Tuesday, August 28, 2012

The Child Born Without Eyes

The human will to succeed in the face of adversity never ceases to surprise
Three years old Jacob Nowak from Millstreet the child born without eyes
About to start pre school and in life progressing quite well
His story if written in book form millions of copies should sell

The child born without eyes he never may see
In Spring the  lovely pink blossoms on the apple tree
Or see the  old fields lush and green in April showers
Looking quite resplendent in their Nature's flowers

The child born without eyes hurling or  football never may play
Or climb on his own to the cross on Clara on a nice Summer's day
The great gift of sight given to most to enjoy
Not given to Jacob the brave and beautiful boy

Some people about their small worries are known to complain
But from a story such as Jacob's such inspiration we do gain
From his photo he does not seem unhappy at least not to me
How very proud  of him his parents must be

But miracles happen as some like to say
And Jacob may yet look on the lamp of day
And above Clara Hill watch the  lark upwards fly
And hear him sing in the clouds a small speck in the sky

And far beyond the borders of Duhallow's countryside
He will become  famous and known Worldwide
Young Jacob in life coping well though born without eyes
The human will to succeed in adversity never cease to surprise.

Memories For To Retain

Financially wise i have never done well
And of adventures i do not have  many stories  to tell
But i have heard the brown lark singing in the gray sky
As i eat whortleberries on Clara on an evening in July
And the scenery marvellous from the higher ground
Of the  green countryside for many miles around
Such beauty i visualize again and again
And  a memory a whole lifetime for to retain
A beauty i have loved since i was a young boy
The beauty of Nature for all to enjoy
The great beauty one does not pay for to see
It is all around you and it is all around me
Any stories of material success i do not have  to relate
But the beauty in Nature in rhyme i can celebrate
And the memories  of such beauty i do retain
To visit again and again and again.

Monday, August 27, 2012

It Is True About Time

Many say the past in the past and to the forever gone
But the memories of what was in you does live on
The  good and bad memories in you bound to stay
For as long as you live till your  last night and  day
Time does not wait on anyone as some  like to say
The seconds of our lives keep ticking away
On looking back the Seasons it does not seem a long time
Since i was a  younger man and in my life's  prime
But since then more  than three decades of years gone by
It is true about time it just seems to fly
What hair  i have  left on my balding head is silver gray
I am one of millions who has  known a far better day
My only advice to you is live for as long as  you can
And do try to make  the most of your time span.

On Lance Armstrong

His seven Tour De France victories struck from the record though he won't be forgot
The  U S cycling governing body says he is a drug cheat Lance Armstrong says he is not
It is not up to me to say he is or is not a  drug cheat
But seven Tour De France overall wins is a remarkable feat

Like Michelle De Bruin the Olympic Swimming champion before him he  never failed a drug test
And he did seem unbeatable when he was at his best
And though his likes as a cyclist we may not see again
The doubts cast on him till death with him will remain

Though he never failed a drug test his seven Tour De France wins from him taken away
By the cycling governing body of his own Country the U S of A
In the man who conquered cancer to win seven Tour De France's there is so much to admire
But on his cycling triumphs many will tell you there is no smoke without fire

The evidence  of drug use on Lance Armstrong does grow
But whether he is guilty or not only he himself does  know
And whether he is or is not a drug cheat
Seven Tour De France wins is a remarkable feat.

Sunday, August 26, 2012

Your Own Stories For To Tell

Born into poverty and living in Earthly Hell
But you too do have your own stories  for to tell
Of how  it's like to live in the poor side of the town
Where everyone is a stranger to renown
Though your sort of stories never make headline news
And on life none ever ask you for your views
You know what it's like to be homeless and you often sleep rough
And to survive where you live one has to be tough
You well may not have any cash to your name
But you too do have your dreams of success and fame
And though down on your luck when you can dream of  better times for you ahead
The hope in your mind is surely far from dead
And  though you may not be one with a postal address
To survive where you live  does make you a success.

Everytime I Visualize

I am from the place of the silver back crow
Where Finnow from Gneeves to the Blackwater flow
But in my visualizations distance disappear
And in fancy the  song of the curlew i hear
Above Matty Owens bog in the twilight gray
In the calm of the evening in the prime of the May
 A voice from the past that is with me  today
Old memories die hard as some  are known to say
As the shades of darkness envelope the late evening sky
Above the rushy fields the male snipe does fly
And  all through the night whilst he is flying around
With his wings and his tail he  makes a goat like sound
From me old fields not distant i have come to realize
I walk in them everytime i visualize.

Saturday, August 25, 2012

Where Aubane People Meet

In view of old Mushera in the high green countryside
For it's hospitable people Aubane is known far and wide
On the high Butter Road above the the Town of Millstreet
There is laughter, song, dance and music where Aubane  people meet

In Aubane the bond of community is and has always been strong
A stranger to there would not feel a stranger for long
Wherever you hail from Capetown, Paris or Rome
Aubane  is a  place where one would feel at home

By Denis and Noreen Kelleher's shop your's may be a strange face
You may have just stopped off in passing from a distant place
Of a different race and from a distant shore
But in Aubane you are made  to feel welcome you they would not ignore

In the twenty first century Ireland changes occuring fast
But in Aubane they retain their strong links to their cultural past
Fond memories of that old place with me remain
And in my flights of fancy i visit there again

For the warmth of it's people it is widely known
One can say they do have a charm of  their own
In view of old Mushera above the Town of  Millstreet
There is  laughter, music, dance and song where Aubane people meet.

Do Sing Us A Song

Do sing us a song of the silver tongued rill
That flows to the river from the old brown hill
By groves, ditches and hedgerows it babbles on it's way
On it's sea going journey by night and by day
From the higher country it journeys on down
To join the  big river in a field by the town
Where the dark brown dipper with breast white as snow
Does sing on a rock where the rapids quickly flow
And crawl onwards silently in every deep pool
Where the silver finned minnows in the shallows do school
It has babbled forever and will forever more
On it's way to the river to the  great ocean shore
With a silver tongue that can never be still
It babbles downland  from the field by the  hill.

Friday, August 24, 2012

The Downside Of Love

Young Sam is one of the sad sacks  of  the town
Since his offer to take her out to tea was turned down
By twenty years old Belinda the great love of  his  life
He used to daydream that she  would be his wife

The dark haired Belinda one of beauty rare
For poor love smitten Sam any time could not spare
She only has eyes for Terry but Terry loves Tess
But Tess about him says she could not care less

Of the praises of love many do like to sing
But the downside of love is a heartbreaking thing
Love the cause of great joy can give  rise to misery
Sam, Belinda and Terry with that would agree

Three love struck young people not yet in their prime
For love's disappointment the healer is time
Capable of strong feelings but not very wise
In a few years from now they will come to realize

That for our lessons  in life there is some price  to pay
And that love cannot be true if it is only one way
We hear happy and sad stories of love every day
And we learn as we live as the wise one did say.

On Gray Currawong

By their clinking calls one cannot get them wrong
The birds known to many as gray currawong
Different in voice and appearance to their cousins pied
Who only at nesting time are sedentary and are known to travel far and wide

If given the chance of eggs of others birds they will eat their fill
And nestlings  and fledgelings to eat they will kill
They also eat insects and fruit and 'twould be fair to say
That in Nature all creatures live in their own way

In the high woodland birds one does hear often though seldom do see
They do build a stick nest on branch of higher tree
They lay buff blotched eggs more often than not three
So much in Nature to learn of would you not agree?

So little about them i can claim to know
These medium sized gray birds about as big as a  crow
From where the  big trees are never far away
Those who live in the high wooded country hear them every day.

A Wet August Day In Millstreet

 In the rushy fields just west of Millstreet Town
Old Finnow flowing bank high in flood waters of brown
And  stormwater gurgling in the roadside drain
From heavy and thundery mid August rain

The Summer drawing to a close and Autumn is near
And changeable weather for the time of year
The farmer is not doing well financially
And the wet and windy weather adds to his misery

Between the thundery showers spells of  warm sunshine
And the forecast for tomorrow is windy and  fine
The summer weather it was  wet overall
Duhallow could do with a warm and dry Fall

The old fields are covered in Nature's  wildflowers
They do seem to thrive in the thundery showers
And behind  the gray fog Clara hidden away
For Summer it is not a very nice day.

Thursday, August 23, 2012

An Ordinary Rhymer

Anyone can write rhyme you can have  that from me
But an ordinary rhymer is all i can be
Poetasters are  many and poets are few
To that you may say tell us something that's new
I penned  my first doggerel back in my life's prime
Just like i say it is not hard to write rhyme
But everyone of course cannot be a poet
Or be seen to be  worthy of literary note
Addicted to rhyming i well may be so
But in that am i not my own greatest foe
I add to my numbers of rhymes every day
Addictions  die with us as some like to say
My best days in life to the forever gone
But i am a rhymer and i do rhyme on.

For To Make The World Better

For to make the World better to live in
Gold medals or medals for bravery you do not have to win
By being kind to others and practicing live and let live
And past wrongs against you be willing to forgive
The Karma we sow  is what we do receive
On such a philosophy i do believe
You may never become the toast of the town
But if in your words you never put anyone down
And your respect to all creeds and all races  do pay
And do your good deed or two every day
You are one of those known as the kind of heart
And for the betterment of humanity you are doing your part
For yourself you sow good Karma every day
And by good example you do lead the way.

You Never Hear Him Say

You never hear him say that life is unfair
The one who does smile in the face of despair
Out of work with a wife and two young children with his home mortgage to pay
Many worse off than me with a smile he does say
Last month the company directors of the factory he worked in closed their business down
And many already out of work in a high unemployment town
But like he says with life's hard times one must learn how to cope
And he is not one who does give up on hope
Of finding a job start though many unemployed
But with his willingness to work and youth on his side
Some employer will give him the job start that he does so crave
It is true  that good fortune does favour the brave
You never hear him say that life is  unfair
The man who does smile in the face of  despair.

Wednesday, August 22, 2012

Is That In Itself

She may never make the cover of New Idea
But one of  the town's unsung is a heroine to me
The one who does  many good  deeds every day
She works for  the town's homeless without any pay
A grandmother and widow in her sixty ninth year of life
To her long deceased husband she was a good wife
So gentle in her ways and  free of conceit
One of the most caring and  kindest one would wish to meet
A beautiful person in every way
Any unkind  things of others she never does say
Short gray hair the wrinkles of time on her beautiful face
One can say of  her she is ageing with grace
She works on behalf of the poor of the town
Is that in itself not a claim to renown?


Declan says  of himself i am not a  patriot of that i won't lie
For flag or for country i never would die
I do not wish to be one of  the heroic dead
I hope for a long and a happy life of me ahead

Declan in his mid twenties has no plans to be wed
Though some of the finest of the local young women he has taken to bed
A few of them have fallen for him in a big way
But as single and  carefree he has vowed he will stay

Not interested in sports or in arts or football
Apart from women and beer he is interested in little else at all
On work to those in need of advice the advice  he does give
Is do not live for your work just work for to live

He does not have a  group and he does his own thing
In the pub singalong he is happy to sing
A character Declan in his own carefree way
One i do see often though not every day.

A Fair Go In Life

A fair go in life everybody is due
And that racism is born of ignorance happens to be true
Good and  bad in all races and in every creed
And  red is the blood everyone  of us bleed
We are all born as mortals one day for  to die
The same for the billionaire as for you and i
Before we did walk on the floor we did crawl
And we return to Nature like the leaves of the Fall
In life it is said we must give to receive
On such a philosophy i do believe
The kind and compassionate are blessed indeed
Always willing to help those of helping in need
One cannot say of them in their ways they are small
The people who believe on a fair go for all.

Tuesday, August 21, 2012

Why Harbour A Grudge

It may be hard to forget and as hard to forgive
But why harbour a grudge for as long as you live
Let bygones be bygones as the wise one did say
And free your mind  of hatred that cause soul decay
An act of revenge more revenge does create
And to far worse hatred only escalate
We do reap the fruits of the  Karma we sow
And hatred when nurtured it does grow and grow
Let bygones be bygones back there in the past
Life is too short for hatred time does  tick on fast
The person who does harm you in some way
To Karma does have a huge price  to pay
Though it may be hard to forget and as  hard to forgive
Why harbour a grudge for as long as you live.

Old Jimmy

Close to five decades beyond his life's prime
Old Jimmy has become a victim of time
But age does  not lessen his liking for beer
And he  remains  partial to the pot of cheer
On saturday evening amongst the pub din
His singing voice can be heard  when he has a few beers in
Happy even when drunk those who know him do say
And going by them he has always been this way
In his neighbourhood he has lived all of his life
He has never had children never had a wife
Since he retired from work as a plumber his work free life  he enjoy
He is healthy and feels as happy as a carefree boy
If you ask him his age to you he will say
I am fifty plus thirty make of that what you may.

A Wet August Day In Koroit

The sky overcast looking gloomy and gray
It is cool, windy and raining in Koroit today
A forecast high of seven and a low of zero degrees
And water dripping off of the branches of the Parkland trees

The calendar Spring just a forthnight away
But Spring does not start on the first of September as some like to say
September can often be windy, wet and cool
On the coastal lands of Koroit and Warrnambool

But the Spring fast approaching as August ticks on
And the worst of the Winter by now  surely gone
It is the magpies nesting time of the year
And all through the night their flute like notes i do hear

The magpies are collecting sticks for their nest
On a wet August day in Koroit in Victoria's South West
And though the water is dripping off of gum and  wattle tree
How pleasant to hear the song of the pee wee.

Monday, August 20, 2012

Beyond Me To Explain

We pass each other in silence when walking the street
The people i know by sight that i'd rather not meet
Of me it does seem they do feel the same way
To each other we do have nothing to say

I've never harmed them they've never harmed me
Is the dislike for me  in their eyes something i imagine i see
At the complexity of the  workings of the human mind my curiousity does grow
How can we dislike one we only visually know?

No words of recognition to each other we do pay
Some people i know visually and see almost every day
In silence we pass each other on the street
As if we are complete strangers whenever we meet

I have  never harmed them they have never harmed me
Yet we pass each other in silence  i wonder why this should be?
It is said from living life that insights we do gain
But something like this is beyond me  to explain.

Kindness Begets Kindness

Kindness begets kindness as the wise one did  say
And i am lucky in that i meet kind people every day
Though apart in my ways from some  i have grown
 I cannot say a  bad person i ever have  known
The fruits of the Karma we sow will be ours to receive
On such a philosophy i do believe
What goes around comes around seems to be true
If you are kind to others kindness in return you are due
You look for the worst in people then the worst you will find
This is how it is with the judgemental kind
What we look for in others we usually do see
What i see in others is what is in me
And kindness begets kindness it does seem this  way
I do think that this is a fair thing to say.

Life Can Be Unpredictable

Life can be unpredictable that's how  it seems to me
How and where we live and die part of our destiny
Some born to live a sedentary lifestyle some born to travel far and wide
Far from their first homeplace and their home countryside
What does make us all equal is one day we must die
On that the same for the billionaire as for you and i
The  Reaper of lives treats all lives as the same
One who does not differentiate between the lives of one  of wealth and fame
And the homeless poor person of poverty street
Death the fate we are all destined to meet
I was born as a mortal why otherwise pretend
And my life's journey one day must come to an end
And  a similar fate i am destined to share
With the monarch and president and billionaire.

Sunday, August 19, 2012

Suppose Through Different Eyes

Only in the accumulation of money he seems interested in
I am doing quite well financially he says with a  grin
The one who lacks in compassion and empathy
For those doing it tough he feels  no sympathy
In is early thirties with a wife and two children his claim to renown
Is he is one of the wealthiest people in the rural town
The fellow who believes that brush tail possums are creatures of the day
That ignorance can be bliss it does seem this way
That he's not of a rare type does  seem sad to me
The  beauty in Nature he never could see
And yet he is one many locals admire
Of singing his praises the local aspirationals never do seem to tire
But the one many look up to seems ordinary to me
Suppose through different eyes we see things differently.

Her Name Mother Nature

On average a woman by a few years does outlive a man
But the longest lived human life in time not a long span
Few people by seven decades do outlive their prime
And a century of years is not that long in time
I often ask myself what is living about
On the existence of a life after death i am one who does  doubt
So many believe in their unseen god in the sky
But my god  to me she is  living nearby
Everywhere i turn to look the beauty she creates i do see
In her wildflowers and her blossoms on every fruit bearing tree
The food we do live on for us she does grow
Her name is Mother Nature the only god of which i do know
The beauty she creates i do see every day
And in her earthy bosom my remains will lay.

Big Joe

Big Joe in the pub with his mates always talking football
As if noting else in life does matter at all
Last year his twenty five years of marriage to Jill ended their only offspring Jim
He has not seen for three years since he lives far from him

Though Jill for  awhile loved Joe of him she  grew bored
Because he loved  beer and football and in bed he snored
And little in common with her he did share
Suppose marriage of soulmates has always been rare

For twenty five years his devoted wife
And now she does  have a new man in her life
But since in his ways far apart from her he  had grown
Jim now feels quite happy living on his own

For the past seven months he's been having an affair
With divorcee Maud in her early fifties gray in her brown hair
On friday and saturday he sleeps with her after drinks in the pub
They share much in common since they barrack for the  same football club

In his fifties with receding gray hair his  best days long gone
But big Joe feels happy he keeps on keeping on
He has  beer and football and his lover Jill
And of alcohol she too like him drinks her fill.

Saturday, August 18, 2012

Kitty Hennessy

Kitty Smith who later became Hennessy in time that's going way back
In the fifties and sixties she and her late husband Tommy Hennessy owned the Millstreet  greyhound track
Born and raised in Kanturk but in Millstreet Town where she lived for years she was well loved and known
And one could say of Kitty she was one of Millstreet's own

Quite an attractive looking woman when she was in her prime
As a middle aged widow she left Millstreet with her two daughters that is going back in time
In the West End where she had lived for years her's was a familiar face
And Millstreet without her did seem a much duller place

The successes of greyhounds she owned or bred to her a great sense of  pride
In Irish greyhound circles Kitty she was known far and wide
She must be in her eighties how fast the years have gone
But in the thoughts of those who knew her today she does live on

Deceased she may well be but in memory she lives yet
In the thoughts of those who knew her how could one ever forget
A woman of such beauty in Millstreet her ashes lay
And with everyone who knew her fond memories of her with them bound to stay.

Denis 'Sal' O Sullivan

He was born and raised in the Town of Millstreet
An honest and likeable fellow one free of conceit
But in the old Hometown Denis did not stay
And in England his last remains at rest do lay

Denis 'Sal' O Sullivan was one that i knew as a boy
And like most he did have his moments of sadness and joy
The wanderlust in him he left Millstreet Town
And Main Street where he often walked up and down

As a younger man in Millstreet he was well known
And we looked on Denis as one of our own
But the wanderlust in him as a young man
And far from old Clara he lived out his life span

In the flesh he will never be seen in Millstreet Town again
But those who knew him fond memories of him will retain
Hope his parting from life for him was a painless release
The likeable Denis may he now rest in peace.

The Song Of The Dipper

Though the river he sings in not anywhere near
In fancy the song of the dipper i do hear
On a rock in the rapids he sings as he bobs up and down
In the river that flows in the fields by the town
The dark brown water bird with breast as white as snow
Going back many Seasons of his kind i did know
But only the memories now with me remain
Of birds i may never hear or  see again
Elusive in their ways and shy of human kind
Their nests near the river never easy to find
Born to live in the river till the day they do die
To say i know all about them would be telling a lie
And though the river he sings in from here far away
The song of the dipper is with me today.

Friday, August 17, 2012

The Ocean Is Timeless

The ocean is timeless and forever more
The big waves will splash on the rocks of the shore
And centuries before the first homo sapiens looked on the lamp of day
The rivers to saltwater have been babbling their way

For many seafarers a watery grave
Many have drowned in the big waves including the young and the brave
Many who have braved the sea storms where danger abound
Their mortal remains never more to be found

The one who fish in the stormy sea must not be right in the mind
Either that or is one of the suicidal inclined
Some of those who in the deep waters have died
Their bodies never washed to shore in the high tide

How old is the ocean none can claim to know
As old as the rivers that to it do flow
Time that does claim all life forms never becomes it's foe
Though the Seasons of Nature do come and do go

Like it does everyone else time will take care of me
For all life forms are born to mortality
And though fortune it is said does favour the brave
For some sad to say a deep watery grave.

You May Not

You may not be wealthy and famous and your's not a well known face
But you can make the Human World to live in a much better place
By becoming a better person of self improvement the most of us in need
Do not expect the fruits of good Karma if you do not plant the good seed
You may well be seen as successful in a material way
And many may look up to you and good things of you do say
But the best of Karma do not expect to receive
If only on the power of money you do believe
It doesn't matter if for your material possessions you are known
If many properties and expensive cars and such you do own
The size of your home and the size of your car
Does not tell me of the sort of person you are
We sow our own Karma on that i believe
Since we are born into life for to give to receive.

If You Cannot Love Yourself

If you cannot love yourself you cannot love anyone
That is what the wise mother did say to her son
And with her words of wisdom i can only agree
Self love leads to love of others it does seem to me
Those who cannot love self love to others cannot give
Without the gift of love 'tis a sad way to live
Those who do love themselves can be compassionate and kind
And do look for the good in others and good they do find
The  Human World of more love is in need
And of love it can be said it is a great gift indeed
When she said if you cannot love self you cannot love anyone
The Mother did give good advice to her son
And those who cannot give love from others love cannot receive
On such a philosophy i do believe.

Thursday, August 16, 2012

A Fellow From Millstreet

Since time has the reaper much nearer to me
The World's great wonders i never may see
But we are what we are with that would you agree
And a fellow  from Millstreet is all i can be

From Millstreet far inland  from Hibernia's shore
In view of old Clara above Claramore
And those who ask where is  Millstreet to them i do say
North of this Country in sky miles far away

From Claraghatlea where i first saw light of day
The years have left me looking older and  gray
My best days in life to the forever gone
And the biological clock on me ticks on and on

Of my heritage to anyone i will not lie
I will be a fellow from Millstreet till the day i will die
And to those who ask me where i am from i say
From Millstreet by Clara from here far away.

The Wannon

He is from the place where the black wattle grow
Where the brown Wannon waters in the brown country flow
On it's  long winding journey to the Pacific shore
In a babble that will be heard forever more
The  river that has inspired story and rhyme
Was old  in the age of the disnosaur and the dreaming time
Close to it's brown banks in the shade of the trees
In Summers centuries ago the  first Aussies had their corroborees
Since many Seasons of Nature have come and have gone
But the brown wannon waters keep babbling on
Towards the  Pacific many miles away
In the brown and flat paddocks every night and day
Through the home of wallaby, roo and the dark pale eyed crow
To the distant ocean it forever will flow.

Their Own Story To Tell

Of affluent and successful lives and of lives in Earthly Hell
Everybody does have their own story to tell
Some destined for failure some destined for wealth and fame
And no two life stories are exactly the same
But a man or a woman i have yet to meet
Who would wish to be  homeless on Poverty Street
With this  you won't find many to disagree
For only a saint would embrace poverty
The  gap between the haves and the have nots is wide
And lack of money does nothing for one's sense of pride
Though what one receives from life is what one is  due
Only in some cases happens to be true
Though lack of success does erode self esteem
But to tell everybody does have their own story 'twould seem.

Wednesday, August 15, 2012

As Some Like To Say

There's none of us perfect as some like to say
The flawed gene in us it is hidden away
Even from the very most of the observant kind
Dormant in the  darkest recess of the mind
If we were all perfect it does seem to me
That we would  be boring as boring can be
Quite upright and honest without a secret for  to hide
And too serious in our thinking to have a humorous side
Those who do not take themselves too seriously can crack a good  joke
And at parties and get togethers laughter provoke
For their sense of humor alone they seem valuable indeed
And of their kind of people the Human World is in need
The near to perfect people to say the least few
To that you may say tell us something that's new.


Her hair natural gray she is ageing with grace
And  the wrinkles of time on her beautiful face
If you did not know she is an octogenarian you would say that she
Is in her early seventies not more than seventy three
Kate is a widow some  five years ago
She lost to cancer her long time soulmate her husband Joe
In her side of the town she is well loved and well known
Ten times a grandmother she lives on her own
A charity worker for those of charity in need
One can say of her that she is a great person indeed
One i do see often in the park or on the street
She is such a nice person always a pleasure to meet
She does not use anti ageing creams or hair dyes to cover her gray
The lovely Kate is ageing in the natural way.

I Have So Much To Learn

For sixty five  years of living in material success i have nothing to show
And of life and of Nature i have so much to learn and know
And though i may be  growing older i have not grown wise
I have so much to learn i have come  to realize
For the lessons of life  there is some price to pay
But 'tis true we do learn something new every day
Life for us has so many lessons for to give
We never stop learning for as long as we live
It is true that knowledge and wisdom on bushes and trees does not grow
And i have come to realize that so little i do know
Of the  ways of life yet we learn every day
We do never stop learning it does seem this way
Those who think they know it all must be arrogant indeed
If any lessons in life  they do not think they need.

Tuesday, August 14, 2012

I Retain The Memories

In the flat rushy fields in Liscreagh in Millstreet
Where the Cails from Kippagh and the Finnow does meet
The rooks on the beech trees cawing at gloam of day
In fancy i can hear them though from here far away

The dipper is singing where the river rapids flow
And the male pheasant amongst the rushes does cuck and crow
And above the old fields in the gray Summer sky
The dark barn swallows do chirp as they fly

Though memories of what was to nostalgia gives rise
It is not very hard for one to visualize
The song of the chaffinch i often does hear
Though to me he does not sing anywhere near

Though the migrants may look the worst for time's  decay
The memories of what was till death with them will stay
Of the people and natural surroundings they once loved and knew
Till the lust of wander took them to places new

I retain fond  memories of my first homeplace
Where mine today to many would be a  stranger's face
In my mind the male robin is singing on a leafy birch tree
And i retain the memories of what used to be.

At The Olympic Games

The memories of greatness may take centuries to fade
But many egos are shattered where heroes are made
For the winners jubilation for the losers tears
The  disappointment of losing can linger for years
Where personal and national pride is at stake
At the London Olympics there is joy and heartbreak
For the medallists the glory and homecoming parades in their hometown
And their names to live in the annals of sporting renown
The Olympic winners have reason to celebrate
Their own place in history they did create
The  winners of  gold are the proudest of all
In centuries from now  the sporting historians their greatness will recall
For the winners jubilation for the  losers tears
Their disappointment at losing may linger for years.

The Araglen

Through old fields of Cullen by night and by day
On towards the Blackwater it babbles on it's way
Old Araglen with the ever babbling tongue
By bards of Duhallow it's praises are sung
The centuries have come and the centuries have gone
But old Araglen to the  Blackwater forever flows on
By ditches and through fields where rushes in clusters do grow
By groves and by dykes and many a hedgerow
Home to the river bird that everybody does know
The dark brown dipper with breast white as snow
Birds once heard and seen one cannot get wrong
Familiar in their appearance and in their distinctive song
The Duhallow bards it has inspired to rhyme
The Araglen River so ancient in time.

Monday, August 13, 2012

Mother Nature

A student of her's i'm not worthy to be
The beautiful one  quite amazing to me
Though from her i do learn something new every day
We never stop learning it does seem this way
The one  with the marvellous creative power
Who can create a thing like a beautiful flower
Millions of her Seasons have come and have  gone
But she is forever and she does live on
Of singing her praises one never could tire
The artists and writers she does inspire
Her presence  is Worldwide on every shore
Mother Nature destined to live forever more
Her wonders are  many her secrets not few
Though everyday from her we learn something new.

Duhallow Greats

Sports people who in the Sporting World are and were widely known
Sporting greats that Duhallow can claim for it's own
People who are  known Worldwide in many a city and town
One can say of them they have earned their renown

Of the great Olympians one always held in high esteem
Derrygallon's Pat O Callaghan the hammer thrower supreme
World record holder and two times Olympic Champion in his prime the World's best
The man never found  to be wanting when put to the test

Noel C Duggan the owner of the Green Glens arena in sports and entertainment has  carved his own renown
He has brought top class showjumping, World championship boxing and the Eurovision Song Contest to Millstreet Town
Far from the Town by Clara and Duhallow's countryside
The genial Noel C is known and loved Worldwide

In Rallying Banteer's Jer Buckley and  his cousin Billy Coleman of Millstreet
Against the best in the World with success did  compete
The first of the Duhallow rally drivers to become famed and widely known
At their best they were in a class of  their own

Willie Neenan the runner the pride of Millstreet
Many times Cork, Munster and All Ireland Champion an amazing athlete
A World Championship silver medal to add to his housefull of  trophies in his amazing sixty years running span
May he rest in peace now  the marvellous man

In Australia at  rallying Charlie Drake and  Eoin Moynhan for Duhallow fly the flag
And in their many successes there something that's well worthy of a brag
On the tough outback roads they are amongst the very best
And are never found to be  wanting when put to the test

The Clouting Celt Pat O Connor the Pride of Kiskeam and Boherbue
He was Duhallow's greatest boxer as most would  agree
The Irish Middleweight Champion in the nineteen forties that is going back in time
He fought the best in Europe and the World when he was in his prime

From Carriganimma in Muskerry on the Duhallow border between Macroom and Millstreet Town
In 1908 in London Con Walsh for Canada threw his hammer to bronze and Olympic renown
As well as a great hammer thrower a star for Clondrohid and Cork in gaelic football
In Carriganimma Village a stone memorial in his memory his greatness to recall

From her old home in Tullig thousands of miles away
Stella Cashman won a World Championship bronze medal for walking for  the U S of  A
Now into her seventh decade her's is a legendary name
No other walker from Duhallow has known of such great fame

In the Sporting World the best of Duhallow people known almost everywhere
They proved themselves against the best in the  big World  out there
In centuries from now history will recall
That in the World  of Sports they were Duhallow's greatest of all.

A Crime Against Nature

'Tis the Law of Nature as some do like to say
That creatures kill smaller creatures to live every day
If the carnivores do not eat meat the carnivores cannot hope to live
So they do not have sins as such for to forgive

But the proof of a crime against Nature the other day i did see
And of how cruel some humans can be again brought home to me
A dead kangaroo in his neck a bullet hole
Whoever did this not worthy of a mentoring role

For younger people and sadder to say
The roo he shot would have  been left to die in the most painful way
To discharge a  firearm in a National Park is a federal offence
In such a callous act how can one see any sense

The Karma we sow we must reap one day
And  the person who shot the kangarooo and left it to die in the most painful way
To Karma surely has a huge price to pay
What goes around comes around as some like to say.

Sunday, August 12, 2012

A Night In August

A cool moonless night just a few visible stars in the  sky
The masked lapwing cry in the parkland nearby
For the safety of their young from predators they have reason to fear
On a night in late Winter near the Spring of the year
The  vixen's hungry cubs in their den are crying out for meat
And  a lapwing chick for them would be  nice for  to eat
On this cool night in August three weeks from the calendar Spring
The silver billed magpie on a  gum tree does sing
On his  breeding Season he sings day and night
And  to defend his borders he is ready and  willing to fight
A temperature high of only four degrees
And a wintery chill in the southerly breeze
And a  male possum calls on a high branch of  gum tree
He rules as the master of his territory.

Why Tell Me About It

Why tell me about it since i already know
That money on bushes and trees does not grow
It can buy you friends and it can buy you fame
Few if any do wish to know  the pauper by name

Why tell me about it as it is not news to me
That poverty thinking begets poverty
This is how it is and it always will be
That you are what you think you are would you not Agree?

It is true we do learn from life every day
And for our every mistake we have some  price to pay
And from life we receive what is only our due
Though many may tell you that this is not true

Why tell me about it i know all too well
That millons are living life in Earthly Hell
And many know how to take and not how  to share
And that many grow poorer for every new millionaire.

On Pale Eyed Crows

Known as little raven or the pale eyed crow
They are good at surviving of them that much i do know
Quite common in their range i see and hear them every day
South eastern Australia's best known corvids of them one can say
Often seen in the town parks and in the countryside
And that they are intelligent of them cannot be  denied
In the town park lake to soften to eat i've seen them soaking slices of hard stale bread
Of most other birds in i q they do seem far ahead
If someone  told me this i would say it were lies
But in Warrnambool Botanical Gardens i see this with my own eyes
In Nature every day for  us  there is some new surprise
And that pale eyed crows are quite clever i have come to realize
Familiar to many and familiar to me
They are  birds every day i do hear and do see.

Saturday, August 11, 2012

An August Day In Warrnambool

In Lake Pertobe Park close to Lady Bay
The silver billed magpie is  piping today
And though behind the gray clouds the sun hidden away
The calendar Spring is not that far away
Early August the Winter weather is showery and cool
In the seaside City of breezy Warrnambool
But with each passing day the Spring edging near
And in Warrnambool Spring a lovely time of year
The coastal City of Warrnambool is  a beautiful place
Where many do greet you with a smiling face
Where in Winter the weather never too wet or cold
A nice City for to live in and grow old
In Warrnambool it is a cool and showery day
But September and Spring is not that far away.

Sing Us A Song Of Nature

Sing us a song of Nature the birds and the  bees
The sound of the freshening wind in the trees
The one the artists and writers in their works celebrate
The unrivalled beauty that she does  create
Our wonder of her only does seem to grow
But little of her ways few can claim to know
Yet the more one  learns of her the more one does realize
That there is far more  to her than meets the eyes
About her she  has a  mysterious way
And about her we learn something new every day
In my many walks every day i do see
Some sight of rare beauty that is  new to me
So mysterious and beautiful in her own way
From her we do learn something new every day.

Usain Bolt

He races to victory like a champion thoroughbred colt
The world's fastest sprinter from Jamaica the amazing Usain Bolt
Since there is more to him than a champion athlete
The crowds flock to see him when he does compete

The champion athlete and the showman supreme
His body language an advertisment for positive self esteem
A multiple World record holder the best sprinters in the World he easily outrun
To World class competitive athletics he has brought back the fun

A champion athlete and a fun loving man
He is surely the pride of his race and his clan
He is one  of the few who was born to be great
Jamaica in him has their legend to celebrate

He is at the peak of his physical prime
If not the greatest ever the greatest of his time
The World's greatest sprinter of that there's no doubt
In centuries from now he will be  spoken about.

Friday, August 10, 2012

On Mother Nature

My wonder of  her only does seem to grow
Yet the more i learn of her so little about her i know i do  know
Everywhere i turn to look her beauty i do see
At all times of the year everywhere around me
I first grew  to love her when i was a boy
And learning of her ways i still do enjoy
Her Seasons have come and her Seasons have gone
But she the immortal will forever live on
On our very survival on her we depend
Yet we do not treat her as our greatest friend
Her beauty is free for  to look at and admire
And of singing her praises one never could tire
The greatest human achievements in comparison seem small
To the achievements of Mother Nature the greatest of  all.

A Night In Early August

The night cold and dark few cars pass up and down
On the dimly lit streets of the old country town
And  a boobook owl calls out mopoke in the parkland nearby
To small birds the one who has death in it's cry

Out from their homes in tree holes and house ceilings on trees in the park
The  male brush tail possums can be heard calling after dark
They snarl and bite and claw in a territorial fight
To mate with the females the strongest male wins the right

The wind to it has a cold wintery sting
On the first week of August three weeks from the calendar Spring
Yet at this time of year the nesting male magpies sing day and night
And to defend  their borders if needs be they fight

A night in early August in the old town a high of four degrees
With a cold and damp chill in the freshening breeze
That blow in the town through the park from the bay
Yet the calendar Spring just over thee weeks away.

The Song Of The Pee Wee

A wintery, showery and blustery day
The sky overcast and looking quite gray
The sun in cloud cover is hidden away
But the pee wee does sing in the park by the bay
The double pee wee notes familiar to hear
Of the bird who does  sing every day of the year
His  kind lives in parks of every Australian village and city and town
Mudnesters their distinctive call notes their claim to bird renown
Birds one regularly hear and regularly see
They build a mud nest on fork of branch of tree
In Australia the pee wees or magpie larks are widely known
One can say of  them they have ways of  their own
No matter what the weather every day of the year
The song of  the pee wee one is sure  to hear.

Thursday, August 9, 2012

The Olympic Games

The Olympic Games may be watched by people Worldwide
But it is all about ego and  nationalistic pride
Where winners are jubilant and losers are in tears
A disappointment that well may be with them for years
Since only the praises of the  winner the media does sing
Sports and fun and games in the London Olympics is not the in thing
The winner of bronze would have preferred silver the winner of silver would have  preferred gold
'Tis only of winners stories written and  told
Millions in money preparing athletes for the Olympics by Governments is spent
In a World where millions are homeless and to many home is a cheap tent
That so much money is wasted on sport seems all wrong to me
In a World where so many people are in dire poverty
Where winners are jubilant and losers are reduced to tears
And the disappoinment of losing out on the medals will be with them for years.

That Alcohol On People

Any face kicked and  punched is not a pretty sight
Over women and football i have seen grown men fight
Some men never learn despite broken teeth and swollen eyes
Their type only grow older but never grow wise
Where men drink alcohol women and politics and a game  of football
Can often give rise to a nasty pub brawl
That alcohol on people in different ways does  react
And can lead to violence is only a fact
Pub brawls between drunken men i can recall
Some of alcohol does not have much tolerance at all
With alcohol in they become aggressive and of injury to self lose all fear
And are not very nice people for to be near
That alcohol stirs the anger in some is something of everyone of does know
And after every drink the more angry they do grow.

A Stranger In Buninyong

From where i now live in kilometres a long distance away
And perhaps i would be a stranger in Buninyong today
A few decades ago there i was quite well known
And they treated me as they would one of their own
The beer tasted good in the old Crown Hotel
Where my workmates and i did become known quite well
But some of the ageing patrons we knew there have since passed away
Amongst the deceased of the Village their bones now do lay
Today in Buninyong in Victoria that lovely old place
I realize mine would be an ageing stranger's face
I would even be a stranger in The Crown Hotel
Where twenty four years ago i was known quite well
Today a stranger in Buninyong is all i could be
Absence can make us this way would you not agree?

Wednesday, August 8, 2012

Macroom In Mid Cork

A long way from here to mid Cork and Macroom
In the  fields there now Nature's flowers are in bloom
And in the Town gardens on every rose tree
Pink and red roses a sight of rare beauty to see
Macroom for  it's great gaelic footballers is a well known Town
One of it can say no stranger to renown
In gaelic football in Cork County a club always to the fore
From there many young men with distinction the  red of Cork wore
A historic old Town with a charm of it's own
That for it's hospitable people has  become  widely known
You are not made to feel a stranger there on any street
Where most greet you as if an old friend they do meet
Macroom in mid Cork where Sullane waters flow
A beautiful place of which many of know.

Perhaps I Will Never More See Clara

Perhaps i will never more see Clara cloaked in fogs of rain
Or walk in the old fields of Claraghatlea again
Or in the gathering gloam hear the lowing of  a cow
On a calm evening in Spring in a field by the River Finnow

The  past may be gone but my thoughts often stray
To places i love by old hills far away
Where i grew to love Nature when i was a boy
And learning of her ways i still do enjoy

Where i often daydreamed i might be a poet
A person well worthy of literary note
But daydreams are just that and seldom come true
And i receive from life what is only my due

Most of the mentors of my young years in eternal rest lay
Their fate will be mine in not too distant day
I learned so much from them when i was young
Their praises in rhyme i so often have sung

Though i've penned rhymes of the  places  in my travels i see
A Claraghatlea fellow is all i can be
A mile in the old scale west of Millstreet Town
Where i used to live when my hair was dark brown

The  now is all that matters as some like to say
Those who look at life in a philosophical way
And i live in the now far south of the Claramore rill
Flowing through Claraghatlea with a tongue never still.

This Is How It Is

We all have our life's journeys to undertake
For many a hard and sad journey to make
Since life choices to everyone does not apply
Circumstance to many of a fair go deny

Life's choices not for those from the poor side of the town
From where they live a near impossible journey to success and renown
They cannot even afford a second hand car for to drive
Success in life for them is just to survive

In a Human World where money is the most important thing
Of the praises of wealthy celebrities you hear many sing
Where for every millionaire many in poverty
And on the streets of the homeless there is inequality

Not everyone destined for success and fame
And  the journey through life for no two seems the same
This is how it is and it always  will be
At least anyway that's  how  it seems to me.

Tuesday, August 7, 2012

A Day In Early August

A sight of great natural beauty to behold
The wattles cloaked in their flowers of yellow to gold
And though the sun it is hidden behind clouds  of gray
The calendar Spring only four weeks away
A magpie is piping on a  gray gum tree
And the dainty pied magpie lark is singing pee wee
Birds i do hear often and often does see
The beauty of Nature is all around me
The poets and the artists to creativity Nature does inspire
And of singing her praises one never could tire
The one i have loved since i was a young boy
And learning of her ways i still do enjoy
And the more i learn of her the more my wonder of her does grow
Yet so little about her i can claim to know.

Kate The Octogenarian

You never hear her say that life is unfair
Kate  the octogenarian with the silver hair
Though the son and daughter she gave birth to in a motorcar accident died
And her mentally ill husband committed suicide

The sadder side of life she is  one who has known
For the past twenty two years she as  lived on her own
But she is a person who ages with grace
And she always does have a smile on her face.

One who does make the  most of every day
That life can be  cruel you will not hear her say
A woman who knows how it feels for to grieve
But on a better tomorrow she is  one who believe.

Her physical best to the forever gone
But Kate she loves life and  she wants  to live  on
Quite charming in her ways and lovely to behold
And for one in her early eighties fit and healthy she  doesn't look old.

A woman of courage in her so much to admire
Of singing her praises i for one could not tire
A smile on her face as she walks on the street
A beautiful person to know of and meet.

A Marvellous Thing

The past is a memory that in reality has gone
But for as long as i can live i want to live on
In the  sunlit parkland the birds chirp and sing
The  great gift of life is a marvellous thing
The now is what matter the future ahead
And time does  tick on we'll  be forever dead
The silver gulls mewing in the park by the bay
So great to be living on such a nice day
Of the beauty around me a poet would write
Poems for others to read and enjoy and recite
The weather temperature pleasant near twenty degrees
And Nature's sweet aroma wafting in the freshening breeze
That rustle the leaves in the sunlit gum tree
Where Nature's great beauty is all around me.

Monday, August 6, 2012

Your Dog

A walk every day and  a few pats and a feed
For his or her undying devotion to you is all your dog does need
But your spouse is  much harder for to satisfy
When compared to us dogs are so faithful one must wonder why?
For enduring devoted loyalty one on whom you can depend
For as long as he or she lives your dog will remain as your friend
Dogs have in them so much love  for  to give
Devoted to their owners for as long as they live
Dogs in them have the gene  of devotion it does seem this way
Your spouse or partner may leave you but your dog with you will stay
From dogs  we can learn what true  love is all about
On the love of your dog for you there is never a doubt
Your partner or spouse may leave you but your dog with you will stay
For a walk and a feed and a few pats every day.

The Rhymer

Though eventually we all become victims of time
Till the end of life's journey the rhymer writes rhyme
For others to enjoy and read and recite
'Tis for love of rhyming the rhymer does write
Rhymers were once popular but not anymore
Their words literary critics do choose to ignore
The twenty first century rhymer is  not considered to be a poet
Or one to be seen as worthy of literary note
But the rhymer does remain as a rhyming buff
And is one who finds pleasure on penning rhyming stuff
And though his or her best days in life may be gone
The born to rhyme rhymer does keep rhyming on
And till the  reaper on their lives has the final say
The rhymers rhyme on till their last night and  day.

Life Is A Competition

Life is a competition that's how it seems  to be
Young people compete for a uni degree
Competition in sport to be the best athlete
Even for a job start people have to compete

Life is a competition would you not agree
At least anyhow that's how it seems to me
People  competiting for promotion in their  workplace every day
Us humans are quite competitive it does seem this way

Life's not meant to be easy of this there's not a doubt
For one for to win someone else does lose out
We alll cannot be winners despite what some do say
Luck and circumstance in life has a huge part to play

'Tis said from hard work and  endeavour we receive our due
But that life  is a competition i believe to be true
In all facets of  life people compete to succeed
And that winners are grinners does seem true indeed.

Sunday, August 5, 2012

Winners Are Grinners

Elation in victory and sadness in defeat
Where the best in the World for glory compete
At the Olympic Games where legends are made
True greatness from memory never seems to fade
When the Champion Olympians to the forever long gone
Their sporting achievements in history destined to live on
Like in all things of life the Olympic winners are grinners and can celebrate
But for those who lose out on a medal the  disappointment is great
For them there won't be a  homecoming parade
Even where the best compete only few make the  grade
To win an Olympic medal the dream of many a young girl and boy
But at the London Olympics there is sadness and joy
In sports as in life for  one to win others have to lose it is this way
And winners are grinners as some  like to say.

It Is True

Although we all do share some things  in common you will not find two on all things  who do agree
The  people that with i share most things in common in many ways think differently to me
Suppose we are born to think as individuals since each his or her has a mind of their own
I do recall the friends i grew up with apart from them in my ways i have grown
Suppose our different ways  tend to make us  interesting if we were alike  in all ways how boring we would be
The thing that tends to make us more interesting is that most of us look at life differently
If you can live your life as a decent person and never harm anyone in any way
Then you must be looked on as a successful person despite what some of you might have to say
You can only be the best you can be not everyone born to win Olympic Gold
But everyone has the choice for to live as a good person though not everyone'e life story in book form is told
As long as  you do live as a good person and others in their time of need on you can depend
Then you are sowing the seeds of your good Karma when to one in need of  help you are a friend
And though we all do share some things in common we all are different in our own way
It is quite true that sameness can be boring and that does seem a fair thing for  to say.

The Silver Back Crow

Since any mercy to frail new born lambs they never do show
No friend to the farmer the silver back crow
By plucking out their eyes young lambs they do kill
To predate on the weak is part of their  survival skill
To prey on the weak is their natural way
The only good crow is a dead one  the sheep farmer does say
He is much the poorer when lambs to crows are lost
And  he is left to count the financial cost
Silver back crows have  been shot at and poisoned but they still survive
And despite persecution they manage to thrive
In Nature for one creature to kill another is the natural way
And the strong on the weak always does seem to prey
And  for the weak young lamb death is painful and slow
When it loses it's eyes to the silver back crow.

Saturday, August 4, 2012

I Have Loved Mother Nature

I have loved Mother Nature since i was a boy
And learning of her ways i still do enjoy
Yet so little about her i know i do know
And my wonder of her only does seem to grow
And though i am all too aware her secrets are not few
From her everyday i do learn something new
The one with the unrivalled magical power
The one who can create the delicate beauty in a blossom or a flower
Everywhere one  turns to look her great beauty one does see
It is all around you and it is all around me
To all eyes she looks  different or so it does seem
Of all of the World super powers the one who is supreme
The creator of water and wind and fire
The artists and writers she  never fails to inspire.

Life Is What You Make Of It

Life is what you make of it as some do like to say
Though circumstance in all of this does have some part to play
The one from a broken home and homeless as a teen of success stands little chance
Life is what you make of it does seem can depend  on circumstance
'Tis said from life we receive what only is  our due
Though in some cases it does apply this is not always true
For those born on Poverty Street life is a battle all of  the way
Survival for them is success they live from day to day
Life is what you make of  it to some does apply
But of a fair go their very circumstance of birth many does deny
Everyday the have nots of the Human World must struggle to survive
Success may never come to them though hard for it they may try
Life is what you make of it words  of wisdom i recall
But as we only know too well this does not apply to all.

The Great Gift Of Life

Of the praises of ageing heroes many well may sing
But the great gift of life is a  marvellous thing
The young may lack in life experience but they can run fast
And as for the ageing their better physical days are in the past
In my best days i was far from an athlete
But nowadays i feel like i have leaden feet
The passing of time on everyone does  show
And the great athletes in their prime in their eighties walking slow
My better days in life  to the forever gone
But for as long as i can i intend to live on
And die in my sleep without pain as a very old  man
At the end of a happy and healthy and a long life span
Of the praises of ageing heroes many well may sing
But the great gift of  life is a marvellous  thing.

Friday, August 3, 2012

Annagloor's Matty Fitz

From the nineteen seventies two Irish champions from Annagloor of we have to recall
Jim Twohig in athletics  and Denis Long in gaelic football
In their prime against Ireland's best with success they did compete
And in sports they are amongst the best of Millstreet

But a century before them one who never competed in athletics or  played gaelic football
Was one  old timers of my young years  i often heard recall
His name Matty Fitz he lived in Annagloor
A brave man who did  speak out for Ireland's rural poor

When against the foreign based government in Ireland few dared to speak out
Of his true feelings the brave Matty Fitz never did  leave anyone in doubt
As a leading member of the Duhallow Land League movement many a stirring speech by him made
Yet in his honour never a memorial or a parade

Many years before the historical ambush at Tureengarriffe Glen
The  brave Matty Fitz proved himself a man amongst men
The hero of the countryside west of Millstreet Town
But sad to say his life story in notebook was never written down

His granddaughter Liz McAuliffe is Annagloor's oldest person today
Though close to if not in her nineties young at heart she does stay
The nearest living relative to an honorable man of renown
The bravest of the brave  men west of Millstreet Town.

Bill Briley

Bill Briley will tell you that lfe can be tough
He is one of those people who has had to sleep rough
When he was out of work and financially stuck
And feeling depressed like most down on their luck

But he  is what one would call a hard nut to crack
He has  worked on big pipelines and shorn sheep outback
He has worked on oil rigs and in a coalmine
Now at his physical peak he has turned twenty nine

Yet for one of  his years he is one who has travelled on many a road
He is one of the people of no fixed abode
At present one of a big water pipe laying mob
For him there has never been an easy job

Unmarried and  without children he lives the life he does choose
He is fond of the women and fond of the booze
On his travels through the big country up and down
He has made love to women in most every town

At present he is on a good after tax pay
And feeling quite happy and doing okay
But the wanderlust in him in this town he  will not stay
And when this job is finished he will be on the highway.

For As Long As They Live

Some people in their words can be so unkind
They only look for flaws in others and what they look for they do find
Of others they never have good things to say
But suppose they can't help it since this is their way
They lack in compassion, insight and empathy
And what they do look for they always do see
In a flowering garden they will see decay
Such people  never grow  wiser only old and gray
Their minds have become homes  for negativity
The goodness in others their kind  cannot see
In their negative judgement of others pleasure they do gain
This  is how they are and this is  how they will remain
For as long as they live this  is  how they will be
What we look for in others we always do see.

Thursday, August 2, 2012

The Rhymes Come To Me

I have  written the rhymes of  the far away hills
And the babbling rivers and silver tongued rills
That have inspired the  makers of story and rhyme
And have flowed through the old fields  through centuries of time

I have  written the rhymes of people and  life
Of the hard drinking man and  his neglected children and wife
And the homeless and misplaced who are doing it tough
The people who know what it's like to sleep rough

I have written the rhymes of Nature's beauty i've seen
Like the bluebells in bloom on the ditch of bohreen
When the hawthorns are cloaked in their white blossoms of May
The  memories of what was in me live today

For decades of years i've been a rhyming buff
And i am one who has written pages of stuff
The rhymes come to me on notepaper i jot them down
But never for money or literary renown

I have been penning stuff for four decades of time
Suppose in a way i was born to rhyme
Of stories i hear and of things  i do see
The rhymes every day keep on coming to me.

Those Who Dice With Death

Those who dice with death do receive their due
An old saying of meaning i hold to be true
The longest human life  in time is not a  long span
So live for as long as you possibly can
The praises  of dead heroes and heroines people may sing
But the great gift of life is a marvellous thing
The last night and day of us all is ahead
And joy is never found in the place of  the dead
Us humans are mortals and born to die
This is a fact of life and  fact never lie
And even though lady luck may not be smiling your way
Do try to make the most of every day
For we are getting older and  yesterday's gone
And our biological clocks do keep ticking on.

Old Koroit Town

Oh sing me a song of old Koroit Town
It surely does have many claims to renown
Where the  legends around Celtic and Indigenous cultures have grown
And for it's links to Ireland it has become widely known
Tower Hill  the inspiration of story and rhyme
A volcanic valley old in the  Dreamtime
That echoed to the sound of the didgeridoo
Where the tribal hunters hunted the kangaroo
A Town of two pubs, a post office, a  superstore and a primary school
Fifteen minutes by car from the City of Warrnambool
In South Western Victoria's potato growing countryside
For it's hospitable people it is known far and wide
For it's cultural history Koroit is well known
And one can say it does have a charm of it's own.

Wednesday, August 1, 2012

You May Not Change The World

You may not change the World but you certainly can
Make it better to live in by becoming a better woman or man
The World better off without the arrogant and greedy and selfish and the judgementaly inclined
And far more in need of the compassionate and kind
Doesn't matter who you are or your clan or your race
You can make the Human World to live in a better place
If on a fair go for all people you do believe
And you are one of those who does give to receive
Good Karma in the kindness and compassion to others you have shown
In life we receive the fruits of the seeds we have sown
This  is how it is and it always will be
At least anyway that's how to seems to me
No matter who you are or your clan or your race
You can help for to make the Human World to live in a far better place.

In Me There's The Need

Some who believe that for one's writings one ought to receive pay
Have told me i ought to give rhyming away
But to their advice  i never pay any heed
To keep on penning rhymes  in me there's the need
If i said i'd quit rhyming that would be a lie
Since i hope to be doing it till the day i do die
My better days  in life to the forever gone
But for as long as i can rhyme  i will keep rhyming on
I never refer to myself as a poet
Nor am i one  worthy of literary note
But despite what some  who give me free advice do say
What i enjoy doing why should i give away
To keep penning rhymes in me there's the need
Without it in my life i'd feel worse off indeed.

The Old Merri River

In and out of Lake Pertobe it slowly winds it's way
And then on to the  ocean close to Lady Bay
The waterway that has inspired story and rhyme
The old Merri River is so old in time
Many centuries before the first people to Australia came
And long before  it was called The Merri by name
And long even before  there was Warrnambol Town
The old winding river it babbled on down
To flow into saltwater at the Pacifc Shore
It has flowed forever and will flow forever more
Many people like  the Seasons  have come and  have  gone
But the old Merri River forever flows on
In and out of lake Pertobe it slowly winds it's way
And on to the ocean close to Lady Bay.