealousies beyond too far

Due to cyber bullying another  young woman suicided today
For such obnoxious criminal behaviour the offender should be made to pay
That such people drive good young people to suicide is to their great shame
Cyber bullies for them does seem too good a name

Down with cyber bullying it is a vile offense
Those who carry out such a practice are devoid of all sense
Completely lacking in compassion or any sort of empathy
They deserve what they do give and that is not sympathy.

In our Goal For Self

At most things many of us humans with each other compete
To be best in the neighbourhood and best in the street
To be what we are good at the best in the town
In our goal for self of a greater renown

To be known and famous beyond our own countryside
To be best in the Nation and even best Worldwide
But at any one thing and at any one time only one can be best
And many found to be wanting when put to the test

Those who participate for self enjoyment i have to admire
For success as many define it and greatness they show no desire
It is not of greatness they daydream as they walk, jog or run
In the town park at late evening at the going down of the sun.

The competition for success at business or sports or be what it may
In every village, town and city does go on every day
Though many people in different ways success does define
And your idea of it may be different to mine.

Sunday, January 15, 2012

Back By Mushera Mountain

From the overnight frost the high fields looking gray
Back by Mushera Mountain it is cold today
The cold breath of January in the winter breeze
That sough in the wood in the spruce and pine trees

The wood birds spend their days in the farm-yards nearby
Some of them weakened from cold and hunger barely able to fly
By sheds they eat spilt grains and seeds and by back doors crumbs of bread
Of them there are many more tough weeks ahead

Till the warmer weather of the early Spring
When the urge to breed will come to them with the urge to sing
When the swallows in mid April will return from lands far away
To build their mud nests on shed rafters in May

The face of old Mushera is whitened with snow
At a cold and wet time of year when grass refuse to grow
With a chill in it's breath icy January blow
And hungry redwings are chirping on the bare hedgerow.

What It Takes To Be Human

It does matter little would you not agree
What i think of you or what you think of me
I project my feelings or so i've been told
Like some i have not grown wiser though i am growing old
Though i do know a little of the moods of despair
No point in complaining that life is unfair
The concept of karma it does seem is true
And from life we receive what from life we are due
Most of us have our inner battles our times of self doubt
As many might say this is what life's about
What i think of you or what you think of me does it matter at all
In our own small ways we can be very small
With our inner feelings we struggle every day
What it takes to be human as some like to say.

In Your Mind If You So Wish

He has climbed Mt Everest sailed the World's Seven Seas
Walked to the South Pole in minus sixty degrees
He has dined with the monarch won Olympic Gold
Stories of his greatness will be read of and told
In decades from now in the big World out there
A legendary figure who is known everywhere
A national hero of Worldwide renown
One known and celebrated in every village and city and town
Places named in his honour memories of him won't fade
For him there has been many a street parade
You never do hear him say life is unfair
He just daydreams of greatness sitting on his wheelchair
He has dined with the president, the queen and the king
In your mind if you so wish you can be anything.

Saturday, January 14, 2012

Koroit In South West Victoria

Koroit in South West Victoria a coastal rural Town
To have strong links to Ireland one of it's claims to renown
Near Tower Hill of Gerai Wurrung, Gunditjmara and Djab Wurrung
Long gone but remembered in story and songs of them sung

Robert Hoddle in 1845 a Port Phillip surveyor gave Koroit it's indigenous name
It is said that from one of the local tribes it came
And that the word in it's meaning has a link to fire
From a history that does long pre-date the Moyne Shire

All night long on Commercial Road big trucks pass up and down
Disturbing the night peace of old Koroit Town
To Warrnambool and back from nightfall till daybreak
Some Commercial Road residents by their noise are often kept awake

Koroit in South West Victoria seven miles from the sea
An old Irish Town with an old history
With shops and pubs and a primary school
Less than twenty kilometres from the coastal City of Warrnambool.

Sad As It May Seem

He is anti social that much he admit
And he lacks in humor and he lacks in wit
With his human frailties he constantly fight
The one who will never be in the limelight

Only in his mid twenties and in his life's prime
Ahead of him one might say there is much time
But he will never be admired as man about town
Since his human frailties keep dragging him down

Unmarried and childless to few he is known
He does not have friends and he lives on his own
I only know of him as him i seldom see
But he seems as harmless as harmless can be

He may never father children and never have a wife
And working does seem his one passion in life
To chat up a woman he does seem too shy
The tag of the loner to him does apply

I do not see him often but whenever we meet
We say hi in passing in the park or on the street
But those who know him better say he is his own foe
And sad as it may seem this well may be so.

Sunshine In The Blue Sky

Sunshine in the blue sky of clouds woolly gray
On a pleasant and breezy early january day
The flute of the magpie in the park by the bay
Earthly Utopia from this place cannot be far away
The silver billed magpie with the flute like song
A familiar voice of Australia that one ought not get wrong
On a sunlit gum tree so pleasant to hear
The bird who does sing every day of the year
The familiar pee wee of the pied magpie lark
He and his wife live and breed and die in this park
And dark welcome swallows chirping in the sky
In pursuit of flying insects all day they do fly
And butterflies dance in the freshening breeze
On a pleasant day in mid summer of around twenty degrees.

Friday, January 13, 2012

The Boeing's New Year's Oldest Swimmer

At the Boeing new year swim he is always first in
Mick Collins the fellow with anti freeze skin
For one in his late fifties or early sixties not much younger than me
He is quite a tough nut would you not agree

Age is a relative thing the brave Mick does not feel old
Like the Arctic bear he must be immune to cold
One can say in him there is much to admire
To greater things far younger than him he inspire

Youth does have it's fling with it's youthful elan
But Mick Collins is not what you'd call a young man
Like his legendary namesake the man of Sam's Cross
For words to describe him i feel at a loss

Perhaps the second oldest Boeing swimmer Hannelie O Connor as Mick quite as brave
She is one who does not fear a cold watery grave
One who refuses to allow time to become her foe
Good on you Hannelie for having a go

John Tarrant for the press, Sean Radley, Brendan Murphy and William and Ita Fitzgerald  for  L T V
Were there to record the occasion for Duhallow people everywhere to read of and to see
Thanks to Sean R and Mary O Mahony for the images and Eileen and Michelle and the organizing committee
And the sponsors and the swimmers young and not so young as brave as the word be

The Boeing's oldest new year swimmer Mick Collins is way past his prime
But he does seem unfazed by the passing of time
Stripped down to his togs in the cold winter chill
He is a tough fellow the man from Cock Hill.

For A Love That Has Been

Though life for him financially has never been great
He has never felt as lonely as he does feel of late
Since the woman he loved did walk out of his life
For to become a wealthier and a younger man's wife

Childless and divorced in his early fifties he feels his better days are gone
But he is one who will keep on keeping on
He will tell you there are many far worse off than me
Since i have never been homeless or known of extreme poverty

Even in the saddest life there is some room for cheer
On his way home from work he stops by at the pub for a beer
Though life for him not easy and he feels a bit down
He refuses to become the sad sack of the town

Complaining as such he does not see as worthwhile
And in public places he can manage a smile
But deep in his mind a great sadness remain
For a love that has been and cannot be again.

Since Greed With Them

Since greed with them does seem way out of control
Multinational and bureaucratic companies directors are without a soul
They take and they take and in return little give
And enjoy the luxury of their huge profits for as long as they live
Their c e o's who save them huge amounts of money by trimming their workforce every day
Draw millions in salary in their annual pay
From the financial woes of others they do stand to gain
That does seem way beyond me for to explain
The gap keeps on widening in the social divide
And poverty is abundant nowadays Worldwide
The majority of the World's wealth is owned by the few
That does seem all wrong but it is nothing new
And though this seems unfair would you not agree
This is how it is and it always will be.

Thursday, January 12, 2012

Nature's Butterflies

Around the flowering bushes and blossoming trees
They fly in the garden and dance in the breeze
Their browns and whites and spotted colours amazing to the eyes
Such things of great beauty Nature's butterflies

As butterflies they exist for a few days to lay eggs and copulate
Such beautiful life forms Nature does create
They hide under leaves in the thundery showers
And they are even outlived by Nature's wildflowers

The beauty of Nature for all to enjoy
And i love her today as i did when a boy
But the greatest of beauty is born to die
As mortal as you are and as mortal as i

In their many colours of pink, brown, white and gray
They fly in the sunshine of a summer's day
That their lives are brief does seem sad to say
The finest of beauty is quick to decay.

Since I Myself Cannot Lay Claim To Know Me

Since i myself cannot lay claim to know me
I am not the person you think me to be
Many of the thoughts we create are hidden in the mind
Few wish to be seen in their words as unkind

That my human flaws are many i vow to be true
And i too can be judgemental maybe even more so than you
But i believe that a fair go to all to all ought to apply
And our respect and their rights to anyone we ought not to deny

I project my feelings on to others or so i have been told
And in the eyes of some i seem withdrawn and cold
But i am not one lacking in empathy
And for the suffering of others i feel sympathy

Yes to me there too is a softer side
That i hide from others due to manly pride
My feelings in public too scared for to show
I hold back the tears that do yearn to flow

At funerals of family and friends where others weep loud
I choke back the tears though of that i'm not proud
The male ego in us is a controlling thing
To many of us what seems to be manly at all costs we do cling

That we are strangers to ourselves most would not agree
Me  you may claim to know but i do not know me
In most of our thoughts needs of self are always to the fore
We live for self and kindred blood and little else more.

The Price Is Big To Pay

Healthwise by what we aeat and drink those in the know say
That we can shorten our lives every week by a day
For poor eating and drinking habits in physical well being we pay
You can make out of that advice from health practicioners whatever you may
With some over indulgence in drugs, food and alcohol is out of control
Too much of anything for you not good and on your health does take toll
Diabetes, heart problems and cancer it does seem are widespread
Prevention is better than cure it is said
From advice from those in the know we have reason to think
That we can shorten our lives by what we eat or we drink
But good advice given to us in memory few of us save
Some drink, eat and smoke their way to an early grave
Many of us have bad addictions and it does seem fair to say
That for self abuse to your health the price is big to pay.

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Perhaps One Of The Very Worst Sins

Perhaps one of the very worst sins one could name
Men's crimes against women a Worldwide shame
In parts of the World women are raped, beaten and abused by men every day
Yet the offenders for their crimes are never made for to pay

Far too many women at the hands of callous males have suffered and died
In Countries ruled by oppressive regimes where rights to women are denied
Where women to speak out for their rights are silenced by fear
Sad to say far too much of this we do read of and hear

Where women feel too scared to venture out at dark
To walk in the streets or in the public park
Where a crime against a woman is not seen as a serious crime
And where few males convicted of rape ever do serve jail time

In some Countries it is the husband's right to beat and rape his wife
This looked on as normal in everyday life
Where women are treated as second class citizens it does seem sad to say
That for serious crimes against them too few men are made to pay.

The One Who Has Laughter

Such joy to the people nearby it does bring
The sweet sound of laughter a wonderful thing
The one who has laughter everyone wishes to know
In numbers his or her friends everyday seems to grow
The most popular person who lives on your street
The one who has laughter a pleasure to meet
Since few wish to know you when you are feeling down
So lonely and sad the sad sack of the town
But to be wealthy in laughter is to be wealthy indeed
Of more of such people the Human World is in need
They carry joy with them and spread it around
And though in large numbers their type are not known to abound
The people that most people do wish to know
Their friends multiply and in numbers do grow.

The World Is His Home

I know i have lived most of my time span
But i will cling on to life for as long as i can
For there is so much of the World i have yet to see
The lust of the wander still living in me
It was lust of the wander that brought me far south
Of the home of the badger and brown river trout
And though the passing of time has left me looking gray
The lust of the wander still in me today
I want to live life as a healthy old man
And travel to Asia and visit Japan
And see the pyramids and the hills of Rome
Then people may say of me the World is his home
Though my best years in life to the forever gone
I do enjoy living and i want to live on.

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Yvonne Harrington

As a photographer she is held in the highest esteem
Her images of hare coursing in Ireland are truly supreme
Due to her postings on smugmug she has become known far and wide
The god who gives gifts is surely on her side

Where coursing folk gather and coursing dogs for glory compete
In Ireland in Winter she's at every coursing meet
As a photographer of coursing none with her to compare
Her images so lifelike of muzzled hounds pursuing the hare

Not alone her images of people and coursing and track greyhounds which serves her reputation well
Her internet photos on Nature their own stories do tell
A good picture paints a thousand words some are known to say
With Yvonne it can be said it is this way

That she is great at what she is good at she does not leave us in doubt
Any photo taken by Yvonne is always a stand out
A visit to her site brings joy to my day
And for the beauty she creates i do not have to pay.

The Day It Is Pleasant

The day it is pleasant a freshening breeze
Is gently stirring the leaves in the bushes and trees
And silver billed magpie in the mood for song
Amongst Nature's finest songsters he surely does belong
Birds familiar to many and familiar to me
The dainty magpie larks are piping pee wee
Most birds by voice distinctive it does seem this way
From Nature we learn something new every day
Such a pleasant aroma from the peppercorn trees
On a pleasant day in Summer of around twenty degrees
A day to inspire a Nature poet to write
A poem for lovers of poetry to enjoy and read and recite
Of where butterflies dance in the summer sunlight
On a day that is pleasant and breezy and bright.

Where He Is Not Well Known

He lives in a town where he is not well known
Where anyone never refer to him as one of our own
He often does think of his hometown by the bay
From this dry inland countryside 300k's away
He needs job security his bills for to pay
With a wife and three young children here he is destined to stay
The company he works for based here and since jobs are few
Here he will live though to here he is new
Though the nearest surf beach from here is quite far
To and from without stopping a six hours journey by car
One in his late twenties and in his life's prime
He hopes to return to live in the hometown on some future time
And surf on the big waves near the town by the bay
Where he lived as a boy and first saw light of day.

Monday, January 9, 2012

It Is A bell That I Will Not Be Hearing

It is a bell that i will not be hearing when it does ring for me the farewell bell
But to those who hear it in it there will be a warning that for them there will be a last farewell
The clock ticks on the years go by so quickly and the funeral bell is ringing every day
But not always for those time has made weary the people by the years left frail and gray
It sometimes even rings for a young person the Reaper of lives does not discriminate in any way
The one we fear is a true egalatarian i say of him what does seem fair to say
'Tis true that time on anyone does not wait and as we age it keeps on ticking fast
On looking back our prime years did not last long a fading memory of the distant past
That we live to die a truer word not spoken each day we wake to see one nearer to our end
Though news of death does not seem to affect us except of a close relative or friend
And yet each day the funeral bell is ringing it's tolling echoes in the morning sky
For someone to be driven on a farewell journey perhaps a local cemetery nearby
It is a bell that i will not be hearing on the day that it will toll for me
Again this morning i did hear it tolling a final farewell to some he or she.

The Past Follows Everyone

Time on me is telling it becomes everyone's foe
But my past follows me to wherever i go
In my flights of fancy i hear the gray crow
Cawing on a beech tree where the rank rushes grow
They live on in us Nature's voices we knew
In my visualizations i hear the curlew
Above the brown bogland in beautiful May
When the hawthorns are in their blooms of white to gray
The past follows everyone like it followed me
I hear the chaffinch on leafy alder tree
When Nature's gift to the fields her wildborn flowers
Are blooming midst the greenery after Spring showers
Your past follows you it does not stay behind
Till your life's journey's end it will live in your mind.

The Thylacine

They had lived in Australia for hundreds of centuries before white people came
And hunted and shot them to extinction which seems an awful shame
The thylacine Australia's largest marsupial of prey
All but lost to the memory it does seem sad to say

As dead as the dodo and the dodo long dead
Of Australia's beautiful thylacine can also be said
In Australia long before the first people of the Dreamtime
To be seen as a threat to sheep farming was their only crime

Robert Paddle's book on The Last Thylacine reduced me to tears
The saddest thing i have read for many years
Despite human scientific advancement i will say it again
Extinction is forever the fact does remain

A thing of great beauty lost to Australia to be seen never more
Extinction is forever as is said before
Many life forms since have gone the thylacine's way
And many species endangered in the World of today.

Sunday, January 8, 2012

Everyone For Himself Or Herself

Everyone for himself or herself and god for us all
Those who think in this way in their thinking are small
On a self centred existence such people believe
They do scoff at the idea of give to receive
That love of self leads to love of others they do not seem aware
It is sad to think that their kind are not rare
Their three favourite subjects me, myself and i
And they will live for the self till the day they do die
In the Human World there are every kind
And in the most self centred person some good you will find
If we all thought in the same way and on all things did agree
There would not be variety how boring we would be
Everyone for himself or herself and god for us all
Those who think in this way in their thinking seem small.

An Everyday Rhymer

An ordinary rhymer i have written a lot
But it bothers me none if i will be remembered or not
The rhymes come to me on notepaper i pen them down
Though without hope of financial reward or renown

I feel inspired by the beauty around me
Though an everyday rhymer is all i can be
But with my better days to the forever gone
I must be addictive to keep rhyming on

I never refer to myself as a poet
Nor am i one worthy of literary note
I do enjoy rhyming the reason i write
The rhymes that are easy to read and recite

The white and the brown butterflies are now out
In the warm summer air quietly flitting about
They do seem to dance in the timid afternoon breeze
Above the flowering bushes and blossoming trees

Nature at her finest a beautiful sight
The scent of the peppermint trees to the senses a delight
On a warm afternoon in early january
The finest of beauty we do not pay to see.

On A Very Warm Day

Today is so warm 42 degreees
It is not even cool in the shade of the trees
The warm air full of the buzzings of flies, wasps and bees
And great warmth in the sunshine and warmth in the breeze
In such weather fire danger a thing to fear
A very warm beginning to the new year
The town it is quiet most people indoors today
In air conditioned lounge room on the couch they do lay
Whilst others have found their own way of keeping cool
Relaxing in the water of the town swimming pool
Woolly gray clouds in the blue summer sky
Where chasing flying insects the dark swallows fly
And around the blossoming trees white butterflies play
On the second of january in the year 2012 on a very warm day.

Saturday, January 7, 2012

I Just Want To

My physical prime to the forever gone
But that does not matter i want to live on
Yes i want to live on for as long as i can
And die without pain as a very old man
Post death it will not matter to me if i am forgot
If there is not even a headstone for to mark the spot
Where my last remains  in Mother Earth's bosom lay
It will not matter then i will have lived my last day
I just want to live healthy and happy of life could one ask any more
And die without pain as i'm sleeping as an old man of years near five score
Some people i feel are quite greedy they yearn for great wealth and fame
But at the end it does not matter as death renders us all as the same
I just want to live and be happy and hang on to life for as long as i can
And die without pain as i am sleeping as a healthy old man.

As He Drove Home From Work

As he drove home from work at twilight of the day
Any heed to news  of widespread flooding on his car radio he did not pay
The river in brown flood flowed like an inland tide
And flooded the flat ground for miles on either side

The imminent danger to his life he did not seem to realize
His car deep in flood waters to his shock and surprise
He could not open the car doors the force and weight of water too great
A watery ending to his life was to be his fate

Next day his remains found he had drowned in his car
The news of his tragic passing it did travel far
His wife and young son and daughter for him left to grieve
Sadder tidings they could not have hoped to receive

The countryside covered in flood waters of brown
And he never did make it back home to town
In his thirty first year he will not grow old and gray
In the town cemetery all is quiet where he lay.

That He Would Call His Own

He does not wish to be famous or even widely known
But he'd like a place to live in that he would call his own
He sleeps in a disused factory a cold concrete floor for his bed
But he is not bereft of hope of better times of him ahead
A man in his late sixties old age approaching fast
He has fallen on tough times good times for some don't last
But he is quite philosophical not the type to complain
He will tell you what is lost to one becomes another's gain
That times for him were better he never does deny
But the tag of losers attitude to him does not apply
He does look on life's brighter side though financially things for him not well
On negativities he is one who refuses for to dwell
Of his future he feels positive with hope he keeps the faith
For himself he sees better days ahead good times come to those who wait.

Friday, January 6, 2012

On The Rumored Closure Of Duhallow Hospitals

In economic hard times when governments go for the cutback
It is always services to the most disadvantaged come under attack
In Duhallow it is rumored that the hospitals in Kanturk and Millstreet Town
May well become victims of a government close down

On services to the rural communities not seen to be paying their way
For government mismanagement of the past 'tis always the less privileged must pay
In cutbacks on pensions or fundings the have nots always lose out
This is what economic rationalization seems to be all about

In economic hard times the government's economic ax on the less privileged fall
The privileged any loss of status seldom suffer at all
A saving to government coffers to many becomes a financial loss
In hard times the have nots must shoulder the cross

If Millstreet and Kanturk lose their hospitals that will be a great shame
Since for Ireland's woes their staff and patients surely not to blame
Bankers, bureaucrats and politicians from cost cutting immune
Such people never in any way burdened by National Economic Ruin

That the Millstreet and Kanturk Hospitals are to close is a rumor lets hope that's how it remain
For if closure comes about they may not open again
The economic woes of a country to the privileged never come at a cost
And Duhallow and it's people will be the losers if their hospitals to cutbacks are lost.

In The House Nearby

In a neighbour's house a party going to where i live quite near
The music and the laughter loud on the eve of the New Year
For a group of not more than twenty they do seem rather loud
'Tis true a small gathering with alcohol involved becomes as noisy as a big crowd
By midnight more than three hours from now they will be drunk as can be
And by then a drunken brawl may well erupt to end their New Year revelry
Too much of anything not good as some do like to say
And that especially applies to alcohol which of common sense gets in the way
In the house nearby the rock music and the swearing loud the alcohol taking it's toll
Amongst young people celebrating on strong booze things can get out of control
Not the type of party for children or the more gentrified
Where few do think before they speak and mouths are open wide
In the house nearby the music loud the young revellers shout and swear
Of peace of those in the neighbourhood one thought they do not spare.

Thursday, January 5, 2012

Robert Vanderhope

I know this fellow Robert Vanderhope
With life's many challenges one who does readily cope
In his early seventies a long term friend of Janice my good wife
One can say of him that he does lead a varied life

With fairly long wavy brown greying hair and sage like to behold
He does not look like one of seventy plus years old
If i did not know his age and of it were asked to guess
I would have to say sixty maybe even less

 A poet and an artist and one of many degrees
Such knowledge and talents he has does not grow on trees
On meeting him you are not left in doubt
That here is one who knows what life's about

Janice and i met him at the Warrnambool Bowls Club he drank red wine
And we talked with him for an hour as we did dine
Such an interesting character to meet
Not many like him live on Merri Street

From living life such insight he does gain
How can so much wisdom and knowledge fit into one brain?
We spent more than an hour with him of quality time
The inspiration of this simple rhyme.

In Life There Is always

In life there is always a challenge to face
And so hard to accept disappointment with grace
And though all hope of success from you may be gone
Your great love of life helps you for to live on
The lure of success most people seem to chase
Success in your career and in sport and in your workplace
For career promotion with each other we compete
Everyday for you there's a new challenge to meet
In life winners are grinners as some like to say
This is how it is and it's always been this way
Some may have you believe you can be what you choose
But for one for to win someone else has to lose
And the fans of the winners in numbers does grow
For the winner the one everyone wishes to know.

With Me, Myself And I

It is mostly of ourselves and friends and family good things we ever speak
But good does seldom grow to great and the flesh is always weak
We live in tribes and small family groups like our distant cousin the chimpanzee
And outside of our tribe we do seem lost that is how it seems to me

Few of us even spare one thought for the Stateless refugee
Or the war widow and mother who grieves for her dead family
Or the homeless poor souls of the town who do not own a bed
They sleep out in the public park or in disused draughty shed

So many of us do seem in love with me, myself and i
We live for self and what's near to self until the day we die
Though them i ought not to criticize since i too am this way
That self centredness can be a survival gene does this seem fair to say

Though the successes of others some of us do celebrate
It is mostly to self and what is near to self that to we do relate
Some say it is the survival gene this is how it seems to be
And those we only speak good of are i, myself and me.

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

The Mt Rouse Butterflies

They seem to dance with each other in the freshening breeze
Around the blossoming shrubs and the trees
With just a few clouds of gray in the blue and sunny December sky
In their home in Mt Rouse the brown butterfly
At rest amongst the brown scutch grass that reach to the knee
Well camouflaged they are not easy to see
But when disturbed in their hundreds they take to the air
Than the beauty in Nature no beauty so fair
On Mt Rouse in Summer on their breeding ground
A wonder of Nature in large numbers abound
They live on the nectar of blossoms and flowers
And their life span is brief far briefer than ours
On Mt Rouse they dance in the freshening breeze
As they fly from the ground to the blossoming trees.

Easy To Read Rhyme

I have written a lot of easy to write rhyme
That some only see as a great waste of time
But what they say of what i do with me seems quite fine
Since that is their business and their business not mine
I just pen the rhymes that are easy to write
And easy to read, memorize and recite
The literary critics never say of my type he or she writes well
To them rhyme is just a form of doggerel
So i just write for enjoyment that and nothing more
That is something you may have heard me say before
I am one without claim to literary note
Nor am i worthy of the title of poet
Though my stuff to be seen on many an internet site
Easy to read rhyme is all i do write.

You May Be A Successful And Celebrated Billionaire

Your billions in money do not tell me of you anything
Though the gullible your praises feel happy to sing
Due to the mansion you live in your Olympic sized swimming pool and chauffeur driven car
Though these things do not tell me of the person you are
You may be a successful and celebrated billionaire
And your type of person in the Human World are quite rare
But some of the material wealth your gift from Mother Nature you seem unwilling to share
Though of your own needs you remain quite aware
Since any generosity of spirit by you never shown
As a philanthropist and humanatarian you will never be known
You are not one of those who believe in give to receive
Your gift of wealth from your Earth Mother to your family you will leave
When to the reaper of lives you eventually does fall
And that too will be your lot since death is for all.

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

To All A Fair Go

I will shout hooray for prejudices downfall
And i will drink a toast to a fair go for all
To every race and color of white, black and brown
In every city and village and town
The term 'A fair go' to everyone does not apply
Their basic human rights to their people many Governments see fit to deny
In some Countries people who speak out against their Government are serving jail time
Where speech that does not seem as favorable does become a crime
Even in so called democratic Countries one must wonder why
That the term a fair go for all to all does not apply
In our supposedly tolerant society you only tolerate
But the one you see as different to you will never become your mate
In life though everyone is not your friend why should anyone be your foe
Since everyone should be equal 'to all a fair go'.

Greatness Of Sachin Tendulkar

As a cricket batsman he is the World's best
One never found to be wanting when put to the test
The best of goods comes in small parcels to him does apply
Greatness of Sachin Tendulkar none ought to deny

The great little Indian the legend of story and song
The title of the World's supreme batsman to him does belong
His one hundreth test century from him one game away
For the marvellous Sachin lets hear the hooray

Just a tiny fellow but the sportsman complete
In his thirty eight year against the World's best he compete
At a time of his life with his physical prime years long gone
The great little batsman he goes on and on

Great cricketers come and great cricketers go
And eventually time becomes everyone's foe
And Sachin too will cease to live but his legend will never die
I say what is factual and fact does not lie.

A Sense Of Belonging

I envy those without the lust of wander in their homeplace contented for to stay
In their hometown they fall in love and wed and raise their children and never yearn for places far away
They do possess a strong sense of belonging that those with the lust of wander never could possess
The yearn for travel take some to new places and they often change their postal address

It must be a nice feeling the sense of belonging to feel contented in your old homeplace
Where you do have the tag of truly local and your's is known as a familiar face
You've never yearned for places that are different for the big cities of the World out there
Though some of those that you did go to school with the wanderlust has lured them to elsewhere

You've never yearned to live and work in Paris or Melbourne, Sydney, Tokyo or Rome
Whilst some others go off on their great adventures you are contented for to stay at home
Where you do feel a strong sense of belonging contented for to live amongst your own
Where to anybody you are not a stranger and you are loved, respected and well known

I envy those without the lust of wander contented  to live amongst their own kind
They do not have in them the restless spirit to travel they have never felt inclined
They are blessed in their strong sense of belonging they never yearn for places far away
They find love, marry and do raise their children in place where they first saw the light of day.

Monday, January 2, 2012

The Brown Wannon Waters

The brown Wannon waters to the Pacific flow
Through the land of the grey roo and the pale eyed crow
The river that has inspired story and rhyme
That has flowed to the sea through the history of time
In Summer in the age of the Dreamtime in the shade of the trees
Australia's first people danced their Corroborees
They danced and they sang to the didgeridoo
In the home of the wallaby and the weerloo
That displacement was their lot does seem sad to say
But it is said that their spirits are living today
They dance by the Wannon in the pale moonlight
In the land that was their's in the dead of the night
Where the brown Wannon waters babble on their way
To the distant ocean by night and by day.

Old Jimmy The Dipper

Old Jimmy the Dipper he lives on his own
A quiet sort of a person he is not well known
Since he is not a fellow for to socialize
He likes to keep to himself one who is known to be wise
June his wife of three decades six months back passed away
To her he was devoted till her life's final day
He misses her far more than any words can say
Once a month a new bouquet of flowers on her grave he does lay
The passing of time has left his hair silver gray
He turned seventy four on the fifth of last May
Jimmy the Dipper for him a nickname
Though i cannot say from where his pseudonym came
He grieves for his soulmate June his deceased wife
His sense of loss great for the love of his life.

Since I Left Claraghatlea

The roadways of life i've journeyed up and down
Since i left Claraghatlea west of Millstreet Town
In retrospect the Seasons of life seem to fly
And i've made some new friends and bid old friends goodbye

I used to daydream that i might be a poet
By literary critics seen as one worthy of note
But daydreams are daydreams and seldom come true
And we receive from life what is only our due

Though that is going back near four decades in time
The far away fields first inspired me to rhyme
The beauty of Nature i have always admired
And of singing her praises i have never grown tired

I have loved Mother Nature since i was a boy
And penning rhymes to her i still do enjoy
And Nature's beauty everywhere around me
Here in the home of the gum and wattle tree

From the northern hills i have journeyed far south
And in Nature no shortage of things for me to rhyme about
The birds sing and whistle in the park by the bay
So good to be living on such a nice day.

Sunday, January 1, 2012

In This Beautiful Place

Though to anyone here mine is not a known face
I would love for to live in this beautiful place
The birds chirp and sing on the bushes and trees
On this beautiful morning of sunshine and breeze
Chasing flying insects in the Summer sky
Above the green parkland the dark swallows fly
How nice to be outdoors on such a beautiful day
Earthly Utopia from here cannot be far away
The bird who sings pee wee every day of the year
The song of the magpie lark pleasant to hear
The Beauty of Nature for all to admire
Of singing her praises one never could tire
Earthly Utopia cannot be too far away
From this beautiful place on this beautiful day.

The Son Not To Blame

At parental wrongs why should he feel shame
When for the sins of the father the son not to blame
We are only responsible for our own actions that is how it should be
At least anyhow that is how it seems to me
Why should he feel shame at wrongs his dad has done
For the sins of the father do not blame the son
The judgemental always known to generalize
But such people can never lay claim to be wise
The mum or dad in prison serving jail time
But the offspring not responsible for parental crime
I only say here what has been said before
We are only responsible for our own actions that and nothing more
For the sins of the father the son not to blame
So why should he feel burdened with the guilt of shame?

No Room For Self Doubt

In a Human World of big egos no room for self doubt
The humble are those who do always lose out
Those into self promotion more notice attract
Humility is out of fashion and that is a fact
Many of those deemed to be successful their success stories seem all too willing to share
In a media driven world quiet achievers are becoming rare
It is now quite acceptable your own praises to sing
In this the twenty first century this is the in thing
In the Human World big egos do take pride of place
Where it is all about winning few do lose with grace
The compassionate and caring for their acts of kindness are seldom recognized
At this happens to be so one ought not feel suprised
In a Human World of big egos no room for self doubt
Success and more of the same is what it's all about.