Friday, July 31, 2015

On Lake Cartcarrong Today

Of so little of Nature's ways i can claim to know
But my wonder of her only does seem to grow
About her she does have a mysterious way
Few waterbirds to be seen on Lake Cartcarrong today
Lake Cartcarrong at Winslow in the green countryside
Where bird watchers come to watch water birds from places far and wide
But today on Lake Cartcarrong only a few moorhen and swamp-hen to be seen
Where so many species of water birds have so often been
To Lake Cartcarrong they will return to in a week or two
They like to come and go as most species of water birds do
Lake Cartcarrong by the Town of Winslow has a charm of it's own
As a quiet place of natural beauty it has become known
The freshening wintery winds of August tell more rain is on the way
And few birds to be seen on Lake Cartcarrong today.

On The Constant Booing Of Adam Goodes

Though fools with common sense may disagree
The booing of A F L footballer Adam Goodes seems racial harassment to me
One of the all time great players to play Australia's indigenous game
Do those who constantly boo him have any sense of shame?

Twice a Brownlow Medalist and a former Australian of the year
That Adam Goodes is a great and honored man is quite obviously clear
A spokes person for Australia's indigenous race
Those who constantly boo him bring on themselves disgrace

Such people are of no value at all
To this great game of Australian Rules Football
Adam Goodes or anybody who plays sports does not deserve to be treated in such a way
Suppose for fame for some there must be some price to pay

A Sydney Swans great Adam Goodes name will be living on
When all of those who boo him are of the forgotten gone
And it does seem quite a sad thing for to have to say
That there are a lot of racist people in the World of today.

Worry And Victim

You worry about little things every day
Worry becomes your friend and with you does stay
And worry introduces you to victim for you another friend
And they will remain with you until your life will end
Unless you come to realize that your biggest worries compared to the worries of some are quite small
And that you have little for to worry about at all
And if you tell worry and worry's friend victim to leave
The light of happiness into your mind you will receive
Worry and victim are friends that you do not need
Without them your life would be far better indeed
For as long as they are your friends sad you will remain
With them the poor me mentality becomes your gain
You seek comfort in their friendship and happiness you cannot know
And the problems in your life only seem to grow.

Thursday, July 30, 2015

How Boring We Would be

How boring we would be if on some things we all were the same
If we all spoke in the same language and in sport played and followed the same game
If we were of the same race and of the one breed
How boring we would be yes quite boring indeed

Though if we all were of the one religion and political persuasion this would be to humanity's gain
Why these two are so divisive is beyond me to explain
If we all followed the one political party and the praises of the one god did sing
Then this for humanity would be a good thing

Suppose a perfect Human World to live in it never will be
And if everyone looked at life in the same way as me
We would not have anything to talk of or argue about
And on something great in our lives we would be missing out

Many have their own version of god and of their own heaven and hell
But amongst this do spare a thought for the poor infidel
As he or she are of the damned many religious people do believe
And post bodily death for their godless lives just payment they will receive

But if on everything everybody did agree
How boring as people we all would be
We would not have anything to talk of or to argue about
And on some things that make life interesting we would be missing out.

Your Worth As A Person

Your worth as a person do you ever doubt
And do you ever wonder what life is all about
With a wife and young children on a poor suburban street
You have to work hard just for to make ends meet

The hard work that you do it is not matched by pay
With many it does seem that it is this way
Born to poor parents and poor you will die
That the majority of the World's wealth is owned by the few is not a lie

So many are poor for the billionaire few
This is how life is and this is nothing new
That self made millionaires are not many happens to be true
And a good weekly wage should be everyone's due

Shortage of money causes worry and stress
You are judged by your suburb and your postal address
You are often mentally down but you refuse to be counted out
And your worth as a person you often do doubt.

Poor Jimmy

Poor Jimmy every day to god he does talk
He talks to his god in the park as he walk
The voices of god in his mind he does hear
His god is talking to him every day of the year
Prescribed medication it does keep him sane in his mind
And Jimmy in his ways is compassionate and kind
He says talking to god has made a better person of him
His being of joy it is quite full to the brim
He is known as Poor Jimmy by those who dismiss him as mad
They cannot understand that for one on medication he never feels sad
But they do not realize that Jimmy has the inner glow the light that eradicates the darkness of sin
And the god he is talking to is his god within
Though on medication sadness from him does seem far away
He is talking to his god within every day.

Wednesday, July 29, 2015

The Billionaire's Son

He is one who never must work for his pay
And he will never know what it is like a poor day
With a beautiful wife and a young son and daughter a multi millionaire at thirty one
Life has been good to the billionaire's son
His father a mining magnate the wealthiest person in the town
As a known billionaire his great claim to renown
By circumstance of birth of poverty he will never know
Money known to make money his vast fortune grow
That money wins you admirers it does seem this way
And it speaks every language as the wise one does say
He owns a big home and drives in a big new car
And he has never been seen drinking in the working class bar
That he wines and dines in the most expensive restaurants is not a surprise
And only with wealthy people he does socialize.


For it's natural beauty it has won renown
The countryside bordering old Cobden Town
The flat open paddocks often looking green
Where Nature at her finest is often to be seen
Cobden itself for it's friendly people well known
An old rural Town with a charm of it's own
Where most people do greet strangers with a smile
A visit to there may be well worth one's while
In the park at Cobden the gray butcher-birds sing
Their bubbling songs for to hear such a beautiful thing
When last i was in Cobden on a nice Summer's day
The sun it was shining in a sky blue and gray
Good memories of such beauty with me does remain
And i hope for to visit old Cobden again.

A Big World After All

The old saying goes it is a small World after all
Whatever this means for the World is not small
You may have seen every Country but anyone who tells you he or she has seen every place
You can say for sure that he or she is lying in your face
For those who tell you that they have seen every place in the World believe in their own lies
For this would be impossible as any sane person would realize
For it is a big World the World out there
And not even one out of the billions of people have been to everywhere
Some people have been to many places and some their lifetime do stay
In the place where they first looked on the lamp of day
Though i live far south of where i was born and raised in so few Countries to i have been
And so little of the big World out there i have seen
Despite the old saying the World is far from small
It is indeed quite a big World after all.

Tuesday, July 28, 2015

So I Will Rhyme On

For many years i have been a rhyming buff
One of those who has written loads of rhyming stuff
And what matter if to many my rhymes seem a bit rough
Only few out of millions of writers seen to be good enough
Of becoming wealthy and famous and worthy of making the grade
Though every writer is needed in the Wordsmith Trade
I am one of many who writes rhymes every day
If i did not enjoy doing it i would give it away
Every day the rhymes come to me in notebook i write them down
But never for money or for literary renown
It is only for pleasure that rhymes i do write
And every day post them into an internet site
And though my best physical years in life in the forever gone
I do enjoy rhyming and so i will rhyme on.

In Vaughan's Old Cemetery

In Vaughan's old cemetery in Spring
The birds of Nature chirp and sing
Above the graves where the bones of the dead lay
The unnamed dead from far away

They came from China to central Victoria we are told
As many did then for to mine for gold
In the dry and the brown countryside
Far south of their Homeland they died

No monument for to mark the spot
Of where they lay buried and forgot
As if as people they did not count
And their lives to nothing did amount

Discrimination should not be anybody's due
But that they knew of this happens to be true
Adventurous young men from a distant Land
They spoke in a language others did not understand

For to travel so far they had to be adventurous and brave
And the lifetime reward for each of them an unmarked grave
The only signs of their existence that does remain
In Vaughan near the Town of Castlemaine

They too had their dreams of wealth and fame like you and i
And they did not come to Castlemaine in poverty for to die
In unmarked graves in Vaughan their bones do lay
From their home Country of China many kilometers away.

The Praises Of Smiling

The praises of smiling one only can sing
As has often been said it does not cost one a thing
The surly faced person of few wish to know
She or he does seem lacking in the inner glow
The happy looking person make friends every day
About them they do have a friend making way
The happy looking person everyone likes to meet
They carry joy with them when walking the street
The ripples of happiness from them spread around
Wherever they are joy does seem to abound
Laugh and the World laughs with you remains as ever true
If you have a sour face few wish to know of you
Yes the praises of smiling one only can sing
And the best thing about it is it does not cost one a thing.

Monday, July 27, 2015

As Good As You Can Be

You may not be at the top of the social tree
But you can only be as good as you can be
If you keep on trying you will have your day
In life you win some and lose some it does seem this way
Indeed life can be compared to the game of football
You well may win some but you cannot win them all
Sometimes you may be found to be wanting when put to the test
But no cause for regret if you give it your best
To the winners the glory is how it does seem
And disappointments in life bad for one's self esteem
And though losing is a thing anyone does not choose
For you for to win someone else has to lose
With life has it's winners and losers few would disagree
Suppose this is how it is and it always will be.

A Stranger In Old Koroit Town

In Koroit the people are friendly as friendly as can be
And anyone there has never been rude to me
On Commercial Road i have often walked up and down
But i will always feel a stranger in old Koroit Town

A Town of the Irish some are known to say
But Koroit from Ireland in distance far away
In Koroit they do not play Road Bowls, Hurling or Gaelic Football
The games of the Irish does not interest them at all

Though in some forms of entertainment their connection to Ireland is strong
In the Koroit pubs often sessions of Irish music and song
But little else in common with Irish people they do share
In Koroit never a Road Bowler, Gaelic Footballer or a hurling player

I like Koroit people they treat me as okay
And only nice things of them i have to say
But their links to the Irish we should not overrate
In Koroit they have their own sporting heroes to celebrate

The Irish games of Hurling or Gaelic Football or Road Bowls they do not play
And in distance from Koroit Ireland is far away
Most people on the street greet me with a smile as i walk up and down
But i will always feel a stranger in old Koroit Town.

Is There A World Bodily Post Bodily Death

Is there a World post bodily death somewhere beyond the sky
Where all good souls with wings at great speed upwards to does fly
Or does the soul die in the mind when we draw life's final breath
And it is heaven and hell in this earthly World and it ends for all in bodily death
Call me an agnostic or an atheist or even an infidel
But whatever about a post bodily death there is an earthly heaven and hell
Any deceased person i have known of an afterlife have not come back to me to tell
Is the last hooray for all of us the final farewell bell?
I am not ashamed at all to say the Reaper of lives i do fear
And with every passing day i know to me he is reaping near
In my late sixties my best years gone to the scythe of death i soon will fall
And the same for the pauper and the billionaire since death is for us all
Is there a World post bodily death where good souls with wings to do fly
A paradise of eternal bliss somewhere beyond the sky?

Sunday, July 26, 2015

Of Impressionable People

Of impressionable people in the World quite a share
But then again their sort have never been rare
Sports is the main topic by many especially football
And to them little else seems to matter at all
The impact of Climate Change on the Natural Environment they would rather not talk about
In fact the very existence of Global Warming they even do doubt
They vote for conservative politicians on election day
The World as it is to them is quite okay
To the nineteen fifties in their thinking they do belong
On burning of fossil fuels such as coal they do not see anything wrong
To them mining creates employment they do not look far ahead
To the future of their descendants when they themselves are long dead
Sports seem to be their main topic especially football
And little else does seem to matter at all.

Rhymers Are Many

I have been penning rhymes for four decades of time
Since i was a younger man in my life's physical prime
Anybody can pen rhyme as has been said often before
In every village, town and city there are rhymers by the score
For me on penning rhyme lack of money and fame
But it is something i do enjoy doing just the same
Few rhymers it is true does make rhyming financially pay
But if i did not enjoy doing it i would give it away
Though to this you may say do tell us what is new
If rhymers are many then poets are few
Rhyming has become an addiction to me
The rhymers pen rhyme and the poets write poetry
And though i have been advised for to give rhyming away
I hope for to be doing it on my life's final day.

On Magpies Singing At Night

How lovely to hear magpies singing at night
At the start of their nesting Season in the moonlight
When the stars are twinkling in the cold sky
In the depths of Winter in chilly July
The warbling notes such a joy for to hear
Of the birds who do sing at all times of the year
When in the still of the night you hear the magpies sing
You know that it cannot be too far from Spring
The black and white songsters of the Southern Hemisphere
To the wettest and coldest of Winter they help to bring cheer
From once heard their flute like notes one never again gets wrong
Australian magpies they do have a beautiful song
How lovely to hear them on a calm July night
Singing on the gum trees in the Winter moonlight.

Saturday, July 25, 2015

The World's Number One Super Power

She will always be the World's number one Super Power
The one who can create a beautiful flower
Yet when she grows angry she causes death and injury and tears and heartbreak
And leave great buildings in rubble behind her in her wake
She has amazing creative powers though in time she is very old
And her beauty is always quite amazing for to behold
When people talk of the World's number one Super Power Her name is always left out
But that she is the World's greatest force should never be in doubt
Her name is Mother Nature the one who feeds all
Life forms including us humans from the great to the small
The beauty she creates is free for all to enjoy
But in her moments of anger dreams she has been known to destroy
She has been in the World since time began
And her achievements far greater than that of any human.

A Young Man In His Early Twenties

He has got a good and a well paying job and drives in a new car
Yet so many like he is who feels how marvelous they are
He may have a big ego but then so too do i
If i said otherwise this would be telling a lie

Most of us as we know can be quite self centered indeed
I would not go to him if of help i was in need
For i know in such a case to me he would say
Those who do help themselves always do quite okay

With the aspirational of the town he likes to socialize
One can say that this in itself is not any surprise
Birds of a feather do flock together as the saying goes
Most of us enjoy the company of like minded people one has to suppose

A young man in his early twenties doing materially and financially well in life
His girlfriend a beautiful young blond is to become his wife
Them i sometimes see walking hand in hand in the park or on the street
With just a passing hello whenever we do meet.

Who Wins The Next Federal Election

Who wins the next Australian Federal Election why should i even care
Since the Government and the main opposition party only favor every multi millionaire
Their policies as always only benefit the privileged few
Though you may say to this do tell us what is new
Between the Government and the main opposition party the difference in policies scarce worth arguing about
That they only legislate for the privileged in society there can be little doubt
Whichever of them gains Government those doing it tough will not be better off post next Federal Election day
That M P's of the major political parties have little if any interest at all in the poor of the Country seems a sad thing to have to say
On the poor side of the town there are many poor homeless people sleeping rough tonight
In the twenty first century that so many misfortunate people have to live in such a way does not seem at all right
In a democratic Country the gap between the wealthy and the poor every day grows more wide
It does look like that only a small minority of people do have God on their side
So who wins the next Federal Election why should i even worry or care
Since any of the parties who will be elected to Govern will only be governing for every multi millionaire.

Friday, July 24, 2015

John Davidson

John Davidson the great poet of Barrhead
A Town in Scotland in east Renfrewshire
One hundred and six years deceased and his poems and ballads are living
And even today reading his poetry younger poets to write better does inspire

His physical health not good and he had a mental illness
And he died at his own hands at the age of fifty one
But his poems have stood the greatest test of them all time
And praise from poetry fans and critics he has won

One of Scotland's literary greats his ballads are quite amazing
He was a poet with a writing style of his own
His poems do remain as a testament to his literary greatness
And though long deceased in death his literary legend it has grown

He first saw light of day in Barrhead a Town close to Glasgow
And in March 1909 at 51 his life ended in a tragic way
His legacy to humanity his amazing poems and ballads
And by lovers of poetry his poems read and enjoyed today.

Perhaps Never More To See Old Mushera

Perhaps never more to see old Mushera or to hear the birds on a Spring dawn
Singing on the leafy hedgerows and in the groves of Tooreenbawn
Yet i have the pleasant memories and they will be till death with me
Of the happy times i have known back there in the what used to be
On my pleasant flights of fancy wood pigeons cooing on the pine trees
At the foot of Mushera Mountain in the freshening April breeze
Most migrants of the past have their memories and the good memories i do retain
Of the years when i was younger when in the gray clouds of rain
High above the slopes of Mushera i could hear the skylark sing
Mottled brown bird of wild places to sing has to take to wing
Yet the past has gone forever as the wise person does say
We can only live in the present and the present is today
Perhaps never more to see old Mushera and to watch the swallows fly
Above the fields by the mountain chasing flying insects in the sky.

I Have Convinced Myself

I have convinced myself that i am not a poet
Nor do i feel worthy of any literary note
Though i am one who has written rhymes by the score
I am a rhymer at best and little else more
And though my worth as a rhymer i always do doubt
No shortage of things for me to write rhymes about
The gray clouds of rain in the morning sky
In the depths of Winter in windy July
But a magpie is warbling on a windblown gum tree
And a magpie lark in the paddock is singing pee wee
Birds chirping and singing and Nature's beauty to see
And rhyming words once again coming to me
To say i am a poet would be telling a lie
But i will be a rhymer till the day i do die.

Thursday, July 23, 2015

The Pride Of Millstreet

Her shoulder length hair it was wavy and brown
And her eyes blue as ripened sloes the Pride of Millstreet Town
In her early twenties near her physical prime
If living today she must be showing the wear of time

I remember her though i was a boy then
A primary school going lad of nine years or ten
All eyes were on her as she walked on Main Street
Local young men fantasized about the Pride of Millstreet

But the wanderlust in her for places elsewhere
And she sought adventure in the big World out there
From Millstreet she went to live in distance far away
I do believe to somewhere in the U S of A

I wonder did she raise children as some lucky man's wife
Or did she remain childless as well as leading a single life
And has she been aging in a graceful way
She would be in her early eighties if living today

Beautiful memories do live on as a source of joy
She was a young woman when i was a boy
Tall and graceful and lovely and without conceit
Good memories live on of the Pride of Millstreet.

Young Stan

He fancies himself as a bloke for the ladies the fellow known as Randy Stan
He boasts that to young women he is irresistible he fancies himself as quite a man
Often in the gym fine toning his body he is well built and quite muscular indeed
But on how to chat up young women on some coaching he is in need
Broad shouldered and muscular his long hair is tousled and black
But he is not handsome and attractive to women and in good manners is a thing he does lack
At twenty five in his physical prime he has had a few women but with him for long they did not stay
He has not been seen with a woman for some time he is single and looking today
He thinks that if he makes his muscles bigger that women to him they will flock
That he will become so irresistible to them that on his door they will come and knock
He is fooling no one only himself it seems he believes his own lies
The young man has got a big ego and he is not clever or wise
He boasts he is a hit with the ladies he is self deluded young Stan
He may be tall and broad shouldered with bulging biceps but he will never be a ladies man.

The Silver Back Crow

No mercy to weakly young lambs they do show
The kind of bird hated by sheep farmers the silver back crow
Who of them do not have any kind word to say
They pluck out the eyes of frail young lambs and leave them to die in a slow and painful way
The sight of people the silver back crow have learned to fear
Their kind are shot at and poisoned every day of the year
But despite the farmers best efforts to make them extinct they survive today
The birds known to many in feathers of dark and gray
In mountain places they remain a common sight
And when people approach them they quickly take to flight
To Nature's survivors their kind does belong
Those who forecast the demise of their species surely got it wrong
Of the life of the avian outlaw they do know
The birds known to many as the silver back crow.

Wednesday, July 22, 2015

Sad Faced Jim

Despite what many may say life for some is not always fair
At least not for those who have to live with their dark moods of despair
Of how it feels to be happy they do not know
Lucky those who do know of the warm inner glow

Young Jim in his early twenties he always looks sad
A quiet and shy person in him nothing bad
Though he does not have a friend or he does not have a foe
And he never does smile when he says hello

He is known by the nickname of Sad Faced Jim
And nothing at all for to dislike in him
Though he is one who is quite often mentally down
He is not disliked by anyone on his side of the town

He does not have children or a girlfriend or a wife
And he may remain as single all of the days of his life
But so many like him with depression in the World of today
And this does seem a sad thing for to have to say.

Most Of Us Are Only Numbers

Most of us are only numbers in folders in Government filing cabinets this is all we are
No different to a motor bike or to a motor car
Our existence to a very few only does seem to count
Have you ever felt as i do that your life to little does amount?
Perhaps i am negative for thinking in this way
But in this Human World we live in today
The more aggressive and ruthless are those who seem to succeed
So much for the saying 'the weak the Earth shall inherit' so much so indeed
Many of us are only numbers for the recognized few
This is a known fact and what is known is not new
Known by numbers and not names which is a sad thing
Though to their dreams of fame and good fortune the majority do cling
Yes numbers in folders in Government filing cabinets the most of us only are
No different to a motor bike or to a motor car.

The Old Hills Of South Gippsland

From late Autumn to Spring they look green and in Summer they look brown
The hills of south Gippsland above Toora Town
On a clear day one can see for kilometers around
Of the scenic countryside of south Gippsland from the higher ground
The high grassy hills close to the highway
To drive by them they do look quite beautiful on a clear sunny day
Long before the Shire now known as Gippsland did have a name
The old hills were there long before the first people came
To live by the hills that had trees on them then
That thousands of years later were removed by European pioneering men
The hills of South Gippsland all but treeless today
But they do look quite beautiful in truth one can say
The old hills of South Gippsland lit by the sunlight
For those driving on the highway a beautiful sight.

Tuesday, July 21, 2015

People Kill People

Guns, bombs and knives are not responsible for crimes of shame
When people kill people it is people are to blame
It is bad people alone are responsible for deliberately taking people's lives
Though their means of murder may be bombs, guns or knives
It is people kill people and this is not a lie
And at the hands of people every day people die
It is people kill people guns and bombs and knives on their own cannot kill
And if others want to harm you they can and they will
Far too many good people dying due to foul play
Tragic stories of human death through violence on the media every day
If people who want to murder do not have guns, bombs or knives to kill they will find some other way
As it is people who kill people it is true to say
Guns, bombs and knives are not responsible for crimes of shame
When people kill people it is people are to blame.

You Grieve On Your Own

Others may sympathize with you at your great loss
But you on your own have to carry grief's cross
Of one precious and dear to you by life's Reaper you have been denied
But words of sympathy cannot bring back to you your dear friend who has died
People in their words of condolence to you understanding and kind
But the burden of grief weighs heavily on the mind
And few wish to know of you when you are mentally down
For few wish to know of a sad one of the town
Grief is a thing in their lives that many of have known
And despite support from friends and family you must grieve on your own
And though sad memories of your loss till death with you will stay
For grief time is the greatest healer as the wise one does say
You are one of many who of grief who has known
And despite the kind words of others you grieve on your own.

The Merri

In the home of the pee wee and magpie and the black pale eyed crow
The dark Merri waters to the Pacific does flow
In and out of Lake Pertobe on by Middle Island it flows on it's way
Into the Pacific Ocean at Stingray Bay
On through the Moyne Shire Towards Warrnambool City moving dark deep and slow
How old is the Merri anyone cannot say or know
Thousands of centuries before the first people to the land now known as south west Victoria for to live came
The Merri was flowing a river without a name
In the Dreamtime Australia's first people danced their corroborees
By the river on warm Summer evenings in the shade of the trees
Since then many Seasons have come and have gone
But old Merri to the Pacific as ever flows on
In and out of Lake Pertobe to the Pacific shore
The Merri will be flowing forever more.

Monday, July 20, 2015

Of Rebels Of Duhallow

I was raised in Duhallow a Barony of legendary fighting men
Like the heroes of the ambush at Tureengarriffe Glen
On the Cork Kerry border in sky kilometers far away
From where i am living and growing old today

In his prime the most wanted by the British in Duhallow's countryside
Kiskeam's Sean Moylan was known far and wide
In song and in story his praises are sung
By all accounts quite fearless when he was young

For many years a T D and a Government Minister in the colors of Fianna Fail
And one of the most colorful of characters in Ireland's Dail
But like everyone else time became Moylan's foe
And life's Reaper claimed the life from him many decades ago

In his prime years by the British a wanted man
In Duhallow Big Cone Meaney was a famous Republican
He became a T D and was loved by many as a wise old sage
And mourned by friends and family he died of old age

Con Murphy of Ballydaly the first Irish person for possession of arms for to be put to death
A braver man than he was never did draw life's breath
He died under British gunfire in a cruel and foul way
For his love of Ireland with his life he did pay

In Millview Lane at night in old Millstreet Town
Paddy McCarthy of Rowells by the British forces was gunned down
He did go down fighting though the numbers not on his side
And in the arms of his friends in the darkness he died

Of rebels of Duhallow so many one could name
Of the torch of freedom they helped for to light the flame
But all of this happened a long time ago
And the enemy back then is no longer the foe.

In The World Of Nature

In the World of Nature around us there is so much for to see
Nature's beauty it is all around you and it is all around me
The rain clouds in the sky are a dull foggy gray
And the rain drizzling down on this mid Winter day
Yet the wattle trees looking quite beautiful in their blooms of gold
Such amazing Winter beauty a joy for to behold
And the familiar warbling of the magpies melodious and clear
The birds who do sing every day of the year
A beauty for to view money we do not have to pay
It is everywhere around us every day
In the year's four Seasons Summer, Autumn, Winter and Spring
The beauty of Nature is quite an amazing thing
Rain drizzling down from gray rain clouds of the sky
And Nature's beauty all around me on this day in July.

For Our Sins Against Others

For our sins against others to Karma we must pay
This is how it is and it was always this way
Though many with this way of thinking may disagree
The theory of Karma does seem true to me
In life if you sow poor seed poor fruits you receive
On such a philosophy i do believe
some criminals do seem to profit from crime
And are quite successful on avoiding prison time
But if the law does not catch up with them Karma eventually will
To exact the price from them for doing to others ill
The wrong you do to others to your own self you do
The loser in the long run it will surely be you
What goes around comes around as the wise one does say
This is how it is and it was always this way.

Sunday, July 19, 2015

On Clara In July

The little mottled brown skylark of human kind shy
Up to the cloud World does sing as he fly
A musical speck in the blue and gray sky
Above Clara mountain in summery July

When the whortleberries the tiny blue fruits of the heather are ripe for to eat
From Nature to the taste buds such a tasty treat
From the slopes of Clara on a clear day on the higher ground
The scenery breathtaking for many kilometers around

In the countryside of the Cork and Kerry border so much beauty for to see
The undulating sights of Cullen and Rathmore and beyond Knocknagree
On the slopes of Clara overlooking Millstreet Town and the countryside west of Millstreet
Those old green rushy fields where the rivers do meet

Good memories of what was in me does remain
And often in fancy i climb on old Clara again
A tiny musical speck in the calm evening sky
A mottled brown skylark is singing on an evening in July.

You Cannot Win Them All

You cannot have true friends without making foes
This goes with human relationships one has to suppose
The words of the wise person i do recall
You may well win some but you cannot win them all

It is true the most popular person in the town
Is the one that a few in their words like to put down
Though for your compassion and kindness many good friends becomes your worthy due
That you cannot win them all happens for to be true

Yes there are always a few flaws in you the knockers will find
Some people in their words just cannot be kind
The one loved by many not loved by everyone
Though a good deed every day of the year you have done

It is the human way why otherwise pretend
That everyone does not see you as a friend
The words of the wise one so true to recall
You may well win many but you cannot win them all.

A Name That Is Feared

A name that is feared by people Worldwide
The one responsible for dreams and ambitions destroyed
In every village and city and town
By the Reaper of lives tall poppies are cut down
Many refer to the Reaper of lives as a he
But for all we do know it may well be a she
The one who goes reaping with the scythe of death
And steals from everybody the precious life's breath
The skeleton with the scythe that so many does fear
Between the wealthy and the poor does not differentiate seems obviously clear
The Reaper of lives to anyone is not a friend
Everyday the one who wields the scythe of death brings lives to an end
The one who is feared by people Worldwide
From the egalitarian life's Reaper there is nowhere to hide.

Saturday, July 18, 2015

The Camellias Bloom In Winter

When the windblown rain is drizzling from the sky
The Camellias bloom in Winter in July
In the front gardens of the coastal town
As the rain from the gray sky is drizzling down
So beautiful in their rose like pink flowers
They always bloom in the cold winter showers
Their prime of beauty does not have a long stay
Most things of life are quick to meet decay
In Winter such a marvelous sight to see
The pink flowers on the green camellia tree
Though their ancestry from Victoria far away
In bloom they beautify the gloomy winter day
The pink camellias bloom in gardens of the coastal town
In July as the winter rain is drizzling down.


She is such a beautiful person with shoulder length hair of silver gray
Though she is in her early eighties and she has known a far better day
Magella she never had children her long term partner Jimmy last year passed away
She says she would feel so much happier if he were living it is quiet where he now does lay
Magella she is a kind person as most retired nurses are
One who is not wealthy or famous she drives in a second hand car
One always helping homeless people for her corporal works of mercy she is well known
For her kindness and compassion Magella she is in a class of her own
For the betterment of humanity a woman who does her own share
The Magellas of the Human World are and have always been rare
An octogenarian retired nurse it is a fact and fact does not lie
That nurses do never really retire they will be nurses till the day they do die
A friend of the poor and the homeless always willing to help those of helping in need
Not many as kind as Magella she is a great person indeed.

In Nature There Is Beauty

Long before the mildness of the Spring and yellow flowers are on the broom
On the cold and wet depths of mid Winter the the pale jonquils are in bloom
When the wattles are covered in their flowers as bright as polished gold
Even in mid Winter in the south lands Nature's beauty to behold
The rain is drizzling lightly from a gray and sunless sky
In weather rather typical for mid Winter in July
The rhododendrons and camellia trees are cloaked in bright pink flowers
They come to bloom in Winter in the wind driven showers
The flowers that bloom in Winter decaying when Spring is near
Nature she never looks ugly at any time of year
At least not in the south lands where i do live today
Though the weather is not warm and the sky is often gray
The warbling of the magpies melodious and clear
In Nature there is beauty at every time of year.

Friday, July 17, 2015

Writers Block

Amongst writers one often hear of writers block
As if in the writers brain there is some sort of a lock
For to lock out all inspiration from the mind for a spell
Of this writers do have some stories to tell
For writers who are prone to writers block this must be a sad thing
Like the captive bird their thoughts cannot take to wing
In the writer's brain all thought locked in and inspiration locked out
This must cause in writers lots of self doubt
The greatest of writers this thing known as writers block of have known
For a writer this is not a thing any she or her feels proud to own
Something many of them would rather not talk about
And that they would be happy for to live without
Amongst writers it can be like a virus this thing known as writers block
As if in the brain there is some sort of a lock.

The Pride Of Murray Bridge

Of brown eyes and hair as dark as the wing of a crow
She is from Murray Bridge where the dark Murray flow
As it nears it's destination the Pacific shore
On it's deep and slow winding journey that will be forever more
Tall and slender and elegant of charm and grace
The Pride of Murray Bridge of Australia's first race
Unaffected by her beauty and free of conceit
People like her are always a joy for to meet
Eighteen years of age single and carefree
She is Murray Bridge's finest as most would agree
A lovely brown beauty in a class of her own
In a Town for it's beautiful women well known
A descendant of the people of Australia's Dreamtime
She is the inspiration of this simple rhyme.

There Are Not

There are not many human beings free of conceit
The near flawless person i have yet to meet
But then perhaps the flaws in others i do see
Are the flaws that happen for to be in me
I have known and met many good people in truth i can say
To be flawed it is human it does seem this way
The majority of human kind are not free of taint
The World's rarest type of person is the living saint
That you can only live to be as good as you can be
This applies to everyone as well as you and me
For the betterment of humanity with your own self you must begin
For to help the Human World a better World for to live in
The vast majority of us are flawed in some sort of a way
It is what it takes to be human it is true to say.

Thursday, July 16, 2015

I Have Traveled A Bit

I have traveled a bit lived in many a town
But i take them as i find them black, white and brown
For racism in my mind there is not any space
People ought not to be judged by the color of their skin or their race

A person should not be judged by his or her Nationality or creed
That this does happen in the twenty first century is a sad reflection on humanity indeed
All people are born as equal by some we are told
But i find myself less equal to some others as i do grow old

On my travels i have met and mixed with people of many races and in truth i can say
That all people are individuals in their own way
it is a fact that in every race there are good and bad people and fact never lie
Though racism in the Human World it may never die

My journey in life it began elsewhere
And i have traveled a bit in the big World out there
I have mixed with many races and i have come to know
That your race does not give to you the inner glow.

This Is Life One Must Suppose

He speaks of rhyme and poetry he talks of writing prose
Three forms of literary genres as one must suppose
Which does give rise to difference as you may well agree
Paul Dunnell quite a worthy poet in his ways different to me
But then how boring we would be if we all thought in ways the same
We love and live and we dislike in our striving for Earthly fame
Jan Bedson in her marvelous poem I Know That You Will Find Me
Her words born of deep feelings of John Clare's poetry in some ways does remind me
But there are lessons to be learned in life for you and i and all
And your greatest worry you may find compared to the worries of some seem small
What we give in life in other ways we receive to many may seem true
But others will tell you life does not give to you what is your due
We came into life as helpless without money or without clothes
But to this one would have to say this is life one must suppose.

I Have Been Called

I have been called Francis, Frank or Franceen some even call me Francy
And if you are the rhyming type then this would rhyme with Nancy
I have penned a heap of doggerel one might say an addictive rhymer
The schoolboy of the fifties is nowadays an old timer
On looking back the Seasons went fast and time is on the hurry
In gray and wrinkles the years show in care and stress and worry
The more that i do learn from life the more i come to realizing
That of life i know little at all which is not that surprising
In the place i grew into a man today i would be a stranger to many
Of young people in the old Town-land cannot say i would know any
I left my first home place years ago i did have dreams to follow
To experience life in the World out there beyond green old Duhallow
I cannot claim to be a poet for true poets near to extinction
An old fashioned rhymer at best not an enviable distinction.

Wednesday, July 15, 2015

Local To Somewhere

Though known to millions of people in the big World out there
The wealthy and famous person is local to somewhere
From someplace, village, city or town where he or she grew into a young woman or man
Though in their minds they may have outgrown where their life life's journey began
They do not come from Jupiter or Venus, Pluto or from Mars
They were born as Earthly mortals the sports, singing and movie stars
They may be wealthy and quite famous in the big World out there
But their lives journey like everyone else started from somewhere
But like everybody in the World they too are on their way
To where the journey ends for them on their final day
And like the poorest of the poor people on Poverty Street
The one known as the Grim Reaper they are destined for to meet
The feared one who does not respect the celebrities of wealth and fame
And treats the life of every mortal as equal and the same.

In Windy Old Illowa

In Illowa the wild winds of July blow
And in the land drains brown rain water flow
This morning there were heavy showers of rain
But of this you will not hear the farmer once complain
For with the Spring and warmer and drier weather near
Rain it is needed at this time of year
And by the weather forecast more wind and rain on the way
Quite typical for mid Winter one might say
Yet the magpies warbling so pleasant for to hear
The birds who sing every day of the year
And on a low branch of a wattle tree
The magpie lark is calling out pee wee
And in windy old Illowa in July
The winds of Winter raging in the sky.

You Never Mention The Name Of Christy Ring

When the praises of all time great hurlers you do sing
Amongst them you never mention the name of Christy Ring
A name well worthy of recall
As one of Ireland's greatest hurlers of them all

In Ireland's small ball National Game
Christy Ring's is a legendary name
So many great games he played in and played
Of the stuff of hurling legends he was made

For twenty five years one of Ireland's hurling best
Ring proved himself in many a vital test
Eight All Ireland's, eighteen Railway Cup medals and thirteen Cork County medals with The Glen
A great amongst great hurling men

Ring was a sporting legend of his time
Ireland's greatest hurler in his prime
He played for Cork for more than twenty years in time quite a span
The legendary hurling man

Christy Ring played hurling till time became his foe
And though he died in his late fifties thirty six years ago
His own sporting legend he did create
And his name lives as a hurling great.

Tuesday, July 14, 2015

We All Cannot Be Winners

Though losing is a thing anyone does not choose
For one for to win someone else has to lose
In all facets of life this does apply
That for winners there has to be losers one cannot deny
That we all cannot be winners does seem true to say
Whatever you do in life it is this way
Though to try and to fail it is never a sin
Someone has to lose for another to win
Defeat is a thing never easy to face
But it takes a special person for to lose with grace
In life every day some new challenge for to meet
Where people with each other for success do compete
We all cannot be winners would you not agree
This is how it is and how it always will be.

The Place I Once Called Home

The place i once called home is no longer home to me
I only have memories of the what used to be
Like a robin in May singing on a leafy birch tree
Such beauty in time a fading memory

This was long ago and in distance far away
And the now is all that does matter as the wise one does say
The past a fading memory of the forever gone
And life all around me as usual goes on

In the calm of a southern July daybreak
To the warbling song of a magpie i do awake
A bird who does sing every day of the year
His flute like notes always a joy for to hear

The place that i called home is no longer home to me
Today i would be a stranger to many where daylight i first see
The now is all that does matter as the wise one does say
And a magpie he is warbling for to greet the dawning day.

The God Of The Mind

It does not matter if you are an atheist, agnostic or of the religious kind
Every good person has his or her own god of the mind
The praises of their god all religious people sing
But the god of the sky is a human created thing
Those of the god of the mind always helping people of help in need
And for their future good Karma they plant the good seed
Without the god of the mind you cannot have compassion or empathy
Or for the suffering of others feel sympathy
Those of the god of the mind for their beliefs never kill
And are kind in their ways and never wish on others ill
From one in trouble they never walk away
And they perform acts of kindness every day
Without your god of the mind you do not have the inner glow
And any love for others hard for you to show.

Monday, July 13, 2015

The Wild White Waves Of Thunder Point

For to swim in such deep and dangerous waters one would have to be brave
The wild white waves of Thunder Point for some a watery grave
They crash against the sandstone cliffs even on the calmest day
To describe such amazing ocean views i do not have the words to say

Australia's first people centuries ago would have seen what i now see
From the cliffs above the white Pacific waves the vast ocean below me
In a place where artists often come to for to sketch Nature at her best
At evening before twilight as the sun sets in the west

It is indeed an amazing sight on this sunny day in Winter in July
From the windy cliffs of Thunder Point one can see to where the ocean meets the sky
Such beauty that the writers and the artists do inspire
Of singing the praises of Thunder Point how could one ever tire

The wild white waves of Thunder Point blow up a salty spray
And crash against the sandstone cliffs even on the calmest day
The scenic views amazing from the cliffs above the sea
And i can only marvel at the beauty around me.

I Tell Them Millstreet

When people ask me where i come from i tell them from Millstreet
From the fields by the Town where the rivers do meet
Claraghatlea in view of Clara above Claramore
Far north as the migratory bird fly of this southern shore

And when where is this Millstreet to me they do say
I answer a Parish in Duhallow from here far away
Where i used to live when my hair was dark brown
In Claraghatlea two kilometers west of Millstreet Town

When people say to me your accent is strong
I say to Duhallow that it does belong
It came here with me and perhaps it will stay
With me until my last living day

I will be a Claraghatlea fellow till the day i do die
Of my heritage i have no reason to lie
To deny my heritage i would be denying me
I am what i am this is all i can be

I am from the fields where the rushes in clusters do grow
Where Finnow the white river to the Blackwater flow
Where to many i would be a stranger today
Though good memories die hard it does seem true to say

Though to many today there mine would be a stranger's face
Claraghatlea west of Millstreet Town is my first homeplace
And when people ask me where i come from i tell them Millstreet
From the fields by the Town where the rivers do meet.

Sunday, July 12, 2015

Money Does Matter

For the air we do breathe money we do not have to pay
But from smoky industrial estates the wealthy live further away
And in a far less polluted environment that poor people do
But perhaps this is not anything like news to you
The dirty factory chimneys puffing smoke of gray
To the sky above the poor suburb today
From such an environment the wealthy live far away
In most cases money does matter it does seem fair to say
The air that we breathe it is monetary free
But smoky environments not good for one's health as most would agree
To the wealthy side of town no smoky factories near
That money does buy advantage seems obviously clear
And so many poor people for the wealthy few
Am i telling you anything that is new.


Maisie only has memories of for her what used to be
Of old friends of the past she will never more see
In Birmingham in England where she lived near six decades ago
Long before time it did become her foe

A widower for ten years and recently a grandmother for the seventh time
In the nineteen fifties Maisie was in her physical prime
She is looking well for one of eighty four
But Birmingham in England she may see never more

A strong English accent she does retain
A piece of the home Country that with her till death will remain
Any of her Birmingham friends she has not seen for years
But for her distant memories she does not have any tears

Maisie is young at heart though in years she is old
And for her age she is quite attractive to behold
She only has memories of the what used to be
And of people in Birmingham she may never more see.

I Want To Live On

The longest lived human life in time not a long span
On average three score and ten years a few years more for a man
And since a life after bodily death may be based on a lie
Why be in any big hurry for to die
And since i only believe what my eyes do see
Of a life after death ask one other than me
The only god i believe in is the god of the mind
Without your god within you cannot be compassionate and kind
We hear and read so much of the post death worlds of heaven and hell
But of the existence of such places any deceased person has not come back to tell
And though the physical best years of my life are in the long gone
I love life as much as ever and i want to live on
Though life's journeys end for me cannot be far away
My great love of life it is with me today.

Saturday, July 11, 2015

Ordinary People

Ordinary people i meet every day
As ordinary as i am in my ordinary way
And ordinary people i hear on the radio and see on t v
Such as the ordinary prime minister none more ordinary than he
Is though he is the most talked of and photographed person in the Country
Yet he is not handsome or clever and is quite ordinary
Though a few extraordinary people of i do know
And my admiration for them only grow
One is my neighbor the amazing Sue
To her higher self she is one who is true
Always willing to help anyone of her help in need
She is a wonderful person indeed
One of the extraordinary in truth i can say
Of people like she is not many today.

The School Of Life

Though i cannot claim to have uni degrees
I do know that knowledge does not grow on trees
But i learn from life and nature every day
Learn as you live with me it is this way

In Millstreet Town far north of Warrnambool
I was not one of the bright boys of the school
And school a thing i never did enjoy
I was a sort of an anti learning boy

Of life all do have their own stories to tell
And the school of life it has served me quite well
Everyday of the year i do learn something new
But to say this i am not one of a few

To say the school of life is the best school of all
We learn as we live such wise words i recall
We learn from life and from nature till the day we do die
For to say otherwise would be telling a lie

I was not one of the bright boys of the school
Far north of the countryside by Warrnambool
But in the school of life i do learn every day
We never stop learning it does seem this way.

The Do Not Fit In

In every village, city and town there are those who cannot seem to win
The people known to many as the do not fit in
Judged by their lack of material possessions, appearance and clothes
Many put in their own pigeon hole one would have to suppose
By judgmental people who are to be found everywhere
There are many of them in the big World out there
They do set the standard for us to live by
And why we follow like sheep one has to wonder why
Though their praises the gullible masses do never sing
I do admire those who do their own thing
Though of the social scene they will never be to the fore
Since the standard set by the judgmental they do happily ignore
To be different to the majority there is some price to pay
This is how it is and how it will stay.

Friday, July 10, 2015

The Old Hopkins River

It has inspired the writers of story and rhyme
The dark Hopkins River is so old in time
It had been flowing for thousands of years before the first people to the State now known as Victoria came
As a very old waterway that did not have a name
Australia's first people going back the centuries
On very warm evenings in Summer close to forty degrees
By the banks of the river in the shade of the trees
They told stories and sang and danced their corroborees
Since then many Seasons have come and have gone
But the old dark waterway towards the blue hole crawls on
As it nears the Pacific to a huge waterway it does grow
As by the City of Warrnambool it flows dark, deep and slow
The old Hopkins River so very old in time
That has inspired the writers of story and rhyme.

Respect It Is Earned

Respect it is earned and cannot be won
Words of the wise woman to her grandson
The praises of fools by too many are sung
We should learn from our mistakes of when we were young
The leading barracker in the town's football club
Does have the loudest voice in the local pub
And yet of admirers he has quite a few
On that fools look up to fools there is nothing new
By listening we learn it does seem this way
The town's wisest person is one with little to say
If you are not open to knowledge such you cannot receive
On such a philosophy one has to believe
The town's wisest person a good listener for to give her what is her due
I only say of her what i believe to be true.

There Will Always Be Rhymers

Perhaps it is true what some do claim that anybody can write in rhyme
A style of writing that belongs to another time
The days of the rhymers are in the long gone
That is if you heed the words of the literary don
Educated people have killed rhyme it does seem fair to say
Rhyme that once was lauded as poetry dismissed as doggerel today
By literary critics who non rhymers promote
In their literary columns to the status of poet
The literary tastes of the literary dons one might say have changed fast
And rhymers and bush poets nowadays seen to be of the past
By the organizers of the top poetry reading nights who run an exclusive club
Rhymers never invited to read they are given the snub
And though they may be seen to be of another time
There will always be rhymers and we will always have rhyme.

Wednesday, July 8, 2015

You May Feel Depressed

You may feel depressed due to financial strife
But money is not as important as the great gift of life
And though presently you are going through quite a tough time
You have got good health and you are in your physical prime

She may seem to have everything the aged queen
But her physical best years in life she has seen
And she has a genuine reason for fear
With the Reaper of lives to her lurking near

I bet she does wish that she was young again
But her long gone youth she will never regain
She was born a mortal just like you and i
And Life's Reaper decides when our turn is to die

The praises of the wealthy and famous the masses may sing
But than fame and money the great gift of life is a far greater thing
And hope springs eternal in those who to it does cling
The future to you better times well may bring

You may be financially poor but with good health and time on your side
You are free to travel the World is wide
You do not have a wife and young children for to worry about
And the roads from this town leads to north, east, west and south.


Theo in his mid sixties is not feeling physically well
How long he has to live even doctors cannot truly tell
It is said doctors differ and patients do die
In Theo's case anyway this is not a lie
From chemotherapy from stomach cancer he is looking and feeling ill
But to fight his way back to full health he does have the will
Though the doctors agree he may not be living for his sixty sixth birthday next May
On his demise Theo does not agree on what of him they have to say
Theo does not have children or he never has had a wife
Five years ago his partner Jo died in a car accident the great love of his life
He grieved for the beautiful woman that none could take her place
Five years on he has his biggest challenge in life for to face
Theo is determined for to prove the doctors wrong
Though in very poor health the will to live in him is strong
The doctors predict that within months he will be in his grave
But there is truth in the saying that fortune favors the brave.

Tuesday, July 7, 2015

I Often Think Of Claraghatlea

I often think of Claraghatlea just west of Millstreet Town
Where i lived many years ago when my hair was dark brown
Till the yearn of wander woke in me and lured me far away
From the countryside in view of Clara Hill where i feel at home today
The Moyne Shire in south west Victoria in distance is far south
Of the fields of the badger, jackdaw and rook and the waterways of the brown trout
I would be a stranger to many today in the Town of Millstreet
And perhaps i will never again walk in the fields where the rivers do meet
Near mid Winter in the Moyne Shire on the first week of July
The sun is not out today hidden in the gray clouds of the sky
Yet the warbling of the magpies so pleasant for to hear
The birds that sing in all Seasons and every day of the year
But i often think of Claraghatlea north of here and far away
Where i lived many years ago and first looked on the lamp of day.

Always One Worse Off Than You

Nothing in life seems to be going your way
And for you it has been another bad day
Nothing seems to go right for you no matter what you do
But remember there is always one worse off than you
Disappointment in life not a stranger to anywhere
There are millions doing it tough in the big World out there
Financially you may be one who is doing it tough
But you are never hungry and you have a home to live in and you never sleep rough
And though the praises of poor people so few ever sing
Poverty in itself is a relative thing
Their friends in the few the sad sacks of the town
For so few wish to know of those financially or mentally down
You feel you are not being rewarded for the hard work you do
But so many are doing it far tougher than you.

Monday, July 6, 2015

Jean Armour

Jean Armour gave birth to many children and knew of the hard life
To Scotland's Bard Robert Burns she was a good wife
Burns in his poetry and songs became known Worldwide
To Scots their National Bard is a source of National pride

Jean Armour loved the poet who as a young man died
Though he enjoyed his grog and his bit on the side
One can truly say of her she was not of the jealous kind
But then suppose as the saying goes true love can be blind

Jean Armour gave birth to nine of Burns children six of them died very young
And for her unconditional devotion to Scotland's Bard her praises deserve to be sung
She lived up to her name as the Belle of Mauchline
And she matured with age like the best of good wine

Jean Armour was one who had the inner glow
Despite the flaws of Burns her love for him did grow
True to her higher self it would be true to say
And devoted to Burns till his death she did stay

Her love of Burns was unconditional and this is a rare thing
Of the praises of Jean Armour i feel happy for to sing
The story of her love for Burns the master wordsmith of poetry and rhyme
Has lived and will live through the centuries of time

Though to be married to Burns her great claim to fame
For tolerance, love and devotion she carried the flame
Jean Armour was more than Robert Burns wife
She magnified the brighter side of human life.

What Is A Pleasure To Me

What is a pleasure to me to many seems a waste of time
For i am one who does enjoy penning rhyme
Something i have been doing since i was twenty seven in nineteen seventy three
It was love of rhyme that made a rhymer of me
And though my worth as a rhymer i often does doubt
No shortage of things for me to write rhymes about
I am one of those who pens rhymes every day
Old habits die hard as the wise one does say
I used to believe that i would be a poet
One seen to be worthy of literary note
But from life we receive what is only our due
Though some they will tell you that this is not true
I write rhymes for enjoyment and little else more
This is something you may have heard me say before
I do enjoy rhyming the reason i write rhymes every day
And it is something i never hope to give away.

Sunday, July 5, 2015

To Call Their First Home

Each person has somewhere for to call their first home
Like to the New Yorker it is New York to the Athenian it is Athens and to the Roman it is Rome
And no matter to where you travel to in the big World out there
You will always meet people from some other where

You will always meet people from big cities and towns far away
Like Shanghai and and Montreal and Sydney and Bombay
Or London or Rio, Berlin or Paris in France
Where the late Charlie Chaplin taught the ladies to dance

I cannot say i am a well traveled man
But i have met people from Johannesburg and Tehran
And people from Bali and Tokyo in Japan
And people from Brussels and Kabul in Afghanistan

We may be defined by creed, culture or race
But whoever you are for you a first home-place
The place where you first looked on the bright lamp of day
You may well still live there or from there live far away

You may be a homebody or you may have traveled far
But you have a first home-place whoever you are
Claraghatlea west of Millstreet Town was first home-place to me
Suppose we are what we are and this is all we can be.

When Ill Used The Word Loser

When ill used the words loser can be such a put down
It is the most abused word in every village and city and town
By ignorant and rude people who think to hurt others feelings is quite okay
In the World far too many of their kind which does seem sad to say
In the English language loser does have it's place
But those who use it as a deliberate put down word lack compassion and grace
Some do find it quite difficult the praises of others to sing
And trash talking to them seems a natural thing
Those who deliberately put others down do lack in empathy
They are of the darker side of humanity
They know how to use their words in a hurtful way
Far too many of their kind in the Human World of today
When ill used the word loser is such a put down
It is the most abused word in every village and city and town.

Saturday, July 4, 2015

By The Old Country Town

The gray clouds of darkness are crossing the sky
On a Winter twilight in early July
A magpie is warbling his farewell to day
For to proclaim his borders this is his way
In the quiet of the evening just after sundown
In the countryside close to the old country town
There is a cool chill in the freshening breeze
That is softly soughing in the darkening trees
The shrill cries of a dog fox from where i stand near
Perhaps searching for a mate at this time of year
Foxes though related to canines to most dog species different in their ways
The cubs that the male fox does father he does help for to raise
A magpie is warbling just after sundown
In the darkening twilight by the old country town.

The Bible Of Life

Each to their own and live and let live
And do not expect to receive if you are not willing to give
And those worthy of credit of credit never deny
There is a bible of life for us to live by

Wise words from the wise one for us to recall
That any good deed done is never too small
Compassion and empathy are gifts of the mind
And if you do not have them to others you cannot be kind

The bible of life is not hard to understand
It is something to live by and not a command
To live by it you do not need a religious creed
For good Karma in life you must plant the good seed

It is not our role in life others for to judge
And it is not mentally healthy for one for to harbor a grudge
And always remember there are others far worse of than you
Those who live by the bible of life to their own selves are true

It is true that we are on what we do believe
In word and deed you never ought to deceive
Though you live near where greed and corruption is rife
To your higher self remain true from The Bible Of Life.

Friday, July 3, 2015

On A Phone Call From Michael Kelleher

A phone call from Michael Kelleher never fails to make my day
We talk of our happy younger years and the old Town far away
Where in the school yard in the lunch break with our young friends we did play
Good memories last a lifetime as the wise one does say

Michael Kelleher has happy memories of when he was a boy
And talking of the long gone years is something he does enjoy
Of the boys and girls he grew up with good memories with him does remain
On his many flights of fancy he goes back home again

In Claraghatlea i grew up with Michael Kelleher just west of Millstreet Town
Since then the roadways of life we have been up and down
And doubtless the good man Michael will always be my friend
This is how it will be with us till our lives journeys end

We talk of our old Millstreet friends when we are on the phone
And of the countryside by Clara and Gortavehy with the face of stone
Michael Kelleher will love Millstreet until the day he does die
And he loves the old fields of Claraghatlea and so too do i.

It Is My Own Fault

It is my own fault if i am not a financial millionaire
For i cannot say life to me has been unfair
The chances of financial success that came my way i left them go by
As is said success is only for those who for it their hardest does try
Suppose i do look at life in quite a negative way
As i feel that success does not postpone our inevitable last living day
Amongst positive thinkers such thoughts never do apply
Negative thinking which never get one to anywhere is the main reason why
That financial success i am one who of has never known
But on that one i can say i am not on my own
Financial success in the twenty first century does not come to those addicted to penning of rhyme
Something i have been doing for many years of time
You cannot teach an old dog new tricks as the wise one does say
For me anyhow it is looking this way.

Thursday, July 2, 2015

The Know It All

The know it all has nothing to learn at all
His ego inflated like an over-pumped ball
That one does never stop learning words of wisdom of the wise
Is something that he does not seem to realize
The know it all barracks for the local football club
And his is always the loudest voice at the corner pub
But empty vessels make the most noise as some like to say
With him anyhow it does seem this way
He knows everything about his favorite game
And all of the great players of the present and past he can name
But his loud voice perhaps his one claim to renown
He will never be known as a great brain of the town
His favorite topic you guessed it Football
The fellow who is known as The Know It All.

In Gallipoli Today

Where the enemy no longer is the foe
In a place where the gunfire was loud a century ago
Silence reign supreme in Gallipoli today
Where the long dead of war at peace forever lay

Where their brief lives journey came to a violent end
For war is brutal why otherwise pretend
Even for the so called winners the cost of war is great
Since only death and suffering and grief it does create

And what did they die for ask one other than me
For any point in war i for one fail to see
And though their praises for their bravery by the patriots sung
It is a fallacy that only the good die young

In April every year people from far away
Come to honor their fallen Countrymen where they lay
But too few of them ask for what did they die
The brave misled who believed in a lie

That they died in the war that was supposed to end all wars did not turn out to be true
Far better lives and deaths ought to have been their due
In conflict zones only suffering, death and tears and pain
And any reason for war beyond me to explain

The present foe can be your future friend it does seem
And in Gallipoli today peace reign supreme
Their long journey from their Homeland to the shores of Turkey was their last
Though the lessons not learned from wars of the past.

Wednesday, July 1, 2015

To Not Feel For Them

The Stateless the Homeless the friendless and alone
To not feel for them your heart must be of stone
The hapless victims of their births bad circumstance
Of succeeding in life they do stand little chance
Of suffering they do know their own share
A thousand of them to every millionaire
Compared to them the lucky one surely is me
How sad and tough for some life has to be
From the moment of birth they have known it tough
They know what it is like to live hard and sleep rough
Without money your friends are in the few
On this i am not saying anything that is new
And yet their sort to be found everywhere
There are millions of them in the World out there.

Where The Dark Merri Waters

Where the dark Merri waters to the Pacific does flow
Far south of the fields of the silver back crow
The magpie is warbling in the dawning gray
Of a cool and a windy June Winter's day
It is Summer in Duhallow from here far away
And in the freshly mown meadows the sweet scent of grass for silage or hay
On a nice sunny day of around twenty degrees
In the balmy air is wafting in the breeze
On the second last day of June one sleep from July
It is Winter in the Moyne Shire rain clouds in the sky
But above the hills of the Boggeraghs the brown larks are on song
Amongst the supreme air borne songters their kind does belong
But where the dark Merri waters flow towards Warrnambool
On a gray Winter's dawn it is windy and cool.