Thursday, October 31, 2013

Arthur O' Keeffe

For years he lived with his wife  Peg where they raised their son John and daughter Peg in Millstreet Town's Minor Row
A down to earth quiet fellow though many of him did know
A family man devoted to his family and to his wife
Arthur O' Keeffe lived in Millstreet Town all of his life

Back in the  nineteen fifties Arthur was in his prime
And that is going back many decades in time
And  eventually time to all of us does become the foe
As the Seasons to our lives do come and do go

Arthur's association with Millstreet Town his lifetime did span
Though i do remember him when he was a young man
Tall, well built and handsome his hair was dark brown
One familiar then to everyone in Millstreet Town

From his old home in Minor Row just a short walk away
In St Mary's by Cashman's Hill his last remains lay
From Arthur O' Keeffe's mortal body the  breath of life may have gone
But good memories of the good man he was will live on.

The Old Shearer Joe

Old Joe the ex shearer his hair silver gray
One who surely has  known a far better day
In shearing sheds on the east side of the great Southern Land
Respect as a shearer he used to command

But this is going back a  few decades ago
And time is  beginning to tell on old Joe
In the pub he tells  of his travels and shearing days going back in time
To when he  was a mighty man in his life's prime

In a brief sexual affair he did father a son
Who is now a middle aged father he is forty one
His son and grandchildren he seldom does see
Not the family sort is how he seems to be

In his  early eighties the  man who has lived in and worked in many a place
The wrinkles of time on his craggy face
He was a gun shearer many decades ago
But all he has now are memories the old shearer Joe.

Since Last I Saw Them

Since last i saw them twenty seven years gone by
But on looking back on the past time does seem to fly
Like me time would have left them looking older and gray
My friends of the past where might they be today?
Perhaps some of them in Millstreet did choose for to stay
And like me from there some of them live further away
Amongst people i have known any two i could not name
Whose life journeys have been exactly the same
God memories of them are mine to recall
With them i socialized and played football
But some of the bigger World out there for me waiting to be seen
As the wise one did say the far of hills look green
They were my friends in the past of the past now  long gone
And life all around me as usual goes on.

Wednesday, October 30, 2013

If Because Of You

If because of you the World to live in is a better place
And you meet the challenges of life with a smile on your face
And you help a poor person in need of helping without asking for pay
Of the good things we do in life we receive in good Karma one day
People who help poor people never even know  of local renown
Compassion and empathy never does make one  a toast of the town
But what matter of the needs of others you are one who is aware
And people like you are and were always rare
Of living a good life you have managed to succeed
And of more of your kind the Human World is in need
For those doing it tough you can feel sympathy
They are rare gifts indeed compassion and empathy
And since of the selfish gene you are one who is free
With more like you in it how much better the Human World to live in would be.

Old Merri

On a tree in a paddock near where old Merri flow
I hear the harsh cawing of a  dark pale eyed crow
One of a corvid species that is widely known
It is true about crows they have ways of their own

A waterway that has flowed forever and will flow forever more
Old Merri flows onwards to the Pacific shore
In and out of Lake Pertobe and  on to Lady Bay
It flows on by Warrnambool every night and day

By the Merri on warm Summer evenings long gone in the shade of the trees
The local indigenous tribes had their corroborees
They danced their last dance by the old  waterway
A beauty lost forever this seems sad to say

But old Merri that has inspired story and rhyme
Flows on to the sea through the Seasons of time
And the past cannot be changed it is in the forever gone
But the old waterway to the ocean flows on

Long before the first people to the Southern Land came
Old Merri the river then without a name
Flowed on to the ocean from it's source far away
Through the  flat coastal country by night and by day.

The Beauty In Wisdom

The physical beauty of youth is quick to decay
And many as they age use hair dyes and cosmetics to hide signs of aging away
But the beauty in wisdom that one  cannot visually behold
Does mature with age as the wise one grows old
The physical beauty in youth may be nice to look at in the eyes
But the beauty in wisdom only belongs to the wise
Though wisdom you can hear but never can see
And the wise sad to say are in minority
And though the wise may not be  famous and widely known
One can say of them in a class of their own
The people who learn from life every day
The wise always grow wiser as they grow gray
It is something one  can hear but never can see
But there is beauty in wisdom would you not agree?

Tuesday, October 29, 2013

Broadcasting A Lie

That time claims the wealthy and poor and the villiians and heroes cannot be denied
And the last surviving soldiers of World War 1 long since have died
The war supposed to end  all wars words are so easily said
Since nineteen eighteen millions of war dead
As long a there are human created borders and religion and cultural divisions war will be with us to stay
And more people are dying in conflicts every day
And the numbers of war refugees in their thousands does  grow
From war there is only death and suffering and sorrow  to show
In Patriotism, Nationalism and Racism the seeds of division are sown
I only state here what is already know
To many but people in war daily die
And those who tell us that war does lead to peace are broadcasting a lie.

Only The Memories

It has been many years since my hair was dark brown
Since i lived in Claraghatlea close to Millstreet Town
The years have left me looking balder and older and gray
And time on my life ever ticking away

Some of the boys and girls i went to school with amongst the deceased lay
Whilst others from Millstreet grow old far away
And others in their old  home Parish did stay
Everyone on a different life journey as some like to say

Perhaps i will never see Clara again
Or hear the birds sing in the soft April rain
When the old fields are wearing their flowers of the  Spring
The  great gift of memory is such a wonderful thing

The cold winds of December above the old fields did blow
And Clara was wearing his Winter hat of snow
On the day i left Claraghatlea many years ago
Many Seasons since gone  and time now  is my foe

It has been many years since i heard the silver tongued rill
Babbling it's way to the river down the field by the  hill
And  only the memories with me do remain
Of what used to be for me but may not be again.

A Changed Land Today

At the Shannaknock by road they often parked their horse drawn live in vans
Some of the  born to wander members of the traveling clans
They were born to travel and on the roads they grew old
And at horse fairs by them horses were bought and sold

In the early sixties with the sharp increase in motorized vehicles their way of life did change
To see them in motor vans to say the least strange
But in life as is said few things one could name
That in the passing of time  remains  as the same

Traveling musicians and singers, tinsmiths and horse traders as well
Of their ways and  travels so many stories one could tell
Their horse drawn live in vans never more to be seen at the Shannaknock cross
One of the changes time brought that became Ireland's loss

At the Shannaknock cross by their camp fire they played music, drank, sung and recited rhyme
And sad to say all of this was lost to time
But nothing lasts forever as the wise one did say
And the  Ireland i was raised in is a changed land today.

Monday, October 28, 2013

One I Do See Often

One i do see often though not every day
In her early seventies her shoulder length hair silver gray
With a beautiful smile and a joy for to meet
One untainted by self importance or conceit
She never had children and to any man was never a wife
The  man she loved in his mid twenties in a  work accident lost his life
She has dedicated her life  in the service of others seven years ago from her nursing job she retired
Now she volunteers her time to helping the poor to doing good one inspired
Always helping others for love not for pay
The seeds of good Karma she sows every day
If everyone were like her the Human World would be poverty free
But few with such compassion and empathy
She is one who does have the  bright inner glow
And people like she is are a pleasure to know.

A Sad Thing To Say

The praises of people with heaps of money i always feel reluctant to sing
Except the few who with their money some joy to poor people does bring
But sad to say compassionate and generous wealthy people are only in the few
On saying this i am not saying anything that is new
So many growing poorer for every new millionaire
And many of the wealthy for those doing it tough not even a thought have to spare
The gap keeps on growing in the social divide
And this is quite evident even in wealthy Nations Worldwide
Wealthy people who donate to those who work without profit on behalf of the poor i can only admire
And of singing their praises i for one never tire
But sad to say such people as ever are rare
In a World where there are millions of people for every billionaire
The gap between the wealthy and poor keeps on widening by the day
And this in itself seems a sad thing to say.

In Late October In Macroom

Flowing bank high in the flat fields near Macroom Town
Old River Sullane in flood waters of brown
Swollen from heavy flow of storm waters of every rill and drain
That flow full of brown water from recent rain
The salmon will be swimming up river to spawn
When the flood has gone down in the October dawn
They have made the  long journey of thirty miles or more
To spawn in the Sullane  from the Atlantic shore
The Summer long over and Winter is  near
In late October in Macroom a cold and wet time of  year
Brown leaves in their thousands falling in the cold breeze
In late October in Macroom off of the deciduous trees
And close to six months till the northern Spring
Till the nest building birds will chirp, whistle and sing.

Sunday, October 27, 2013

I Have Loved Mother Nature

I have loved Mother Nature since i was a boy
And learning of her ways today i enjoy
And my wonder of her only does seem to grow
Yet so little about her i can claim to know
And in life we never stop learning as the wise one did say
In my many walks and i walk every day
Of Nature i always do learn something new
Her lessons are many and not in the  few
The love and devotion of Nature's  parents for their  young in the prime of the Spring
One might say is natural yet an amazing thing
The black swans with their gray downy young on the lake
Quite protective of their young their devotion to parenthood quite seriously they do take
I see them on the lake whilst out walking today
That we do never stop learning it does seem this way.

Where I Used To Live

Where i used to live when my hair was dark brown
Claraghatlea a mile by road west of Millstreet Town
But the passing of time has left me balder and gray
And to many there i would be a stranger today

In the early nineteen seventies when in my life's prime
I penned my first rhymes  there this is going back in time
Working in the old fields i loved i daydreamed i would be a poet
A person well worthy of literary note

But daydreams as is known do seldom come true
And from life we  receive what is only our due
And though the rhymes keep coming to me and on paper i pen them down
It is never for daydreams of wealth now or literary renown

But that penning of rhyme is quite enjoyable to me
I have a penning addiction is how it seems to be
My best days as a rhymer in the forever gone
But true to my calling i keep on rhyming on

Where i used to live before time became my foe
Claraghatlea in Duhallow many Seasons ago
I used to daydream then of literary renown
In the old rushy fields just west of Millstreet Town.

Saturday, October 26, 2013

A Paper Deed By Law

A paper deed by law may give you a legal claim to property and land
And this in itself is not hard to understand
But when you say you own land i feel you have it wrong
For how can one own to what one does belong?

From the Earth Mother who feeds us we take and we take and in return to her little give
Yet for life on her we do depend for as long as we live
When i say the land it is her's many would disagree
But what does seem untrue to many is so true to me

It is a fact of life and fact never lie
We are born as  mortals and mortals do die
And whether our remains burn to ash or are buried and  left to decay
To the Earth Mother who feeds us we will return to one day

We cannot own land since the land us does feed
And our only claim to it is a legal paper deed
That claim we do own it until our life  journey end
Just words written on paper why otherwise pretend.

The People I Look On As Quite Ordinary

The people i look on as quite ordinary
Will only say how ordinary i am when talking of me
What we dislike in others in ourselves we do see
At least anyhow this is how  it seems to be
As perfection is not part of natural law
It is natural to have been born with some human flaw
The near to perfect human beings only a few
To this you may say do tell us what is new
Others can be our reflection mirror as the wise one did say
And what we dislike in them we dislike in ourselves it does seem this  way
And when we look for flaws in others flaws we always do find
Though to our own shortcomings most of us  do seem blind
By becoming a more compassionate and caring person you are benefiting the human race
And making the Human World to live in a far better place.

Most Of Us In Our Ways

Most of us in our ways look at life differently
And you in your thinking quite different to me
And  with little in common on few things we agree
But then if we all agreed on all things how boring we would be
That you are a good person does go without doubt
But with little in common for to talk about
When we meet to each other we have little  to say
Except in passing to wish each other good day
That friends have things in common cannot be denied
And since you and i are on different sides of the social and political divide
And since you and i so little in common do share
I feel sure you like me are only too aware
That in the park or shopping center or on the street
We have little to talk about when we do meet.

Friday, October 25, 2013

Warrnambool's Oldest Person

At one hundred and four years of age Warrnambool's oldest person was buried today
In Tower Hill Cemetery Lottie Bowman's last remains at rest forever lay
She lived through two World wars and good and bad economic times knew
In the Human World centenarians are few
She had lived for seven decades past her life's prime
And in seven decades many hours of time
Her great gift of memory she did retain
And all of her faculties till her life's end with her did remain
The  oldest living human being that i have ever met
For as long as i live something i will never forget
A beautiful person with many stories  to tell
Of her childhood years her memory served her well
Few live to one hundred and four that does seem fair to say
And one of them Lottie Bowman who was buried today.

Rhyme Is Not Dead

Some say that the days of the rhymers are gone
But the rhymers as ever rhyming and rhyme will live on
Despite what the twenty first century literary dons of them do say
The rhymers are living and penning rhymes today
The  best decades of rhyme may be in the long gone
But the rhymers are rhyming and rhyme does live on
Those who try to kill off rhyme seem to have it all wrong
For the death of rhyme  would mean the death of song
Those who try to kill off rhyme to do so will never succeed
And thanks be to for that of more rhymers and rhyme we are in need
The so called literary experts can have their blank verse which seems glorified prose
And it is each to their own would one have  to suppose
Those who wish for a rhyme free World will never live  to see the day
For  rhyme is not dead and is with us to stay.

Thursday, October 24, 2013

On The Lithgow Fire

Since the majority of the Australian population their army admire
They are quickly forgiven when an explosive test gone wrong starts a major fire
Like the huge bush fire at Lithgow that thousands of acres of countryside and a few homes destroyed
A blaze in which many animals wild and domesticated would have died
Though the Lithgow fire was not lit deliberately one has to ask why
On a thirty degree plus day with the grass around brown and dry
With the countryside for miles around as dry as dry hay
One must ask why were they explosive testing on such a warm day?
The Australian tax payers for the Lithgow fire damage the bill have to pay
And  that the  fire was not lit deliberately does not make it okay
The deliberate lighting of fires is a serious crime
And those convicted of so doing serve years of prison time
But when the army explosive testing start a huge fire on a warm and dry day
No one  goes to jail and the tax payers the huge bill does pay.

It Is Thanks To Mike C

Advice from afar of which i did avail
Mike C from Millstreet reminded me in an email
If you cannot visit Claraghatlea in person visit there by Google Earth  instead
This from a man in his thinking of me far ahead

Good advice from one i had not known of before
Google Earth took me to Claraghatlea and Claramore
And old Clara Mountain that ever looks down
On the green fields and groves bordering Millstreet Town

Google Earth took me to where the rivers do meet
And on the  Killarney Road in Inchaleigh into the Town of Millstreet
A journey that brought back old memories to me
Of my younger years and of what used to be

Though not there in person and i could not hear the birds sing
A visit to Millstreet by Google Earth to reality the next best thing
It brought back good memories to me of familiar places far away
And good old  memories are precious as some like to say

It is  thanks to a thoughtful person known as Mike C
For reminding me by email of what is a good idea
Of visiting Millstreet by Google Earth and Claraghatlea my first home place
Where mine to many today would be a stranger's face.

The Old Hopkins River

The old Hopkins River in flood waters of brown
Deep and slow and silent does crawl on by Warrnambool Town
On towards the Blue Hole where into the Pacific it does flow
How old are the rivers would anyone know?
Before it got it's English name it has flowed to the sea centuries before the Dreamtime
The Hopkins that has inspired song, story and  rhyme
On it's long winding journey by night and by day
It has flowed to the sea from it's source far away
In long gone Summers by the bank of the river in the shade of the trees
Australia's first people danced their Corroborees
Many centuries since then to the ways of time have gone
But the old Hopkins River to the ocean flows on
And that few things  last in time it well may be so
The river flows on though people to life come to and from go.

Wednesday, October 23, 2013

The Resting Koala

On the fork of the branch she sits on some upwards with binoculars at her do stare
Whilst others with flash cameras take photographs of her later with family and friends for to share
Yet of her audience  the resting marsupial does not seem aware
In fact koalas of human curiosity do not seem to care
They eat manna gum leaves and sleep for most of the day
And  their border meetings are always far rougher than play
They may look quite cuddly but in some of their territorial disputes the word cuddly to them does not apply
When koalas do fight the fur it does fly
Since to live on manna gum leaves are a low energy diet
Koalas are known to have a huge appetite
Manna gum leaves for other creatures to eat far too toxic, unpalatable and sour
But on a day an adult koala more than a  kilogram of them can devour
And though curious onlookers take photographs of her and upwards at her do stare
The resting koala of her human audience does not seem aware.

The Blocked Drains Of Koroit

Denis Napthine and Dan Tehan as political power-brokers are known and famed far and wide
And are known to be strong Parliamentary adversarial exponents of the political divide
But they seem to be  far from some of the people of Commercial Road when the rain buckets down
And floods the Main Street in old Koroit Town

No votes in blocked drains of this there seems no doubt
One reason Denis and Dan the blocked drains of Koroit they do not wish to know about
But since deflecting is a well practiced political game
I bet if voter political pressure fell on them the Council they would blame

For the blocked drains of Koroit since most politicians are this way
Since  standing up to your responsibilities in politics does not seem to pay
Since blaming someone else for their responsibilities is for them the easy way out
Most politicians do talk from both sides of the mouth

In their safe seats in Federal and State Parliament Dan and Denis doing okay
And since street flooding does not affect them in any way
And since such is not a vote catching issue of which they seem quite aware
Of the blocked drains of Koroit why should they bother to care

On Commercial Road in Koroit Town the blocked with debris main drain
Always seem to caause flooding after heavy rain
But you ask Denis Napthine and Dan Tehan about this and i bet they would say
Sad to hear this but for  it we are not responsible in any way.

Kitty Cashman

Her father Pat hailed from Millstreet in Duhallow a member of the famous Cashman clan
In Canada with his wife and family he grew old and lived out his life span
His daughter Kitty is a famous race walker in the World Masters Games in  Puerto Rico, Spain and Italy she has walked her way to renown
With World gold and silver and bronze medals how  many would know of this in Millstreet Town?
Her aunt Stella won a World Masters bronze medal and her grandfather Pat he was a famous greyhound man
He owned and trained some of the fastest dogs  in Ireland Tanyard Heather, Tanyard Champion and Tanyard Tan
Kitty has inherited a famous paternal sporting tradition cannot beat breeding as some are known to say
Her World Masters walking achievements says it all they have  been recorded one of the  World great 
senior walkers of today
To win World Championship medals for race walking for anyone is always a just claim to renown
It is nice to learn that one so great as Kitty has strong paternal links to Millstreet Town
When her dad Pat Cashman left his first home in Tullig as a young man his loss to Ireland was Canada's gain
He must have been proud of his daughter's sporting achievements in Puerto Rico and Italy and in Spain
Another athlete with strong links  to Millstreet in Duhallow who has brought honor to the  Cashman name
And Millstreet with it's many famous men and women has never been a stranger to sporting fame.

Tuesday, October 22, 2013

The Song Of The Blackbird

The song of the blackbird a familiar voice of the Spring
From all other songbirds a distinctive thing
Unlike the native Australian magpie who sings every day of the year
For nine months the blackbird's song one does not hear
A voice of Nature i have loved since  i was a boy
And learning of her ways today i enjoy
Her wonders are many and her secrets not few
And every day of her we do learn something new
We have been learning since  we first looked on the light of day
And for as long as we live we never stop learning it does seem this way
Out of view he is singing on a tree somewhere near
The song of the blackbird melodious and clear
A voice that is known and loved by many in many Countries Worldwide
Of the city and town parks  and of the countryside.


Perhaps i will never climb Clara again
In Spring overlooking the countryside lush and green from recent rain
With amazing views of Duhallow and Sliabh Luachra beyond Rathmore and Knocknagree
Such wonderful beauty that i have been privileged to see

Perhaps i will never again hear the soft lowing of a cow
In a Summer twilight to her calf by the River Finnow
With the shadows of darkness above the old  fields  gathering around
Apart from the babble of the river the only living sound

Perhaps i will never again hear the male red breast robin sing
On a leafy birch tree in the prime of the Spring
When the hawthorns are cloaked in their white blooms of the May
And Nature's wildflowers blooming in the fields on a nice sunny day

Perhaps i will never again hear the silver tongued rill
On it's way to the river down the fields by the hill
And  the memories  live on of what used to be
Of the beauty i have known and may never more see.

Monday, October 21, 2013

Some People Say

Some people say in life you can be successful at anything that you might wish to be
Successful at but what is success since what is successful to you may not be so to me
And when you say anyone can be successful on that with you i choose to disagree
You will not find many amongst the wealthy and the famous who have started life in extreme poverty
But having said this it is a truism that poverty is a relative thing
Though of the hungry and the homeless of the big town the praises of you will not hear many sing
Though many of them in their own ways quite successful since in their harsh living environment they survive
And that in itself for them a great achievement since  their circumstance in life of hope them do deprive
To many success comes in the accumulation of money  the billionaire is one  many look up to and admire
A poor and  homeless person of the big city anyone to greatness never does inspire
Though such people against the odds surviving as the poor victims of bad circumstance
And of any success in their lives they have never have had much of a chance
Some people say anyone can be successful though what is true success can be hard to define
We all in our ways look at life quite different and your idea of success is different to mine.

Do Laugh Loud And Be Happy

Do laugh loud and be happy as some are known to say
And do not take yourself too seriously and make the most of every day
The years go by so quickly and  time keeps ticking away
The early flowers that come to bloom are the first to decay
The happy go lucky people their friends in numbers grow
They are the sort of people most others wish to know
The person who is unhappy whether it be a he or she
Will never have  too many friends and will always want for company
If you feel sorry for yourself and are beset by woe
You cannot be kind to yourself if you are your own greatest foe
The one  who can laugh easily makes new friends every day
This is how it is and has always been and it will always be this way
If you are one who can laugh at life you will never be short of a friend
For people like happy people why otherwise pretend.

They Are The First Australians

In Australia as in most lands one people's gain is another people's loss
And Australia's first people their eternal cross
Has been the tragedy of dispossession in their own Land
Though their ancestral history in this Country thousands of centuries have spanned

They are the first Australian and of people as Australia's first Race
In this  great Southern Country they should command pride of place
Any Australian Indigenous person has never become Prime Minister or Governor General or Premier of any Australian State
For  their people's thousands of years in the great southern Country they should have more to celebrate

Of the  past 225 years of their recent written history they do not have good stories to tell
By those who have  come uninvited to their Country they have not been treated well
They have  known of racial intolerance which does seem sad to say
Humans can be so cruel to each other and they have always been this way

For being the first Australans they should have stood to gain
Yet any position of real political power any one of them has yet to attain
For foreign occupation their price was big to pay
For they have been treated badly by those who arrived uninvited  from far away.

Sunday, October 20, 2013

It Will Not Matter To Me

It will not matter to me what happens to my last remains when i have lived my last night and day
And i do not wish anyone to grieve for me and for me  to kneel and pray
I will have had a good innings and  life has been good to me
And though i love life death to me will come and what must be will be
Far north of Koroit where i now live near the City of Warrnambool
In Millstreet Town in Duhallow i went to primary school
Far south of the fields of Claraghatlea by sky thousands of miles away
The years have left their mark on me my balding head is gray
Though sometimes i reflect upon the beauty i have known and seen
The nostalgia it has died in me for what was and has been
And only fading memories of the past with me nowadays remain
When the old fields that i used to love in fancy i visit again
But the now is all that does matter since the past has  been and gone
And i feel glad to be alive and life  around me goes on.

Denis Mac

Denis Mac was a builder and was good at Gaelic football
And he owned the  Star Ballroom a famous dance hall
He knew of success and he lived a long life
And grew old in Millstreet Town with Cis Murphy his Millstreet wife
Denis and Cis  owned the cinema in Millstreet's West End
And in their long lives they made many a friend
By all accounts a  mighty man in his life's prime
In the nineteen twenties that is going back in time
A legend of Millstreet many years ago
But eventually time becomes everyone's foe
When i was a boy he was aging and  gray
And he was one  who had known a  far better day
Denis Mac long deceased but many stories are told
Of this legend for Millstreet in the green and gold.

Who Cares What The Majority

Who cares what the majority do think or do say
Look who they vote into office  on election day
Politicians who put jobs before the health of the environment for short term gain
And in so doing condemn the future generations of people to climate related pain
We talk of the future of the children but it is them who will pay
For  our bad environmental practices of today
If the people we elect to political power seem anti environment what does this  of us say
It does seem in our clouded thinking we have lost our way
Factory chimneys puffing black smoke to the sky
Jobs before the natural environment i do wonder why
Since the Earth Mother who feeds and sustains us we choose to destroy
For the children of the future there will not be much joy
For without a good natural environment jobs will be  few
In this i am not telling you anything that is  new.

Saturday, October 19, 2013

Since I Penned My First Rhyme

For the last four decades of my life i have  been a rhyming buff
And in that time it can be said i have penned reams of stuff
I am not a poet never said i was i am just one who pens rhyme
Though some i know do look on this as a big waste of time
I have been told by  more than one if for rhyming you do not receive money as pay
Then the sensible thing for  you to do would be  to give penning  of stuff away
But since rhyming makes me happy i pay them little heed
Since their advice is not the sort of advice i do need
Rhyming does make me happy of this  why should i lie
And i hope to keep doing it until the day i die
The stuff i pen is not the stuff a publisher to publish would sell
The poets do write their poetry and i pen doggerel
Going back to nineteen seventy three and that is going back in time
I have written reams and reams of stuff since  i penned my first rhyme.

Out Of War And Blood Letting

Out of war and blood letting many heroes are made
And for living and dead war heroes many a street parade
And at the war memorial the last post by the lone bugler played
The war supposed to end all wars from history not allowed to fade

The anti war protestor seen as a traitor and a coward
But in the field of good example such people are empowered
It is not because of him or her that people in war zones die
That war does eventually lead to peace is surely based on a lie

Those who do choose to fight in war death may become their due
And that few humans ever learn from war history happens to be true
You go to war to kill or be killed and in war zones people are badly injured and some die
Yes war eventually leads to peace is surely based on a lie

Patriotism, nationalism and religion these three often lead to war
And to fight to them the enemy soldiers from their home shore often travel far
The war supposed to end all wars ended nearly a century ago
And that in life we choose our friends and make our enemies does happen to be so.

We Learn From Nature

In life many lessons as some like to say
And of Nature we learn new things every day
The magpies with their feathers fluffed in the morning sun lay
For to take in the sunshine this is their way
There is more to a bird than the song it does sing
Perhaps for them to lay in the sunshine as we do is a natural thing
Yet of Nature's ways little i can claim to know
Though my wonderment of her it only does grow
As W H Davies the poet wrote we do not have time to stare
And of the natural beauty around us few of us aware
And what applies to many too does apply to me
Most of the natural beauty around me i overlook or fail to see
The great beauty we are too busy to look at to our doorsteps near
Though we learn from Nature every day of the year.

Friday, October 18, 2013

Nature Creates

A beauty money i do not pay to see
The  beauty of Nature is all around me
On this showery October day in the  prime of the Spring
The nesting wild birds of Nature do whistle and sing
From the life giving rain the parkland looking green
With millions of yellow cape-weed  in bloom to be seen
Such beauty a poet great poems of would write
For lovers of poetry for to read and recite
And though good poets and good artists as ever are rare
With Nature their best work just does  not compare
Nature creates new beauty every day
And  for the beauty she creates to see money we do not have to pay
On this showery day in October in the prime of the Spring
On the trees and the bushes the wild birds chirp and sing.

Not For Me To Say

Since any deceased person i have known has not come back to me to tell
Of the existence of a Heaven or of the  existence of a Hell
Of life after bodily death how am i to know
Since of the existence of such anyone has not proof to me for to show
To the God out there many are devoted to i never kneel for to pray
Call me an agnostic or an atheist or call me what you may
I just wish to have proof before i can believe
On the existence of  God and any proof as of yet i did not receive
Moses fifth commandment states thou shalt not kill
Though some religious fundamentalists only too willing for their God to do others ill
One might say of this religious belief gone wrong
To a cruel and  unkind God they have to belong
And since to any God i never kneel to for to pray
Of a life after bodily death is not for me to say.

Migratory Waders

The wonders of Nature an amazing thing
Migratory waders fly north to breed in the Arctic Spring
And to escape the harsh Arctic Winter fly south again
The mysteries of Nature as a mystery remain
Twice a year high above the coast lands through thousands of miles of sky
They travel far south and then north again fly
How they find their way home to breed remains a mystery
Just goes to show how amazing Nature can be
Their journeys seem beyond scientists to explain
Every migratory wader has a coastal map of the World in it's tiny brain
To beaches in Australia and New Zealand they do find their way
And back home to breed in the Arctic May
The journeys of migratory waders as a mystery remain
Even beyond the great human minds to explain.

Thursday, October 17, 2013

In My Flights Of Fancy

In my flights of fancy i hear and i see
A male pink breasted chaffinch on high branch of leafy birch tree
Singing in the quiet of the evening just before sundown
In a rushy field just west of Millstreet Town

When wildflowers are in bloom in old fields far away
And the hawthorns are cloaked in their white blossoms of May
And cattle out of wintering sheds from months of living on silage and hay
On lush grass are putting on weight by the day

The flute like song of the curlew i fancy i hear
A voice from the past that to me remains near
He pipes as above his territory he flies around
His partner sits on her eggs camouflaged in the boggy ground

In the quiet of the evening the soft lowing of a cow
To her calf in a field by the River Finnow
And the rooks on their stick nests on the high trees in the twilight gray
Are cawing at the close of a pleasant Spring day

The now is all that does matter but the memories with me stay
Of the cooing of the wood pigeons in woods far away
And though the past may be gone memories of it with me remain
And the dipper is singing in my thoughts again.

Five Years Ago Successful

Five years ago successful and an admired one of the town
But things for him quite different now since financially he is down
When he declared bankruptcy his wife left him and with her took their two young daughters such is life as some do say
When in financial trouble you know who your true friends are it has always been this way
His friends when he was wealthy as his friends did not stay
For every lesson we receive from life we have some price to pay
He lives on welfare payments he cannot afford a car
It is when you are down financially that you know who your friends are
Only in his mid thirties his light brown hair perhaps due to stress has turned prematurely gray
The wealthy man five years ago is very poor today
He cannot get a job of any sort since jobs are very few
To say he is not the first to declare bankruptcy is not saying anything that is new
A young man in his mid thirties once well known and admired in the town
Who has come to know that few wish to know of you when financially you are down.

I Must Be Lacking On Insight

I must be lacking on insight if i can only see
The human flaws in others but not the flaws in me
But in moments of self analysis one comes to realize
That what we dislike in others in ourselves we recognize

You may live as a good person and obey every man made law
But more than likely you are one who is not without a flaw
But if to help those in need of helping you do so without pay
Then to becoming a very good person you are well on your way

There is far more to living life than me, myself and i
Though to say money is not important would be stating a lie
That a billionaire never dies of malnutrition seems an obvious thing to say
Though for he or she eventually there will be a last night and day

That in life one must give to receive i believe to be true
And what you do receive from life happens to be your due
Any act of kindness you perform it never is too small
The truth in what goes around does come around it does apply to all

What i dislike in others are the flaws i see in me
Though with this some may differ and choose to disagree
That in me there is heaps of room for self improvement i never could deny
But one may add to many others this also does apply.

Wednesday, October 16, 2013

They Are The Powerless People

They are the powerless people condemned by their life's destiny
And by their circumstance of birth to live in poverty
As well as lacking in financial power on election day
Few of them play any part in the electoral process in any sort of a way

They do know about homelessness and hunger and despair
Yet they are not the people to blame for our polluted air
Since they are not environmental vandals pollution they do not create
Though they have nothing in their lives that they can celebrate

They are the powerless people their life stories never to be told
And many of them die quite young and few of them live to be old
They never make news headlines of them few wish to know
And of any financial success in life few of them have to show

They are the powerless people no strangers to prison time
Since many of them in their teenage years do turn to lives of crime
Circumstance of birth has rendered them unemployable for to work for their living pay
So they graduate to lives of crime for them to live they see no other way

They are the powerless people and as powerless they do die
Since death it is one fact of life and fact does never lie
In life born into poverty and life is not always fair
But them we surely cannot blame for our polluted air.

In Birdsland Today

On the gum trees by the lakes from here far away
The magpies are warbling in Birdsland today
And the wood duck and the black duck on the lakes with their young swimming about
In that haven for wildlife in beautiful Belgrave South
The swamphen, moorhen and grebe have their young for to care
In beautiful Birdsland birds are not rare
In the high wood the bell like songs of the green bellbirds floating in the breeze
They live on small insects they find on the trees
Old Birdsland it does have a charm of it's own
And as a haven for wildlife it is widely known
As far as i know hunting  is not allowed there
For their entertainment hunters have to go elsewhere
Birdsland in South Belgrave so green in the Spring
Where all day the wild birds of Nature do whistle and sing.

Life Does Have It's Challenges

It is not meant to be easy as J B Shaw did say
In life we face new challenges every day
This is how it is and it always will be
For some anyway this is how it seems to me
Life does have it's challenges it does seem this way
You work hard for a boss but not for very good day
When you asked him for a raise his answer to you was no
I am already paying you enough so you stay or you go
With a wife and three young children in your job you must stay
For your wife and family dependent on your take home pay
Your boss not a kind boss kind bosses are few
You may say to this tell us what is new
Every week day you wake at dawn to go to your work place
And for you in every sunrise a new challenge to face.

Tuesday, October 15, 2013

The God Within

The unknown God out there many do seem to fear
And of the God within little we ever do hear
The one who allows us to be loving and kind
Is hidden away in the caves of the mind
Some on their life's journey lose their God within
And take the wrong roadway to crime and to sin
Without their inner God in life they lose their way
This is something that does happen to many people every day
When you speak to some of your God within to you they do say
Are you feeling well is all with you okay?
They only believe in their God in the place called heaven up there
Somewhere far beyond the stars though they do not know exactly where
As for me i hope my God within will stay
To help me in life till my last night and day.

We All Cannot Be

We all cannot be billionaires and we all cannot know of fame
Though most people do wish to be a celebrated name
In most things in life for one to be a winner many have to lose
Though losing is a thing that anybody does not choose
One can only live as a good person and be the best that you can be
This is the best way one can live with this would you agree
And from one in need of helping do not turn and walk away
Since you too may be in need of helping in not too distant day
So many must finish as losers for one to win the race
But you can save your honor if you do lose with grace
It is part of life that one person's loss is another person's gain
This has always been a part of life and as such will remain
Yes for every winner there are losers in life this is the case
And it says a lot about the one who loses with a smile on his or on her face.

The Little Man From Tokyo

For one of more than three score and ten years he seems full of life's elan
And to communicate in English he tries the best he can
He bows to me when we do meet the little Asian man
His respect and manners came with him from far away Japan

From the crowded and busy City of distant Tokyo
He left Japan when his wife died going back ten years ago
To live near his nearest relative his daughter her husband and children perhaps at times he misses his home City far away
Where he lived for most of his life and first looked on the light of day

To bow to other people in Japan is the natural way
That they are respectful people of them one has to say
When he bows to me i bow in return what to him comes naturally
Does seem quite harder for to do for one of a different culture such as me

In the shopping center or in the park and sometimes on the street
He always bows his head to me every-time we do meet
The little man from Tokyo in far away Japan
For one of three score years and ten he seems full of life's elan.

Monday, October 14, 2013

The Deceased Characters Of Millstreet Parish

The deceased characters of Millstreet Parish amongst the dead may lay
But in Duhallow around the Cork and Kerry border memories of them live today
Distinctive individuals they had ways of their own
And as characters in their own lifetimes they were loved and well known

A beloved character of Millstreet Town the well liked Jerry Shea
And one can truly say of him a big man in every way
He was such fun with a  few beers in laughter he did provoke
And it truly can be said of him that he was a good bloke

For Michael Murphy better known as 'Mick Punk' one must go back in time
To more than fifty years ago long before i reached my prime
The chimney sweep of Millstreet Town more than fifty years ago
In life he did make many a friend and he died without a foe

A sturdy built muscular man with broad shoulders his arms full of tattoos
The day he died in Millstreet Town the Parish stood to lose
Often covered in soot from sooty chimneys that his brushes on him had brought down
He must have been the sootiest man to ever have lived in Millstreet Town

Con Dennehy known as Billy Diesel or to most as Snowball
A beloved character of Millstreet Town and known to one  and all
At religious and public gatherings he often brought fun to the day
A lot of fun left Millstreet Town when Snowball passed away

His likes which does seem sad to say never on a memorial wall
Yet a fun making individual one well worthy of recall
It truly can be said of Con he was a character supreme
Though a lot of changes in Millstreet Town since his time it does seem

Bill Brien the dealer bought and sold fowl and  traded on smaller dead animals for their meat and skin
In his lifetime one who was well known and many friends did win
He traveled in his van and bought and sold fowl around Duhallow's countryside
And far from Millstreet Town he was one who became known far and wide

The great character from lower Ballydaly Denny Murray to his  calling in life true
In his lifetime he did help many for to give the man his due
He owned stud boars and stallions and and sprayed potato gardens with horse sprayer in the Spring
And clipped horses for farmers he tried his hand at everything

To an old style of character he surely did belong
When on the boozing sessions he often burst into song
His  likes in Ballydaly will not be seen again
But good memories of the man he was with all who knew him does remain

Dee Dinneen the supreme character of Rathduane did not live  to grow old
But so many stories of him in Duhallow pubs so often have been told
He was a funny man when drunk yet he  would not harm a fly
And  to him the tag of the true character it surely does apply

So many characters in Millstreet Parish that one could talk about
And Johnny Sing from Millview Lane is one who cannot be left out
He did not live to grow very old though he enjoyed his life span
One well liked in life he gained many friends as a witty and humorous man

Which brings us to Anthony Manley the one and only Mister O
A beloved character of Millstreet Town who died a  few years ago
A likeable and kind hearted man his passing caused sadness and regret
Great characters like Mister O one never could forget

Bill Twomey and pipe smoking  Bill Sullivan and Timmy Twomey as characters were known
Each were distinctive individuals with ways of their own
Amongst the characters of Millstreet they do deserve their place
At the passing of a character a Parish loses a well loved face

Peter Carroll and the brothers Daniel and Jackie Brown
Three well liked and well known characters who lived near Millstreet Town
And the mighty John Kelleher alias Jack the Mule knew of life in the hard way
In the Town and countryside by Clara Hill good memories of him live today

Of the deceased characters of Millstreet Parish  i could mention plenty more
Of individual distinctive  in their ways there were at least a score
And Millstreet now a  changed place few things as same remain
But when i go to the past the characters of my younger years often come to life again.

Something On Which I Do Believe

I am one with a strong belief in Karma what we sow in life we will receive one day
If you are kind and do good things for others for this Karma will surely you repay
But if you only take from and never give to others then the seeds of bad Karma you only sow
It is a fact that poor seed does not grow to good fruit perhaps this is something everybody know
Some say karma is for superstitious people what they believe in it is fine with me
Though they are quite entitled to their opinions with their opinions on Karma i do not agree
I do believe if we do help out others that in turn good things we will then receive
For all of us there is a Law of Karma this is something on which i do believe
If you are one who lives by crime and violence the law may well catch up with you one day
But if this does not happen you will not go unpunished to Karma for your sins you will have to pay
For there is nowhere one can hide from Karma this is what i do believe anyway
Though on this i know there would be disagreement and many would not agree with what i say
I am a person who believes in Karma  that in life you have to give for to receive
Though others on this have their own opinions it is something on which i do believe.

On J J Callanan

The poet in verse who glorified Gougane Barra from County Cork died far away
In Portugal his last remains at rest forever lay
But the poems of J J Callanan are living today
It is true that the legacy of greatness outlives bodily decay

When i was a boy by the fireplace on many a Winter's night
Old timers telling stories, reciting poems and singing old songs was a source of delight
Callanan's the Convict of Clonmel was a song then often sung
A beautiful memory from the time when i was very young.

In his written words Callanan created beauty and sad to think that he died in his prime
He was indeed a proven master wordsmith and his best poems have stood the test of time
Gougane Barra, The Convict of Clonmel and The Recluse of Inchydoney to the greatness of their author testify
The one who left us such musical poetry his right to greatness none of him ought to deny

From an early age i have loved the poems of Callanan his legend lives as a great Irish poet
As a translator and an original poet his name lives on as worthy of note
His last remains in distant Portugal but his marvelous poems read and enjoyed today
Yet he died young and poor in a foreign Country and his bones from Cork are resting far away.

Sunday, October 13, 2013

I Hear A Greenfinch Singing

I hear a greenfinch singing somewhere high on branch of leafy ash tree
His low toned song familiar though him i cannot see
Greenfinches are not hard to recognize in their distinctive song
You hear one sing and the next time you will not get him wrong
Some birds by their chirpings or songs not hard to recognize
Their most vocal time of year is Spring at twilight and sunrise
Some say they sing for love and joy but those well informed of bird life tell me
That birds are only known to sing for to proclaim territory
We are in the prime of the southern Spring on this nice October day
And the warmer days of the southern Summer from us not far away
And high amongst the leafy greenery of an old ash tree
A greenfinch he is singing a familiar voice to me
The wildborn birds are vocal they whistle, chirp and sing
It is so good to be alive on this nice day in Spring.

A Nice October Day

The Magpies on the grass lay enjoying the sunshine
On a near to perfect day in October quite warm and fine
A high for the day of twenty three degrees
With few gray clouds in the blue sky and hardly any breeze
The parkland looking green after recnt Spring rain
With such a nice day one can hardly complain
Though the weather changes quickly at this time of year
And by the radio weather forecast tomorrow will bring showers that to sunny spells will clear
The summer draws closer with each passing day
And the much warmer weather is not far away
The capeweed in bloom quite a beautiful sight
They do look quite pretty in the Spring sunlight
And Nature in all of her Spring colors is seen
Her multi colored wildflowers blooming amidst the green.

For Many Years

For many years i have been a rhyming buff
And i am one who has penned reams of rhyming stuff
Addicted to rhyming i very well may be
But what seems boring to many feels enjoyable to me
I never refer to myself as a poet
Nor am i one worthy of literary note
I have been penning stuff since i was in my life's prime
And this is going back some four decades in time
And though my worth as a rhymer i have reason to doubt
No shortage of things for me to write rhymes about
I add to my growing numbers of rhymes every day
We are what we are as some are known to say
And when i say rhymers are many and poets are few
I am not committing to paper anything that is new.

Saturday, October 12, 2013

Some Tell Me

Some tell me my favorite hobby is a waste of time
Since i do not make money out of penning rhyme
But when i tell them i love to rhyme and and from doing it joy i receive
They think i am not serious and me do not believe
Since money in their lives is the most important thing
And the praises of celebrities and wealthy people they like to sing
And to them one who enjoy doing things for pleasure not pay
Is surely not feeling well in some way
But i pay little heed to those who to me say
That as a rhymer i should call it a day
But what they think of me is their business and this suits me fine
Since what is their business is no business of mine
And since i am one with words who likes to have a play
What i enjoy doing why should i give away?

The Ordinary Man

An ordinary man from an ordinary street
Yet kinder and nicer than he is would be hard to meet
To help those in need of helping he goes out of his way
And he performs at least one good deed sometimes more every day
Unmarried in his early twenties the nice young bloke Stan
Better known by his nickname of the ordinary man
One reason for his nickname is that sport he does not play
And his ordinary nickname seems with him to stay
Till the day that he die and that may be a long time
Since he is not even yet in his life's prime
That he is a kind and caring person is seldom taken into account
As nowadays such honorable traits to little seem to amount
In sports he has never shown any interest at all
And most of the young local heroes are good at football.

I Cannot Complain

I cannot complain since life to me is fair
I breathe in the same air as the moneyed billionaire
I have more than enough of clean water to drink and i eat three meals a day
That i am rather lucky does seem fair to say
Every day poor people in drought stricken areas of malnutrition do die
When compared to them to say i am lucky is not telling a lie
And every day thousands of people from war zones do flee
I too could have been born to become a refugee
Though money-wise  i am not wealthy i am not in poverty
And millions of people are far worse off than me
I feel happy for life's small blessings so why should i complain
I have enough to live on and i have never known of hunger pain
And though the passing of time has left me balding and gray
I have no reason to feel unhappy since life treats me okay.

Friday, October 11, 2013

We Know That

We know that the weather climate is changing and us humans for this are partly to blame
Governments Worldwide ignore the warnings of environmental scientists jobs at the expense of the natural environment will become humanity's shame
The Polar ice caps are melting and sea levels beginning to rise
Those who exonerate humans from the sharp increase in Global warming are those who believe their own lies
Fossil fuels we continue to burn factory chimneys puffing black smoke to the sky
Why we do not heed the warnings of Environmental Scientists one only can wonder why
In a warming climate there will be droughts and famines where people in thousands will die
Those who claim we may become the cause of the extinction of our own species are not scaring us with a lie
More cars and more trucks make for more carbon emissions for our bad environmental practice the future generations may pay
For their weather related hardships kind things of us they may not say
For to change our environmental practices the present time is not too late
When we do abuse our Earth Mother a monster for ourselves we create
We know that the climate is changing yet by ignoring it we hope the problem will go away
I do pity future generations for our mistakes they will have to pay.

Jackie Howe

In 1892 he shore 321 sheep in seven hours and forty minutes with a hand shears in Alice Downs station in Queensland a record that to this day does stand
Jackie Howe was the World's greatest blade shearer his legend the decades has spanned
Born in 1861 in Killarney in Queensland and in 1920 he died
The shearing feats of the legendary Jackie in shearing circles are told and recounted Worldwide
His name and shearing feats are always talked of when lovers of shearing do meet
In his shearing prime with the mighty Jackie the best shearers could not hope to compete
His blade shearing record has stood for twelve decades and it will stand forever more
His record may never be beaten his fame lives on in shearing lore
The blade shearing records that have stood for more than a century in itself a remarkable feat
Of the shearer the best are compared to his blade shearing records may never be beat
Blade shearers are now all but extinct machine shearing the in thing of the shearing shed of today
But machine shearing is even very hard work and easier ways for to earn one's pay
Jackie Howe was the World's greatest blade shearer he shore 321 sheep in under eight hours in his prime
In 1892 in Alice Downs Station in Queensland and this is going far back in time.

When I Hear A Blackbird

When i hear a blackbird singing my thoughts go far away
To the groves and the hedgerows of Ireland in May
When the hawthorns are cloaked in their blossoms of pale white to gray
And nesting songbirds sing for to welcome and farewell the day

On this beautiful day in October in Spring
A male blackbird in the park in Terang Town does sing
A beautiful voice that i loved as a boy
And hearing this voice of the Spring i will always enjoy

Until my turn come to die whenever this will be
The song of the blackbird will bring joy to me
A familiar voice of Nature so melodious and clear
That i for one always feel happy to hear

A voice that i loved when my hair was dark brown
When i lived far north of this parkland in old Terang Town
The weather is breezy and warm and fine
And a blackbird is singing in the afternoon sunshine.

Thursday, October 10, 2013

It Is Not Right

It is not our right for to judge others though some with that may disagree
The only person that i ought to judge is the person that is known as me
To make myself a better person and live as a better man
In me plenty of room  for improvement and to improve as a person i certainly can
If you go by the law of Karma in life you give to receive
Quite a good philosophy to live by and one on which i do believe
If you sow the seeds of good Karma good Karma will be yours one day
But if you do wrong to others to Karma the price you will pay
Some people to help one in need of helping do even go out of their way
Your every good deed you receive in good Karma as the wise one has been known to say
I can become a better person if to becoming such i do feel inclined
To others i can be more helpful and to others i can be more kind
It is not our right to judge others Judge and thou shalt not be judged does sound so true
If you sow the seeds of good Karma good Karma in life is your due.

I Do Not Wish To Know Of

I do not wish to know of how marvelous you are
Or of the size of your house or of the size of your car
Or of your wonderful kids and your beautiful wife
And of your wealthy friends and your marvelous life
Though money speaks every language in the Human World of today
As of the type of person you are nothing it does say
It does not tell us for those doing it tough you feel sympathy
That you are a person of compassion and empathy
Yes money speaks every language happens to be true
But it does not tell us anything about the real you
Since money can buy one almost anything
The praises of the billionaire the impressionable do sing
It can buy you a billion dollar home and the most expensive new car
But it does not tell us anything of the person you really are.

The Road Of Life

The road of life that leads one to nowhere is the roadway that i am on
The twilight clouds on my life gathering my better years in the long gone
To grow old far south of my first homeplace perhaps in my life's destiny
The things in life that does mean much to many are not that important to me

I was a schoolboy of the nineteen fifties in years that does seem long ago
I have lived through many good and bad Seasons and time it has become my foe
Perhaps it was in my life's destiny to be born and raised near the Town of Millstreet
A half an hour walk in the old fields to the place where the rivers do meet

My destiny in life was not to be a high achiever as a boy the dunce of the Millstreet Primary School
In my destiny perhaps to grow old in Koroit near the coastal City of Warrnambool
I only have the power of self determination this is all i ever have wished for to own
Death in the end comes to the wealthy and famous as well as to the poor and unknown

I try not to pass judgement on others since their business can hardly be mine
If they pursue money and greatness this is their business and with me is fine
I just hate to see people suffer and hearing others put poor people down
It does not mean you are a better person than others though you are a hero of the town

The road of life that leads one to nowhere is the road i have traveled for years
But for life's opportunities i have missed out on i never have shed any tears
The twilight clouds on my life gathering for me my life's journey's end cannot be far away
But why should i feel any sadness on this sunny October Spring day.

Wednesday, October 9, 2013

In The Damp Fields

In the damp fields where the rushes in clusters do grow
Old River Finnow it ever does flow
On towards the Blackwater it babbles on it's way
With a tongue never silent by night or by day
In those old rushy fields i grew to love Nature when i was a boy
And learning of her ways today i enjoy
Of those old rushy fields the memories with me stay
When the hawthorns were cloaked in their white blooms of the May
The nesting birds sung to greet and farewell the day
Good memories never seem for to fade away
But the past just a memory and the future ahead
And we live in the  now as the wise one has said
And tomorrow is coming and yesterday has gone
And life all around us as usual goes on.

Life Can Be A Battle

Life  can be a battle even for the brave and the bold
And does not become any easier as one grows old
In the Human World the minority are of the chosen few
Though to this you may say tell us what is new
Pity the children born into poverty
They come to know of how tough life can be
Homeless as teenagers and living rough
Life's journey for them destined to be tough
Life  can be a battle if  you are on the wrong side
Of what is known to many as the social divide
No big lavish parties on the poor side of the town
Those who live there strangers to wealth and renown
Where many are down and all but counted out
And the battle of life there they do know about.

Matty O' Connor

So sad it is to learn of the news that Matty O' Connor from life has passed away
In Millstreet Town in view of Clara Hill where he first saw light of day
He lived as a decent human being and in him nothing bad
Which makes his passing for all who knew him to learn of very sad

Grieved by his  son, siblings and relatives and Mary his devoted mother
The grief of a mother felt at the loss of her child deeper  than any other
Perhaps in his mid fifties to early sixties Matty's death was unexpected
One of a large Millstreet family who are loved and respected

In Duhallow Matty O' Connor was well liked and well known
And it truly can be said of him that he was one of Millstreet's own
In Millstreet Town where he was born and grew into a man
Perhaps it was his destiny there for to live out his  life span

Never more to be seen in the flesh in Millstreet Town this does seem sad to say
In St Mary's Cemetery by Cashman's Hill his last remains do lay
One can only hope his passing from life for him a painless release
The good man Matty O' Connor may he now rest in peace.

Tuesday, October 8, 2013

On Tyson Fury

Tyson fury the big young British heavyweight boxer what is he on about
When he says he could knock World Champion Wladimir Klitschko out
He may be tall and powerful but one has to doubt
If he does have the ability for to match his  big mouth

Tyson Fury a boaster of big physical size
But he will never be a Muhammad Ali though this he does not realize
Ali said he was the greatest and was quick with his hands and quick on his feet
And  he was a great champion and the boxer complete

The present holders of all four World heavyweight belts between then them the Klitschko brothers Vitali and Wladimir  have seldom known of defeat
They are true World champions and champions are always the hardest to beat
Tyson Fury says he will  claim Wladimir's three World title belts yet he has not earned the right
To challenge  the great Wladimir in a World title fight.

The heavyweight boxer Tyson Fury is undefeated and  has  proved himself in many a test
He has fought some good  fighters but he has not fought the best
And despite what loudmouths like Fury and some others of him do say
Wladimir Klitschko is the best heavyweight boxer in the Human World of today.

Does It Matter

Does it matter if i am a rhymer and i do not write well
Or if the literary opinionated dismiss me as one who pen doggerel
 I do enjoy penning rhymes in case you may not have known
And what i do for a hobby is my business and  my business is my own

I feel happy when rhyming every day new rhymes i write
And i email them to be  published on an internet site
Without hope for reward or financial gain in any way
But it is something i do enjoy doing every day

The  poets do write poetry with me that's okay
But who is or is not a poet is not for me to say
I mind  my own business and do my own thing
And those i feel worthy of praising their  praises i do sing

We know about poets that poets are few
You may say to that do tell us what is new
For one to call himself or herself a poet is as easy as the word can be
Self promotion is the in thing of the twenty first century

My best days in life to the forever gone
But true to my calling i keep rhyming on
I write for my own enjoyment and little else more
This is something in rhyme  i have written of before.

St Davids In May

The nesting birds singing on the  bushes and trees
And the sound of the  bells of St Davids floating in the breeze
Above the potato fields from here far away
When the hawthorns are in their white blooms of the May
The tag of hard workers to them does apply
The potato pickers their backs bent to the  Welsh sky
A hard enough way for to earn one's pay
In the  twenty first century do Seasonal workers come  to St Davids to pick potatoes in May
Or has modern machiney taken their place
And  brought an end to the ways of the once known as tatie hoking race?
A Village with a Cathedral as Britain's smallest City it is widely known
St Davids in coastal Wales has a charm of it's own
And only the  memories with me now remain
Of what used to be and will not be again.

Monday, October 7, 2013

A Nice Day In October

The sun feels pleasantly warm on this nice October day
And the magpies are warbling in the park by the bay
And the golden bill blackbird on a wattle does sing
For to proclaim his borders in the prime of the Spring
The weather temperature a near perfect twenty one degrees
With only a very timid coastal breeze
The balmy air full of the buzzings of bees
And the contented cattle at rest chewing their cuds in the shade of the trees
The Spring such a beautiful time of the year
The pee wee call of the magpie lark pleasant to hear
Nature's wonders are many and her secrets not few
And every day of her we learn something new
A nice day in October and Spring in her prime
And Nature again has inspired me to rhyme.

So Little Of Her Ways

So little of her ways i can claim to know
But my wonder of her only does seem to grow
Mother Nature the one  who provides for all
Of us humans including all other life forms from the great to the small
The average human life span a decade short in years of the four score
But Mother Nature the one  who lives forever more
That we depend on her for our survival happens  to be so
And she should be our greatest friend though we treat her more like a foe
The only one who has real magical power
Can create something quite amazing like a beautiful flower
Wherever i turn to look her creations i do see
Her beauty it is everywhere around me
And of her i do learn something new every day
That we never stop learning it does seem this way.

Have You Ever For A Moment

Have you ever for a moment asked yourself what life's about
And of your true worth as a person never cast a fleeting doubt
In saying that you are not one of the majority i am not saying anything that is new
These so called super confident people to say the least are few

Those who say no such a thing as human limitations do not make much sense to me
To think that anyone does not have limits goes to show how silly they must be
Usain Bolt the World's fastest human compared to a cheetah or a greyhound seems slow
That humans have their limitations is something that anybody ought to know

In science and technology human achievements are great this much of our kind  none ought to deny
Some  people achieve something great when to a task themselves they apply
But even the  greatest of human minds are limited in some way
Though many well may disagree with me on what i say.

Celebrities we look up to and admire and big egos we do inflate
It is a  common occurrence in the twenty first century that the successful we do celebrate
But that us humans have our limitations only happens to be true
Though an existence without limits some may tell you they pursue.

Sunday, October 6, 2013

Everyone Is Good At Doing Something

Everyone is good at doing something as we have been told
But people lose some of their talent as they do grow old
The legs that moved fast when young many years ago
Now feeling tired and heavy time has become their foe
That everyone is good at doing something happens to be true
Though at what they are good at not everyone gets the credit to them that is due
Why this has to be one has to wonder why
But for to be best your best you only can try
Though with everyone is good at something everyone would not agree
Everyone is talented at something it would seem to me
Everyone is good at something as some are known to say
You can make out of it whatever you may
And though with the talent you are born with due credit you may not receive
This is something that is not even hard to believe.

Why Ask Me

Why ask me something beyond me to explain
Why somebody's loss becomes someone else's gain
Somebody's financial misfortune becomes becomes another's opportunity
For to make plenty of money cannot say why this should be
For to grow financially poorer one never does  choose
But often for one  to win someone else does lose
For some it does seem life is like Murphy's Law
It all does depend  on the luck of the draw
It is an ill wind that does  not blow good for some as the wise one did say
In the Human World it is always this way
To live hungry and  homeless in life should not be anyone's due
And  that all people are not equal happens to be true
But that death makes everyone equal is  surely not a lie
And the billionaire like the pauper eventually will die.


James in his  early twenties is a far better man than me
He has eyes for beauty and beauty he only see
Kind and compassionate to help others he goes out of his way
And unkind things of anyone he never does say
One can say of James a great person indeed
And of more people like he is  the Human World is  in need
But he never will know of local renown
And be admired as a hero of the town
Since he is not into sport and  football never will play
He will never be  the hero of Grand Final day
But one  can say of him he has the inner glow
And to me one like him is a pleasure to know
One can only admire him for his compassion and empathy
Young James is a far better person than me.

Saturday, October 5, 2013

We Are Born As Mortals

To a  ripe old age on medication doctors may keep you alive
Years beyond when you have lost your sexual drive
But the Reaper he  claims every life  in the end
We are born as mortals why otherwise pretend

That we are anything other than that since  this would be a lie
Like all other life forms we are born to die
For all of us there is a last night and day
With each day that we  live our life ebbing away

The wealthy one  may outlive  the one in poverty
But money from death will not save you as you will die eventually
And whether our remains are buried or in a crematorium to ashes do burn
We are born of Nature and to her we  return

You well may live for to be a ripe old age
But like  the big book life has a final page
You will die though you may live well beyond of years the  four score
Since Nature the only one to live forever more.

The High Fields Of Kilmeedy

In fancy i only can see them today
The high fields of Kilmeedy from here far away
Where Clara's old bracken face ever looks down
On that green valley close to Millstreet Town

In the groves of Kilmeedy in the prime of the Spring
The nesting birds of  Nature do whistle and sing
When the lark above the slopes of Clara does fly
To carol his song in the gray evening sky

The ever babbling sound of the silver tongued rill
That flows to the Finnow from the fields by the hill
Since i last saw Kilmeedy many Seasons ago
The biological clock it has become my foe

A beautiful place at most times of the year
Earthly Utopia to Kilmeedy has to be near
A poet of such natural beauty would write
A nice poem for lovers of poetry to read and recite

The cool winds of Autumn blow with a slight chill
Above green Kilmeedy by old Clara Hill
And only the memories with me now remain
Of that beautiful place i may not see again.

This Is How It Is

This is how it is and this is  nothing new
The majority of the wealth of the World is owned by the  few
In a World of inequality for one to win big many have to lose
And losing is a thing that anyone does not choose
All people are equal the well intentioned do say
But sadly in reality it is not this way
Life in the Human World is structured on inequality
Much as i hate to say it this is reality
For one to become very wealthy many seem to lose out
This is what life in the twenty first century seems to be about
The great paper god most people do pursue
That money speaks every language as ever is true
What is somebody's loss is another one's gain
This is how it is and how it will always remain.

Friday, October 4, 2013

Of My Inhibitions

Perhaps to be wealthy and widely known i was not meant to be
Though lack of money and fame never does bother me
But in many ways i am my own worst enemy
Since of my inhibitions i will never break free
Not into self promotion in any big way
Which one needs to be successful in the Human World of today
Though the praises of people i feel worthy of praise i feel happy to sing
I generally live in my own way and do my own thing
Perhaps to be wealthy and famous not in my life's destiny
Though i am not one who embraces anonymity and poverty
I do have my human flaws but my flaws are my own
And as a person worthy of note i will never be known
We all have our human limits though with this many would not agree
And of my inhibitions i will never be free.

Thr Great Gift Of Life

Though life's journey's end from me cannot be far away
I feel happy when i wake for to greet each new day
To hear Nature's wild-born birds chirp and sing
The  great gift of life is a wonderful thing
Since it is a  fact of life and fact never lie
Like all other mortals one day i must die
But i hope to live on for as long as i can
And die in my sleep without pain as a very old man
That death is part of life does seem obviously clear
Like most it is only the fear of it that i do fear
To live to be  old luck on your side you do need
And the precious gift of life is a great gift indeed
And though life's journey's end from me cannot be far away
I feel happy each morning to greet the new day.

Where I Was Born And Raised

Where i was born and raised and lived in my life's prime
And grew to love Nature and penned my first rhyme
Claraghatlea now from me now seems far away
The  old fields i have not seen for many a day
Yet often in fancy i do hear the male robin sing
On a leafy silver birch tree in the prime of the Spring
When the hawthorns are in their blooms of white to gray
And the fields lush and green wear their flowers of the May
And the cattle out of wintering sheds of eating silage and hay
On nutritious grass gaining weight by the day
Such beautiful memories with me does remain
That in fancy i often do visit again
But the now is all that does matter and the past it has gone
And life all around me as usual goes on.

Thursday, October 3, 2013

The Shearer From Kirkstall

A giant of a fellow with fuzzy brown beard
And when intoxicated a man to be feared
A broad shouldered giant near him big men seem small
The strongest and toughest to hail from Kirkstall

In the prime of his life and full of youthful elan
The shearer from Kirkstall is a mighty man
The top shearer in central New South Wales far north of his homeplace
In the outback bush town pubs his is a known face

To boast of his shearing achievements it is not his way
Though he has been known to shear more than two hundred big sheep a day
The  physical hard work of shearing no bother to him at all
The young shearing shed legend far north of Kirkstall

The shearer from Kirkstall with long hair of brown
Has had a girl friend or two in every central New South Wales town
As well as being a champion shearer of the shearing shed
He has the reputation of being good in bed

As one who starts trouble he has never been known
Though his reputation as a fighting man has grown
For anyone who has  picked a fight with him has come out second best
He has never been found to be wanting when put to the test

One  can say of him he is a man amongst men
The shearer from Kirkstall the mighty big Ben
Action speaks louder than words with him it is this way
The top shearer in the shearing sheds of central New South Wales today.

Out There On the Hillside

A full Spring moon shines in the starry sky
And out there on the hillside the hunting vixen cry
A familiar wild cry that does sound quite shrill
With hungry cubs  in the den she must hunt for to kill
As well as feeding herself her brood must be fed
Tonight she must kill a few rabbits or a hare or even raid a fowl shed
Her kind are detested by many they hunt in the night
And are seldom ever seen in the daylight
Due to being shot at and poisoned few fox cubs survive
By this time next year few of her young will be alive
But with the survival of herself and her cubs at stake
She will hunt all night till the gray of daybreak
A Spring full moon is shining in the starry sky
And out there on the hillside the hunting vixen cry.

The Love Of A Mother

In prison because to others bad things he has done
But the devoted mother she stands by her son
And  negative things of him never does say
The one true friend he has who as a friend to him stay

The bond of a  mother with her children is  strong
She does stand by them even though they have done wrong
She will never forsake them in their timeof need
The  love of a mother is a great love  indeed

To support her children the mother no effort does  spare
With her love for her offspring no love to compare
This is a fact of life and fact never lie
The mother will love her children till the day she will die

Her son is in prison serving five years of prison time
For his part in what was a serious crime
But she does stand by him and visits him every day
That her's is a great love does seem fair to say.

Wednesday, October 2, 2013

Little To Say

We are what we are this is all we can be
And you in your ways  you are different to me
On very few things we do seem to agree
Then most in their thinking do think differently
When you and i meet we have little to say
To each other except for a hello or good  day
Though any animosity between us never does show
We share little in common this much we do know
In the town's most expensive restaurant with your wealthy friends you wine and you dine
On the best of food and the  best brands of wine
In our living standards the gulf does seem wide
We are on different sides of the  social divide
We do look at life  in a different way
And whenever we meet to each other we have  little to say.

In A Fair Human World

The majority of the  wealth of the World is owned by the few
And in this i am not saying anything that is new
Whilst poor people of hunger are dying every day
In a fair Human World it would not be this way
Though it is  true poverty can be a relative  thing
Of the praises of a poor person  you will not hear many sing
Their paper god known as money many do pursue
And that it does speak every language happens to be true
But that it cannot buy you happiness well may be so
It has been known to make a friend  of a foe
In the Human World for one to win someone else has to lose
And  to be  the loser anyone never choose
Those who say all people are equal believe their own lie
Though the pauper and the billionaire equal when they die.


Known to be a loner he only likes his own company
Tom is not a bad person though a bit anti social maybe
Words to find not easy for one like  him to describe
Since he never seems sad the man without a tribe
Yet it does seem he does not have a friend
Any community or social gatherings he does not attend
But he has been known to help people of helping in need
And of good Karma he is one who plants the good seed
One  down to earth and humble in his ways and free of conceit
And truly a very nice person to meet
He lives on his own never had children or wife
One who does not have a woman or man in his life
And of Tom in his late fifties one surely can say
He does not have a tribe and lives in his own way.

Tuesday, October 1, 2013

Portland On A Wet Day

In the freshening coastal winds the rain drizzling down
On the  streets  and the sidewalks of old  Portland Town
From the shopping center the inclement weather keeps the shoppers away
On the last day of September a  rare gloomy day
In Portland at most times  the weather is fine
With nice coastal breezes and plenty sunshine
Spring 2013 thus far has been wet this year
Though warm days of Summer with each day draw near
The songster of all Seasons who sings every day
The magpie is warbling in the park by the bay
And  the mud nest building magpie larks do sing out pee wee
Their song familiar to many and familiar to me
And  the holiday makers in the cafes enjoying their cake and tea
Looking out on the rain in the Town by the sea.

First Home

Though you may live far from there and may never see it again
Your first home to you as your first home remain
It is where the great journey in life for you began
And where you grew into a young woman or man
It will be your first home  though there you did not stay
For as long as you live till your last nigh and day
I have seen tough old fellows who had been migrants for years
With a few beers in for their hometown in tears
Nostalgia in the migrant may lessen as the years go by
But that in the mind traces of it does remain none ought to deny
The migrants from their first homes may be long gone
But some nostalgia for what was in them does live on
I have seen long term migrants after a few beers with tears in their eyes
For the far away places where they saw their first sunrise.

Rhyming Is My Addiction

With words i am one who likes to have a play
And i do like to dabble in rhyme every day
Some tell me in rhyme i have said all one can say
And that maybe i ought to give rhyming away

But for years in me to pen rhyme there has been this need
So to their sort of advice i never pay much heed
And though my prime and my best years are in the long gone
For as long as i live i hope  for to rhyme on

My worth as a  rhymer i always do doubt
But every day for me new things to rhyme about
The poets do write poetry i am not a poet
Nor am i one worthy of literary note

And every day new  rhymes keep coming to me
Of people and life and the natural beauty i do see
A magpie is warbling on a  sunlit wattle tree
He is doing to him what does come naturally

And though some do tell me it is a great waste of time
I hope that i never do run out of rhyme
Since rhyming is my addiction and of it i will only be free
On the day i do die whenever that will be.