Thursday, January 31, 2013

Nora Dineen

In Annagloor from Millstreet Town more than a mile of roadway
As Nora Cronin she first saw the light of day
She lived in Cloghoulamore as the wife of Peter Dineen
And good memories of her will remain as evergreen

In the many friends she made in her long life
A good mother to her children and to Peter a  devoted wife
In the flesh never more to be seen in Millstreet and Cloghoulamore
Of years of life she must have lived at least the four score

The news of her passing was so sad to read
In her life by good example she was one who did lead
She had about her a nice gentle way
Of her that only does seem fair for to say.

The Seasons to our lives do come and do go
And to everyone time does become a foe
In Cloghoulamore she lived for many happy years
Where her passing would not have gone without tears

From where she lived just a short drive away
By Cashman's hill her last remains does lay
On her life's journey she made many a friend
A journey for all of us that has an end.

Frank The Poet

A convict from Cashel County Tipperary Francis MacNamara better known as Frank The Poet
In Australia's white history one of literary note
Transported to a long term in jail for to serve years of time
For what was in reality a trivial crime

Often whipped by his cruel jailers though his spirit they could not break
His legendary poems against injustice the spirit of rebellion did awake
Against his British jailers and their oppressive laws
The man who in his words led the fight for a cause

With words he was surely one  who had a way
The poems and songs of Frank The Poet are living today
He died a free man though still hating the Crown
And in Australia his name does live on in literary renown

In Australia Francis MacNamara or Frank The Poet became a great name
And  though long dead his legend has an undying fame
From living the hard life he was one who died young
And nowadays in Australian pubs and clubs his songs and ballads are sung.

The Beauty Of Nature

The beauty of Nature is all around me
A beauty to look at i do not pay to see
Of the Earth Mother who does feed us so much to admire
And  of singing her praises i for  one never tire
The one and the only World Super Power
She can create a marvel of beauty like a beautiful flower
The one who grows the food on which we do live
And yet we take from her and in return to her little give
Those who think they own the land of the Country have got it all wrong
Since to the land of the Country we do belong
To the beauty around them some do seem quite blind
Suppose the Human World does have every kind
I grew to love Nature when i was a boy
And learning of her ways i still do enjoy.

Wednesday, January 30, 2013

That You See What You Look For

That you see what you look for would you not agree
When you look for beauty then beauty you will see
To some people a beautiful flower is a weed
That you are how you think does seem so true indeed
Many people to money and  material possessions can only relate
These people in their own minds may think that they are great
But as in their thinking in their ways they are small
Of them any great deeds historians will not have to recall
That we see what we look for as a fact does remain
The truism in this it's own self does explain
To the beauty in Nature around them some people seem blind
As the words in the saying goes each to their own kind
We do see what we look for this  is how it seems to be
This applies to all as well as you and me.

A Brief Bio In Rhyme

Though i live far south of Claraghatlea my first homeplace
Where mine years ago was a well known face
Since the years have left me looking older and gray
Perhaps there i would be a stranger today

I have traveled a bit in my sixty six years life span
And though i've been to New Zealand and Britain and Japan
I have not been to Paris or Berlin or Rome
Big Cities not distant from my first Irish home

As a  teenager i lived and worked in New York for a few years
Where for Claraghatlea i did shed nostalgic tears
And here in Koroit in Victoria where i live today
The clock on my life does keep ticking away

Worked in woods in Muskerry and Duhallow felling spruce and pine trees
In temperatures often close to zero degrees
Worked on building sites and as a drainer and in the old Sherbrooke Shire
On travel towers lopping trees i worked hard for my hire

A brief bio in rhyme  of  my life that and  little else more
And i do feel my age now six years with three score
I have  traveled a bit since my life's journey began
But compared to some i am not a well traveled man.

Good Things In Life

I was baptized a christian on that i did not have a say
But i do not have a god now for to kneel to and pray
Off of the pathway to god i somehow did stray
Call me an agnostic or an atheist or call me what you may
We all have our life's journeys to undertake
And  tomorrow from sleep some will not wake
And since death is part of life it does appear
That it is the fear of dying we only do fear
Since the universal karma it is for us all
Any good deed done out of kindness is never too small
What we put into life  is what we receive
On such a philosophy i for one believe
If to your higher self you remain as ever true
Good things in life may well become your due.

Tuesday, January 29, 2013

On National Day

Patriotism and parochialism and nationalistic pride
Are the things that unite us but from others us divide
The bands play up and down the streets of the town by the bay
And the onlookers their national flags waving on National Day
From such patriotic displays of pride and morbid love of Country many wars do begin
And in war as we know even winners do not win
Some take love of Country and Flag far too seriously
At least anyway that's how it seems to me
On the streets of the town parochialism, nationalism and patriotism are on display
The breeding ground for war or it does seem this way
Such morbid love of Country logic defies
To wars, racism and xenophobia these things do give  rise
In dying for their Flag and Country many heroes are made
In war that has it's source in a street parade.

I Like Birds

I like birds one ought not for to get them wrong
The familiar sort anyway even by song
The flute like notes of the Aussie magpies one should not mistake
To their songs every morning of the year i do wake

I may not have heard or seen him for decades of time
But the redbreast robin of my boyhood and prime
His distinctive song i remember today
Some things from the memory never fade away

I have always liked birds even as a young boy
And learning of their ways today i do enjoy
It is not out of love that the male bird does sing
Since song for his kind is a territorial thing

I have liked birds since i was a boy years ago
Many Seasons before time did become my foe
The beautiful fluting of the curlew in May
Above the bogland in my memory does stay

I like birds by voice i do know the pee wee
Their sort build cup shaped mud nest on low branch of tree
And the dark willy wagtails always hunting for flies
Aggressive towards bigger birds for birds of their size

I have always liked birds and i always will
The chaffinch who sang in the wood by the hill
His descendants from me may live far away
But in fancy i do hear them singing today.

We Read Of And Hear Of

We read of and hear of wars and famines in Lands far away
And the human population in numbers increasing by the day
Billions of people for our Earth Mother to feed
With millions in drought stricken areas of food aid in need
For every wealthy person many of a better life live in despair
The distribution of wealth as ever seems unfair
Even in so called wealthy Nations people in extreme poverty
In a fair Human World this would never be
From poverty street on the poorest side of the town
It is a long hike to wealth and renown
The children living there of success in life stand little chance
One can say they are handicapped by birth circumstance
Suppose this is how it is and it always will be
In a Human World that is based on inequality.

Monday, January 28, 2013

Jack Reddy

Jack Reddy does not judge all women on June his ex wife
Though his twenty years of marriage to her not the happiest time of his  life
He says in women like men the good and not so good you will find
Not everyone is born to be caring and kind

They parted forever some five years ago
That he feels happier without her it sure does seem so
And  that she since has remarried with him quite okay
Good luck to her in her life of her he does say

His son and daughter both married with children in a town far away
The last time he see them was early last May
He says on grumbling of your lot you have nothing to gain
In his life's sixty eight year one who never complain

Jack Reddy is one who will never marry again
For as long as he live as single he will remain
Of his twenty five years of marriage he has no happy stories to tell
He knows all about it life in living hell.

In Fancy

In fancy i can hear the silver back crow
On the trees near the bog where the  bog cotton grow
It's harsh caws come to me from the long ago
That old memories do linger happens to be so

Where the rill from the mountain ripples on it's way
To join the big river by night and by day
I grew to love Nature when i was a  boy
Nice memories of what was are mine to enjoy

The  little brown lark from the bracken did fly
To sing in the  clouds of the gray morning sky
When the soft winds of April from the mountains did blow
I only write here of a life i did know

I who drunk from the  clear waters of Tubrid's spring well
Of Nature i too have some stories to tell
The rhymes  that come to me on notepaper i pen down
Of the life that i knew of by far Millstreet Town

Of Nature we learn something new every day
We never stop learning it does seem this way
This rhyme came to me from a far away Spring
The great gift of memory is a beautiful thing

Good memories are all i have left to retain
Of a life for me that cannot be again
And few of me now perhaps of would know
In that far away place where the  bog cotton grow.

You May As Well

You may as well live in hope as in despair
And not much point in complaining that life  is unfair
To people who have their own crosses to bear
The people without any worries are rare
So few wish to know of you when you are feeling down
They prefer to leave  you to be as a sad sack of the town
For you and  your worries they do not have a tear
The sound of laughter is what they wish to hear
Those with laughter in them others wish to know
And their friends in numbers are known for to grow
But for the one who feels sad friends are so few
You may say to this tell us something that is new
By feeling sorry for  yourself friends you will not gain
You may as well laugh than about life complain.

Sunday, January 27, 2013


I am just an ordinary man on an ordinary street
And ordinary people i only seem to meet
Full of their own self importance and self conceit
For their idea of success with each other every day they compete

Of talking to them i so quickly does tire
In them there is little at all to admire
The most of their waffle is based on the i
To humility as such they do give the lie

Such people themselves to me do not endear
Their boasting of their successes i would rather not hear
One does meet all sorts of people as some do like to say
I ought to know that i meet them every day

I am an ordinary fellow quite ordinary indeed
And my type of person are not a rare breed
And mostly ordinary people i meet most of the time
And to them i do dedicate this simple rhyme.

It Is Not

It is not about how much money you have or how long you do live
It is more about how kind you are and of how willingly you give
If you are one who lives your life in giving to receive
Then on a higher principle you are one who does believe
The longest lived human life  in time not long the years go quickly by
On looking back the decades you realize that time does fly
Time does not wait for anyone it did not wait for me
And like all life forms great and small we are born to mortality
How one defines success in life is  not for me to say
We all do look at such things in our own sort of way
The one who is successful to you to me may not be so
Such things i learned from mentors as a boy near sixty years ago
It is not how  influential or wealthy you are though many your fame celebrate
It is your kindness and compassion for others that makes you a true great.

The Best That You Can Be

You only can be the best that you can be
And to live in the moment would you not agree
Tomorrow is coming and yesterday has gone
And  life as we know it of course will go on
In the nineteen fifties i was dunce of the primary school
But nobody cares now if i then was a fool
Are the bright boys of the school then now any better off than i
Since like me they grow older and like me they must die
In life as we live we must give to receive
On such a philosophy i do believe
And a fair go to anyone  we ought not to deny
To all races and all people this has to apply
Yes you only can be the best that you can be
And live in the  moment would you not agree?

Saturday, January 26, 2013

You Are Not On Your Own

You are not on your own or so it does seem
If you are one who suffer of low self esteem
There are many like you to be found eveywhere
And millions of course in the  big World out there
You may never be seen as one worthy of note
If you feel reluctant your own self to promote
If you cannot sing your own praises as an unknown you may stay
This is how it is in the Human World of today
You are lost to the World if your own praises you cannot sing
In the twenty first century to sing your own praises it is the  in thing
We live in an age when bragging is seen as okay
You are lost if of yourself nice things you cannot say
You may even ask how come this must be
For an answer to that one ask one other than me.

Life's Doddering Stage

Though many on their day far greater than me
I am not the man that i once used to be
There does come a time when we all feel our age
I am one of those at life's doddering stage

That some men are old they do not realize
But having said that this is no great surprise
Since it is true about pride  it comes before a  fall
A truism that does apply to us all

I see this old bloke in the park every day
On anti ageing creams and hair dyes he hides time's decay
With a beautiful young blond a third of his age he walks hand in hand
The respect that money does seem to command

Perhaps in his late seventies and far from handsome to behold
But in his own mind he is not feeling old
A woman is as old as she looks some are known to say
And a man is old when he stops looking life can be this way

I am feeling my age three years with sixty three
That you are as old as you feel you are would you not agree
But against time i am one who refuse for to rage
Since i accept i am at life's doddering stage.

On A Day That Is Warm

The warm air full of the buzzings of flies and of bees
On a day that is warm close to thirty degrees
Without any coolness in the freshening breeze
The cattle shelter from the sun in the shade of the trees
On the radio news we hear every day
Of destroyed homes from bush fires from here not far away
Many such fires lit by pyromaniacs people with darkness of mind
It is sad to think of the destructive callousness of some of our own kind
Things are very quiet in the park by the bay
In the children's playground no children at play
Their mums do not bring them to play in the sun
Such warm weather for them cannot be too much fun
White butterflies dancing in the afternoon breeze
On a day that is warm close to thirty degrees.

Friday, January 25, 2013

Some People

Some people have as much feeling in them as a stone
Any act of kindness they could never condone
They think they do suffer of guilt of the mind
The people who to others are generous and kind
To help others such people would never go out of their way
And of the good side of humanity they have nothing to say
Respect to good people they never could pay
Show their sort a flowering garden and they will only see decay
The  unfeeling people who live without empathy
For those doing it tough they feel no sympathy
They are not an asset to the human race
The World for them in it not a better place
As self centred people they will live till the day they will die
To them all that matters is me, myself and i.

The Journey In Life

The journey in life for no two seems the same
One destined for poverty one for wealth and fame
But it is a journey that ends for all one day
The Reaper of lives on our lives has the final say

It is a fact of life we are born to die
The same for the billionaire as you and  i
In common mortality we all do share
The Reaper of lives any life does not spare

Three score and ten years the average human life span
A few years more for a woman than it is for a man
Eventually we all become victims of time
And we seem to age quickly beyond our life's prime

We are born as mortals why otherwise pretend
Our journey in life for us does have an end
And whether our remains are buried entire or to ashes do burn
Of Nature we are and to her we will return.

Everyone For Themselves

Such a negative saying left to me to recall
Everyone for themselves and god for us  all
Moses unwritten commandment of thine own self take care
I like many others of this seem aware
Take care of thine own self these words ring so true
And give yourself the credit you feel is your due
For people reluctant for to self promote
Are seldom known to become worthy of note
The humblest always die in obscurity
This is how it is and it always will be
Those into self of self only boast
To others you never see them drink a  toast
Such a negative saying left to me to recall
Everyone for themselves and god for us all.

Thursday, January 24, 2013

These People Do Not Help You

Since of your own flaws you may well be aware
How others feel of you why should you much care
Some people for to be judgemental are known
They seem to fail to realize your business is your own
Such people in their lives one does meet every day
They struggle a  kind word of others to say
That others too have feelings they fail to realize
Such people grow older but never grow wise
In your life you do have your crosses to bear
And of worries you are one who has your own share
The negative opinions of you of others are what you do not need
To the judgements of the judgemental why pay any heed
You have to work hard your bills for to pay
These people do not help you in any way.

I Do Know That Babies

I do know that babies on bushes do not grow
But so little of Nature and life i do know
Yet i learn a little from life every day
We never stop learning as some  like to say
For our lessons in life there is some price to pay
This is how it is and it will always be this way
But our successes or lack of such all the same to us in the end
Since we are mere mortals why otherwise pretend
Does it matter if some dismiss me as a fool
Or if i was the dunce of  the primary school
Others have their opinions and this suits me fine
And what they think of me is their business not mine
The only form of success i crave in my life span
Is that i should live as a far kinder man.

Who Knows

Who knows what tomorrow will bring us who know of us what lay ahead
But one thing i do know for certain that you never again wake when you are dead
We hear of and read of ghost stories you believe what you want to believe
If you believe all that others do tell you your own self you only deceive
We live for a  spell not a long spell three score and ten not a long time
The years quickly start to tell on us every year we live past our prime
And time does not wait for anybody it ever keeps ticking away
Tomorrow will come in it's own time try to make the most of today
Enjoy life and try to live as happy who knows what tomorrow will bring
Laughter is the gift of the happy it is such a wonderful thing
Those who can laugh make light of their worries they do make the most of their day
Hard times does not worry some people they seem to laugh their cares away
There is one thing i can guarantee you and that is you will not wake from the dead
Who knows what the  future will bring us who knows of  us what lay ahead

Wednesday, January 23, 2013

I Know Of Life It Is Not Always Easy

I know of life it is not always easy though many know of it far tougher than me
I was not born to be a homeless person and i was not born to be a refugee
But i too have my moments of great sadness when happier times lost to me i recall
That our saddest memories can be born of laughter is something that does apply to us all

In life in many ways i have been lucky and of my lot i never could complain
But i too have known of the tearful moments the  sorrow we do feel in others pain
I've wept for the deceased in life that i did love in the flesh them i will not meet again
That we weep for ourselves when we do weep for others a fact of life beyond me to explain

I live far south of my first ever homeplace from where in life  i see my first sunrise
The passing years have left me  feeling older and natural aging i have no wish to disguise
I was a primary schoolboy of the fifties and going back in time  that does seem long ago
I am in the Autumn of my life's existence the ticking of time it has  become my foe

I know of life it is not always easy though having said that i too am aware
That many than me do know of it far tougher and are burdened with heavier crosses for to bear
Suppose in many ways i have been lucky far luckier than many could wish to be
I was not born to be a homeless person and i was not born to be a refugee.

His Responsibilities In Life

For years he has been talking of moving to elsewhere
And trying out his  luck in the big World out there
But with a wife and two young children he must work for his pay
And talk of how life might be in the towns far away

To his responsibilities in life he must remain as true
And his dreams of travel he cannot pursue
He must remain as loyal to his children and his wife
Circumstance can change for us what might be in life

Many of those he went to school with in life  have moved on
For self betterment to distant towns they have gone
The lure of the wander in some of the young is strong
They feel in the Hometown they do not belong

He only can imagine for him what might have been
In far away cities he has not yet seen
But he must fulfill his responsibilities in life
To his very young children and their mother his wife.

The Great Gift Of Hope

Your worth as a person you often do doubt
And sometimes you do wonder what's life all about
But for a better future to hope you do cling
The great gift of hope is a wonderful thing
Though you feel forsaken by the lucky gods
You keep battling on against all of the  odds
For failure in your life you do not have a plan
Hope does spring eternal in the positive man
You never tell yourself that life is  unfair
Or wave the white flag in the face of despair
To improve your lot in life you have the need
Those who try hard for success eventually succeed
The sad songs of failure you refuse to sing
The great gift of hope is a wonderful thing.

Tuesday, January 22, 2013

I Keep Rhyming On

For many years i have been a rhyming buff
And i am one who has penned many pages of stuff
My best years in life to the forever gone
But true to my calling i keep rhyming on

Since in it for me no fame, reward or pay
Some advise me for to give rhyming away
But to them of course i do never pay heed
Since of their sort of advice i am not in need

I never feel short of things in rhyme for to say
A man who loves rhyme i do rhyme every day
To rhyme is so easy as easy as can be
At least anyhow that's how it seems to me

Enjoyment from penning rhyme my only gain
And as a writer of rhymes i do hope to remain
And since with rhyme words i am one who does love  to play
I hope to be rhyming on my life's final day

If i told you otherwise it would be a lie
As a rhymer i live and as a rhymer i will die
The rhymes come to me in notebook i pen them down
But never for money or literary renown.

A Very Warm Day

The warm air full of the buzzings of flies and of bees
The day it is warm close to forty degrees
Around the flower beds and the blossoming trees
The white and the brown butterflies seemingly dance in the breeze
The park seems deserted no children at play
For them it has to be an out of the sun day
Of such heatwave conditions nice things one  cannot say
Though the  weather forecast has a cool change on the way
The weather of late has been acting quite strange
We are in the century of Climate Change
The unpredictable temperatures soar up and  drop down
And  the sprinklers at work in the gardens of the town
Of more homes lost to bushfires in the  news we do hear
For some it will not be a very good year.

Gray Haired Balding Joe

It does seem like time is becoming his foe
The young man of the fifties gray haired balding Joe
In September 1957 he kicked the winning goal on Grand Final Day
In victory for him such a mighty hooray

In October he will celebrate his  birthday eighty three
He clearly is not the man he used to be
Ten times a grandfather divorced by his wife
Ten years ago she re-married but then such is life

Eventually time on us all it does show
He is showing his age he does walk stiff and slow
The memories of his better years fading to time
It has been awhile since he was in his prime

One never found to be wanting when put to the test
A champion footballer when he was at his best
But he is  not the man he was decades ago
Time has left it's mark on gray haired balding Joe.

Monday, January 21, 2013

I Only Can Live In The Moment

Some who claim themselves to be seers claim into the future they can see
But such gifts are not mine for to talk of i cannot even say how tomorrow will be
The future i cannot look into i take it one day at a time
Just food for thought as the old saying goes another chance for me to rhyme
The seconds of our lives are ticking to minutes and hours of the day
On anyone time is not waiting it ever keeps ticking away
I was a young man of the sixties the years have left me walking slow
In life i have learned a few lessons yet so little i seem to know
Of people and the World we live in we never stop learning as some say
And it does seem for every life lesson that we do have some  price for  to pay
From life we are always learning and we will be for as long as we live
And it is true  what the wise say about life for to receive we have to give
Of the past i only have memories and  i cannot say how tomorrow will be
I only can live in the moment that is all that does matter to me.

We Weep For Ourselves

Old memories we cling to from us fading fast
We weep for ourselves when we weep for the past
The things that once were that will never more be
The people we loved we will never more see

Only memories of what was are ours to retain
We weep for what was that cannot be again
We weep for ourselves when we weep for the dead
I only quote here what a wise one once  said

The dead do not know when for them we shed tears
In their lives they too had their good and bad years
For many of them death from life was a welcome release
They have earned their rest leave them to rest in peace

The old  bloke in the pub he has tears in his eyes
For where he will never more see the sun rise
For old friends he loved in distant graveyards they do lay
He weeps for himself and his past far away

Our sorrows in life to us come at a cost
We weep for ourselves when we weep for what to us  is lost
Our happiest times as sad memories in us  remain
The workings of life  beyond me  to explain.

By Simply Becoming A Better Man

Life is short the longest lived human life in time itself is not a lengthy span
I only wish to be a better person to live my life as a far better man
To care more about the welfare of others and rise above the me, myself and i
In life what we send around to us return is something that is not based on a lie
In life we can work towards our own good Karma if for our good Karma we plant the good seed
Yes Karma will reward you in a good way for your every act of kindness and good deed
 I too can make the Human World better to live  in by performing some act of kindness every day
The love  we give to others never wasted we give to receive since life is this way
In me i know there is room for improvement in my ways i am one who is quite small
Like  many i am one who is self centred for others i have done little at all
But i too can make the World better to live in by simply becoming a better me
If we can only see the flaws in others the flaws in ourselves we will never see
The longest lived human life is not a long one in time itself it is only a brief span
But i can make the World a better World to live in by simply becoming a better man.

Sunday, January 20, 2013

Yesterday Has Gone

The Seasons do come and the Seasons do go
And eventually time becomes  everyone's foe
The boy of the fifties is showing time's decay
One might say he has known of a far better day
The memories are all we retain of the  past
And the clocks on our lives ever keep ticking fast
We only can learn from the yesterday
And live in the now as some are known to say
Like the  food that we eat on us a use by date
With other life forms we share a  common fate
For our lessons  in life always some price to pay
We learn as we live it does seem this way
We live in the now and  time does  tick on
And tomorrow will dawn and yesterday has gone.

On Aussie Magpies

They sing in the daytime, nightfall and daybreak
And sometimes at night them by their songs none should not mistake
The flute like notes of the Aussie magpie melodious and clear
The birds who do sing every day of the year
The  black and white birds the size of a medium sized crow
So little about them i can claim to know
Though i see them often many times every day
They live in small family groups since this is  their way
For their aggressive behavior towards other birds and humans at their breeding time they are well known
One might say of them that they have ways of their own
They kill smaller birds which they pluck for to eat
It runs in their family the fondness of meat
Still they do have quite a beautiful song
And by voice alone one could not get them wrong.

On The Boeing Swim 2013

In Brian Sullivan's Mal Paso Pub in Millstreet a cheque presentation was made
To the Canon O Donovan Centre such kindness from the memory will not fade
From The Boeing New Year Swim close to four thousand euros this is not bad at all
In anyone's language of money such an amount is not small

The  organizers and sponsors and swimmers of the Boeing New Year Swim of themselves can feel proud
Of the praises of their achievements we ought to sing loud
To swim in the Blackwater in the depths of Winter seems quite daunting to me
That these are quite noble people would  you not agree?

A story and  a group photo of themselves in the Corkman they will see
And  a program on them will be  on L T V
It does fill the migrant mind with a sense of pride
To read a story such as this from the home countryside

True greatness of them hardly can be denied
The  fame of the Boeing New Year Swimmers has traveled far and wide
In cold  January they enter the icy Blackwater with chattering teeth
A hardy race of people from in and near Millstreet

Of the depths of their courage one has to feel impressed
For a worthy cause not found to be  wanting when put to the test
To swim in the Blackwater in the depths of Winter is a brave act indeed
And of more of their sort the Human World is in need

To the organizers and  sponsors and  swimmers of the Boeing New Year Swim homage  we ought to pay
That they raised near four thousand euros for the Canon O Donovan Centre does seem quite okay
It takes great courage  to swim in the icy Blackwater on a  cold  January day
And i want to hear for them a lusty hooray.

Saturday, January 19, 2013

Suppose This Is How It Is

Who becomes Australia's 2013 Grand Slam Tennis Champions why should  i much care
Since in their big wins i will not be one to share
But may the  best man and woman win on the day
Good luck to them on their success is all i can say
For their hero and heroine worship they do not need me
I may not even watch a  game on the t v
Some people invest so much of their money and time on others fame
And tennis  to me it is only a game
In sports as in all things in human life the emphasis is on success
But egostistical people me fail to impress
We create these tall poppies give  them wealth and renown
And ignore the homeless of the poor side of the town
Suppose this is how it is and it always will be
Though with my way of thinking so few do agree.

The Darkness Of Nothingness

To daydream of better i must be a fool
How silly of me the once dunce of the school
To think that one day that i might be a poet
A person well worthy of literary note

I am of the World of the small minded men
Like scared little puppy locked in the  lion's den
Trying for to break free of my cocoon of fear
The voices of negativity are all i do hear

A horrible World to live in today
Where the greedy and arrogant have their own way
To the autocratic and narcissistic most of our power we do give
The people who do not believe on live and let live

A World where many grow poorer for every new millionaire
Where most of the wealth is controlled by those who do not know how to share
In a World where i feel as one of the strange
The  things  that need changing i feel helpless to change

Like Autumn leaf in the rapids of the  flooded stream
Of a better life i no longer do dream
I used to wish for what i never could be
And only the darkness of nothingness does await me.

You May Be A Person

You may be a person burdened with life's care
Though your sort in the  Human World are not rare
The lust for life in you keeps you living on
Though you feel your better times by now long gone
Of the praises of a noble death the poets may sing
But the great lust for life is a marvellous thing
Though down on your luck the will in you to live
To life you do feel you have  heaps for to give
Who knows what tomorrow to you it will bring
With the joys of life you may whistle and sing
You may win the big lotto jackpot tonight
Such thoughts does give rise to the  joys of delight
Luck not on your side and you financially down
Yet you are not the only one like this in the town.

Friday, January 18, 2013

The Koroit Trucks

All day and all night the trucks pass up and down
Between Geelong and Warrnambool through Koroit Town
It is business as usual by night and by day
Out there on the Warrnambool-Penshurst roadway

Whilst the residents of Koroit in their beds do sleep
Milk and oil tankers and truck loads of cattle and sheep
On Commercial Road buzz on through the night
In Koroit big passing trucks a common sight

Koroit in Victoria is known far and wide
As an old Irish Town in the green countryside
Whilst the residents sleep the big trucks are  out
It is  business as usual that goes without doubt

Long after the shops have closed the trucks pass up and down
In the dead of the night through old Koroit Town
Oil and milk tankers and truck loads of cattle and sheep
Whilst the local residents in their beds do sleep.

Today Is A Nice Day

In Victoria the weather gets warm in the Summer-time
Some days close to forty in January's prime
But much cooler weather in the  Southern Fall
Few days over thirty if any at all
Today is a nice day twenty four degrees
Such good outdoor weather with a freshening breeze
That blow up the street from the park by the bay
With the  pleasant scent of newly mown Summer hay
Such beautiful weather for to be alive
To go for a walk or to go for a drive
Earthly Utopia from here cannot be far away
How could one find fault with a day like today
The song of the magpie melodious and clear
The bird who does sing every day of the year.

I Simply Refuse

Though wrong in some way to me they may have done
I simply refuse for to hate anyone
I leave them to Karma for their sins to pay
What goes around comes around life is this way
As a feeling hatred is a wasted energy
At least anyway that's how it seems to me
A negative thing for the health of the mind
Those capable of hatred struggle to be kind
I just wish to be one to live and let live
As a person to others with love for to give
Ill feeling towards another to hatred can grow
Such a feeling i do not wish for to know
Though wrong in some way to me  they may have done
I simply refuse for to hate anyone.

Thursday, January 17, 2013

Your Moment Of Truth

In a Human World where many are  lacking in ruth
For each one of us there's our moment of truth
The very moment that you come to realize
That you are a mere mortal this is not a surprise
For years you convinced yourself how marvellous you are
You took pride in your great job and family, your new home and big car
But now it saddens you to realize that you are not so great
That a false image of yourself you did create
Like many you live for me, myself and i
Only now you realize that you too have to die
The moments of your life keep ticking away
Time is in a hurry as some like  to say
You like many others are lacking in ruth
But you too are faced with your moment of truth.

When The Mining Boom End

What will happen in Australia when the mining boom end
Will China remain as our good and dear friend?
Our friendships based on trade and big business would you not agree
This is how it is and it always  will be

Austalia's wealthiest mining magnate Gina Rinehart a known billionaire
Any percentage of her wealth with the Nation's people refuses to share
Any form of mining tax on her profits she refuses to pay
That greed can be addictive does seem sad to say

She has made her billions in money on Aboriginal Land
The people whose culture and ways she will never understand
The Land that was their's from them stolen away
Australia's first people remain as poor today

On the mining boom in Australia there is a use by date
And nothing will be left for to celebrate
Where the wealth of the Country was taken from the ground
Large unfilled holes in mined lands in numbers will abound

That Australia will be worse off for mining when the  mining boom end
And the last mine has been mined on that you can depend
And China the economic giant will be looking elsewhere
For new mining friends in the big World out there.

Michael Looney

Michael Looney was a former Sacristan in Millstreet he left his Hometown many years ago
He went to earn his livelihood in Dublin where he had lived for forty years or so
In Millstreet Parish one who was missed by many he was a  really nice person to know
On his behalf it was a huge decision for him to leave his home in Minor Row

Perhaps it was to be  in his life's journey that he was destined to leave the Town by Clara Hill
On his visits to there he must have witnessed changes time as we know it never does stand still
There isn't any place that has not gone  through changes since change is known to visit everywhere
A lot of people Michael knew in Millstreet had gone to live in the big World out there

Michael Looney was a good and decent person for to help others he went out of his way
You would not find one  who knew him in Millstreet of him with an unkind word for to say
He was one  who was known and liked by many in him Millstreet's loss was surely Dublin's gain
One can only hope in dying he did not suffer since for many life's journey does end in pain

It must have  been his wish for to be buried in Millstreet since by Cashman's Hill his  last remains does lay
Our journey in life meant to have an ending for all of us a final night and day
He was not a very old man Michael Looney maybe a dozen years with the three score
In life he was a good and decent person and may he rest in peace forever more.

Wednesday, January 16, 2013

In The Fields Near Millstreet

I learned about life in the fields near Millstreet
In the place of rushes where the rivers do meet
The little brown lark from the tussock did fly
To carol his song in the gray morning sky

When the hawthorns were cloaked in their white blooms of May
In the prime of the Spring from here far away
I gazed on Nature with the awe of a boy
Such beautiful memories are mine to enjoy

The song of the dipper i fancy i hear
The stream he sings in to my thoughts ever near
The dark brown water bird with breast white as snow
Of him and his ways i was getting to know

I only have memories of beauty i've seen
The bluebells in bloom on the ditch of bohreen
The robin did sing on a silver birch tree
His song today living in my memory

Where i used to daydream i might be a poet
A person well worthy of literary note
But daydreams are just that and seldom come true
And we receive from life what is only our due

In the  place of rushes where the rivers do meet
I learned about life in the fields near Millstreet
And only the memories with me now remain
Of beauty i never may witness again.

Doing Something For Nothing

I like to pen doggerel in my spare time
And that in itself can hardly be a crime
But some opinionated people to me do say
How can you do something without reward or pay

Of my needs in life they are hardly aware
With them i have little in common to share
Money and materialism in life is their thing
I always leave them their own praises to sing

My battles in life i do face on my own
I feel no great desire to be famous and known
It is hard for to make of anyone a friend
If your way of life they cannot comprehend

I do look at life in a weird sort of way
Quite different to many i do meet evey day
Materialism and sports scarce interests me at all
Not my favorite subjects cricket and football

In my spare time i do like to pen doggerel
Perhaps i am bound for the Poetasters Hell
And some opinionated people offer me free advice
Saying doing something for nothing is not a good choice.

Tower Hill

A valley that's locked in a volcanic rim
Tower Hill is the old home of the Budj Bim
As the first Australians of the Southern Land
Their culture far more respect ought to command

Home to koala, emu, wallaby and roo
Echidna, long bill corella and black cockatoo
And once home to Australia's first people a very old Race
Tower Hill near Koroit is a mysterious place

Scare enough of grass in Tower Hill for to sustain a hare
The rabbits and wallabies and emus and roos have cropped the  grass bare
Where there is over-grazing weeds seem to thrive
Long droughts and dry Seasons such plants do survive

In the dark shallow waters of Tower Hill Lake
The harsh quack of the duck the soft piping of the drake
Where many species of waterfowl in large numbers abound
Wildlife to be seen in Tower Hill all year round

The black and white magpie with the silver bill
Upon a black wattle piping in Tower Hill
In a valley that is locked in a volcanic rim
The spiritual home  of the old Budj Bim.

Tuesday, January 15, 2013

Today Is Such A Nice Day

I am not one as sucessful in the ways of financial gain
But in life i have been lucky i have no cause to complain
I am living in a nice place  Nature's beauty around me
There is some truth in the saying the best things in life are free
Today it is such a nice day around twenty two degrees
Not too cool or not too warm with a very gentle breeze
That gently stirs the leaves and blossoms on the bushes and the trees
In what is a natural food source for the nectar gathering bees
Though my worth as a rhymer i have reason for to doubt
No shortage of things in Nature for me to rhyme about
Wafting from a nearby paddock the sweet scent of Summer hay
It is so good to be living on such a nice Summer's day
Upon a sunlit gum tree the bird who sings all year
The warbling of the magpie so pleasant for to hear.

Nhill's Most Famous Person

Nhill's most famous person will always be John Shaw Neilson the poet who was born in Penola Town
But it was in Nhill in the Mallee that he became famous and claimed his place in literary renown
He was the  greatest poet of his part of Victoria not anyone with him for to compare
Though financially he died a very poor man poets such as he was does remain as rare
There will never be  another John Shaw Neilson with words he was one who did have a way
A marvellous poet his  poems did outlive him and many of them famed and known today
Native Companions Dancing and Granny Sullivan, Beauty Be Delicate and The Orange Tree
These are the sort of poems that live forever that are not born to mortality
He worked for many years as a road worker for him in life never an easy pay
There will never again be a John Shaw Neilson at least not in the Mallee anyway
He never married never fathered children a batchelor till the  day he did die
To say by many as a poet he has been under-rated would be a fact and fact does never lie
He died a poor man on his seventieth year one who never did play sports or football
Yet he is one  who has made Nhill quite famous the Mallee's greatest writer of them all.

Some Men Do Grow Sillier

Some men do grow sillier as they grow  older their own praises they feel quite happy to sing
They suffer from what's known as over-inflated egos to dwell on their own sense of self importance for them the in thing
They think they are life's gift to the younger women when they look in their mirrors they fail for to see
That they are not handsome just tired old codgers how utterly stupid some old men can be
Even in their best years they were not life's gift to women this is something they never will come to realize
Some men as they age they do seem to grow sillier the great gift of wisdom only belong to the wise
I know  this old  bloke he is  in his mid seventies he walks hand in hand in the  park with one half of his age
He thinks that she loves him but she loves his money why should she love one near to life's senile stage
He does seem so proud and  he walks with a swagger some men are enamored in their self conceit
They fail to realize that women too love money an egotistical old man lives on every street
Some men do grow sillier as they grow older suppose we cannot help the way that we are
They have not grown any wiser with time's passage though from their first home-town they have traveled far
They seem very happy for to sing their own praises the silly are many the wise only few
Am i telling you something that you do know of and something you know of to you nothing new?

Monday, January 14, 2013

Perhaps I'll Never More

Perhaps i'll never more see Clara Mountain or Caherbarnagh and the Paps of Shrone
Or the deep lake in lonely Gortavehy locked in the shadows of the hill of stone
I've traveled far south of Sliabh Luachra and Duhallow where time has left me looking an aging man
Perhaps it will not be by the Boggeragh Ranges that i'm destined for to live  out my life span
Perhaps i'll never more see Cullen Village or walk on the West End of Millstreet Town
Or hear the robin sing in a Claraghatlea grove where i used to live when my hair was dark brown
No longer young the schoolboys of the fifties the  years have left them looking bald and gray
On looking back the Seasons went so quickly and time as ever keeps ticking away
Perhaps i'll never again see Rathmore or Gneeveguilla or visit the Village of Knocknagree
In such places today i'd feel a stranger where not one person would recognize me
The children i went to school with some are deceased and some like me are living far away
And some did live their lives in the home  parish and are the aging grandparents of today
Perhaps i'll never again see the Boggeragh Mountains or places where i used to live before my hair turned gray
On looking back the years did  go so quickly time does not wait as some are known to say.

Not General Kowledge

Of Irish literature he does not know much though he has read the works of the Irish literary greats
He does think that the National Bard of Ireland was that famous person William Butler Yeats
But as we know the National Bard of Ireland is one James Clarence Mangan by name
One long deceased before Yeats was born his poems live on to his enduring fame
He does not know that much of Irish Literature if on Ireland's National Bard he has it wrong
I did not even bother to correct him since such common knowledge to most does belong
One than me who was far more educated since he could boast of a literary degree
And i could only wish him well in parting since him i'm never more likely to see
That education is not general knowledge is something i have come to realize
That he did not know the National Bard of Ireland did come to me as quite a big surprise
Our conversation it was not a  long one and him i'm never more likely to meet
The educated man i met this morning whilst walking to the shops along the street
Yet he did not know the National Bard of Ireland though he did have a literary degree
That education is not general knowledge is how it seems to ordinary me.

For Me Like All

For me there may not be a tomorrow i only can live my life by the day
I never do look far into the future the now is all that matters anyway
At sixty six i've seen a lot of seasons on length of life never a guarantee
If this is how it is for everybody why should it be any different for me
I first saw daylight north of this  great Country from here by northern hills thousands of miles of sky
On looking back the years did go so quickly the decades of my life did tick on by
I feel grateful for every day of life i've been granted i would like to live to die as an old man
But our gift of life at most is only terminal and the longest lived life in time is not a long span
I spent my life's early years by distant mountains though further south i may live my last Spring
When warmth of Spring comes to the northern Country i never more may hear the dipper sing
The dark brown dweller of the upland waters the river bird with breast as white as snow
When i was young his song to me  familar and by his voice  him i did get to know
I cannot say if i will see tomorrow i only take it one day at a  time
For me  like all there will be a last sunset and for me like all there will be a last rhyme.

Sunday, January 13, 2013

He Is One I See Often

He is one i see often though not every day
And to each other we never have much for to say
Except a hello in passing whenever we meet
We never do stop for a chat on the street
His interests in life are quite different to mine
And we share little in common though that suits me fine
And though he is a good person of that i don't doubt
To each other we have nothing  for to talk about
A friendship between different mindsets is hard to cultivate
To those of similar interests we tend to gravitate
Suppose this is how it is and it always will be
My friend in his or her thinking quite similar to me
I do meet him often though not every day
Though to each other we never have much for to say.

Nostalgia For What Was

The lust of the wander took me far away
From where i first looked on the bright lamp of day
Yet nostalgia for what was in me does remain
And in fancy i walk in the old fields again

As a young man i daydreamed i would be a poet
A person well worthy of literary note
But daydreams are just that and seldom come true
And from life we receive what is only our due

In far away fields when i was a young boy
Learning about Nature i used to enjoy
My wonder of the Natural World did grow
Yet of Nature so little i can claim to know

I may never again see the wildflowers of May
Bloom in the old fields from here far away
But in my flights of fancy the chaffinch does sing
On a leafy birch tree in the prime of the Spring.


To help others out some go out of their way
And perform a good deed sometimes more every day
Whilst others of self only do seem to care
And of the needs of others never seem aware
Some never grow wiser only old and gray
It does take all kinds as some are known to say
Most people when young do daydream of renown
But few become famous beyond their hometown
Your idea of a successfuly lived life is quite different to mine
But that's your opinion and that suits me fine
If on everything we saw fit to agree
How utterly boring indeed we would be
Some on their life journeys travel far and wide
And some do grow old in their home countryside.

Saturday, January 12, 2013

In Life It Is Said

In life it is said we must give to receive
On such a philosophy i do believe
Though some only know how to take and not give
For self and self only such people do live
Some people seem naturally generous and kind
It is in their nature to be this way inclined
To help those in need of helping they go out of their way
And perform at least one good deed every day
It is said about friendship that your true friend indeed
Will never forsake you in your time of need
Some people of their needs seem all too aware
They know how to take but not give or share
In life it is said we must give to receive
On such a philosophy i do believe.

It Is Mid Winter Now In Duhallow

It is mid Winter now in Duhallow the weather cold enough to snow
And from the bleak hills of the Boggeragh the chill winds of January blow
And swollen by streams and smaller rivers the Blackwater in flood waters of brown
Is raging bank high in the old fields in the flat country towards Mallow Town

Mid winter is bleak in Duhallow nine weeks from the first signs of Spring
When new leaves on the trees are budding and the nesting songbirds do sing
When cattle out of wintering sheds on the lush grass are gaining in weight by the day
And the swallows to breed are back in their home-place from the warm climes far away

From the fields by the Boggeragh Mountains where they did first look on daylight
Birds born with the lure of the wander their tireless wings destined for flight
The gray fog has obscured the mountains and the freshening winds promise more rain
And brown rain water flowing with a gurgle in every field and roadside drain

It is mid Winter now in Duhallow a tad below zero degrees
And the migratory redwings are chirping on branches of the naked trees
They were born far north of Duhallow in five weeks from now they will fly
To breed in their northern woodlands these travelers of the northern sky.

Dan Joe Kelleher

Dan Joe Kelleher played Gaelic football for the Aubane Club when he was in his prime decades ago
When put to the test he never shirked a challenge i say of him what happens to be so
He was a tall and fit and sturdy fellow one might say a good bloke to have on your side
He always worked hard for his honest living in honor he was one who did take pride

When i knew Dan Joe he did have a girl friend but i cannot say if she became his wife
Or i cannot say if he did father children we all do make our own journeys in life
What matter most there was much to like about him a lot of nice things in him to recall
And sad to learn that his gift of life has left him for everyone of us a final Fall

As a young man he cut down trees at the back of Mushera Mountain in weather often cold enough to snow
Across the foothills of the mountain country the chilly winds are often known to blow
But Dan Joe did not seem to mind the hard work and he did not mind it when the going got tough
On Tullig Hill a hardy breed of people for life's great battle the sort good enough.

Dan Joe would have been in his early to mid sixties he did not live to die as an old man
I did know him when he was a strong young fellow full of the joys of life's youthful elan
He rests in peace now in quiet old St Mary's where many of the dead of Millstreet lay
The World was better for him living in it of him that would seem a fair thing to say.

Friday, January 11, 2013

I Know Of Life

I know of life it is not meant to be easy though some advantaged by birth it does seem
To live as poor to none is an advantage poverty does little for one's self esteem
And yet for one to grow rich many seemingly grow poorer in a fair Human World it would not be this way
Though some will tell you we have our life choices words such as this seem easy for to say
What life choices have the poor luckless children who live homeless on Poverty Street
In their young years life for them is an uphill battle life's toughest challenges at an early age they meet
What chance in life have they of being successful not very much at all 'twould seem to me
Only the very most determined person can rise above the drag of poverty
In the Human World the social gap keeps widening it grows a little bigger by the day
That the majority of the World's finances controlled by the minority does seem a very sad thing for to say
But the Human World has been this way for centuries this is how it is and it will always be
And sadly things have not changed for the better in the early years of the twenty first century
For most people life is far from easy this does seem a fair thing for to say
And winners they always will be grinners and in life it has always been this way

Some Birds

Some birds distinctive in their chirp or song
Once heard you never seem to get them wrong
The magpie and the blackbird and pee wee
By voice alone familiar birds to me
Of Nature little i can claim to know
And yet my wonder of her only grow
Many birds by voice i cannot recognize
Of Nature i know less than i realize
The kookaburra one could not mistake
He laughs loud in the dark before daybreak
And no mistaking  the call of the pale eyed crow
A voice that everybody seems to know
Most birds distinctive by their chirp or song
Though many of them i seem to get wrong.

I Have Loved Mother Nature

I have loved Mother Nature since i was a boy
And learning of her ways today i enjoy
But the more i learn of her the more i realize
That i know little of her is this a surprise?
Though about her she has a mysterious way
Of her we do learn something new every day
There is more to the bird than the song it does sing
The wonders of Nature an amazing thing
Generations of artists and writers she does inspire
And of singing her praises one never could tire
The one with the power in her to regenerate
Such natural beauty she does create
I grew to love her as a boy from here far away
And of her i do learn something new every day.

Thursday, January 10, 2013

We Are In The Age Of Narcissism

We are in the age of narcissism where self promotion is the in thing
You may struggle for to be successful if your own praises you cannot sing
Many young people daydream of glory but daydreams do seldom come true
There is an old saying from past decades that from life we do receive our due
Us humans are very competitive with each other for success to compete
For to be number 1 in your neighborhood and be number 1 on your street
For to be celebrated and famous the toast and the talk of the town
Though many daydream of being famous few ever do know of renown
And yet the most famous are mortals and as mortals we are born to die
The same for the mouse and the rabbit the same for the monarch and i
We are in the age of narcissism where to praise self is seen as okay
The winners take all of the glory that's life as some are known to say
And yet we are born as mortals to live for awhile and to die
The same for the hare and the parrot and the same for the president and i.

The Future Belongs To The Young

Of heroes and heroines the stories are written and of them songs and ballads are sung
But they have grown old tired and weary and the future belong to the young
Their best years forever behind them those who have lived past their life's prime
Their children the hope of the future no holding back the hands of time
I look and feel old tired and weary my better days in the long gone
Our biological clocks keep on ticking on our journeys through life they tick on
The future belongs to the children and this is how it always will be
The aging they did have their innings though some with this may disagree
The number 1 in his or her sport in the World as number 1 is not destined to stay
The younger one ready to challenge youth does have it's fling as they say
The future belongs to the children the aging one is of the past
The Seasons of life pass so quickly and the biological clocks ticking fast
Of the heroes and heroines stories are written and of them songs and ballads are sung
But they have grown old tired and weary and the future belongs to the young.

Jim In His Late Sixties

In the bigger World out there since he was nineteen
He has traveled a lot and great cities has seen
A grandfather ten times and divorced from his wife
He is happily aging in the single life
Jim in his late sixties his hair silver gray
Is back in his hometown this time for to stay
His traveling days over in life to settle down
In where he used to live when his hair was dark brown
In his hometown he will live his last night and day
In the pub he tells stories to his old mates of his travels far away
Of the wonders he has seen in places elsewhere
And cities he has worked in and lived in on the big World out there
Jim in his late sixties is back home for to stay
With many memories to relate of his travels far away.

Wednesday, January 9, 2013

In January Far Away

Far north even as the migratory bird flies from here far away
It is cold by the old hills very cold today
The chill winds of rain soughing in the bare trees
And the weather temperature down below zero degrees

The hills and foothills are cloaked in the gray fogs of rain
And brown stormwater gurgling in every roadside drain
The river flowing bank high in flood waters of brown
In the bare and wet fields by the old country town

When the chirp of a bird one is not likely to hear
In January far away it is a cold time of year
The cattle in the farm sheds are bellowing for feed
The cold for more fodder in them stirs the need

A time of year when birds aging, frail and old
Succumb to the elements of hunger and cold
When April will bring to the trees new leaves of the Spring
On hedgerow and in grove and wood their children will sing

The harsh winds of winter blow with a cold chill
Above the bare fields by the northern hill
And the sun has not been sighted for many a day
By the fog covered hills in January far away.

As The Very Wise Mother

If you cannot love self you cannot love anyone
That is what the wise mother said to her young son
She did speak of fact and fact never lie
And the truth in her words never destined to die
But far too much self love to narcissism gives rise
Which after all does come at no great surprise
To be over enamored with self for self is not a healthy thing
Their own praises some over inclined to sing
Those with a healthy sense of self love for others do care
And the healthy love in them with others they share
To help those of helping in need they go out of their way
And they do a good deed sometimes more every day
As the very wise mother said to her young son
If you cannot love self you cannot love anyone.

You Are What You Think You Are

Though you may refer to yourself as a poet
And feel you are worthy of literary note
Then honor indeed should only be your due
Since that poets are rare happens for to be true
Though everyone needed in the wordsmith trade
It is true about poets they are born not made
But if you think you are a poet then a poet you must be
That you are what you think you are would you not agree?
We all need recognition in some sort of a way
And to sing your own praises perhaps seems okay
Still poets are a literary breed of their own
Am i telling you what you already have known
You are what you think you are when all is said and done
And that surely must apply to everyone.

Tuesday, January 8, 2013

A Stranger Homesick

To everyone in this town his is a stranger's face
The dark haired young man from the far away place
His grasp of the English language is not good
And he struggles for to make himself understood
He left home for to travel last year in early May
And now he feels homesick for home fields far away
For the beautiful green coastal countryside of Brittany in France
Where he has been linked to by birth circumstance
Of the lure of the wander some people do sing
But homesickness is such a very sad thing
He hopes to be home in Spring for to see the wildflowers
In the fields lush and green after mild April showers
A stranger homesick for his home far away
In this town his will not be a very long stay.

The Temperature At Forty Degrees

The temperature at 40 degrees
And great warmth in the breath of the breeze
The birds and the animals retreat
To the shade of the trees for relief from the heat

On such weather most people indoors like to stay
The park is deserted today
Lucky that days such as today are quite rare
Since such high temperatures can be hard to bear

Yet the magpie who sings all the year
His warbling melodious and clear
And the pee wee of the magpie lark
Does echo in the nearby park

A rise in the temperature of 20 degrees in two days the weather acting strange
We are in the age of Climate change
The paddocks looking bare and brown
And the temperatures soar and drop down

The warmest day thus far of the New Year
And the prime of the Summer quite near
A high of a humid forty degrees
And great warmth in the breath of the breeze

Monday, January 7, 2013

New Year's Day In The Country Town

The silver bill magpie of feathers dark and gray
Is warbling in the sunshine in the park by the bay
The bird who does sing every day of the year
His familiar flute like notes are so pleasant to hear
In the nearby paddock the sweet scent of hay
In a warm though pleasant enough coastal New Year's Day
Though few people on the sidewalks of the country town
And on the street few cars do pass up and down
After the overnight celebrations where noisy revellers did abound
The place is so quiet the silence seems profound
Many quite hung-over will sleep in till late
This is what usually happens when people over-celebrate
A quiet New Year's day in the coastal rural town
And few cars and trucks on the street pass up and down.

Martin Cleary

Martin Cleary a former Sacristan in Millstreet so sad to learn that he has passed away
A family man and to his church devoted by Cashman's Hill at peace he now does lay
He will be sadly missed by his many friends in Millstreet and grieved by his large family and his wife
A good man the World was better for him living in it he did achieve so very much in life

Perhaps in his late fifties or very early sixties Compared to many his was not a lengthy time span
He did not live on to grow old and feeble and lose his gift of life as an old man
As a young man quite tall dark haired and handsome in his twenties when he was in his prime
Days come and go the Seasons pass so quickly we all do become the victims of time

Martin Cleary's life is a life worth celebrating to many people he was a good friend
He did a lot of good on his life's journey on that journey for us all destined to end
He did perform the corporal works of mercy the bright ray of goodness did shine in his mind
He did his best in life that is all one can do he had it in him to be good and kind

By Cashman's Hill he is at rest forever where many of the dead of Millstreet lay
The World was better for him living in it of him that does seem a fair thing to say
Martin Cleary is one who will not be forgotten though the great gift of life from him has gone
In all who knew him and who did know of him good memories of him surely will live on.

Sunday, January 6, 2013

I Will Keep Rhyming On

My rhymes at the best of times are a bit rough
And as a rhymer one might say not quite good enough
But then suppose i was one born to rhyme
But to discover that it did take me some time
I am one who has penned a whole heap of stuff
And for many years i have been a rhyming buff
Addicted to rhyming of me one might say
And rhymers are many in the World of today
I used to daydream that i might be a poet
A person well worthy of literary note
But daydreams are just that and seldom come true
And we receive from life what is only our due
My best days in life in the forever gone
But for as long as i can do i will keep rhyming on.

The Well Traveled Man

He has traveled in the crowded bullet trains of Japan
And seen much of China the well traveled man
He has traveled in India and Pakistan
And been from Adelaide to Darwin on the famous Ghan
A man of the World he does not have a home
He has been to London and Paris and Rome
And he has seen the dangerous and feared crocodile
Basking in the sun on the banks of the Nile
He says he will travel until his dying day
He has been to Canada and the U S of A
Has been on a boat on the Amazon waters deep, wide and still
Flowing in the tropical rainforests of wild Brazil
Only in his late twenties at the height of his prime
In him many years left of traveling time.

Saturday, January 5, 2013

The Wannon Shearer

The passing of time on him beginning to show
The bloke from the place where the dark Wannon flow
Through the old brown country by night and by day
To the distant ocean babbling on it's way

A fifty five year old shearer his hair silver gray
Time even wearies the best as some are known to say
Yet at shearing with the top young shearers he does hold his own
As The Wannon Shearer he is widely known

Though he has made love to many women he's never had a wife
And he does not know whether he has or has not fathered children in his travels in life
He has shorn in many shearing sheds in the big countryside flat and brown
And drunk in the pubs of many a bush town

In the shearing sheds it is hard work in the warmth of Summer-time
For a bloke from Victoria who is well past his prime
Yet at shearing he is one who holds his own with the best
Of the younger shearers of Queensland South West.

True Poets Are Born

Anyone can do it you can have that from me
To rhyme is so easy as easy as can be
And though poetasters are many true poets are few
Am i telling you anything here that is new
After the last breath of life from their bodies have gone
The poems of the true poets for centuries live on
A poem lives for centuries a jingle lives for a day
The cream rises to the top as the wise one did say
Though everyone needed in the Wordsmith Trade
True poets are born and cannot be made
And though many lay claim to the title of poet
Few enjoy the fame of widespread literary note
I am a mere rhymer my type are not rare
Of my capabilities i am aware.

Friday, January 4, 2013


Unconditional love your dogs to you does give
All the days of their lives for as long as they live
If you treat him or her well your dog will love you till the day he or she die
Your dog faithful and non-judgemental  and this is not a lie
For a few pats and a walk and a few feeds every day
Your dog for as long as she or he does live devoted to you will stay
Of some dangerous dogs we do read of and hear
But most aggressive behavior in dogs is born out of fear
Their great fear of bad owners over them who abuse their rule
They are very hostile to strangers the dogs whose owners to them are cruel
A dog is just a dog you hear some people say
But dogs have more kindness and faithfulness in them in their own way
Than many human beings have i only say of them what is true
They are wonderful creatures for to give them their due.


Perhaps i will never again hear the silver back crow
Cawing on a beech tree near where Finnow waters flow
On towards the Blackwater from here far away
With tongue that is never still by night or day

Perhaps Claraghatlea i will never again see
It was an old place that meant so much to me
I left there when Clara wore his hat of snow
Not many there nowadays of me would know

Perhaps i will never more walk up and down
The sidewalks of old Duhallow's Millstreet Town
Where many did know of me by my first name
Time keeps ticking on and few things stay the same

Perhaps i will never again hear the cock robin sing
On a leafy birch tree on an evening in Spring
When the hawthorns are in their blooms of white to gray
And the old fields are decked in their flowers of the May

Perhaps i will never again hear the rill
Babbling to the river down the fields by the hill
And only the memories i have to retain
Of something that was and cannot be again.

Thursday, January 3, 2013


It has inspired story and ballad and song
The wonderful City of greater Geelong
Where every boy who plays football clings to a great dream
Of one day playing with the Cats a great A F L team
As Victoria's second biggest City it is widely known
Geelong it does have a charm of it's own
But there is far more to Geelong than A F L Football
As most of those  who have visited there feel glad to recall
I was in Geelong for a few hours this year
The weather then sunny and breezy and clear
The people there friendly as i've ever met
A memory i'm not likely for to forget
Victoria's second largest City with a charm of it's own
For it's hospitable people Geelong is widely known.

Far From An Earthly Utopia

Though the lorikeets look beautiful on the sunlit trees
And the weather most days warm over twenty degrees
Far from an Earthly Utopia it does seem to me
Though on that many with me may well not agree
The noisy motor boats from the lake have scared the wild life away
It is at Nature's expense that people enjoy their holiday
Where many noisy motor boats are wild-life you do not see
To a less noisy environment they always does flee
People enjoying themselves water skiing in the sun
But what is great to them is not my idea of fun
Since their sense of fun comes at Nature's creatures expense
Them and their noisy motor boats are an environmental offense
Quite offensive to Nature though not breaking any man made law
On the lake in their noisy motor boats they cheer and guffaw.

Wednesday, January 2, 2013

What You Believe In

What you believe in is all of the mind
Believers of myths believe pigs see the wind
Some people are not that hard to deceive
On seemingly unbelievable stories they do believe
Gullible people do believe blatant lies
Though very trusting they are not wise
Open to deception and easy to mislead
They believe everything they hear and read
Pity the gullible so easy to impress
Criminals cheat them out of all the money they possess
For lack of discretion in large sums of money is their price to pay
To be too trusting not to your advantage in the Human World of today
What you believe in is all of the mind
Some even believe that pigs see the wind.

Rumors Are Rumors

Of rumors of the end of the World what have you to fear
When every day we live to death we draw near
The end of our life is the end of the World for us all
This applies to all life forms the great and the small

Long after the breath of life from you has gone
Life on the Planet will surely go on
That us humans are mere mortals happens to be true
Death in the end it is only our due

Like the food we do eat on us all a use by date
Death it is for the unsung and the great
Though in life for yourself a name you have made
Your fame in time from history eventually will fade

Like the Seasons of Nature to life we come and go
Time it eventually does become our foe
Of rumors of the end of the world we read of and hear
But rumors are rumors and what's in them to fear.

Tuesday, January 1, 2013

Peter And Anthea

Peter and Anthea argue a lot
But their verbal disagreements by them quickly forgot
Yet much in common they both do share
That those with similar interests compatible in most ways does not seem rare
Peter and Anthea are compassionate and kind
Better than they are would be hard to find
To help others out they go out of their way
They do perform their good deeds every day
Peter a man who enjoys beer and wine
And with Anthea in Restaurants he likes to dine
They will be friends till the day they do die
That true friendships transcends difference is not a lie
It has been a while since Peter and Anthea were a girl and boy
But their gift of life they do surely enjoy.

What Makes Us Equal

What makes you and i equal to the known billionaire
We live in the same World and we breathe the same air
And they too are born as mortals and destined to die
 Just a fact of life and fact never lie
No such a thing as a blue blood red our blood when we bleed
Rank and class distinction we may have but are of not in need
For the monarch and president there's a last night and day
This is how it is and it has always been this way
One should not judge you by the size of your bank account or car
One can only judge you by the sort of person you are
If you are always willing to help those of helping in need
Then you are a very good person indeed
What makes us equal to the president and monarch and the billionaire
Is that we are born to die and we breathe the same air