Friday, December 15, 2017

You Do See Them Often

You do see them often in the park or on the street
The people you know of but would rather not meet
Only silence between you never a good day
Between you no greeting words there are to say
With you in common they have nothing to share
And a simple good day they do not have to spare
You do see them often you know them by face
But among their circle of friends you would feel out of place
Through different eyes difference we do see
Each to their own is how it seems to be
You are not the type they would like to befriend
Social opposites in true terms never do blend
You do see them often though not every day
And between them and you there is nothing to say.

Sadie

She pushes her shopping trolley along the side street
Gray haired old Sadie with gaps between her teeth
An octogenarian she lives on her own
And of better days in life she surely has known

Sadie she never was any man's wife
Or never had children to care for in life
Retired from her nursing job fifteen years ago
And time that ages all things has become her foe

The wrinkles of time on her aged face
Sadie is one who is ageing with grace
One who does not wear makeup or use hair dye
She is how she seem to Sadie does apply

From one in need of help she never turns away
Sadie she does her good deeds every day
Sadly people like her never know of renown
One of the ageing unsung of the town

When she does smile gaps between her teeth does show
Pushing her shopping trolley she shuffles on slow
Sadie has helped many people in need
She is a wonderful woman indeed.

A December Night

The moon moves silent in the starry sky
A fox does bark in the paddock nearby
Familiar in it's wild distinctive cry
Of humans and their dogs it's kind justifiably wary and shy
To lure the fox from their young the masked lapwing take to flight
Their harsh cries pierce the stillness of the night
They know the fox on their young it would prey
The reason they mob it for to send it on it's way
Mopoke mopoke in the silence one does hear
A boobook owl is hunting somewher near
The smaller birds in cover wake in fright
They live in fear of the hunter of the night
In the Moyne Shire a fox is on the prowl
And i hear the cry of a hunting boobook owl.

Thursday, December 14, 2017

It Is Only The Winners

One might say they kicked their way into renown
The heroes of football are played through the town
Behind the citizens band on the sidewalks the happy fans singing loud
Waving the club colors delighted and proud

They are deemed to be worthy of a street parade
And on winning the cup heroes of them are made
Had they lost in the big game in the pubs of the town
Their disappointed fans their sorrows would drown

Life one suppose like the big football game
To the winners go all of the glory and fame
The losing fans are left to weep in their beer
The winning fans feel they have the right to cheer

It is out of winners that heroes are made
The losers from memory so quick to fade
Suppose this is how it is and it always will be
It is a winners World would you not agree

Tonight in the pubs the winning fans will celebrate
They will sing the club song and party until late
Whilst the fans of the losers will weep in their beer
It is only the winners have the right to cheer.

A Happy Person

She is such a lovely young lady free of conceit and of guile
She helps me for to feel younger when she greets me with a smile
Every time that i do see her in the park or on the street
People like her are worth knowing and always a pleasure for to meet
She is one who does not ignore me though my hair is silver gray
Always greets me with a big smile and wishes me a nice day
People like her are not in the many in the World of today
Most of them if not looking at their smart phones from you look the other way
People like her we need more of to your day some joy they do bring
Their happiness they share with others and this is such a marvellous thing
Happy people make others happy as they do have the inner glow
She is one of those rare people i feel happy of to know
A down to earth and lovely person free of any sort of guile
Every time that i do see her she always greets me with a smile.

Legal Crims

Legal crims control the World they have money they have power
And just like the weeds of the garden they do stifle every flower
And sad to think the gullible masses look up to them and them admire
Like them to be wealthy and powerful many social climbers to aspire
Illegal crims are locked in prison where they do deserve to be
But sad to say their legalized kindred are enjoying the good life living free
Making millions whilst many grow poorer in a World where billions live in poverty
All because of legalized criminals who seem proud of their dishonesty
In a World where millions of people are stateless and homeless and dying of hunger every day
Legal crims are growing wealthier it should never be this way
I for one do not respect them and them i never could admire
I see nothing good or gracious in them of praise worthy to inspire
Millions because of them poorer such a sad thing for to say
They ought to be locked in prison and for their sins be made to pay.

Wednesday, December 13, 2017

The More I Learn About Nature

The more i learn about Nature the more my wonder of her does grow
Yet so little about her of i cannot claim to know
I learn something new about her every day
In life we never stop learning it does seem this way
I first grew to love Nature when i was a boy
And learning about her today i enjoy
And the more i learn of her the more i realize
That i do know so little this not a surprise
Her secrets are many and her wonders not few
And every day of Nature we do learn something new
Our Earth Mother grows the food on which we do live
Yet we take and take from her and in return to her little give
In Nature there is so much beauty to see
And wherever i look it is all around me.

Lake Cartcarrong At Winslow

The gray and fawn gray shrike thrush does whistle and sing
His song to listen to such a beautiful thing
On a sunlit blackwood tree by Lake Cartcarrong
His voice from once heard one never again could get wrong

Lake Cartcarrong in Winslow with a charm of it's own
To rod and line and small boat fishers it is widely known
It is said that fish there are in plentiful supply
Even in drought conditions it never goes dry

Where many species of waterbirds in large numbers abound
And waders on the lake shore probe for prey in the soggy ground
Where birdwatchers often visit hoping to photograph a species of waterbird that is rare
That with their birdwatching friends online they can share

On the wetlands by Lake Cartcarrong ibis in large flocks to be seen
In as beautiful a place as to i have ever been
A place i visit often though not every day
From Winslow earthly utopia cannot be far away.

Near Where The Araglen Flow

On a cold December evening cold enough to snow
In the fading twilight a silver backed crow
It's voice carrying in the frosty winds that from the Boggeraghs blow
Is cawing on a naked birch tree near where the Araglen flow

On through the darkening fields of Cullen it babbles it's way
In a voice never silent by night and by day
Near the shamrock bridge it flows into the Blackwater and into a bigger waterway grow
How old are the rivers would anyone know?

In quiet old Duhallow as darkness cloaks the sky
The unmistakeable wildness in a vixen's cry
Out hunting or perhaps calling for a mate
On her breeding season she needs to copulate

Rats and mice under cover disappear
When the distinctive scream of a barn owl they do hear
The usually silent hunter of the night
It's hearing so good to detect and kill prey it does not need light

A chill wind from the Boggeraghs tell rain may be near
In a Duhallow twilight on a cold and wet time of year
And on a naked birch tree a silver backed crow
Is cawing near where Araglen to the Blackwater flow.

Tuesday, December 12, 2017

Young Man Or Young Woman

Young man or young woman make the most of your prime
For you too like me will become victims of time
Time did not wait for me and will not wait for you
Make the most of your young years this the best you can do
Youth is a thing for anyone that does not last
And some as they age have regrets for the past
For their youthful mistakes some price they had to pay
We do learn from the past as the wise one does say
Not much point in regretting on what has been and gone
When life all around you as usual goes on
Time is our master to it we must bow
And the past has it's memories and we live in the now
Young man or young woman make the most of your day
Since time on your lives does keep ticking away.

Oh Isn't It

Oh isn't it so very nice to scent the grass mowed for silage or hay
Wafting to you in the gentle breeze of a pleasant sunny day
White butterflies out and about seemingly dancing in the breeze
On a balmy day in December of around twenty degrees
In Nature on all Seasons so much beauty to be seen
The paddocks after recent rain are looking lush and green
So much amazing natural beauty for one to write about
Of the coastal countryside of this Land of the far south
The beauty of our Earth Mother writers and artists does inspire
And of singing her praises some never seem to tire
The warbling flute like music so pleasant to hear
Of the silver billed magpies who sing all through the year
Swallows chasing flying insects in the sky blue and gray
Oh isn't it good to be alive on this nice Summer day.

The Best Of People

Treated by their government as those who did fail
And abused and beaten by their jailers in jail
For speaking out against their oppressors this is the price they do pay
Good people are dying in jail every day
Though treated as criminals by their government for human rights they speak out
They show what true courage can be about
True heroes though most of them remain unsung
And sadly many of them in jail do die young
Languishing in prison their only crime
Is to speak for freedom and justice in their Country a crime
An autocratic dictatorial government that any criticism does not tolerate
Anyone who speaks against them becomes an enemy of the state
The best of people yet they languish in jail
It is their government that them does fail.

Monday, December 11, 2017

Racism Is A Thing

Racism is a thing people meet with every day
In hurtful things of them the racists does say
Of their culture or their religion or the color of their skin
In a World where some are quite racist a fair go seems hard for to win
Without racists the Human World would be better for to live in indeed
Of their sort of humanity we are not in need
Racism people only known for to divide
With the increase in the human population it is on the increase Worldwide
It does not have a nationality or it does not have a race
Racism can be found in every place
Where people of every nationality live
For the racially villified It can be hard to forgive
Far too many racists in the World of today
Those who practice live and let live better people than them in every way.

Though The past Is Long Gone

Though the past is long gone and from you far away
In memory you can visit it every day
And your friends of the past you do visit again
And as they looked and were to you they remain
The great gift of memory such a marvellous thing
The past to the present to you it does bring
Some of your past friends though deceased in your memory alive
Good memories as is said the years do survive
The great gift of memory is a precious gift indeed
And those who do lose it of pity in need
Though you are getting older and time on you ticking fast
It brings back to you happy days of the past.

There Is Always A Few

You never harm anyone in any way
And You help those in need of your help every day
Among the kindest and more compassionate people of the town
But there is always a few in their words to put you down
Though good in the World you only wish to do
Not everyone in their words have praise for you
It is true for your kindness positive recognition you do need
But to the few who say negative things of you why pay any heed
In their words to anyone they are not kind
Those who seek flaws in others flaws always manage to find
Unkind words you hear of you spoken on your sensitive feelings take toll
But negative opinions of you by others are beyond your control
To unwarranted negative comments of you any heed do not pay
Since the majority who know you good things of you do say.

Sunday, December 10, 2017

The Self Absorbed

The self absorbed are those i see very day
Enamoured with their phones they never look my way
With their smart phones they do seem obsessed
Staring at them they do seem quite possessed
Of smart phone addiction they may never be free
Of what is happening around them they never look to see
Staring at their mobile screens of the young the latest craze
People and their addictions never cease to amaze
Their own praises to their friends the young do sing
In the early twenty first century this is an in thing
The young technological savvy by smart phone communicate
And those not into technology does seem out of date
I pass them in silence on the street every day
Staring at their smart phones they never look my way.

The Seeds Of Good Karma

The seeds of good karma in good deeds are sown
Live and let live and to each their own
No favor done for anyone is a favor too small
And here's to the beauty on a fair go for all
You will be judged better not for the good you do for yourself but for the good for others you do
And treat others as you would like them to treat you
What goes around comes around only true for to say
You will reap the rewards of your kindness and compassion one day
If to your higher self you do remain true
Good things in life will become your due
Those who in their words like dragging others down
Are never among the popular of the town
Karma will reward you for your every good deed
Do not expect good crops from poor quality seed.

Declan

He is always the quiet one and he never talks loud
One who never adds volume to the noisy crowd
Declan is one who never has much to say
He just lives his life in a calm and quiet way
In his early twenties near the prime of his life
With a part time girlfriend he does not have a wife
For one of his years he is rather wise
That age does not guarantee wisdom i have come to realize
Not tribal in his ways or not into sports in any way at all
He cannot understand why grown men jostle with each other for possession of a football
Tall dark haired and handsome he is twenty three
Of any tribal loyalties he is one who is free
A down to earth fellow in his own quiet way
Quiet waters run deep as the wise one does say.

It Was My Love Of Adventure

It was my love of adventure that brought me far south
Of the fields of the badger and the waterways of the brown trout
But i hoped to return for to grow old and gray
To the place where i first looked on the lamp of day

But the flame of nostalgia that in me brightly burned
Has faded to a flicker i have not returned
To the green countryside just west of the Town of Millstreet
And the old rushy fields where the waterways meet

Thirty one years in this beautiful southern Land
All things in life never do go as planned
I have grown to love this Country and i have shed my last tears
For the what used to be in the long gone years

Here in the home of emu, koala, echidna, wallaby and gray kangaroo
And long billed corella and galah and yellow tailed black cockatoo
I receive lessons from life and Nature every day
We never stop learning as the wise one does say

I never returned to greet the flowers of May
In the old fields i loved by the Town far away
I have fallen in love with this southern Land
Not all things in life ever does go as planned.

Saturday, December 9, 2017

December In Duhallow And Sliabh Luachra

The Boggeraghs are cloaked in the fogs rains of gray
It is cold, wet and windy in Duhallow and Sliabh Luachra today
A forecast high for the day of a chilly three degrees
And the cold winds are howling in the bare deciduous trees
Christmas and the birth of a new year in time not far away
In the gray dawn cattle in farmyard sheds bellowing for silage or hay
Every river, stream, rill, field and roadside drain
Are flowing bank high swollen by heavy rain
In Duhallow and Sliabh Luachra December is a cold, windy and wet month of the year
And birdsong is a thing that one does not hear
The mornings if not windy and wet are cold frosty and gray
And December the twenty first is the year's shortest day
In Duhallow and Sliabh Luachra three months from the Spring
You never hear any bird whistle and sing.

One Of The Wealthiest

One of the wealthiest and most influential people in the town
These happen to be his two claims to renown
He does have a god to that he often does pray
Though he is not kind or compassionate in any way
He does not feel any sympathy for those doing it tough
The hungry and homeless who live and sleep rough
He says for their poverty existence they have themselves to blame
It is not his fault if they live without a penny to their name
Nobody is perfect in truth one can say
One of the town's wealthiest people is poor in another way
No space for compassion in his self absorbed mind
The known multi millionaire in his thinking and his words not kind
One materially wealthy who in a god does believe
Though he does not believe on giving to receive.

On A December Morning

I am one who may never run out of rhyme
But eventually i too will run out of time
For eventually all life journeys come to an end
The Reaper of lives does not treat anyone as a friend

Do try to make the most of your every day
For time that rusts iron keeps ticking away
And only the lucky survive to die old
The funeral bell for the young too has tolled

The birds chirp and whistle on the sunlit trees
On a beautiful December morning of close to twenty degrees
And on the park garden beds the beautiful flowers
Looking healthy in full bloom after the recent showers

On this sunlit Land of the far south
Such a beautiful morning for to write rhymes about
With the sun on their dark wings chirping as they fly
Welcome swallows chasing flying insects in the blue and gray sky

Nature always does leave us with great memories
White butterflies dancing in the gentle breeze
Blowing uphill from the ocean in this land of the far south
Where there is never a shortage of rhymes to write about.

A Tough World To Live In

A tough World to live in for many today
The homeless and hungry who only know of life in the hard way
The stateless and malnourished and war and famine refugees
It is true that poverty can be of varying degrees
Of things the privileged take for granted many must go without
Of hardship many people only know about
Thousands of people are dying of hunger every day
In a fair and just World it would not be this way
In a Human World where many malnourished people at a young age do die
That everybody are born equal is based on a lie
That some are more equal than others only true to say
Inequality is rife in the Human World of today
Some governments to those who are different their basic human rights are known to deny
A fair go to the wealthy only seems to apply.

Friday, December 8, 2017

People With Each Other Compete

Every day with each other for this thing known as success people do compete
To be best in their neighborhood and best on their street
A stepping stone for them to far greater fame
So many who do aspire to become a great name
On this cyber age infatuation on the rise
Not a great World to live for the compassionate and wise
The look at me syndrome Worldwide nowadays rife
Infatuation with smart phones for many is a way of life
In an age when everyone wants to be famous and narcissism with many is the in thing
And so many their own praises only too willing to sing
And it is not saying anything that is in anyway new
To say that the humble nowadays are of the few
And this in itself is a sad thing to say
In a Human World where people compete for attention every day.

The Song Of A Male Goldfinch

The song of a male goldfinch pleasant memories to me does bring
Of far away leafy groves in Summer and Spring
The memories of sweet freshly mowed grass for silage or hay
Come wafting to me from meadows far away
With red around their bills and mostly light brown, fawn and gold
Goldfinches are beautiful birds to behold
Familiar and distinctive in their appearance and their twittering song
Once seen and once heard one never again get them wrong
With each passing Spring their numbers seem to grow
That they were introduced by humans to Australia they are not to know
Environmentally friendly birds since they enjoy eating the seed
Of thistles and every sort of noxious weed
A male godfinch singing on a sunlit willow tree
Rekindles an old memory of boyhood in me.

For Our Own Extinction

For these things known as development and progress some price for to pay
More species of wildlife becoming endangered every day
Mostly due to natural habitat destruction and human induced climate change
The thought of a World without wildlife does seem stranger than strange

No fit home for wildlife in the concrete town
On land for development more old growth trees are cut down
Factory chimneys with gray smoke polluting the sky
To say us humans are friends of our Earth Mother the truth would be to deny

In the abuse of the natural environment for the benefit of the super wealthy greedy few there is a lot to desire
In those who become billionaires at our Earth Mother's expense there is nothing to admire
The World is for us humans to live in and with other creatures to share
And sadly the environmentally conscious nowadays seem far too rare

In our environmental practices us humans should not feel any pride
So much natural beauty for money every day is being destroyed
But eventually we too will have a huge price to pay for our greed
For our own extinction we may be planting the seed.

Thursday, December 7, 2017

A December Day In Illowa

The sun shining bright in the sky blue and gray
In Illowa of the Moyne Shire on a nice December day
The countryside looking green after the recent rain
With such pleasant weather how could one complain
A forecast high for the day of twenty degrees
And blowing from the ocean a freshening breeze
With the sun on their wings in the summery sky
In pursuit of flying insects the dark swallows fly
The black and white cattle gaining weight by the day
Content in the sunshine chewing their cuds do lay
The marvels of Nature one does not pay to see
Everywhere i do look it is all around me
Natural beauty the artists and writers inspire
So much beauty in Nature for one to admire

Old Dave

He was born and raised far north of this town
Old Dave in his eighties has seen many a sundown
A well travelled fellow and nobody's fool
He says he will live out his days in east Warrnambool
In his early eighties quite knowledgeable and wise
Every morning he drives to Thunder Point to watch the sunrise
He does not have children or a partner or wife
His black four year old border collie named Tim his companion in life
Wherever he goes to his dog goes with him
He says he does have a true friend in Tim
Some of his friends are deceased and others he has not seen for years
But for the what used to be he has shed his last tears
Old Dave says that a true friend is so hard to find
And his only companion is not of the human kind.

One Does Have To Suppose

He said to me i have been told you are the fellow who pens reams of rhyming stuff
For too many years for your own sake you have been one of those a rhyming buff
A rhymer who writes for enjoyment only not for the reward of pay
Suppose as is said of fools that their sort are born every day

You have written so many rhymes of this Town known as Millstreet
And of the green countryside where the waterways do meet
But in writing for you never any money or fame
Perhaps you will die as you live as an unknown literary name

You have writen heaps of rhymes of the characters you have known
People battling through life who have ways of their own
And in your own words you do honor the dead
But an eulogy for you more than likely will never be read

His opinions on me does suit me quite fine
For this is his business and his business cannot be mine
He is not my friend nor is he one of my foes
It is each to their own one would have to suppose.

Wednesday, December 6, 2017

I Often Visit Claraghatlea

I often visit Claraghatlea on evenings in the Spring
When nesting birds in leafy groves do whistle chirp and sing
And the hawthorns look resplendent in their white blooms of the May
Whenever one does visualize nowhere seems far away
I hear the male snipe above the bog as darkness cloaks the sky
With his tail feathers make the strangest sounds as above his territory he does fly
That anywhere is not far away i have come to realize
The past it can become the now when one does visualize
From the high fields of Claramore the old silver tongued rill
Goes babbling on through Claraghatlea it's voice is never still
I may have physically left the old fields but the mental images of them with me stay
And in my visualizations i visit them every day
I often hear the wild birds sing in Spring before sundown
In my first homeplace in Claraghatlea just west of Millstreet Town.

Old Dino From Milan

Old Dino from Milan his hair silver gray
Is one i see often though not every day
Sometimes with rod and line he is fishing from the pier on the bay
A hobby he enjoys to pass time away

Dino a great grandfather he is eighty one
Grandchildren to Bruno his only son
His beloved wife of fifty five years Gabriela of cancer died three years ago
Her passing from life for him was a time of woe

But as Dino says he owes it to his deceased wife
For to carry on with the living of life
During her long ilness to him she often did say
Dino do not grieve for me when from life i pass away

Dino of brown eyes and of average height
Quite healthy for his years and mentally bright
Down to earth in his ways and free of guile
Stranger and friend he does greet with a smile

Though the accent of Italy he does retain
Perhaps he will never see his birth City again
One loved by many a likeable man
Australia needs more like Dino of Milan.

The Former Flower Of Kirkstall

Her hair was as dark as the wing of a crow
But as is said of age on beauty it does show
In her physical prime she was the Flower of Kirkstall
In the Koroit countryside then the fairest of all

Though her former beauty she will never regain
Her blue eyes some of their beauty does retain
Though she does not have a partner or was never any man's wife
Her daughter's two teenage sons carry her genes in life

The former Flower of Kirkstall has known of a better day
With dark hair dye she cloaks her natural gray
Much heavier now than when in her life's prime
As is said of beauty it does lose out to time

In the Melbourne eastern suburbs from her first home by car five hours away
The former Flower of Kirkstall she is aging today
Though not quite the beauty she once used to be
She is quite attractive for one of sixty three

The finest of her homeplace four decades ago
But as is said of time it becomes everyone's foe
Once the Flower of Kirkstall of the coastal Moyne Shire
In her prime years one many young men did admire.

Tuesday, December 5, 2017

Your Greatest Gift

It is good to be healthy and feeling well and alive
In a World where many to twenty do not even survive
Though it is not always true the good only die young
In a World where the praises of aging celebrities by the gullible masses are sung

With your gifts and talents others you may impress
But your life is the greatest gift that you possess
And since life after death may be based on a lie
We lose everything on the day we do die

Though few wish to die and then be forgot
Post bodily death it will not matter to you if your are remembered or not
Just Try to remain healthy and live for as long as you can
And leave it to Nature's Reaper for to call time on your life span

Lucky are those who long outlive their prime day
And enjoy good health as they grow old and gray
Not everybody has such luck on their side
Every day many people are dying at a young age Worldwide

Try to be healthy and happy and live for as long as you can
And hopefully die in your sleep without pain as a very old woman or man
Like all other life forms us humans are born to eventually die
The same for the billionaire as you and i.

The First Of The Calendar Summer

The first of the calendar Summer and the first of December and the rain drizzling down
On the streets and the parks and the sidewalks of old Koroit Town
The weather wet and cloudy for the time of year
But weatherwise that Nature is never predictable is obviously quite clear
But with the precipitation none ought to complain
Since after the dry spell of weather it is always welcome the rain
The parks and the paddocks of Koroit looking green
And as healthy looking as they have ever been
Do not see any white butterflies out and flying about today
From the rain under cover of leaves they are hiding away
In their short lives they are only active in weather fine
One can say of them they enjoy the warmth of the sunshine
And how nice for to hear a male blackbird sing
One who is known to sing his finest songs in the Spring.

Quite Outstanding People

Of more of the kind and compassionate the Human World is in need
For their future good karma they keep sowing the good seed
By the good deeds that they do perform every day
The people who in them have a caring way
Always willing to give without expecting to receive
That karma will serve them well one can only believe
Though for them there never is a street parade
And heroines and heroes of their sort never made
They are happy to remain as the unsung of the town
Those only too willing to help the financially down
For their selflessness them one can only admire
For to be wealthy and famous to they do never aspire
Quite outstanding people of them one can say
Those who do perform their good deeds every day.

Monday, December 4, 2017

The People Admired By Many

The people admired by many for their gains in material greed
Though of more of their sort Mother Earth is not in need
In their yearning for more billions in money the Earth they seek to destroy
Not much hope for a good future for every young girl and boy
By taking from our Earth Mother their fortune in billions does grow
Yet sadly these are the people many do wish to know
Yet despite their multi millions in money they are not very wise
Since they are helping to destroy the one who does feed us they fail to realize
In their material gains they take a great sense of pride
Whilst the gap between the wealthy and poor growing wider Worldwide
This race for material gain to me does seem all wrong
Due to them the children of the future may never hear birdsong
And sad to think that those who abuse our Earth Mother many do admire
And just to be like them they to do aspire.

The Athlete

A World Champion athlete when in his life's prime
Though this is going back many decades in time
In middle distance running a World Champion and winner of Olympic Gold
But time ticks along and great athletes grow old
In his physical prime one never found to be wanting when put to the test
He competed with success against the World's best
He set World record times as a young athlete
And the fans flocked to watch him when he did compete
To athletic history he now belong
And he is remembered in story and song
But all is dark and quiet where at peace he does lay
That time does take care of the best of them only true to say
In his prime a World renowned athlete one the fans did celebrate
But he failed in the end for to outrun his fate.

There Has To Be Some Truth

There has to be some truth in the saying one suppose
That the one with many friends is one not without foes
And though many good deeds you have been known for to do
Not everyone has nice things to say of you
You may be one of the most compassionate and kindest people in the town
But there is always a few willing to drag you down
We have been learning in life before we learned how to crawl
But as is said you may well win many but you will not win them all
He or she very lucky as the word can be
Who has many friends and not one enemy
We all look at life one must say differently
And our different ways makes us more interesting would you not agree
And there has to be some truth in the saying one suppose
That the one with many friends is one not without foes.

Sunday, December 3, 2017

Most Politicians Are The Same

Most politicians are the same they are good at deceiving
And they are so good at telling lies that their own lies they start believing
Of honest politicians there surely are not many
At being deceitful most of them to say the least are quite canny
An honest politician is one well worthy of being celebrated
He or she for their honesty ought to be congratulated
The one who votes for the one political party all of her or his voting life to change remains a stranger
But sadly their sort it does seem of extinction will never become in danger
Of politicians in truth it has been said that most of them to their own careers only devoted
And that they only do take care of their own for this they are quite noted
When they talk of their love for their Country you must know that they are lying
That most of them are quite untrustworthy of this there can be no denying
Even among politicians it can be said there is the honest exception
But if you believe what most of them does say you are open to deception.

A Warm Evening In Late November

A warm evening in late November of thirty seven degrees
It even does feel warm in the shade of the trees
Even in the shadiest of places it does seem hard to stay cool
It seldom ever gets this warm in or near Warrnambool
In one of Australia's cooler Cities it is quite warm today
With only a very slight breeze blowing from Stingray Bay
The gardens are in full bloom after the recent rain
From precipitation followed by sunshine Nature always stands to gain
The first of the calendar Summer only two sleeps away
With a cooler start to Summer the weather experts say
White butterflies flitting above the sunlit trees
On a warm evening in very late Spring of thirtry seven degrees
That it is a bit too warm for many seems only true to say
Though going by the weather forecast tomorrow will be a cooler day.

The Power To Do Good

Though the materially super wealthy many admirers do win
The true power to do good only comes from within
The individual you may not be a millionaire
But if you are kind and compassionate then you are one of the rare
For truly selfless people as ever are in the few
And this is not saying anything that is new
Money and material things will never make a kinder person out of you
This is only saying what happens to be true
The words of a wise one are worthy of recall
Make yourself a better person make the World better for all
Those with the gift of selflessness are great people indeed
And of more of their sort the Human World is in need
We can make the World better to live in by the kind things we do
The power to do good is in me and in you.

Saturday, December 2, 2017

Agapanthus

Those who say they are non native and invasive and do not belong
In truth are mistaken and have it all wrong
As much as the Roman feels content in Rome
The agapanthus in Australia makes themselves at home
With their origins in South Africa they are a hardy breed
Environmentalists define agapanthus as an invasive weed
With a strong root system that goes deep in the ground
They grow in thick clusters and in numbers abound
Some gardeners love them for their beautiful flowers
In Spring and Summer they bloom in the sunshine after the recent showers
To say that they are plants for all types of weather conditions would not be telling a lie
In drought conditions one of the few plants who refuse to die
Though environmentalists define them as non native and an invasive weed
Of them it can be said they are a hardy breed.

It Is Sad To Think

It is so sad to think that he is dead
He used to talk of days ahead
And holidays with his aging wife
He did love her and he loved life
They shared the same nationality
He was older than her by a few years two or maybe three
They met as migrants but were back home to stay
She is left for to grieve for him today
One who never did wave the national flag
Of patriotism he never did brag
He was quite a likeable man
Sadly he died in his sixties his was not a long span
Life's journey for him has come to an end
To so many he was a good friend.

Enjoy The Now

Enjoy the now this the best you can do
There is so much beauty everywhere around you
The wild birds are singing on bushes and trees
Their pleasant notes floating in the freshening breeze
Enjoy the moment for time does not stand still
The sun it is rising above the brown hill
Such beauty to inspire song, story and rhyme
To live in your memory through decades of time
A memory to cherish and for to retain
In times of nostalgia to visit again
The beauty in Nature to view it is free
It is all around you and it is all around me
Live in the now this the best you can do
And enjoy the beauty that is all around you.

Friday, December 1, 2017

Of Hope It Is Said

The judgmental may dismiss you as a never do well
But you too have your stories of life for to tell
Though your stories may never be published in book form to sell
As they do go unnoticed those of Earthly Hell
You do work so hard for your low take home pay
And your struggles in life you do face every day
Without your sort there would never be a billionaire
That human rank is built on inequality is not at all fair
You may be one of the tribe of the lesser gods
But credit to you since you keep battling the odds
And with your hard life you have managed to cope
And you are one of those who keeps faith in hope
Of a change of luck for you for the better in the days ahead
Those who stick by it eventually succeed of hope it is said.

Suppose He Will Live As Unhappy

In his prime years a champion athlete and now as a top businessman widely known
The seeds of success in his life he has sown
Yet he is not one of the happier kind
Since worry and stress does weigh on his mind

Divorced in his late forties with a teenage daughter and son
And among the unhappy of the town he happens to be one
His ex wife who put up with his moods for an eighteen year time span
Fell in love and now lives with a younger and poorer though far happier man

In his mind for happiness there is no space
I have yet to see him with a smile on his face
One would swear that financially he was doing bad
He always does look so despondent and sad

Suppose he will live as unhappy until the day he does die
That money cannot buy happiness is not a lie
Looked up to as a big success of the town
But mentally one who does always feel down.

The Ancient Brown Faced Hill

Memories can last a lifetime but time does not stand still
And so many years have come and gone to the ageless old brown hill
At the stroke of midnight today it will have gone
And tomorrow will not dawn for some but life it will go on
For millions of years the old brown hill with views that stretch far and wide
Has stood there like a silent sentinel above the countryside
It was so old when people came to build houses and create a town
It has been there forever and forever will look down
On the town and the countryside for many kilometers around
It has stood there an ancient monarch of the higher ground
The subject of song and story and of legends, myths and lore
Above the town and countryside it will stand forever more
Though people do age quickly and time does not stand still
It does not age in centuries the ancient brown faced hill.

Thursday, November 30, 2017

Halls Gap

Surrounded by treed hills and millions of trees
Halls Gap of the Geriwerd a Town full of great memories
For people who have been there for a holiday
And many of them hope to return to there for a longer stay
Home to many smaller parrots and larger species of cockatoos
And emus, koalas, echidnas, wallabies and gray kangaroos
A place that inspires the artists and the writers of song, story and rhyme
That retains some of it's historical links to the people of the Dreamtime
Long before the first Europeans built houses there Halls Gap was a meeting place
For the people of the Dreamtime Australia's first race
In the warmth of the Summer evenings they had their corroborees
To their didgeridoos in the shade of the trees
Among the treed hills in hidden graves their bones does lay
Overlooking the Town known as Halls Gap today.

On This Sunlit November Day

The sweet scent of frshly mowed grass for silage or for hay
Come wafting in the freshening breeze on this sunlit November day
And the weather temperature for the day of a high of twenty degrees
The warm air full of the buzzing of bush flies and of bees
Of singing Nature's praises it does seem hard to tire
The artists and the writers she never fail to inspire
To sketch her and of her write poems and stories she never ceases to amaze
The beauty of our Earth Mother is worthy of our praise
How pleasant in the sunshine to hear the blackbird sing
And the gray shrike thrushes whistling the feathered minstrels of the Spring
And the silver billed black and white birds who sing all through the year
The warbling of the magpies always pleasant for to hear
And there is no mistaking the song of the pee wee
With Nature at her finest everywhere around me.

The Only Gift I Own

A stranger to many people one of the not well known
The gift of life my parents gave to me the only gift i own
The wealthy and the famous of the Human World of today
I do not envy them their lot in any sort of way
They are well known to many in every city and town
And though many do look up to them there are some would like to drag them down
Nature's beauty all around us we do not have to pay to see
Today red roses blooming on their sunlit mother tree
And the wildborn birds of Nature does chirp, whistle and sing
In the warmth of November near the end of the Spring
I feel no desire for wealth and fame and material success
And life the greatest gift of all the only gift i possess
I do not feel any desire others for to impress
I just wish to know of contentment and a life free of stress.

Wednesday, November 29, 2017

The Church Bell At The West End

Distance to memory is not a barrier as the wise are known to say
The church bell at the West End i hear it toll today
For another one departed a heart forever still
On a farewell to the cemetery for to lay by Cashman's Hill

It often rang for the long departed and it rings for their descendants today
The church bell at the West End ring the faithful in to pray
To treat all people equal it's great claim to renown
And it can be heard some distance from it's home in Millstreet Town

For joyous occasions as well as for parting tears
The church bell at the West End has been ringing for years
In my nostalgic moments it is ringing in my mind
For those from life departed too deep for winds to find

It well may be another not the Millstreet Town church bell
That will send me on my journey on a final farewell
It tolls for joy and sorrow and to summon the faithful in to pray
And so many it has tolled for in eternal rest does lay

It is true what is said of memory it can make distance disappear
The church bell at the West End in fancy i often hear
In moments of nostalgia it peals in my memory
But it well may be another bell that will ring farewell to me.

The More Ordinary

Some of the young males in the pub like to crow
Of the women they have made love to they want others to know
On boasting in public of their virility they are not very wise
Since on doing so the reputation of local women they demoralize

If there was a competition for the town's most honorable men none of them would win a prize
There is truth in the saying a shut mouth never swallows any flies
Of their false idea of manhood they feel far too proud
And like young barnyard roosters they crow far too loud

They are going the wrong way about it if respect they wish to win
At the local on a Saturday evening with a few beers in
Of local women they have made love to in public they talk about
With them it seems the brain cannot control the mouth

Their aging dads boast of their sexual conquests today
Like father like son as the wise one does say
Like their dads as they age they will not grow wise
How an honorable man should behave their sort will never realize

In the pub the more they do drink the louder their voices grow
Of their virility and manhood they do like to crow
Of women they made love to as they swill their beer down
The more ordinary of the ordinary young men of the town.

A Little Pride

A little pride is useful for one it does seem
But not healthy for the mind when in the extreme
For a strong sense of pride in the words of the wise
To feelings of self conceit of has been known to give rise
It is almost impossible for you not to feel proud
When others they are singing your praises loud
Too much praise can cause the ego to swell
And in the flattered mind for humility there is no space to dwell
Pride in moderation it is quite okay
But this applies to most things in truth one can say
But some with praise do get carried away
And on their human feelings the flatterers do prey
A little pride can be useful for one it does seem
But not healthy for the mind when in the extreme.

Tuesday, November 28, 2017

By The Boggeraghs Today

It is windy, cold and raining by the Boggeraghs today
In Duhallow and Sliabh Luachra from here far away
The sun is well hidden behind clouds of gray
And in the farmyard sheds cattle are bellowing for silage or hay

Brown rain water flowing high in every river, stream and drain
And the Boggeraghs cloaked in the gray fogs of rain
In latter November a cold and wet time of year
The Winter and even worse weather is near

To the Cork and Kerry Border countryside
When smaller birds and animals have fewer places to shelter in and hide
From predators when the deciduous trees and many hedgerwows are bare
And places for to rest and sleep in comfort and safety for them are quite rare

A month before Christmas the nights cold and long
And in the gray of the dawn one does not hear bird song
In the farmyard sheds cattle are bellowing for silage or hay
It is cold windy and raining by the Boggeraghs today.

The Answer Does Seem Beyond Me

The answer does seem beyond me to explain
Why somebody's loss becomes somebody else's gain
That human society is structured in this way
For the winners successes it is the losers who pay
To call someone a loser is not a nice thing
In the context they are used in such words can have a verbal sting
The winner takes all of the glory and fame
And the loser does become a forgotten name
But it is surely true of the poor of the town
That they do know who their friends are since they are financially down
The wealthy looked up to and by many admired
And others to be like them by them feel inspired
Human life is mostly about the power of money and winning and fame
And every loser does become a forgotten name.

With Some Of Your Opinions

With some of your opinions i could never agree
When you say you cannot feel any sympathy for a refugee
Your idea of a fair go all does not include
Those most in need of helping you wish to exclude

Of those who fled their homelands of their lives in fear
Stories of their sorrows you do not wish to hear
Save for circumstance of birth you and i may be Stateless as well
Among those who were forced to flee from their earthly hell

It does sadden me more than a bit when you say
That all boats carrying asylum seekers from our shores should be turned away
It is people like you of their human rights many deny
Since your idea of a fair go to some only does apply

You may be my friend but as a person you i cannot admire
Since in some of your opinions the idea of a better World for all of any hope you do not inspire
And it is sad to think that many with you would agree
When you say there should not be a welcome for a boat refugee.

Big Luke

Big Luke he believes his own stories in his own mind he is in sporting renown
And he is worthy of the dubious title of the most self deluded man in the town
As a young man he was a track athlete though he never did win a race
In the low grade races he took part in he never once did run a place
Though none at the pub do believe him with his stories they go along
They tell him how great he must have been he ought to be honored in song
And he being a sucker for flattery believe them when to him they do say
That he must have been a great athlete way back there when in his prime day
Luke a grand dad in his early sixties his wife Kate left him years ago
It is said that she could not put up with his bragging what it is said well may be so
Just one of many who like to sing his own praises his problem he believes his own lies
Every story of his sporting achievements to another one always gives rise
He is number one at self praising in the local bar and the football club
The big Luke types nowadays are not unusual there are a few in every pub.

John

In a car accident John lost his two young daughters Lisa and Bella and Ann his lovely wife
He is one who knows of the hard knocks of life
Now in his early fifties he never married again
Yet of his sorrows in life he never does complain
John believes that life is the greatest gift any human being does possess
Money can buy you an expensive home at a fashionable address
But that money cannot buy you life only true for to say
Very wealthy people are losing their gift of life every day
John who has known of happy time and of times of tears
Hopes that life's Reaper will ignore him for many more years
His three nearest and dearest in his life died twenty years ago
He says to love life and live happy to his deceased children and wife he does owe
Always with a smile on his face a nice person to meet
Sometimes i see John walking his jack russell dog on the street.

When Trust Is Betrayed

Once friends can become bitter enemies when trust is betrayed
This is how the worst of enemies are quite often made
Or the unfaithfulness of a friend with a husband or partner or wife
On this way the best of friends can become the worst of enemies for life
When trust is betrayed there can be hell for to pay
and hatred is a thing that can grow by the day
And sometimes hatred known to lead to violent crime
That can cause the offending one to serve years of prison time
Some of the best of friends are the worst of enemies today
Their friendship came to an end in the bitterest way
You cannot have a worse enemy than a former friend
This is what often does happen when once good friendships does end
Out of the best of friendships the worst of enemies are often made
This is what often happens when trust is betrayed.

Saturday, November 25, 2017

At Thunder Point

The old bloke and his wife enjoying their cake and tea
At Thunder Point overlooking the Pacific sea
Sitting in their car in the evening sunshine
How nice to be out of doors on weather so fine
The day it was warm though the evening is cool
At Thunder point by the coastal City of Warrnambool
What a nice place to be on a sunny November day
Overlooking the ocean along by Stingray Bay
At Thunder Point the old bloke and his old wife one often does see
Sitting in their car enjoying the ocean scenery
Just before the sun sets such a nice place to be
White surf waves are rolling as far as the eyes does see
Where the old bloke and his wife enjoy their cake and tea
As they sit in their car overlooking the sea.

Old Memories Die Hard

For old Claraghatlea and the long gone years
And the what used to be i have shed my last tears
My better years are in the forever gone
And life all around me as usual goes on

At the stroke of midnight the past will be today
The now is all that does matter as the wise one does say
The past just a memory of the what used to be
And time that does not wait for anyone did not wait for me

Yet on my flights of fancy i sometimes do hear and see
A male robin singing on a silver birch tree
Just before sundown on an evening in Spring
The great gift of memory is such a beautiful thing

Though old memories die hard only true for to say
I feel happy enough in my life today
In the home of echidna, wallaby, emu, koala and gray kangaroo
And the big dark brown parrot known as yellow tailed black cockatoo

Yet i often do think of a Summer sundown
In an old rushy field just west of Millstreet Town
In the calm of the evening the soft lowing of a cow
As she calls to her calf by the River Finnow

And as the shades of night sloqwly darken the sky
The male snipe for to proclaim his borders does fly
And with his tail feathers makes a drumming sound
Well into the night above his breeding ground

The past it has gone and only the memories remain
Of what used to be but will not be again
Of when i was younger before time became my foe
Far north in Duhallow in the long ago.

Contented At Home

One can only admire those of a sense of place
Life challenges in their original homeplace they do face
From home never wishing to travel elsewhere
For to seek adventure in the big World out there
Quite happy to live and age where they are known
Where they are referred to as of our own
Happy to live near where they first saw light of day
They never do yearn for lands far away
One can only envy them their contentment of mind
Free of the bug of wander the stay at home kind
The world's great cities they have no wish for to see
So lucky in many ways they seem to be
They have no wish to see New York or London or Paris or Rome
The people who do feel contented at home.

Friday, November 24, 2017

His Own Thing

Not religious in any way
To any god he does not pray
And friends he does not seek to win
The fellow who does not fit in

Not a member of any community club
Or never seen in the local pub
One who is not tribal in any way
A fringe dweller of him one might say

Politics and sports and talking of football
Does not interest him in any way at all
The praises of heroines and heroes he never sing
He is one who does his own thing

By the judgmental condemned to fail
Yet he has never been in jail
Or wronged any one in any way
For being different there is some price to pay

In his thirties without a wife
Or any children in his life
One who enjoys the casual sexual fling
The fellow who does his own thing.

With Rhyming Words

With rhyming words i am one who does love to play
An addiction for me too hard to give away
Forty four years ago when in my life's prime
In the Autumn of seventy three i penned my first rhyme

Though my worth as a rhymer i feel reason to doubt
So many things for me for to write rhymes about
On life and on Nature things to write of each day
Though very few writers for their written words receive pay

Quite easy to learn and memorize and recite
Rhyme is a thing that is easy to write
Not a hard thing to do you can have it from me
As i have penned many since nineteen seventy three

Those who tell you that rhymers are many and poets are few
Are not telling you anything that is new
Though some can see as much beauty in a weed as in a rose
We all look at things differently one does have to suppose

I never refer to myself as a poet
Nor am i one worthy of literary note
I am just one of those who enjoys penning rhyme
Something i have been doing for quite a long time.

On This Warm Day in Spring

In the mostly blue sky just a few clouds of gray
For November and Spring quite a bright sunny day
A forecast high for the afternoon of thirty degrees
And the warm air full of the buzzing of flies and bees
A calm afternoon with only a slight breeze
To gently stir the leaves on the bushes and trees
The countryside looking so green after the recent showers
And colorful and resplendent in nature's flowers
The dark welcome swallows do chirp as they fly
In pursuit of flying insects in the sunny sky
And white butterflies quite a beautiful sight
Are flitting about seemingly enjoying the sunlight
And the cattle lay chewing their cuds in the shade of the trees
On this warm day in Spring of some thirty degrees.

Thursday, November 23, 2017

In Some Way To Explain

It is true that learning to knowledge does give rise
But the more i do learn the more i realize
That i am one who does know little at all
Just a tiny brick in the great knowledge wall
On our journeys in life our dreams we pursue
And that we learn as we live happens for to be true
Some do learn fast and some do learn slow
And near the end of our lives journey we realize of how little we do know
About life and nature and it seems true to say
That we learn as we live until our last night and day
Some knowledge we acquire we do not retain
Which one must suppose goes in some way to explain
That the more we do learn the more we realize
That we do know so little this not a surprise.

To Eventually Die

We are born to life to eventually die
The same for the wealthy celebrities as you and i
Life has a beginning and also has an end
Since we are born as mortals why otherwise pretend
A date with Life's Reaper we all eventually must face
The one who does not differentiate between age rank and race
But in your lifetime how you treat others says more about you
Than your money or material successes can ever hope to do
Those with kindness and compassion are great people indeed
And of more of their sort the Human World is in need
They are a credit to their nationality, race gender and creed
And for their future good Karma they keep planting the seed
We are born into life for to eventually die
The same for the millionaire as for you and i.

They Too Create Millionaires

They will not grow healthy and wealthy and wise
Those who live on a diet of burgers and french fries
In expensive restaurants their sort cannot afford for to dine
On their income they can only afford fast food and cheap wine
Yet on helping the MacDonald owner in becoming a multi millionaire
One can say of them that they do their own share
They too create millionaires those of the poor side of the town
Whilst they themselves do age without good health or wealth or renown
For every materially wealthy person many in poverty
In a fair and just World this never would be
They do work hard enough for poor take home pay
And they survive on the cheapest of food every day
Those who know how it feels to be financially down
Who have to live and survive on the poor side of the town.

Wednesday, November 22, 2017

Ordinary People

Ordinary men and their ordinary wives
Believe that they live extraordinary lives
In their huge back garden an Olympic sized swimming pool
On warm Summer days to swim in and keep cool
Ordinary people without one poor friend
Their children an exclusive private school attend
Aspire to becoming the wealthiest people of the town
This is their ordinary desire for renown
The ordinary man and his ordinary wife
Crave the material success in life
Up the social ladder they have climbed far
Each of them drives an expensive new car
Mother Earth suffering because of their material greed
Ordinary people are ordinary indeed
With their ordinary neighbors they do compete
For to live in and own the best house in their street.

A Stranger In Millstreet

If ever again i return to Millstreet
Many i knew there i know i will not meet
For many are deceased or like me live far away
From the Town and countryside in view of Clara today
A stranger in Millstreet in Duhallow where to many i was once known
Where today most there would not see me as one of their own
I have not seen Duhallow for thirty one years
And for there i have shed my last nostalgic tears
Yet i often think of the Town and the fields near Millstreet
In the green countryside where the waterways meet
Though the now only matter and the now is today
Old memories die hard as the wise one does say
Absence makes us strangers is how it seems to be
And in Millstreet today many would not know me.

To Be Flawed Is To Be Human

It is true to be flawed is to be human the near to perfect to say the least rare
Many observe the unwritten commandment of your own self you always take care
In the Human World the real god is money despite what the religious do say
Since they too deal in paper banknotes though to their gods of the Universe they do pray
Money is the main cause of corruption many to come by it others have been known to deceive
That their gods will forgive them for their sins of embezzlement at least this is what they believe
Fraud and theft and corruption are rife in the twenty first century though any of these have always been a common thing
Many applauding a crook in disguise when a millionaire's praises they do sing
In this the age of the internet scammers those doing online business have come to be aware
That on the World Wide Web fraud is prevalent and crooks in disguise are not rare
That some people are far more flawed than others is not saying anything that is new
In these times of internet scammers the crooks in disguise are not few
It is true to be flawed is to be human gullible people by criminals are deceived every day
For them to become poorer financaially the price for their life lessons they do pay.

Tuesday, November 21, 2017

I Am Just A Fellow

I am just a fellow of rhyme doggerel
And of any successes in life i do not have of to tell
Even of my own praises i feel unworthy to sing
Though i am one of those who likes doing my own thing
Just one of those who has penned pages of stuff
For many years i have been a rhyming buff
As is said rhymers they are many and poets are few
Though you may say to this do tell us what is new
It was my love of rhyme made a rhymer of me
I penned my first rhymes in nineteen seventy three
In human years this seems a long time ago
And time that rusts iron has become my foe
I am just a fellow who pens doggerel
And of any success as such i do not have of to tell.

Self Love Gone Wrong

It is said of narcissism it is self love gone wrong
To true love of self it does not or will never belong
The one who loves self has love for to share
And of the feelings and needs of others is aware
But narcissism is self love in it's most extreme
Of the egotistical absorbed in their own sense of self esteem
It is only to self to that they can relate
The successes of others they could not celebrate
Narcissistic people of the needs of others are never aware
For self and self only they only does care
People without kindness or compassion or empathy
For themselves only they can feel sympathy
Infatuation with self in every narcissist is strong
Narcissism has been described as self love gone wrong.

Some Of The Old Blokes

Some of the old blokes who drink in the local of the good times grown lazy and fat
Like to tell their dubious stories of how they have been there and done that
And true to their type they even believe their own lies
All men do grow older but only few do grow wise
In the pub for drinks every Saturday evening they meet
And of their adventures as young men in their stories compete
Of their successes in life to each other they do relate
It is true that the crave for recognition does not have a use by date
In their stories each other they try to outdo
Trying to prove to each other i am better than you
Though self praise is no praise as the wise one does say
They do not seem for to see it in this way
On Saturday evening they meet in the pub for drinks and a tongue wag
It does not cost them any money to brag.

Monday, November 20, 2017

It Cannot Be A Sense Of Pride

To us humans it cannot be a sense of pride
That many species of wildlife are facing extinction Worldwide
Due to climate change and destruction of their natural habitat many creatures on extinction brink
That children of the future may not see creatures living free sad of to think
That extinction is forever only true for to say
For human greed this is one price we must pay
We should live in the World with other creatures to share
Though many of this do not seem aware
More animaLS and birds are displaced when more trees are cut down
To build more houses and factories in the industrial town
Large animals being killed by poachers for financial gain
Us humans inflict on innocent creatures so much suffering and pain
To us it cannot be any source for pride
That we are responsible for the decline in wildlife numbers Worldwide.

A Successful Man

His mum and dad were often financially down
And he knew of poverty on the poor side of the town
One of the few children of the lesser gods
Who in his life's battle has beaten the odds
A grandfather ten times his hair silver gray
He and his wife of fifty four years live in a two storey house overlooking the bay
If living today his mum and his dad would feel proud of their son
Of how well in life for himself he has done
As a boy he was one who with hope did keep faith
And as is said every thing does come to those who do wait
In life he availed of every opportunity that came his way
And he lives as a wealthy and contented person today
With the woman he married the love of his life
The mother of his children his devoted wife.

By The Boggeraghs In May

Golden buttercups bloom by the silver tongued rill
Babbling down from the high fields by Mushera Hill
When the hawthorns are cloaked in their white blooms of the May
By the Boggeragh Ranges from here far away
Above the high wood in the twilight gray
The male woodcock is flying in his courtship display
With muffled sort of grunts that ends in a shrill sound
Perhaps as a warning to other male woodcocks that this is his breeding ground
In fancy the songs of the male songbirds i hear
In Duhallow in Spring the greenest time of year
Memories of such beauty are with me today
The past lingers with us as the wise one does say
And perhaps until death the memories with me will stay
Of the high green countryside by the Boggeraghs in May.

Sunday, November 19, 2017

Tied To The Past

From life they have not learned much though they have lived for many years
The very conservative old blokes and old dears
That some only grow older but not more knowledgeable or wise
Should not be in itself in any way a surprise
Though the clocks on their lives ever keep ticking fast
They remain in their ways tied to the past
Though decades of years past their physical prime
In their opinions they seem to be frozen in time
Even change for the better in their words they oppose
But then we are what we are one does have to suppose
Their parents are lecturing them from their graves
To old ways and old thinking they remain as slaves
Not open to learning or to change of them one might say
And time on their lives ever ticking away.

Their Idea Of A Fair Go

Their idea of a fair go applies to some only but never to all
The people who differentiate between people in their opinions seem small
They set up the barriers of us against they
No shortage of racists in the Human World of today
They do not embrace difference between culture and religion and race
In their minds for tolerance there is not any space
No asset to humanity since in their words they seek to divide
The racists of the World on the increase Worldwide
That they are racist in their opinions most of them cannot see
Many a known racist when accused of being racist does answer not me
Since how they seem to others in their words they deny
They are who they think they are not to their sort does apply
Among the egalatarians of the World them one cannot include
Since on their opinions on a fair go many they do exclude.

In Koroit Today

The sun behind gray clouds is hidden away
It is humid and raining in Koroit today
But how pleasant for to hear the male blackbird sing
The golden billed feathered songster of the Spring
The parks of Koroit looking so lush and green
As beautiful one might say as they have ever been
The capeweed in their millions in petals of gold
Of natural beauty a sight to behold
Diagnosed by botanists as an environmental weed
But when in bloom beautiful to look at indeed
The warbling flute like notes as ever quite pleasant to hear
Of the magpies who sing every day of the year
In Koroit on this rainy day in November beauty all around me
And how lovely to hear the song of the pee wee.

Saturday, November 18, 2017

The Ex Pride Of Dromtarriffe

She was the Pride of Dromtarriffe when in her physical prime
But this is going back many Seasons in time
An ageing grandmother her best days long gone
And only the memories with her linger on

Of when she was admired as Duhallow's Pride
The fairest by far in the green countryside
But the clock on her life does keep ticking away
There is a new Pride in Dromtarriffe today

Back in the years when her hair was light brown
She danced in the Edel Quinn Hall in Kanturk and The Star in Millstreet Town
She was one who was very popular back then
And she did have the pick of Duhallow's young men

The ex Pride of Dromtarriffe in brown hair dye cloaks her gray
Quite slim in her prime she does look plump today
She is not the beauty that she once used to be
One can say she looks every day of seventy three

Her aging husband who loved her in Seasons gone by
For women far younger has the roving eye
Like many ageing males tired of his ageing wife
Just looking at young beauty sparks some joy in his life

The ex Pride of Dromtarriffe her better days in the past
And the clock on her life ever keeps ticking fast
She was a rare beauty when in her life's prime
But this is going back many Seasons in time.

Narcissism Like A Virus

How come such publicity revolves around one man
Who as he always has done does the best he can
Do to divide people in his narcissistic way
He now is the President of the U S of A
For any Country his sort of a leader no advertisment at all
In his words he seems divisive and on his thinking quite small
On twitter one who loves for to tweet his ideas
In this way the narcissists of the World he does please
He is living proof that narcissism does pay
And has become an in thing with many in the Human World of today
The twenty first century's leading narcissist is a known billionaire
But sadly the Trumps of the World are not rare
Narcissism like a virus has spread Worldwide
And sadly the beauty in humility by it is being destroyed.

The Talk Of Millstreet

A likeable fellow unshackled by conceit
Bertie Buckley nowadays is the talk of Millstreet
Along with his namesake wood carver Bill Buckley in Millstreet Town their work on display
Two leading artists in their own fields in the Duhallow of today

The popular things in Duhallow are sports and country music and more of the same
For an artist not the ideal launch pad to wealth and to fame
Artists always seem to do better in city and big town
Though due to his hard work and talent Bertie in Duhallow is creating his own renown

Far beyond the borders of Duhallow's old green countryside
Bertie for his excellent realist paintings has become known Worldwide
True art does not have borders it travels to elsewhere
To the bigger cities of the big World out there

That he is one who loves and is inspired by Nature it does seem this way
His paintings on the landscapes and waterways and wildlife of Duhallow so much of him does say
His amazing gifts with the World Bertie Buckley does share
And sad to think that people like him nowadays are so rare

Of more realist artists the Human World is in need
And the people of Duhallow to have an artist of the calibre of Bertie Buckley are quite lucky indeed
Such a talented and likeable fellow and free of conceit
Born and raised and living in the Town of Millstreet.

Friday, November 17, 2017

It Does Seem This Way

We learn as we live as the wise one does say
And new lessons for us in life every day
But the more we do learn the more we realize
That we do know so little this is not a surprise
Those who think they know everything are lucky indeed
Since of any more knowledge they are not in need
That knowledge can give rise to enlightenment the point they do miss
But as is said of ignorance it can be bliss
That life is our lifetime teacher it does seem this way
And for our lessons from life always some price to pay
The years go by quickly beyond our life's prime
And eventually everyone runs out of time
We learn as we live as the wise one does say
And we never stop learning it does seem this way.

How Can I Respect Those

How can i respect those who on me look down
Those who do support rank the snobs of the town
How arrogant and conceited they do seem to be
I can only respect those who do respect me

Those who promote class distinction of humanity's uglier side
Communities they only seek to divide
The so called materially successful they congratulate
Rank and class distinction their sort do uphold and create

The up themselves people i meet every day
From me they always do look the other way
You are not of our class their body language to me does say
To their sort i feel no respect for to pay

Those who uphold class distinction only seek to divide
But sadly their sort on the increase Worldwide
They will never be an asset to humanity
Since they help to uphold the things that create poverty

Since they help to support class distinction and rank
For the social divide in part they are to thank
How can i respect those on me who look down
The arrogant and conceited snobs of the town

A November Day

The warm air full of the sweet scent of hay
And in the blue sky just a few clouds of gray
And warmth in the sunshine and warmth in the breeze
On a warm high for November of thirty two degrees
In the Moyne Shire the warmest day of the Spring
In the heat of the evening the birds do not sing
Above the paddocks with the sun on their wings chirping as they fly
The dark welcome swallows chase insects in the sky
The sunlit paddocks lush and green looking resplendent in their November flowers
That have been brought to bloom by the recent Spring showers
What a contrast from here to Duhallow far away
Where the cattle in the farmyard sheds are bellowing for silage or hay
No sign of the sun and the sky looking gray
And the rain drizzling down by the Boggeraghs today.

Thursday, November 16, 2017

Where The Hopkins River Flows Into The Sea

On a beautiful November evening where the Hopkins flows into the sea
People on the beach with their dogs walking enjoying the sunshine before tea
It is such beautiful weather in the prime of the southern Spring
How lovely to hear a male blackbird such a beautiful song he does sing

Where the Hopkins flows into the Pacific by Moygil such a beautiful place
Sacred to the tribal people of the Dreamtime the great southern land's first race
At Moygil overlooking where the river meets the ocean they danced their corroborees
On warm evenings in Summer in the cool of the freshening breeze

The warbling flute like songs of the magpies are always a joy for to hear
The birds who sing in all weather and Seasons and every day of the year
In Nature there is so much beauty at all times of year to admire
The natural beauty i witness this evening to creativity an artist or writer would inspire

On this November evening in late Spring made cool by a freshening breeze
On weather temperatures so close to perfect a high of twenty two degrees
People on the beach their dogs are walking enjoying the sunshine before tea
When Nature she does look her finest where the Hopkins River flows into the sea.

William Cronin

Sad to learn that William Cronin an elderly citizen of Knocknakilla has lived his last day
Quite an amiable fellow of him in truth one can say
He and his late wife Eileen raised their children in Knocknakilla near the Town of Millstreet
He was quite a likeable fellow and one who was free of conceit
One who did make many friends over the decades of years
By his family and relative and friends he would have been farewelled in tears
One who to Duhallow had seen many Seasons come and go
But as is often said of time it eventually becomes everyone's foe
Though the great gift of life from his mortal body may have gone
In all who knew William good memories of him will live on
From the cares of living for us all there will be a final release
In St Mary's by Cashman's Hill in Millstreet he now is at peace
Of living time he was one who did have a good span
William Cronin will be remembered as quite a good man.

Perhaps You Should Leave It To Others

You tell me of how great that you are though greatness can be a relative thing
Perhaps you should leave it to others your praises if they wish so for to sing
Self praise is no praise as some say this only does seem to be true
If of praise others feel you are worthy they will give you the praise you are due
You are one well into self promotion in this you are not one of the few
That we are in the age of self syndrome is not saying anything that is new
In the twenty first century of advanced technology narcissism does seem to be rife
With many it is quite the in thing and has become a way of life
Those willing to help those doing it tough are truly great people indeed
But of more of their sort the kind and compassionate the Human World it is badly in need
To them there is far more to their existence than living only for me, myself and i
That empathy is one of the great human gifts is surely not stating a lie
You do tell of how great you are at least in your own mind you are great
But perhaps you should leave it to others your successes for to celebrate.

Wednesday, November 15, 2017

So Wise Is The One

So wise is the one who in the noisy crowd
Is not part of the noise makers or clap hard or shouts loud
For to keep one's silence with noise all around
As in itself quite unique and in ways very profound
I too like many others have too much for myself for to say
In my doggerels i do make noise every day
In words that in notebooks i have written down
In my fantasising of literary renown
Noise is a thing very different to sound
No audible pleasure where noise does abound
The one good at listening in ways is quite wise
It is a gift that to the accumulation of knowledge to does give rise
So wise indeed the one in the noisy crowd
Who is not part of the noise makers or never claps hard or shouts loud.

The Past Will Be With Me

The past will be with me until the day i do die
If i said any different this would be a lie
And for most other migrants it must be the same
Old memories cling to life like a flickering flame

And though memories of what was with me does remain
Perhaps i will never see Clara again
Or in Claraghatlea walk in the old fields where the waterways meet
In the green countryside near the Town of Millstreet

The roadways of life i have been up and down
Since i left my first home west of Millstreet Town
Where i would not be known by many today
Absence can make us strangers it does seem this way

Since i last climbed on Clara thirty one years ago
I do feel much older time has become my foe
And i never thought i would be so long away
From the place where i first looked on the lamp of day

Though memories remain with me of far away
I feel happy and content where i live today
Though sometimes in fancy my thoughts takes to wing
Suppose to feel a bit nostalgic at times can be a natural thing

Some times in fancy i hear and i see
A male robin singing on a leafy birch tree
With the warm sun of Spring on his orange breast
His partner nearby sits on her pale freckled eggs in her cup shaped nest

I only have memories of the what used to be
This is all of the past that does remain in me
But the now is what matters as the wise one does say
And i feel happy and content where i live today.

True To Yourself

Treat other people as you would like them to treat you
And to your higher self try to remain true
Out of the downfall of others never try to seek gain
And true to yourself ever try to remain
On this thing known as karma i for one believe
What we put into life in return we receive
What goes around comes around as the wise one does say
It is said of karma that it works in this way
The wrongs we do to others will return to haunt us one day
For our sins to karma some price we must pay
For an honest lived life live and let live seems a good idea
With such an assumption would you not agree
How you treat others it is all up to you
For the wrongs you do to them to your own self you do.

Tuesday, November 14, 2017

Politicians

It surely would be more than a mild surprise
If all politicians did cease to tell lies
To this wishful thinking of course you would say
Of the more deceptive sort of people in the Human World of today
It is true everybody are born to die
And that most politicians are born to lie
To their sort to lie is seen as okay
In fact lying for them it is known for to pay
Bigger fool you are if the words of a politician you do believe
Even the people who have given them the power they deceive
When it suits politicians the truth they disguise
Some of them even believe their own lies
Deception is a game most politicians do play
And that there are few honest politicians seems a sad thing to say.

Connie Mac

He has shorn sheep in shearing sheds in the outback
The big broad chested shearer known as Connie Mac
In his mid sixties his hair silver gray
He recently has given shearing away
He does not know if he has helped to create children but he never had a wife
One who has never been short of women in his life
Back in the days when his hair was dark brown
He did have a girl friend in every country town
One who drank hard and worked hard for his every pay
For the shearer in life there is no easy way
Brown wrinkled face that of years working under the hot sun does tell
But apart from this he is one for his years who looks healthy, strong and well
Connie Mac a top shearer in his physical prime
But for his best one has to go back in time.

Remembrance Day

November the eleventh Worldwide is known as Remembrance Day
When young men from their homes died in wars far away
We are told for freedom and peace with their lives they did pay
But the World is not at peace which does seem sad to say
They died rather young and due to circumstance
Many of them to father children did not have that chance
But sadly those who declared war lived on to die old
As wealthy aged heroes and their life stories in book form told
For flag and for country and for national pride
One must ask why so many young soldiers in wars have died
They cannot hear the last post played from where they do lay
From the dark depths of their graves on Remembrance Day
Some of them died rather young some of them lived to grow old
And they fought for our freedom or so we are told.

Monday, November 13, 2017

Pamela Joy Bruce

Pamela Joy Bruce was a poetess her poems are delightful
Of humor and pathos original and insightful
And though sadly the gift of life is no longer with her
Those who have loved her will never forget her
In her lifetime she knew love one who enjoyed living
One who knew receiving only comes from giving
And Pamela loved poetry and music, dancing and singing and laughter
Her father and mother in her raised a good daughter
Pamela Joy Bruce her friends were in the many
And of enemies one who never did have any
One who did love people and mixed with many races
And travelled the World and been to many places
A woman with the spirit of adventure and the gift of giving
And in her beautiful poetry she will go on living.

Sylvia

Sylvia a wonderful woman one who embraces every challenge in life
A loving mother to her children and to her late husband Joe she was a good wife
She has known her good and her bad days one who does know what life is about
One who knows how it feels for to be down but refuses to be counted out
On this her seventieth birthday Sylvia is healthy and strong
To a very rare breed of people she is one who does belong
Despite the knocks life did give her Sylvia does never complain
On her what has been a loss to Britain has become Australia's gain
It is said eevryone has a life story and Sylvia has a great one to tell
Of her good and of her sad days but with life she is one who copes well
Life for some does have it's struggles but where there is life there is hope
And only the bravest like Sylvia with adversity manage to cope
Her worst days in life are behind her and on this her seventieth birthday
For her there will be a big party and many a loud hip hooray.

Polluters And Noise Makers

Polluters and noise makers is all that they are
These young males driving around in their six cylinder car
On Friday evening car stereo blaring joyriding up and down
The busy streets of the big coastal town
For noise making with other hoons they do like to compete
Of who can create the most noise on the noisy street
Their six cylinder engines revving their car stereo on full blare
Sad to think their type nowadays are not even rare
So much carbon pollutiin they create every day
They are not helping the natural environment in any way
Their car engine revving their car stereo blaring loud
That they are noise and carbon polluters they seem to feel proud
They whoop in delight as they drive up and down
On a Friday evening in the noisy big town.

Sunday, November 12, 2017

Oh Bury Me There

Oh bury me there in a hole in the ground
Where earthworms are the only forms of life to be found
With only the gravediggers my burial to attend
The dead they are never in need of a friend

If the law would allow it of a coffin as such i would not be in need
But if not a very cheap pine box would do me indeed
Millions of people far better than i am in mass graves do lay
Murdered because they were different and buried without coffins and left to decay

Anything good or bad of my existence i do not wish to be said
Though few ever say anything bad of the dead
That the living we only criticize i do wonder why
Since i find this quite puzzling i will not deny

The more one thinks about life the more one comes to realize
That in the end our achievements amount to little this is not a surprise
So many feel so self important and lacking in humility
But of ego life's Reaper does set them free

With earth all around me and over my head
I will be of no use to anyone when i am dead
From life's cares and worries i will have found release
Just leave me with Nature for to rest in peace.

The Ways Of Love

The ways of love can be quite fickle and can leave one in heartache and tears
And the grief of one by love jilted can linger on for years
The poets write their poems of undying love and the singers of true love does sing
But love can leave one with hurted feelings and love ache is not a nice thing
For anyone to have to experience as many have done true to say
And few fall in love in their twenties and remain in love until their dying day
On the dark side of love there is no brightness as many of love come to know
Love that does give rise to happiness and laughter can also cause tears for to flow
Love is not always happy and smiling to say so would be to pretend
It does have a joyful beginning but for many has a tearful end
And few loves does last a whole lifetime stories of undying love are few
That love has it's good days and it's bad days is not saying anything that is new
The ways of love can be quite fickle and lost love does cause tears to flow
And the dark side of love is a dark side as many of love have come to know.

With Yourself You Must Begin

If you want a better and a peaceful World with yourself you must begin
Make yourself a better person make the World better to live in
Live in peace with your neighbors never call anyone out of name
Remember in every quarrel there is more than one to blame
With your words never hurt others words are known to cause offense
Those who deliberately with their words hurt others sadly lack in common sense
Always treat others with respect if you want them to respect you
If in respect you are lacking respect will not be your due
Those who seek quarrels with others as their source of anger release
Are not doing anything for a peaceful World since with themselves they are not at peace
Ill feeling does lead to hatred and hatred does lead to crime
Those who live in peace with others are the peacemakers of our time
If you want a better and a peaceful World with yourself you must begin
Make yourself a better person make the World better to live in.

Saturday, November 11, 2017

The Beautiful Flower Of Kilmeedy

The beautiful flower of Kilmeedy in Kilmeedy she did not stay
In the green valley on view of Clara where she first looked on the lamp of day
It is said she is living in Christchurch New Zealand from her first home in distance far away
Married with young children to a New Zealander this is what those in the know of her does say

With brunette wavy hair to her shoulders and eyes blue as the summer sky
The very word that is known as beauty to her sort does surely apply
But the yearn for the wander was in her on view of Clara she did not remain
And what is a loss to Kilmeedy to Christchurch is surely a gain

There is a young man in Duhallow who begged her for to become his wife
But he is a stay at home person not one for the adventurous life
And he lost his flower of Kilmeedy without her he will grow old and gray
But memories of love do not die easily he does think of her every day

One wonders does she ever think of him and remember the what used to be
The present with most only matter though the past lives on in memory
And does she remember the old fields and the leafy groves of the Spring
When the swallows are back home in Kilmeedy and the nesting birds whistle and sing

And does she in visualizations see the gray fog creep down Clara Hill
And in the calm of a gray Summer twilight hear the babbling song of the rill
The beautiful flower of Kilmeedy who lives in Christchurch far away
From the green valley by Clara Mountain where she first looked on the lamp of day.

To You Quite Scary

Physically you are not the person you once were and you know time is not on your side
And the thought of death to you quite scary but from it you have nowhere to hide
And though you fear the scythe of the life's reaper this is quite a natural fear
The bravest do not die without some fear though stories of their bravery we read of and of hear
Legend has it that Methuselah lived for more than nine centuries but eventually he too did die
But you make what you like of this story since legend it has been known for to lie
Us humands are born as mortals and death to all things of life does apply
On this respect no different to the animals or to the birds of the sky
You are one of many who fear death and on saying this you are saying what is true
The reaper of lives who claims all lives will one day come reaping for you
The one who does come uninvited who to anyone is never a friend
The one only cheated by suicide victims decides for you when life will end
I feel so happy for to be living and with joy do welcome every day
But my fate will be like all others when the reaper comes reaping my way.

A Wonderful Thing

The aging may talk of their adventures and successes of the past
But the clock on their lives ever keeps ticking fast
And time does not wait it just keeps ticking on
At the stroke of midnight today will be gone
The young talk of what for them in life will be
As they grow into adulthood like a sapling tree
Full of ambition and on the right side of time
As they do look forward to their physical prime
The aging does talk of the decades ago
And time that rusts iron has become their foe
They talk of the past and not of times ahead
And hopes for the future in them all but dead
The songs of their favorite pop star the young do sing
The great gift of youth is a wonderful thing.

Friday, November 10, 2017

The Judgments Of Others

Since any wrong to anyone you never do
Why allow the judgments of others to affect you
Just leave it to them to criticize you or your praises to sing
And get on with your life and do your own thing
It is not saying anything that to anyone is in any way new
When saying that the unpaid judges of the World are not in the few
To support you on your livelihood any of your bills they never do pay
Their kind will not help you in any sort of a way
Of any advice from their sort you are not in need
And to their negative opinions why pay any heed
With their types it is hard to make friends and easy to make foes
It does take all kinds one does have to suppose
Just leave it to them for to criticize you or your praises to sing
And live how you choose for to live and do your own thing.

Selfishness On The Rise

An old saying today that is relevant and not hard to recall
Every man and woman for himself and herself and god for us all
Words of promotion for selfishness would you not agree
At least anyhow this is how it does seems to be
It is only when you are feeling depressed and financially down
That you really know who your friends are in the town
It is then you come to realize that your true friends are few
Though to this you may say do tell us what is new
In this the age of the i, myself and me
Money is the god of the many in the twenty first century
The one without money it does seem sad to say
Is the one without friends in the Human World of today
In the age of technology selfishness is on the rise
It is every man for himself and every woman likewise.

On Melbourne Cup Day

Known as the race that stops a nation it was run today
That money speaks every language only true for to say
The Melbourne Cup run at Flemington in Victoria is known Worldwide
Where the wealthy and famous love to flaunt it and their egos make no attempt to hide

In a Human World where the gap between the wealthy and the poor ever does seem to grow
Melbourne Cup day for the wealthy and famous just an egotistical show
Of the power of money for the World to see
Which does nothing for the homeless of Melbourne who live in dire poverty

The excitement that money and fame does create
Tonight the big winners they will celebrate
But the hungry and homeless of Melbourne who only know of life as tough
Without a bed or blanket tonight as usual will sleep rough

Where multi millionaires from Australia and other Countries send their horse to compete in the big race
In a race track where humility itself would be completely out of place
Where of the poorer side of humanity there is not any trace
And among ninety thousand plus racegoers not one homeless face

At Flemington race track on the first Tuesday in November where the big wags for dress and attention with each other compete
Even one poor person you would be quite unlikely for to meet
It is ego gone viral in truth one can say
At Flemington in Victoria on Melbourne Cup Day.