Everyone Does Need Friends

Everyone does need friends this well may be so
But your best friend of today may be your future foe
On the length of friendship as in love and in life there is no guarantee
Since far into the years ahead we cannot see
Though many will look on you as one of the losers of the town
You will know your true friend when you are financially down
Your friend will love you for the person you are
And not for the size of your home or the size of your car
Like it is said a friend in your time of need is a friend indeed
Your true friend will not forsake you when of help you are in need
When hope in your life it is all but bereft
Your friend will stand by you when all other have left
You to make a friend of one far more successful than you
But your friend to you will remain ever true.

The Rose Of Warrnambool

Unmarried in her early twenties without children a teacher in a primary school
Tall, beautiful and charming, down to earth and kindhearted the Rose of Warrnambool
With eyes as blue as ripened sloes and shoulder length hair of chestnut brown
Her mum an Aussie from nearby Dennington her dad from distant Millstreet Town.

Though 'tis a place she vows to visit in a not too distant day
She has never been to her dad's Hometown in Duhallow faraway
In view of Clara Mountain photos of it she has seen
She says it looks a scenic place so beautiful and green.

She says Millstreet by old Clara is a must go to place for me
And meet with dad's relations my Irish ancestry
Though where the Finnow waters flow from here a distant place
I know I'd be a stranger just another foreign face.

Dad says the Winter wet and cold there when Clara wears his hat of snow
But in the Town he was born and raised in many people there he does know
Of his young years in Duhallow fond memories with him stay
And his wish is that in view of Cashman's Hill his last remains will lay.

A lovely young woman in her early twenties not yet in her life's prime
She says for marriage and child bearing she does have heaps of time
The beautiful Rose of Warrnambool unshackled by conceit
Her Mum is an Australian and her dad is from Millstreet.

Since Life Can Be A Challenge

Since life can be a challenge in many a way
The two words be happy seem easy to say
You must work overtime with a big home mortgage to pay
And your pregnant wife due to give birth any day
For the family this should be a joyous occasion indeed
But with the arrival of a new family member to clothe provide for and feed
To add to your already three girls and a boy
The extra stress on your finances may temper some of your joy
In the dark of the morning to the ring of the alarm clock you wake
To prepare for work an hour before daybreak
With the rising cost of living and big bills for to meet
How can you feel the happiest one on your street
And with your most recent home mortgage payment overdue
Only survival not happiness is what you pursue.

The Knowledgeable With Wisdom

'Tis known of knowledge that in a garden it does not grow
Though from learning through living some of it we can come to know
Yes in life as we live we do learn as we go
Though it can be true you learn far less from your friend than your foe
But to wisdom knowledge is different in varying degrees
As different one might say as chalk is from cheese
A knowledgeable person is not necessary wise
That the difference between them can be great some don't seem to realize
Yes knowledge and wisdom seem different indeed
One might say of them they are a different breed
Each are good to have in their own sort of way
Though they have little in common it does seem fair to say
The knowledgeable with wisdom to say the least few
But on saying this I am not saying anything new.

There Is Far More To Australia

From Cape York Peninsula to Wonthaggi Town
This is a big Country to drive up and down
The highways through the outback lands wide, flat and brown
Australia does have many claims to renown.

The most urbanized Country in the World as some are known to say
In and around the big coastal cities most of the Nation's population does live and stay
Of sub tropical and tropical and temperate climates of varying degrees
Though a big Country that could do with many more trees.

A land of miles of sea side beaches for recreation and fun
A paradise for the lovers of the sun
But for skin exposure to the sun there can be a huge price to pay
As some sun lovers do not live for to grow old and gray

But there is far more to Australia than most do read about
It can be a Land of storms, fire, earth tremors, floodings and drought
And in the lonely outback miles from anywhere
A sparsely treed bare country few people live there.

The Land of marsupials and people of the Dreamtime
It has inspired artists to sketch and writers to song, story and rhyme
And of species of beautiful birds nowhere else to be seen
In landscapes that often look more brown than green.

I've Not Walked In The Old Fields

I've not walked in the old fields for many a day
Of the Townland I was born and raised in from here far away
Claraghatlea scarce a mile from the Town of Millstreet
Where the rivers the Finnow and the Cails do meet.

In a damp rushy field that is known as the Lyre
They join with a babble that never seems to tire
And together journey to Drishane by many a ditch and hedgerow
Where into the mighty Blackwater they flow.

In a river side field where the rank rushes grow
In fancy I can hear the male pheasant crow
When hawthorns are in their white blooms of the May
Time may have ticked on but the memories stay

Of little brown lark carolling as he did fly
A musical speck in the clouds of the sky
His descendants today sing the very same song
That is born in their kind and to them belong.

Till the Reaper comes to claim the life's breath from me
A migrant in this Land is all that I can be
But good memories of what was with me do remain
And in my flights of fancy I go home again.

I Have Been Advised By Some

I have been advised by some to give rhyming away
That by now I should have said all I have to say
On life and on Nature and on people as well
But I have not yet written my last doggerel.

I have never pretended that I am a poet
Or that I should be worthy of literary note
I say not for the first time what I've often said before
I write for enjoyment that and nothing more.

An addictive rhymer I very well may be
But the rhymes they do seem to keep coming to me
To the nine thousand plus I have written I add more each day
One might say with words I am one who likes to play.

My worth as a rhymer I always do doubt
But every day more things for to write about
I write of the wonderful World around me
Of the beauty in Nature I hear and I see.

In Spring how lovely to wake from sleep at night
To the flute of the magpie in the pale moonlight
The silver billed bird with the beautiful song
In his breeding Season he pipes all night long.

I have written about him in doggerel rhyme
That some look upon as a waste of good time
But this is my hobby and would you not agree
That each to his or her own this is how it should be.

I have been penning doggerel since my fading life prime
And though some do advise me on such to call time
For many years now I've been a rhyming buff
And I intend for to keep on penning stuff.

Tadgh Moynihan

Tadgh Moynihan's life ended in Australia in a tragic way
And back home in Millstreet his last remains lay
Perhaps in his fifties luck not on his side
In an accident it has been reported he died.

As a young man for Ballydaly his home club gaelic football he played
And all around Duhallow many friendships he forged and made
His family and friends for him left to shoulder grief's cross
His friendship to those who knew and loved him an irreplaceable loss.

Those who knew and knew of him the memories will recall
Of the slightly built fellow athletic and tall
A true quiet achiever with little to say
One who to help others who often went out of his way.

In Millstreet and Ballydaly never more to be seen
But good memories of him will remain evergreen
With everyone who knew him he was a good man
But sadly of life his was not a long span.

In Summer In Lisnaboy

Summer school holidays as a youngster was a thing that I used to enjoy
In Cullen with my uncle Dan and my aunt Mary on their farm in Lisnaboy
In the sunlit meadows of Duhallow the pleasant aroma of hay
Good memories of what was last a lifetime and till death with us destined to stay.

The skylark up from the rank rushes to sing in the clouds he did fly
Upwards as he flew he kept singing till he became a musical speck in the sky
His musical notes are still with me in fancy him I often hear
Fond memories of what was so pleasant and to me remain ever near.

One can only live in the present though our memories are of the past
The Seasons and years do pass quickly and time it keeps on ticking fast
The house sparrows Nature's famous chirpers keep chirping in the leafy hedgerow
Far from here I had my first lessons on Nature and my love for her ever does grow.

The sweet scent of meadow hay and the birdsong in the leafy groves of July
And the swallows chasing flying insects airborne travellers of the sky
Are things that I do remember long before the years left me looking gray
In Summer in Lisnaboy in Duhallow long ago and from here far away.

The Beautiful Game

Referred to as football or soccer and widely known by either name
The number one sport in the World some call it the beautiful game
Played in every town, village and city around the Globe and Worldwide
The top players reach a high skill level by their fans they are glorified
Names such as Best, Maradona and Pele are names the fans often recall
As well as Muller, Eusebio and Zidane when they talk of the World game of Football
The World cup is the game's showpiece where the World's best players their skills do display
Superstars of the game that is played in every Country the World's number one game of today
To play in a World Cup final as a star of his home Country's team
And be looked up to as a football legend is many a young fellow's dream
A game played in every Continent in every village and city and town
The top players are admired as small Gods and guaranteed Worldwide renown
Often referred to as football or soccer for some poor kids their ticket to wealth and fame
In the World's number one code of football it is known as the beautiful game.

One Should Not

One should not harm the living or pay disrespect to the dead
And treat others as you'd like them treat you as wise people have said
And live by the laws of compassion as you journey on life's way
What we give to life we receive does that seem fair to say?
Of crimes against humanity every day we read of and we hear
One can only feel indifference for those who rule by fear
For their crimes to Karma the price will be huge to pay
Their past will return to haunt them in the not too distant day
The laws of the Universal Karma does apply to us all
Any act of kindness towards others can never be too small
For to add to one's good Karma what we give we do receive
On the Laws of Karma I am one who happens to believe
One should not harm the living or disrespect the memory of the dead in any way
For our sins the price to Karma is always huge to pay.

For The Child Born Of Poor Parents

The child born of poor parents the he or the she
Start life at a disadvantage would you not agree
Disadvantaged by their suburb and their postal address
For them a great achievement any form of success
The job seekers from the poor side of the town
More often than not by employers of a job start turned down
Their high crime rate suburb has got a bad name
For the sins of the some all do receive the blame
For the child born of poor parents in life 'tis up hill all of the way
The she or he by circumstance of birth disadvantaged 'twould seem fair to say
Though some from the poor suburb success in life have known
Far more losers than winners where the crime rate has grown
Many children born in the poor suburb are destined to die young
Of suicide and drug overdoses as the town's poor unsung.

Our Dark Demons To Fight

The most of us have our dark demons to fight
When the brain is shrouded from positive light
In our moments of sadness that borders despair
We tell ourselves life to us not at all fair
Those who lack in compassion could never come to realize
Why some above their dark moods can never seem to rise
Only those who have in them the gift of empathy
At the afflictions of others can display sympathy
Though even psychiatrists trained on the workings of the mind
In understanding the human moods a challenge do find
The happy at all times do seem to be rare
And I envy the few who do seem free of care
Though on our life's journey happiness we do pursue
That most of us have our dark moments happen to be true.

Without Ever Once

Without ever once pausing by night or by day
The minutes on our lives keep ticking away
And ticking on and on till the moment we die
That we are mere mortals surely not a lie
An end to the life journey for you as for me
And with that life is part of death I for one must agree
The young of the blow fly are born in decay
Death can give rise to life if you see it that way
'Tis the fear of death that we only do fear
On saying that I say what is obviously clear
To so many people and more than a few
To such a statement would say tell us something that is new
As for me I will live for as long as I can
And hopefully die without pain as a very old man.

Far From The Stands Of Croke Park

Far from the Stands of Croke Park and the cheering Rebel crowd
Us Cork Gaelic Football fans in exile too can feel happy and proud
That Cork with them brought Sam back home after a two decade wait
But through the lean years the Rebel fans with their team kept the faith.

Cork played Down for the Sam Maguire cup Sam was a Dunmanway man
The undying legend of the true Gael the passing of the decades span
On their five previous All Ireland Final appearances in Croke Park Down were never beat
Though by a single point they lost their record to Cork they were gallant in defeat.

When Graham Canty the courageous Bantry man raised aloft the Sam Maguire
The cheers rang loud around Croke Park for a man Cork fans admire
He and their goalkeeper Alan Quirke have been with Cork for some time
The years creep up on the great duo now well past their playing prime.

Not found for to be wanting when they were put to the test
Michael Shields and Eoin Cadogan held their own against Down's best
And for Kilnamartyra's courageous and determined Noel O Leary Cork cheers rang in Croke Park
He overshadowed no less a player than Down's renowned Marty Clarke.

Under the most extreme pressure Ray Carey refused to crack
And though Down did lead them early Cork showed courage to fight back
And John Miskella the running half back from Ballincollig as usual led Cork's counter attack
Of this Cork team it cannot be said that in courage they do lack.

Paudie Kissane a very fine defender made Down fight for every ball
In years to come in Gaelic Football his is a name we will recall
At midfield Alan O Connor and Kanturk's Aidan Walsh served up a great display
They will recall in years from now their greatest ever day.

The veteran Carrigaline midfielder Nicholas Murphy a Gaelic Footballer supreme
When called upon from him another great display to add to his esteem
And Pearse O Neill of Aghada a strong hard running player
In Cork's seventh All Ireland win no effort he did spare.

Colm O Neill and Ciaran Sheehan with their displays can feel satisfied
In years from now to the part they played in Cork's win they can look back with pride
And Eire Og's Daniel Goulding in Croke Park he strode tall
Nine points his contribution perhaps in his greatest game of all.

Ballincollig's Paddy Kelly in Gaelic Football circles one known far and wide
For Cork in another fine game for them his very best he tried
And Ballydesmond's Donncha O Connor proved a huge headache for Down
Five points he added to his and to Cork's tally on his march to renown.

John Hayes and the Nemo rangers pair Paul Kerrigan and Derek Kavanagh true Rebel grit these three did show
'Tis true what is said of winners that them the masses wish to know
And their manager Conor Counihan planned and inspired the Rebels win
Though behind for long periods of time on the scoreboard his players refused to give in.

Gallant Down's contribution to a memorable All Ireland Final one ought not to forget
That their All Ireland Final perfect record came to an end should not cause them any regret
They lost by a single point to a great Cork team in a great game of football
And fought it out right to the end though their backs were to the wall.

Finally let us raise our toasting glasses to toast Conor Counihan's men
Cork the All Ireland Gaelic Football Champions of the year two thousand and ten
The joy of bringing Sam back home to Cork with them was worth the two decades wait
And in towns and cities far from County Cork their win Cork migrants celebrate.

Since I Do Not Have A Religion

Since I do not have a religion something I never do deny
The put down religious term of infidel to me has to apply
Yet good luck to those who do believe their souls have wings to fly
For to join their God on the day they die in his Kingdom in the sky
They are entitled to their beliefs like 'tis said to each their own
But I'm one of those who could never believe on what to me is an unknown
In his evolution of the species old Darwin wrote that humans evolved from ape like kind
And that a bigger brain provided ample room for a greater thinking mind
But theologians do argue that he was wrong they see it in a different way
Yet our different views on things do make us more interesting as some are known to say
Each to their own and their own beliefs that's how it seems to me
If we all agreed on everything how boring we would be
Whether you do or do not have a God I can only wish you well
Though I will live on till I die as a Godless infidel.

Donncha O Connor

For Cork, Duhallow and his Club Ballydesmond a Gaelic Football great
The sharp shooting full forward with Ireland's best does rate
An accurate free taker and accurate from play
In Croke Park a hero for the victorious Rebels on All Ireland Football Final Day.

To be born to be a marvellous Gaelic Footballer is his great claim to fame
The Pride of Ballydesmond Donncha O Connor is his name
In Croke Park the Rebel County team to greatness he did inspire
And of singing the great one's praises the Cork fans can't seem to tire.

Duhallow home of many a sports star and birthplace of a dual Olympic Gold Medallist in sports still lead the way
A young Gaelic Footballer from Ballydesmond is their hero of today
For to wear the crown of greatness he has what it does require
Without him in 2010 Cork would not have won the Sam Maguire.

From Ballydesmond a champion Gaelic Footballer he is one of Ireland's best
He is never found to be wanting when he is put to the test
Ballydesmond's greatest ever Gaelic Footballer that would seem fair to say
And for the handsome dark haired Donncha let us hear the loud hooray.

The Only Immortal I Do Know Of

There is far more to Nature than the greenery of the Spring
Or the babbling of the waterways or the songs the birds do sing
Or the rumbling of the giant surf waves when the sea is at full tide
The things we don't know of Nature are the things from us she hide
Where-ever you do travel to her presence will be there
The beauty that she creates is around us everywhere
Often referred to as Earth Mother for her another name
But Earth Mother and Mother Nature are one and of the same
When all memories of me are lost never more to be found
Her swallows will return in Spring to breed on their home ground
And her wildflowers will be blooming above where my remains do lay
So call her Earth Mother or Mother Nature or call her what you may
She will live on forever for her no last night and day
The only immortal I do know of she creates life and decay.

The Man Who Wins The Brownlow

The man who wins the Brownlow Medal is the A F L's best and fairest player
And since only one winner every year that makes Brownlow Medallists rare
Some Brownlow Medallists deceased and some ageing and gray
The ex hero of the future is the hero of today
Professional sport is all about winning and money and fame
And to the footy fans football is far more than a game
They live for their club and their club favourites they idolize
And their club's Brownlow Medal winners are Gods in their eyes
But their Gods are mortals and since facts never lie
Mortals cannot be Gods for mortals do die
The winner is toasted and in the limelight
On Australian Football's best and fairest count Charles Brownlow Medal night
But only winners are remembered when the past we recall
And that goes for all games including all codes of football.

Port Fairy In September

Between spells of sunshine brief sun showers a typical Spring day
The huge surf waves of Port Fairy are spewing up white foamy spray
The calling of the silver gulls the grumbling voice of the sea
The wildness of Nature is all around me.

The gannets are fishing within view of the shore
Above the huge waves they do circle and soar
And on folded wings dive for their tiny sea prey
A feat they perform many times every day.

The flutings of the pied oystercatchers melodious and clear
Birds that can be seen on the beaches at all times of year
Inland from the ocean birds I've yet to see
To live by saltwater their life's destiny.

The wild birds of Nature do whistle and sing
In Port Fairy in September on a blustery day in the Spring
Above the deep ocean the shearwaters to Griffith Island are winging their way
Soon to reclaim their nesting burrows for their Summer stay.

We Are How We Think

He envy the wealthy and successful their place in renown
The small minded man living in the big town
He envies his boss who drives in the big car
Says only by good luck in life he has got this far
He feels that life does not pay to him fair due
Suppose we are how we think does only seem too true
To one like him surely such words do apply
By his attitude of his desire for greatness himself he only does deny
His barrier to success is his negativity
It is true that jealousy is the mind's poverty
Suppose small minded people exist everywhere
In every town, village and city in the big World out there
Of the success he craves his attitude gets in the way
We are how we think does that seem fair to say?

Tower Hill

The black swans and mountain ducks and their young out swimming on the lake
And the magpies and the blackbirds in the grayness of daybreak
Are piping their familiar notes on the gum and wattle trees
The calm morning air full of the music of their pleasant melodies
To the descendants of the local first Australians Tower Hill is a sacred place
Their history too old for historians their history to trace
Many centuries ago in the sheltered wooded valleys they had their corroborees
On warm Summer evenings they danced in the shade of the trees
Centuries before South West Victoria and Tower Hill were given an English name
People lived in this part of Australia long before the colonizers came
In their big sailing ships from Northern Lands far away
The illegal migrants ancestors of the fair skinned Aussies of today
The music of birdsong on the bushes and trees
On a cool September morning in Tower Hill of around fourteen degrees.

No One Person

No one person knows everything of Nature of that's there's no doubt
And on Nature always plenty for to write about
Her wonders are many her secrets not few
Though every day of her we do learn something new
In Nature every day new wonders to see
The one from a tiny seed who can create a tree
All life forms in the health of Nature have some part to play
Even woodlice small flightless insects who live on rotting wood decay
Behind the bark of decaying timber from sight hidden away
The gleaners of Nature hidden from predators and the light of day
Breaking wood down to compost by Nature for them a given task
For to do her bidding is all of them she does ask
With the creative powers and the beauty of Nature there is none to compare
Though her secrets with humans she never will share.

The Blackbird Is A Bonny Bird

The blackbird is a bonny bird he has a lovely song
Once heard and seen he is one that you never could get wrong
In early Spring he and his mate build cup shaped nest of mud and moss and clay
In leafy nook that is well concealed three to five green red spotted eggs she does lay.

The gold billed blackbird as dark as coal his song a joy to hear
He always sings his finest in the Springtime of the year
Yet they keep their secrets to themselves of birds so much to know
They eat fruit and search for earthworms in the shade of the hedgerow.

The blackbird is a bonny bird with shrill like warning cry
That when alarmed he utters forth as by hedgerow he fly
His partner is a silent one to sing she does not try
It does seem in her nature to be secretive and shy.

Familiar birds to many and familiar birds to me
In parks, fields, backyards and gardens their kind one often see
In Spring he always whistles in the faint light of daybreak
The blackbird is a bonny bird him one could not mistake.

Far North Of Here In Duhallow

Far north in Duhallow from here far away
The sky overcast it is raining today
The weather is cool around eighteen degrees
And the first brown leaves of September drift down in the breeze
To Mother Earth who receives them the one who receives all
Of her life forms including brown leaves of the Fall
Weatherwise September a changeable time of the year
The swallows flying low a sign that rain is near
Each hour brings them nearer to departure time
When they leave Duhallow for the warmer clime
The streams and rivers flowing bank high after recent heavy rain
And brown flood waters gurgling in the roadside drain
And rain clouds are gathering in the gray afternoon sky
Far north of here in Duhallow even as the migratory bird does fly.

We Age By The Second

We age by the second as time ticks away
Onwards through the Seasons to our last night and day
You may have face lifts and use hair dyes for to cover your gray
But all you are doing is camouflaging time's natural decay
How quickly it does pass the human life prime
Eventually we all fall as victims of time
The Reaper's scythe is for the anonymous and the great
The supreme egalatarian between people does not differentiate
In our lifetimes the changes keep happening and few things as they were last
And though we live in the now our memories are of the past
No point in regretting our mistakes of the forever gone
Just live for the now for time keeps ticking on
Time did not wait for me and it will not wait for you
Just live and let live that is all one can do.

The Spirit Of Los Zarcos

The name of Los Zarcos given to them by Brian Sullivan of Millstreet Town's Mal Paso Pub
Back in the very early eighties they were formed as a Football Club
Some of the players who played for Zarcos then the grandfathers of today
And some deceased and some from Millstreet living far away.

Some of their sons in the colours of Los Zarcos nowadays line out to play
They win some games and lose some games that's life as some might say
In The Mal Paso Pub they drink to celebrate a win or ease the pain of a loss as their dads did in days gone by
On looking back the decades how time does seem to fly.

That they have survived as a Football Club to their management credit is due
And their fans now as they always were to them remain as true
In Duhallow a lot of sporting clubs to the ways of time have gone
But the Spirit of Los Zarcos in Millstreet is living on.

Players who do not play for glory or money but for the love of the game
To wear the Los Zarcos colours is for them sufficent fame
The Seasons come and the Seasons go and few things seem to last
But the Los Zarcos Club in Millstreet lives and retains it's links to the past.

Your Past Follows You

The now is all that matters it well may be so
But your past follows you to where-ever you go
And those on the run from the law due to serious crime
Will be brought to court though it may take some time

For the police to catch up with them though that will happen one night or day
And on their future address a judge will have the say
Our past is with us till the day that we die
This is a fact of life and fact never lie.

You may live under a new identity in a town from where you once lived far away
But the guilt of your past in your mind it will stay
And if the law doesn't find you by Karma you will be found
Like what has often been said what goes around comes around.

For as long as the gift of memory you retain
Your past though you may wish to forget it with you will remain
And the guilt of your sins remain with you from that you cannot hide
That's the truth of the matter and truth won't be denied.

Memories Of Toots Kelleher

In Gaelic Football for Cork and Millstreet Toots Kelleher did play
One of Ireland's best forwards when in his prime day
One never found to be wanting when put to the test
For Club and for County he always performed at his best
That he never played a bad game a remarkable feat
One jubilant in victory and gracious in defeat
In Croke Park and Killarney, Cork, Coachford and Macroom
He made a big name for himself in the prime of his life's bloom
The spirit of the true gael the great man personified
For his ability and sportsmanship in his chosen sport he became known far and wide
In Gaelic Football circles Toots Kelleher from Millstreet Town became a household name
In the length and breadth of Ireland he knew of widespread fame
Fond memories of the man he was to this day I retain
And often in my flights of fancy I watch him play again.

So Good To Be Living

So good to be living to see in the Spring
When the wild born birds of Nature do whistle and sing
In the town parkland looking so lush and green
Nature's beautiful wildflowers plentiful to be seen.

On high branch of tree blackbird piping his best
On her four green red spotted eggs his mate sits on her nest
His song so melodious and pleasant to hear
A warning to males of his own kind of his borders stay clear.

With his mate he shares in the nest building, egg incubating and raising of the young
And by late November his best songs have been sung
In Australia it is such a nice time of year
When Spring is about and the Summer is near.

When silver billed magpie is singing by day and by night
How lovely to hear him flute in the moonlight
His mate on their nest egg incubating and he not one to pretend
In song warns males of his own kind his borders he will fight to defend.

The magpie larks otherwise known as pee wee
Build their cup shaped nest of mud on fork of branch of tree
Pee wee often repeated is all they do say
Their song to their identity a give away.

The years may have left me feeling and looking older and gray
But so good to be living on such a nice day
In their nests of dried grass lined with feathers under the house eaves all day long
Young house sparrows are chirping 'tis their way of song.

A Person Like You Are

So lucky are you who does not have a foe
As on your great journey through life you do go
To help those in need of helping you go out of your way
And perform if you can at least one good deed every day
With good people skills and to others a good attitude
'Tis true about you that you would not know how to be rude
The battle of life with joy you do embrace
You always seem happy with a smile on your face
A good attitude in life always does take one far
You are a very good person that is what you are
To your higher self you remain ever true
I only say of you what is only your due
So kind and compassionate and free of conceit
A person like you are a pleasure to meet.

Love Blooms In The Mind

In the Human World love is well and alive
Without it humanity could not hope to survive
Those bereft of love are of the living dead
No greater gift than it of love can be said
Those who cannot love are spiritually unwell
And in the mind without love only bitterness dwell
Love blooms in the mind when all is said and done
And if you cannot love self you cannot love anyone
Love is like a beautiful flower that blooms from a tiny seed
And lucky are they who have it as 'tis a great gift indeed
Their worldly possessions with others they share
And their gift is a gift that is precious and rare
The sibling of compassion and empathy
At least anyway that's how it seems to me.

Judge Not And Thou Shalt Not Be Judged

I try to live honest as I can and to none bear a grudge
And of how I live my life is not for you to judge
I have never harmed you in any way
And the respect I give to others to you I too pay
Sad to say many like you in every town
Who look up to some and on others look down
On passing judgement on others you are not alone
Though let the one without sin be first to cast the stone
The judgemental live in their own shadows of doubt
Though the Human World to live in them would be better without
The judgemental not rare in the Human World of today
And that does seem a sad thing for to have to say
Judge not and thou shalt not be judged does apply to us all
Though some in their ways they are so very small.

Nice To Feel The Warmth Of September

So often by her I've been inspired to rhyme
And the love I feel for her with me for some time
The warm sun of Spring shines through clouds of blue and gray
Immortal Mother Nature does look well today.

Nice to feel the warmth of September in the sunshine and breeze
That does gently sough in the bushes and trees
A blackbird is piping melodious and clear
A voice of the Spring that's so pleasant to hear.

The pleasant flute of the magpie echoes in the park
And the instantly recognizable song of the dainty magpie lark
By his call one often referred to as pee wee
One familiar to many and familiar to me.

In their dark brown faces and petals of gold
The capeweed in bloom are lovely to behold
A thing of great beauty to look at indeed
Though condemned by botanists as an invasive weed.

The parkland lush and green after the recent showers
Resplendent and colorful in Nature's wild flowers
Were I born a poet of such beauty I would write
A poem for readers to enjoy and read and recite.

The first month of Spring in the Southern Hemisphere
September is a beautiful time of the year
The night hours grow shorter and the day hours grow long
And in their nesting territories the birds are on song.

In Nature's World

In Nature's World only the strongest are destined for to thrive
And the weak become victims of the predators who need them to survive
In Nature's Laws no right or wrong one has to die for another to live
And in Nature's World there are no crimes or sins for to forgive
And the more we learn of Nature we realize how little of her we know
She truly is amazing and our wonder of her grow
And every day of Nature's ways we learn something new
But from us she keeps her secrets and her secrets are not few
Us humans too are part of Nature that's how 'twould seem to me
And like all of her other life forms for us mortality
Like all of her other life forms on Nature for life we do depend
Yet many of us do not respect her though she is our greatest friend
It surely is a fact of life and facts do never lie
That like all of her other life forms we too are born to die.

One Of The Homeless

Of great achievements in his life he may never have to tell
One of the homeless youths of Poverty Street in his own Earthly Hell
His mum and dad behind bars serving out prison time
Their addiction to narcotics led them to lives of crime
A homeless youth of sixteen his future not looking bright
From the day that he was born life for him an uphill fight
Without any good mentors or role models with life he struggles for to cope
That things for him will only get better he can only live in hope
Some talk of life choices words are easy for to say
But for one like him the only life ambition is to live for every day
Due to circumstance of birth the odds are stacked against him for him 'tis uphill all of the way
It does seem that circumstance of birth on how we live has a huge part to play
Just one of many homeless teenagers on the poorest side of the town
For one like him 'twould be fair to say 'tis a long climb to renown.

Johnny Jack From Clara Or The Devil From Hell

A story from my childhood I often heard old timers tell
One that I remember as memory serves me well
Of Johnny Jack of Claramore two miles from Millstreet Town
To be a champion road bowler his great claim to renown.

On his way home from Macroom on horseback on a sunny sunday
The wildflowers were blooming in the prime of the May
Johnny Jack in his sixties then well past his life's prime
Had been retired from road bowling for quite a long time.

Two miles out of Macroom on the road to Millstreet
Two young bowl players with their backers he happened to meet
And though the old bloke on horseback they had not seen before
From their fathers they would have heard of the champ from Claramore.

He dismounted his horse to watch the bowlers throw
In the tightness of the scores the excitement did grow
The strapping young bowl players their backers impressed
Though old Johnny Jack on their ability his reservations expressed.

Johnny Jack's stated opinion to argument gave rise
One of the backers said to him you ought not to criticize
Whoever you are you are too old to hope to put to the test
The winner of this score one of Macroom's best.

The ageing man from Clara said a bet with you I will make
My horse and horse's saddle I am prepared to stake
On a score of bowls against your champion if that with you is okay
Since I do not have much money in my pockets today.

His bet was matched by their money and the score of bowls began
Between the ageing gray haired fellow from Clara and the stocky far younger man
A score of bowls that Johnny Jack by two bowls of odds won
He had humbled one young enough to be his grandson.

One of the onlookers quite amazed at the skill of the ageing road bowl player
Said please tell us who you are at least that much with us share
Your identity one can only guess since such to us you will not tell
You are either Johnny Jack from Clara or the Devil from Hell.

A story I recall from more than five decades ago
When I was a youngster of some ten years or so
Of Johnny Jack Murphy from Claramore a legend of his time
One of Ireland's best road bowlers when in his life's prime.

In Football As In Life

'Tis sad that their gallant effort to nothing did amount
In sport as in life only winners seem to count
And though the winners did play a great game of football
Their effort it did come to nothing at all
The winners were surely the best team on the day
For the gallant losers only disappointment life too is this way
Though in their gallant defeat no reason for shame
The losers dressing room like a morgue after the game
The losing manager and players looking shattered in defeat
It was not their day and their misery complete
The losing fans disappointed whilst the winning fans cheer
Tonight in the hometown they will sing and drink beer
The difference between winning and losing great
In football as in life only winners celebrate.

If There Is A Heaven

If there is a Heaven far distant from here
I'm sure the God there does enjoy dancing and laughter and his pot of cheer
For Heaven is supposed to be a kingdom of bliss
A Universal World of eternal joy and happiness.

If there is a Heaven you won't find me there
The God in the sky will send me to elsewhere
I will be with Satan and the damned of Hell
Perhaps if I'm lucky penning doggerel.

If there is a Heaven somewhere in the sky
Perhaps winged angels above the evergreen valleys there sing as they fly
And in the ever flowering gardens birds sing every day
In the sunshine of Heaven from Earth far away.

If there is a Heaven it must be a World of music and dancing and song
Where the God in his kingdom does laugh all day long
A world where people do never grow old
And where beauty is everywhere for to behold.

The Desire For The Thing Known As Success

The desire for the thing known as success the ego seems to feed
Though it is not in everyone in many 'tis a need
For fame and recognition born of financial greed
And because of this Nature condemned to suffer does seem sad to say indeed.

By the workers for developers more trees have been cut down
For to build another factory on the industrial side of town
Rendering more creatures homeless 'tis a known fact and facts don't lie
That wild creatures without homes to live in are destined for to die.

If the trees that gives them shelter humans continue to destroy
There will not be any wild creatures left for future generations to enjoy
No wild birds and wild animals for to hear and to see
For future generations what a pity that would be.

The desire for the thing known as success with some an obsession
Of money and the material things in life they do yearn for possession
From Nature they take and they take and in return nothing to her they do give
And like 'tis said the children have to pay for the way the parents choose to live.

Claraghatlea's Greatest Sportsman

In his prime he was very famous going back in time more than a century ago
In his lifetime in road bowling circles one admired by many a legend around him did grow
He was Claraghatlea's greatest sportsman one who lived less than a mile from Millstreet Town
His name was Denny Penny Kelleher he bowled his way into renown.

On Winter nights around the fireplace in Claraghatlea when I was a boy
Listening to the wise elders reciting poems and telling stories was a thing that I used to enjoy
The great road bowler Denny Penny Kelleher was one they often yarned about
Of the greatness of Claraghatlea's own sporting icon they never did leave me in doubt.

By all accounts he was a character one who never seemed burdened by care
And he consumed liquid far stronger than water of alcohol he drunk more than his share
But in road bowling scores he never did leave down his backers he competed against and beat Ireland's best
One who was never found to be wanting everytime he was put to the test.

He laughed danced and drank and made merry Denny Penny the road bowling great
But even the fame of the great names on them does have a use by date
One deceased for many a decade in time memories fade away
And few in Millstreet in Duhallow would know of his existence today.

In Feeling Invincible

In feeling invincible you have it wrong
No different to me time on you ticks along
Your best years behind you old age is ahead
Enjoy life whilst you can you'll be forever dead
You may have been a famed sports person in your life's prime
But you have become one more victim of time
Though of great personal sporting achievements I don't have to relate
You and I destined for to share a similar fate
The crowd may have chanted your name on your greatest day
But the silence is profound where dead heroes lay
You tell me of how great you were decades ago
But like it has been to me time has become your foe
One cannot hope to live on glories of the past
The now is all that matter and time ticks on fast.

You Are What You Are

You are what you are that is all you can be
And of your inhibitions you will never be free
A flawless person is one I have not known
Though the person we really are some of us wish to disown
You are what you are that's how it seems to me
Though many with what I say may not agree
An extroverted person not known to be shy
And a shy person cannot be extroverted though hard she or he may try
One can only be happy in one's own comfort zone
Like it is said one cannot draw blood from a stone
The personality we are born with will be ours till we die
This is a fact of life and facts never lie
Yes you are what you are that is all you can be
And of your inhibitions you will never be free.

Racism Is Still Rife

Some things never change suppose life is this way
Racism is still rife in the Human World of today
Racism through religion and nationality and culture and race
Is now as was always a human disgrace
All children are innocent and free of sin
Yet many are disadvantaged by colour of skin
Racists in their ways are so very small
Too big for their thinking the beauty of a fair go for all,
Racists have poor sense of self image and low self esteem
Yet many non racist people in the World it does seem
Many people to the higher self remain true
And their dream of a fairer and more enlightened World they pursue
For racism through religion and culture and nationality and race
In the Human World there should not be a place.

I'll Carry On Rhyming

For many years I have been a rhyming buff
And I am one who has penned reams of rhyming stuff
But I have never referred to myself as a poet
Nor am I one worthy of literary note.

Not a man of rhyme but a rhyming man
And I'll carry on rhyming for as long as I can
Since nineteen seventy three I have been penning rhyme
And as human years go that does seem a long time.

I write of the beauty around me I do see
The creations of Nature on every bush and tree
The creatures of Nature I see every day
On our Earth Mother one never short of things to write of and say.

My rhymes are quite simple for to read and recite
And of people the living and the deceased I do write
And though my worth as a rhymer I often do doubt
I never feel short of things for to write about.

An addictive rhymer I very well may be
But the addictive are not rare of that one must agree
I do enjoy rhyming of that I will not lie
And I hope to keep penning stuff until I die.

Clara By Name

Long before the first people to Duhallow came
And called one old mountain there Clara by name
And built a Village they called Millstreet that grew to a Town
A place that has been feted in sporting renown.

Old Clara the mountain now known far and wide
Had for an unknown amount of centuries been overlooking the green countryside
The countryside known as Duhallow today
How old is old Clara can anyone say?

Old Clara that often inspired me to rhyme
I've climbed on it bracken face many a time
The scenery of Duhallow and Sliabh Luachra a breath-taking sight
Such a memory remains as a thing of delight.

The true history of Clara by humans will never be told
In the age of the dinosaurs it was very old
It sibling hills Mushera, Caherbarnagh and the Paps of Shrone
And old Gortavehy with the face of stone.

Though I may never climb on old Clara again
The beautiful memories with me do remain
Of eating the blue whortleberries the fruits of the heather I used to enjoy
On evenings in July when I was a boy.

The little brown lark o'er the mountain did fly
A musical speck in the gray evening sky
Though lost from my view his song I could still hear
In the calm of the evening melodious and clear.

Though from Millstreet in Duhallow I live far away
In fancy I climb on old Clara today
Such beautiful memories are mine to retain
And when I visualize I am back home again.

In Fancy I Can Hear

In fancy I can hear a silver back crow
Cawing on a tall beech tree where the Blackwater flow
In fields of Duhallow on a Summer's day
To the distant Atlantic babbling on it's way
Where I grew to love Nature when I was a boy
The good memories of what were are mine to enjoy
Yes the pleasant memories are mine to recall
The cock pheasant crew where the rushes grew tall
And the skylark a musical speck in the sky
The little brown bird that to sing to the clouds fly
From Life and Nature we never stop learning as some like to say
And I am still learning from Nature today
Here in the great Land of the wombat and roo
And emu, koala and dark brown weerloo.

So Try To Enjoy Life

You will only find earth-worms where dead people lay
And every day we live one nearer to our last day
And the longest human life in time not a long span
So try to enjoy life and live for as long as you can
We only have memories of yesterday gone
Today is all that matters and time ticking on
The past has gone forever though the good memories we retain
And we pay in some way for the life experience we gain
For their idea of success people with each other compete
To be best in the neighbourhood and best on the street
To be best in the World and known Worldwide
And every setback to our aspirations a dent to our pride
Yet a similar fate is awaiting us all
To the scythe of the Reaper we eventually will fall.

A Person From Duhallow

They went to seek adventure and their fortunes in the bigger World out there
A migrant from Duhallow one could meet anywhere
A person from Ballydaly, Cullen and Knocknagree
Some of the Lands beyond their Homeland borders they left home for to see

From Rathcoole and Dromtarriffe, Kanturk and Derrinagree,
Rockchapel and Newmarket, Kilcorney and Boherbue
To the big Cities of Australia and New Zealand and as well as to Cities such as London, Paris, New York and Rome
Young migrants from Duhallow do travel far from home.

Meelin, Knockscovane, Tullylease and Freemount and Ballydesmond and Kiskeam
And from all Townlands of the old Barony far too many for to name
Nadd, Banteer to the countryside by Mushera and downhill to Millstreet
In any Country of the World a Duhallow person one might meet.

To Moscow and to Berlin and Capetown and Bombay
From their old homes in Duhallow they do travel far away
To distant places in search of self betterment and adventure in the big World out there
A person from Duhallow one might meet anywhere.

Few Things Worse

Few things worse than an ego out of control
'Tis detrimental to the human soul
For the accolades of the impressionable some with each other compete
Some spiritually drowning in their self conceit
Lucky are they at the applause of the adoring crowd
Who do feel humbled as opposed to over proud
At the achievement of their success they do not get carried away
Quiet waters run deep as the wise one did say
For self betterment in life most people strive
And we do need some ego just for to survive
But an over-inflated ego crowds the thinking mind
Though such never happens to the spiritual kind
It goes to your head when others your praises sing
But an over-inflated ego for you not a good thing.

She Is A Somebody

She is a somebody just like your own daughter
Though to buy booze and narcotics her sexual favours she sell
And since you do not even know her why on her pass judgement
Her life story far sadder than your's to tell.

Homeless and sleeping rough when she was fourteen
She knows about life in the Earthly Hell
Her mum and dad in jail for drug trafficking
To survive to her twenties she has done quite well.

In her early twenties life for her is a battle
But where there is life there is always great hope
And she may yet make a great success out of her life
Since with the toughest of an existence she has learned how to cope.

She is a somebody for her life's a battle
But why judge her harshly or why judge her at all
She has had a tough childhood her life not been easy
And noxious addictions have been her downfall.

On Wattle Day

The sun intermittently shines through clouds of blue and gray
On this the first of September today is Wattle Day
And on the first of the Australian Calendar Spring
The nesting birds in the town parkland sing.

The wattles laden in their yellow flowers
Have bloomed through Winter's cool wind driven showers
Pink and or white blossoms blooming on every fruit bearing tree
And the wattles in bloom a lovely sight to see.

The day is cool it has rained overnight
And the capeweed in bloom make for a pretty sight
In their dark faces and petals of gold
Though not a flower but a weed by botanists we are told.

In the town park the mudlark sings pee wee
And the wattles in bloom a lovely sight to see
And brown stormwater gurgling in the roadside drain
As a result of recent heavy rain.

Our Dear Sister Margaret

Our dear sister Margaret Michael Casey's wife
In Hospital in Cork is fighting for her life
Her youngest son Michael did ring me with bad news to tell
That his mum is in intensive care and feeling quite unwell.

He said she suffered of a sudden seizure bleeding in the brain
But the great will for life she has she does retain
To her gift of life she does desperately cling
But I feel she will be in Tooreenbawn next Spring

When the nesting songbirds will whistle and sing
And brown lark in the gray clouds will be carolling
And wildflowers will open their petals to the light of day
And the hawtorns will wear their white blooms of the May.

Our dear sister Margaret a heroine unsung
A role model to me when I was quite young
When Mum was dying of cancer and feeling quite ill
The motherly role in the family she ably did fill.

Although critically ill due to bleeding in the brain
I do believe I will see Margaret again
Though we are now ageing and our better years long gone
Her great will to live will help her to live on.

What's Life About

What's life about at all since facts never lie
That we as mere mortals are born to die
Like all other life forms for us a last day
And the clock on our lives ever ticking away
Of extreme human acts of bravery we read of and hear
Yet the fear of death most of us does seem to fear
The Reaper does not respect people for their money and fame
Them and the poor paupers he treats as the same
What's life about something I have pondered on
In the late Autumn of my life my best days long gone
The cemeteries are full of those who thought they were indispensable as some like to say
But only darkness and silence where their remains lay
And yet in their lifetimes they knew of worry and stress
And they craved the recognition that comes from success.

LavenThere Purple

In the World are many plagiarists something I have always realized
But that one should copy one of my offerings and put his or her name to it
to say the least came to me as a surprise
A person with the pen name of LavenThere Purple a plagiarist of the big World out there
Copied one of my offerings and put their name to it my 'Racism Is Around Me Everywhere'.

His or her title for it 'Racism All Around' the body of the work almost word for word was copied down
How can LavenThere expect to become famous if the one he or she has plagiarized happens to be a stranger to renown
He or she should have plagiarised one quite famous some plagiarists in their ambitions quite small
The LavenTheres of the bigger World out there the masses do never recall.

To plagiarize the work of anyone not something to be proud of some are small in their own small way
The Wordsmith Trade they do discredit and that seems a sad thing for to have to say
Without even bothering to ask me Laventhere to one of my offerings put his or her name
Here is one who will never become famous plagiarists never do know of fame.

Towards LavenThere I feel no anger though I refer to that person as he or she
Since I did not bother to find out the gender of one who does seem quite ordinary to me
Though 'tis said that imitation is the greater form of flattery with such I cannot say I agree
Plagiarists as well as lacking in honor are without originality.