Jim Cashman's Love Of Place

Love of place in most people transcends love of Country by their old memories some are moved to tears
The old nostalgia does remain with them for where they lived in their younger years
Jim Cashman is one i remember he did have a strong sense of place
Though in Claraghatlea the Townland he was raised in his had become a stranger's face

From his home in Cappagh County Waterford he drove often just to walk in the old fields again
Of the beloved Claraghatlea of his boyhood the good memories in old age did remain
He loved them old fields more than i did fond memories live on as some say
And at heart he remained a Claraghatlea fellow though from there he did live far away

In the home where he played with his siblings i see him with tears in his eyes
For where he would not see his last sunset but where he saw his first sunrise
I have come to know of nostalgia it does seem an incurable thing
Jim Cashman's best memories were of the place where he had lived his first Spring

His father Pat married one of the Claraghtalea Looneys where Neily Duggan lives today
The time on all of our lives keeps on ticking and ticking and ticking away
Where Jim Cashman lived as a youngster when his hair was curly and brown
He worked in the fields in view of Clara just over a mile from Millstreet Town

Claraghatlea did mean so much to him but there he did not grow old and gray
Jim Cashman at rest far from Millstreet in Cappagh his last remains lay
I do recall him as an old man but that was a long time ago
The passing of time then on him telling and time becomes everyone's foe.

The Loner

To a community or sporting club he does not belong
And he does not have friends though with him nothing wrong
He is very different to you or to i
A loner he will be till the day he does die
Yet in him there is so much for to admire
The man who saved Mr and Mrs Canola's daughter from the house fire
His own life to save her he put on the line
Yet a medal for bravery he did decline
Single in his late twenties an honourable man
Yet he does not belong to a tribe or a clan
Unlike many his own praises he never sing
He lives in his own way and does his own thing
Untainted by arrogance and self conceit
And as nice a person as one could wish to meet.

I Write Of

There are rhymes all around me and rhymes in my head
I write rhymes of the living and i write rhymes of the dead
I have been a rhymer since seventy three
The poets can write poetry the rhymes are for me

I write about war and about civil strife
And i write about people and i write about life
The rhymes come to me on paper i jot them down
Though from penning rhymes i'll never know of wealth and renown

I write about Nature the greatest one of all
The comings and goings of her Seasons Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall
I write of the birds and the bushes and trees
And i write of the soughings in the woods of the breeze

I write of the tide roaring into the bay
And the animals i hear and see every day
In Nature there's so much for to write about
Though my worth as a rhymer i always do doubt

I write of the beautiful wildborn flowers
That bloom in the sun after life giving showers
Of Nature and life in my rhymes i do sing
And rhyming with me is an addictive thing.

You Do Have Your Friends

You do have your friends in your workplace and your friends in business as well
And friends that you do socialize with jokes and stories with to share and tell
And though you may be a very good person and to your higher self always true
Not everyone it should go without saying wishes to be a friend to you
And though you may be a very nice person one of the nice people of the town
There is always one or two out there who in their words will put you down
The one who does not have a friend in the World is the one who does not have a foe
You make out of that what you wish to or even ask how can this be so?
But the answer to that seems quite simple without friends foes you cannot make
When friends do fall out for some reason their parting can be a bitter break
There are some with their words who will knock you though you may be a living saint
They will dismiss you as a phony as one who is not free of taint
Yes you may be one loved by many the most popular one in the town
But always one or two out there who with their words will put you down.

Just An Ageing Claraghatlea Fellow

From my first homeplace i did love dearly in miles i now live far away
But my nostalgia for it has been fading and there i might feel a stranger today
It has been more than twenty four years since i used to walk with Jack the dog
In Summer when the dipper was singing in the Finnow in Matty Owens bog
I fear growing old far less than i fear dying to say otherwise would be a lie
I know where i commenced my life's journey but i am not to know where i'll die
I was born a Claraghatlea fellow by the Killarney Road near Millstreet Town
I now am an ageing gray haired bloke when i left there my hair was dark brown
Just an ageing Claraghatlea fellow is all that i can claim to be
But only in my flights of fancy the old fields i nowadays can see
And i can recall the song of the robin who sang on the old cypress tree
In cool damp mornings of late Winter in the latter days of February
Just an ageing Claraghatlea fellow one who lives far South of Clara Hill
Who wakes to the flute like song of the magpie the bird with the silvery bill.

He Thinks Of The Days Gone Forever

He thinks of the days gone forever when he was a virile young man
When he was driven by ambition and full of life's youthful elan
The years have left him looking and feeling older his once light brown hair now silver gray
Time does not wait for anybody as some have been known for to say
A grandfather to seven grandchildren his second wife left him last year
But to him that was sort of a blessing for her he did not shed a tear
Just like as happened in his first marriage the love it went out of their life
There is one thing he says he will not be doing and that is having a third wife
He often thinks of the women of his young years he wonders where they might be today
In anti ageing creams and hair dyes do they try to hide time's decay?
Some of them he did make love to back when his hair was longer and brown
When he was a virile young fellow one of the young studs of the town
He was a young man of the fifties his better days he do recall
The years on him seem to be telling time it does take care of us all.

Con Linehan

Con Linehan and his wife a Sliabh Luachra Hickey raised their children on their farm in Dooneen
By the Blackwater near the Town of Millstreet in a countryside flat lush and green
An outstanding traditional musician so many old tunes he did know
And in his children and grandchildren the Dooneen Linehan legend does grow

One of the long deceased of Millstreet of life he did live a good span
Con Linehan is one worth remembering he was such a likeable man
He was more than a fine musician a caring man in a kind way
He would feel proud of his descendants the young Linehans of today

That they are such wonderful musicians does not seem surprising at all
As their grand-dad was a great musical talent as those who did know him recall
The gift of music they've been blessed with from their grandfather's genes to them passed down
The Linehans have become famous far from Dooneen near Millstreet Town

Con Linehan was a musician he rates with the best of Millstreet
And more than that he was a good person as nice as one would wish to meet
His descendants famed in musical circles they carry the blood-lines of Con
'Tis true what is said about genius that in the genes it does live on.

I Write Rhymes

I write rhymes because i enjoy doing it though them i could not hope to sell
And some who mean to be offensive dismiss my stuff as doggerel
But they do not deter me from writing since i am one who loves penning stuff
For many years i've been a rhymer and i'll remain a rhyming buff
Not much good at sports as a young man at athletics, gaelic football or pool
Or not known to be a bright fellow i was not a good pupil at school
In my late twenties i discovered rhyming the rhymes keep on coming to me
Anybody can be a rhymer 'tis easy as easy can be
I never take myself too seriously since i am not one you would call a poet
I am just your average fellow not one who is worthy of note
I penned my first rhymes in the early seventies in Claraghatlea near Millstreet Town
To have climbed to the cross on Clara for me is sufficent renown
I write rhymes not for fame or money i enjoy doing it little else more
I am just your average rhymer you have heard me say that before.

We Try To Forget Our Unhappy Memories

We try to forget our unhappy memories and our happier times in our thoughts we retain
And we learn from the process of living from the past in wisdom we do gain
We all have had our unhappier moments and we have known the good times as well
And of life and our experiences of it we have good and bad stories to tell
If you are a kind and giving person from Karma good things you will receive
What goes around always comes around on such i am one who believe
The Gods may seem to be against you but for as long as the flame of hope in your mind burn
You will make your way through the hard days and good times to you will return
For the minority life is Utopia so many are doing it quite tough
And many are homeless and hungry and are condemned to sleeping rough
It is hard for one to stay positive if you struggle through life day by day
With a wife and young children to upkeep as you try to survive on low pay
But like 'tis said hope springs eternal and in life as you struggle to cope
You need something positive to cling to and that positive thing is called hope.

He Is Not All That Cuddly

He is not all that cuddly as he appears to be
As he sits eating leaves on high branch of manna gum tree
Tonight on the ground with a male of his own kind he'll fight for territory
They will claw snarl and bite till the loser must flee
From his corner of the wood for to recuperate
The koala who does not rule a territory also loses the right to mate
With female koalas that is Nature's way
Respect in their sexual favours to the ruling male the females do pay
In koalas as in most other creatures looks can deceive
He may look soft and cuddly but what you see don't believe
I've seen male koalas fighting little mercy to each other they show
I have seen their fur flying as their blood in trickles did flow
Down their soft gray fur they looked a bloody sight
They do not seem soft and gentle when you see them fight.

By That Old Hill

The morning sky is overcast and gray
By that old hill far north and far away
From this Southern Land even as the bird does fly
Perhaps at least ten thousand miles of sky

Yet in my flights of fancy i do see
The bullfinch on bare branch of old ash tree
His beautiful feathers fluffed out for to keep out the chill
Blowing in the freshening cold wind from the hill

In late February a week from the calendar Spring
Too early for the birds of song to sing
In the farm sheds the cattle bellow for silage or hay
By northern hills from here so far away

The freshening winds across the high fields blow
In weather that seems cold enough to snow
And through wet fields and by many a bare hedgerow
The stream in brown flood waters to the river flow

Today In Christchurch In New Zealand

Nature can be so unpredictable look at what happened in Christchurch today
A tuesday and business as usual and everything did seem okay
But suddenly the ground started shaking and great buildings like dominos did fall
And amongst the panic and commotion trapped people for help heard to call
In the C B D buildings were shaking and falling and glass, mortar, bricks and slates were flying
The dust blown out from fallen buildings the screams of the injured and dying
This time 'twas Nature spreading terror when angry of property and lives she takes toll
The one who does clothe and does feed us is destructive when out of control
She erupted without warning in Christchurch and left death and destruction in her wake
The one who has the power to create life never grieves for the lives she does take
There is no greater force than Nature the one who creates a beautiful flower
In a moment of anger she can cause death and destruction she is the World's only Superpower
Today in Christchurch in New Zealand great buildings by her were destroyed
And she has left sorrow and suffering where many have been injured and died.

This Penning Stuff

'Tis simple stuff and easy for to write
That i do email to a blogger's site
When literary critics say that poets are few
They do not tell us anything that's new
I repeat here what i have said before
I pen stuff for enjoyment little more
I have written much since nineteen seventy three
And still the rhymes do keep coming to me
For me in it there's neither wealth nor fame
This penning stuff is a hungry belly game
Yet i pay no heed to those who to me say
Writing of rhymes i ought to give away
To tell them that i will would be a lie
Since i hope to pen on till the day i die.

Your Dreams Of Better Things

Your dreams of better things for you and your family for you not coming true
Though you feel your turn of luck in life is overdue
Suppose to be wealthy and famous is not your life's destiny
As you do hear some say whatever will be will be
Though some argue that destiny for human beings is only hearsay
That in our journey through life we do choose our own way
Whilst others believe that everything does come to those who do wait
To those who with hope are willing to keep the faith
For many the journey through life is quite tough
And millions are in poverty and homeless and are sleeping rough
You are one of many struggling to make ends meet
On the poor side of town on a very poor street
But you never complain that life is unfair
And you will never surrender to despair.

Ben Hartnett

The late Ben Hartnett one of the cattle dealing Hartnetts from Knocknagree
An easy going fellow he did seem carefree
He married a Millstreet woman and with her settled down
And they raised their sons and their daughters at The Bridge Millstreet Town

His sons the late Noel and Con and Vincent a chip of the old block
Like their ancestral Hartnetts traded in livestock
Con as well was a famed Gaelic Footballer Ben's second son
All Ireland medals playing for Cork in Croke Park he won

Their reputation as cattle dealers through the decades had grown
And at fairs and marts in Cork and Kerry they became well known
And whether any of the Millstreet or Knocknagree Hartnetts deal in cattle today
Is something i'm not sure of so of that i cannot say

At peace with himself Ben Hartnett seemed that way
One who loved dealing in cattle even when old and gray
Even with a few drinks in he seemed quiet and sedate
I never did see him stirred up or irate

From the World of the living Ben Hartnett long gone
But in those who knew of him fond memories of him live on
In Knocknagree born and raised in Millstreet he grew old
And in his lifetime many calves and cattle he bought and he sold.

The Pride Of Sliabh Luachra

The Pride of Sliabh Luachra where is she today
She left Gneeveguilla for the U S of A
Did she fall in love marry and mother children from her old Village far away
Or as a single woman did she choose to stay?

The Pride of Sliabh Luachra than her none so fair
With her beautiful blue eyes and shoulder length golden hair
She left Gneeveguilla close to her life's prime
Back in the early seventies that is going back in time

In my flights of fancy i see her again
Walking on the sidewalks of Rathmore in the drizzling rain
The Pride of Sliabh Luachra so lovely to behold
In my imagination she has not grown old

Some four decades of years since then have gone by
On looking back the Seasons how quickly time does fly
A beautiful young woman with a beautiful smile and warmth in her hello
The Pride of Sliabh Luachra many Summers ago.

Not For Mother Nature

My wonder of her only does seem to grow
And so little about her i can claim to know
Yet from her I learn something new every day
We never stop learning as some like to say
The one known as Nature lives on every shore
And unlike all of her life forms she will live forever more
I have been her student since i was a boy
And learning from her i will always enjoy
We who claim ownership of land in some ways have it wrong
Since the land we lay claim to in reality to her does belong
Without her in the World we could not hope to live
But we take and take from her and in return to her little give
For each one of us there is a final Fall
But not for Mother Nature the Mother of all.

I Want To Live On

I may look old and my best days are gone
But that doesn't matter i want to live on
Yes i want to live on to a very old man
Death is forever and life is a short span

Of time since time is forever and will never end
And the longest human life of time a short span why otherwise pretend
Those who believe on a life hereafter to hope only cling
Of salvation the thought of death fear with it to them does seem to bring

They pay homage to their chosen God in their house of worship in prayer
So post death their souls will be allowed to enter his Kingdom in the great World up there
Though to them i see such things to say the least differently
Each to their own way of thinking would you not agree

I know in the future that one day or night i will and must die
Since fact tell us that death is for all life forms and fact does not lie
So i'll leave it to the Reaper to on my life have the last say
Though i hope in time that will be a few decades away.

You Do Keep The Faith

For many years life for you an uphill fight
And nothing you do ever seems to go right
The Lady of Luck is not smiling your way
You find it a struggle to live on low pay
With a wife and two young children you struggle to get by
On a poverty line income though hard you do try
To find a better paying job there are none about
Though financially down you do leave none in doubt
That you are not happy in your poverty
And financially things will get better for you and for your family
Since a better paying job you are determined to find
You refuse to surrender to despair of the mind
With hope for the future you do keep the faith
'Tis true that all good things come to those who do wait.

Only The Winner

The same for the scientist as for the athlete
In their chosen career people with each other compete
Many are found to be wanting when put to the test
And little consolation to them on being told that they did try their best
And any failure in life seems to come at a cost
In a deflated ego when pride it is lost
Only for the victor there is a hooray
But for every winner there has to be a loser since this is life's way
This is how it has been and it will always be
Such is human life with that would you agree?
The winner is always the toast of the town
And to him or her the wealth of success and renown
And only the winner gets to celebrate
The difference between winning and losing is great.

So Little About Life

'Tis a fact of life and fact does not lie
That the longer you live the sooner you will die
Yet the longer i live the wonder in me grow
Of so little about life that i seem to know
Some say what we receive from life is only our due
On some but not in all cases this well may be true
But only a saint would embrace poverty
At least anyway that's how it seems to me
For in life money is most important why otherwise pretend
And those with plenty of it never short of a friend
Not many in the World of today without money survives
Though it never will buy the Reaper of lives
The more i learn of life the more i realize
That about it so little i know this is not a surprise.

'Tis Only In Fancy Now

'Tis only in fancy now i climb to old Clara Hill
And hear the blackbird with the bright golden bill
Sing in the high woodland of green Claramore
A long way far north of this southern shore
When hawthorns are cloaked in their blooms of white to gray
And the old fields do wear their wildflowers of the May
And the nesting birds sing from dawn till gloam of day
The memories of what was with me will surely stay
Of my boyhood years as well as my life's prime
Till the Reaper on my life eventually calls time
The migrant nostalgia i can understand
Our memories come with us from another Land
The grass lush and green after recent Spring rain
As in fancy i walk in the old fields again.

The Plump Lady

You see the plump lady with the big smile on her face
The Human World for her living in it a better and a happier place
She helps out the poor and the financially down
The most compassionate and caring person on her side of the town
On the workings of Karma i am one who believe
On what she gives to others in happiness she receive
A wonderful person in every way
She greets everyone with a cheerful good day
A credit to her family and community and to the human race
Such wonderful causes that she does embrace
Every day of her life she performs some good deed
Of more people like her the Human World is in need
Compassionate and caring and charming and kind
Her type are quite rare and not easy to find.

A Victim Of The Compassionless

The boy in asylum detention his parents by drowning have died
Yet a basic right his right to live free of him is denied
Though not guilty of any crimes in detention he is forced to stay
Such a lack of compassion by Goverment leaders in the Human World of today
That his deceased parents wanted a safer and a better life for themselves and for him ought not to be a crime
Yet people fleeing persecution are often held in detention for long periods of time
By so called democratically elected leaders seems all wrong to me
For to appease compassionless voters this is how it must be
Many democratically elected leaders who condemn others for poor human rights do not stand by what they say
Since little respect to human rights laws themselves seldom pay
Any compassion to him by the authorities not shown
The orphan boy in detention through no fault of his own
In the Human World the flower of compassion is a fading flower
The compassionless people in the ballot box wield the power.

The Water-tank Singer

In the enclosed water tank in the backyard well hidden from sight
In his breeding Season he sings all the day and he sings all the night
Just a sort of a single plonk that he utters continuously is his breeding song
That he utters all the day and all the night long
Perhaps he's not successful in wooing a mate
I hear him in the morning and in the night late
He has not stopped singing for a week or more
From his constant plonking his throat must feel sore
He is just a small frog with an amphibian's brain
He sings for a mate and before and during rain
For weeks in the late Summer and the early Fall
All day and all night he does constantly call
From the water tank in the backyard i wish he would hop away
To a water tank in some other backyard to sing all night and all day.

From Here To Birdsland

From here to Birdsland many a kilometre of roadway
At least a four hours drive without any delay
But in my imagination i am back there today
Where the shrike thrush is whistling in his feathers of gray
Walking on the gravel path by the lake with Jedder my old dog of me trotting ahead
In my thoughts she is living though she is long dead
Whenever i went to Birdsland i took her with me
My faithful companion as true as can be
In the wood overlooking Birdsland amongst the decaying trees
The tinkling notes of the bell miners do float in the freshening breeze
That blows from South Belgrave down the semi wooded height
Through the Birdsland Reserve a Nature's delight
The currawongs calling the dark birds of rain
I am back with Jedder in Birdsland again.

The Sweet Singing Voice Of Annabell Reen

Of the past we have only our memories time does become everyone's foe
My thoughts take me back many Seasons to half of a century ago
When Annabell Reen was All Ireland singing Champion the beautiful teenager with hair of dark brown
That grew in ringlets to her shoulders she was the Pride of Millstreet Town

Her voice sweet as the clear crystal waters that bubbles up in Tubrid Well
In Millstreet we honoured our Irish Singing Champion the beautiful young Annabell
But she did remain unconceited her renown she took in her stride
To have our own champion songstress in Millstreet to us then was a sense of pride

The years seem to come and go quickly on looking back the Seasons of time
The then later to become Mrs O Sullivan was six or seven years from her life's prime
Far beyond the borders of Duhallow she was loved and famous and known
And it was with great pride in Millstreet that we claimed her as one of our own

In Millstreet great changes are occuring at least that is what i am told
But like every other ageing Millstreet migrant my memories are of days of old
And old memories do have a long life they seem to remain evergreen
Many things from the past remain with us like the sweet singing voice of Annabell Reen

As Mrs O Sullivan she resigned from singing Millstreet's loss became Cullen's gain
When of the past i'm visualizing she sings on Radio Eireann again
Till the Reaper does call time on my life old memories with me will remain
Of the Millstreet where i grew into manhood the mental pictures i'll retain.

There Is More To Nature

There is more to Nature than the birds and the bees
Or the rivers the oceans the flowers and the trees
Or the grass, the shrubs and the creatures we do see every day
She is our lifelong teacher it does seem that way
So little of Nature's ways i can claim to know
Yet my wonder of her only does seem to grow
I've been in love with her since i was a boy
And my walks in her quiet places i do enjoy
Her wonders are many her secrets not few
And from her every day we do learn something new
For our very survival on her we depend
And than her we do not have a greater friend
Yet we take and take from her and in return to her little give
And from her we do learn for as long as we live.

The Past It Has Gone

The past it has gone why do you waste your tears
On mistakes you have made in the now long gone years
You cannot change what has been time ticks along fast
Make the most of the now leave the past in the past
Your best days in life you already have seen
And you waste time on lamenting on what might have been
For our mistakes in life we have some price to pay
But why worry about it just live in today
Make the most of the now may seem easy for me to say
But the seconds of our lives keep on ticking away
'Tis true worry blocks happiness from the mind
And worriers to themselves are very unkind
Your business mistakes may have caused you great financial woe
But the past is in the past and 'tis time you left it go.

Through The Gray Clouds Of Dawning

Through the gray clouds of dawning in the brightening morning sky
Familiar birds even sight unseen they call out as they fly
Large dark brown parrots known to many as yellow tail black cockatoo
Whilst some others do refer to them by the name of weerloo
By their voices or appearance birds one should not mistake
They fly above the rural town as dawn begins to break
With their strong beaks they shred the pine cones and crack hard hakea nuts for their seed
For their survival as a species such trees do serve their need
In a cavity on an old tree the female one to two eggs lay
Though only one survive to adulthood those who know of them say
They mostly live in small flocks not common or rare
Of their difference from other cockatoos one does become aware
In the distance in the gray clouds of dawning them i hear but cannot see
Birds familiar to many and familiar to me.

Of To Whom And Where We Are Born

Of to whom and where we are born we do not have a say
Though most spiritual people do not see it that way
Some claim our parents and birthplace in life is our pre destiny
Though many with that i'm sure would not agree

I am only a person with a point of view
And what is true to me may not be so to you
We all look at things in a different way
But thanks be to for that is all that one can say

Some claim our gift of life does come to us by chance
And to whom and of where we are born part of our life's circumstance
Whilst some are convinced our parents and place of birth we do choose
But then who would wish to be born into life for to lose

All hope of success due to birth into dire poverty
For millions of poor children this is how it must be
They never will know of prosperity and happiness
For them to survive to be young adults in their life is success.

It Takes Twenty Years

It takes twenty years for a baby to grow into a man
That is more than a quarter of the human life span
But some men as they age they do not grow wise
Though some may say to that this is not a surprise
What i write of here i am one who should know
For one in his sixty fourth year i've little in the way of wisdom to show
For all of those Seasons i have seen come and go
Some claim the wise are born with wisdom this well may be so
That a Uni Degree does not bring one wisdom does seem fair to say
With most males their egos of wisdom does get in the way
At least anyhow that's how it seems to me
Beyond our own needs some of us struggle to see
When i say us egotistical males are many and wise males are few
Am i telling you anything that is new?

Mark Ellis

The first ever Millstreet hurler a Cork senior red jersey to wear
For to do so young Mark Ellis has to be quite a good player
For no average hurler ever makes a senior Cork team
For to line out for Cork many young Cork boys daydream.

Millstreet the home of so many great names of Gaelic Football
As well as greats in other sports one can readily recall
But Mark Ellis the only Millstreet hurler to make it in a big way
He is the Millstreet supreme G A A player of today

Michael McCarthy and the late Tommy O Connor hurling in Millstreet did promote
For their contribution amongst others they are worthy of note
And hurling in Duhallow has stepped up a grade
Since Meelin the All Ireland Junior Club Champions a name for themselves have made

Add to that the achievement of Mark Ellis a young man from Millstreet
To line out for Cork his remarkable feat
From his pivotal position of centre half back
He drives the Rebel County men into attack.

A Millstreet hurler playing senior for Cork thought i'd never see the day
But amazing things in life do happen as some like to say
The young hurlers of Millstreet have their own Intercounty player to admire
And to greatness in hurling them he may inspire.

Out Out With Mubarak

'Tis true people power an unconquerable thing
Out out with Mubarak Eyptians did sing
In the face of great pressure some resistance he did show
Till the realization on him it slowly did grow
That for him to resign for him no other choice
Out out with Mubarak thousands to their feelings gave voice
After thirty years of dictatorial power in Egypt Hosni was forced out
By the will of the Egyptian people an end to his rule came about
Hosni Mubarak thought he could quell the uprising but thought had proved him wrong
The force of numbers against him and his Government to cling to power proved too strong
The people of Egypt eventually did get their way
More power to the people as some like to say
Out out with Mubarak the thousands did shout
And eventually they did force their dictator out.

Where The Moyne Waters Flow

How old is this Country would anyone know
Near the Town of Port Fairy where the Moyne Waters flow
On to Griffith Island to the Pacific Shore
It has journeyed forever and will forever more

On the banks of the river in the shade of the trees
Australia's First People danced their corroborees
Way back in the Dreamtime many centuries ago
Before European invasion history tells us so

By the slow moving waters the silence almost profound
The long drawn out cawing of a pale eyed crow the only living sound
On a faded branch of a dead wattle tree
This is a very old Country but a new one to me

The Moyne loses it's babble and darkens and crawls slow
As near to the ocean in silence it does flow
Through flat coastal paddocks it winds it's way down
On to Griffith Island by Port Fairy Town.

From A Babe To An Adult

From a babe to an adult twenty one years to grow
Yet as we age we realize so little we do know
About Life, Nature and People though of them we learn every day
We do never stop learning as some like to say
Yes we never stop learning for as long as we do live
And to receive from life we must learn how to give
We are born as helpless and as helpless we die
Like all life forms we are mortals and that is not a lie
It may do you well to remember there is always one kinder than you
But live as good as you can live that is all you can do
When you help someone out of kindness in other ways you receive
On the laws of Karma i am one who does believe
Of what makes a good person money is not the test
The most compassionate and kindest one in the town is always the best.

The Old Sheepdog Trialer

His arthritic knees to him a source of pain
And he walks rather slowly with the aid of a cane
The old sheepdog trialer his better days long gone
But like a true warrior he keeps on keeping on

The border collies he owns and trains are amongst Australia's best
And are never found to be lacking when put to the test
He breeds trains and owns them and he trials them as well
A biography on his life thousands of copies would sell

He walks stiff and slowly his hair silvery gray
Last August he celebrated his eighty first birthday
But at sheepdog trials with his border collies always hard to beat
Always joyous in victory and gracious in defeat

At sheepdog trials all around the big Country with his aged wife
Trialing their border collies with them still a huge part of life
Not the man he once was in a bygone day
Still for him there is many a loud hooray.

The Former Rose Of MacArthur

In light brown hair dyes she covers her gray
The former Rose of MacArthur is seventy today
From her Hometown in South west Victoria she grows old far away
With her husband of forty seven years Tony in Byron Bay
With six teenage grandchildren time on her and Tony does keep ticking on
Their best years in life to the forever gone
She was the Rose of MacArthur fifty years ago
Time eventually does become everyone's foe
When her wavy shoulder length hair was nugget brown
The pin up girl of all the young men of the town
A young woman of great charm and beautiful to behold
Tony won her heart and with him she grows old
Far north of MacArthur in coastal Northern New South Wales today
In their home by the sunlit beach of Byron Bay.

Much Better Times For You

You may be homeless in the poor side of the town
Despairing of life and financially down
But life is for living why wish you were dead
And much better times for you may be ahead
On saturday evening in lotto a twenty million jackpot for someone to win
For a small amount of money invested your luck may be in
The Lady of Luck may be smiling your way
You've got to be in it to win it as some like to say
Disadavantaged from birth life for you does not seem fair
Of setbacks you have suffered more than your share
Born of disadvantaged parents from your very first day
On your hard road of life you have battled on you way
But hang in there in life never wish yourself dead
Much better times for you may well be ahead.

I Will Keep Penning On

I have been writing stuff now for more than a while
And this one more doggerel penned in sonnet style
The rhymes that come to me on paper i pen down
Though i'll never know the status of literary renown
For many years i have been a rhyming buff
And through three decades and eight years i have penned reams of stuff
I've been advised by some to give rhyming away
But any heed to such advice i never do pay
Anything one enjoys doing is not a waste of time
And i'm always happy when i'm penning rhyme
Their opinions are their business and that suits me fine
And what is their business is no business of mine
And though my best days in life to the forever gone
Despite what some do say i will keep penning on.

Showy To Me

Public displays of affection i struggle to understand
There is more to love than walking with your lover hand in hand
Or cuddling and kissing in the park or the street
Some with their affections seem far from discreet
Perhaps i am old fashioned in a conservative way
Change our thinking to change our outlook on life as some say
What some see as normal seems showy to me
'Tis how you look at things would you not agree
Public shows of affection is nowadays seen as quite okay
It is something that we do see every day
Between lovers and partners and between man and wife
But this does not mean that those who do not show love in public do not have love in their life
The ramblings of a confused mind low in self esteem
To anyone who does read this i very well may seem.

Dan Carroll's Milk Run

For our memories as ever we go to the past
And the clock on our lives ever ticking on fast
Our memories our gift with others for to share
Of what i say here many would be aware

Old scenes of the past do inspire me to rhyme
I go to the fifties that is going back in time
When young Dan Carroll on the horse drawn milk cart trotted up and down
The quiet streets of morning through old Millstreet Town

Pat Cashman of Tullig had the Millstreet milk delivery contract then
A renowned greyhound owner-trainer amongst track and coursing women and men
In fifty seven his Tanyard Champion was Ireland's Track Greyound of the year
The big fawn of his nearest rival was many lengths clear

The memories of Dan Carroll on his milk run with me does remain
In all sorts of weather storm, frost, snow and rain
He trotted the big bay gelding up and down the Main Street
I still can visualize the clip clop of his feet

The fifties long gone and time ticking away
And no horse drawn milk cart run in the Millstreet of today
Dan Carroll is ageing time has become his foe
A sprightly young man of Millstreet long ago.

The River To The Ocean

By woodlands and through grasslands and places where rank scrub grow
The river to the ocean forever will flow
On it's sea going journey it receives the waters of drain, creek, brook and rill
The river born as a stream in the lake by the hill
Mostly in a clear flowing gentle babble it flows on it's way
Down from the high country by night and by day
But in heavy rain it roars and overflows in flood waters of brown
And floods through the riverside village and town
When Nature grows angry how fierce she can be
The river does grow to a brown inland sea
Leaving water damaged homes and even death in it's wake
Many miles from it's birthplace the quiet mountain lake
Downhill through the flat country babbling it's way
To the distant ocean by night and by day.

On Julia Gillard

The Australian economy is booming Julia Gillard does say
But many Australians do not see it her way
Despite what she does say many Aussies are doing it tough
And many are homeless and are sleeping rough
When Julia Gillard talks about the dignity of work many low paid workers say what is she on about
Along with the unemployed of Australia's Economic good times they do feel left out
Their wage rise does not match the rise in the cost of living which seems to escalate by the day
Words do seem quite easy for Julia to say
The Prime Minister and leader of the Australian Labor Party seems more like a Conservative Liberal to me
For Australia's have nots she does not offer much sympathy
Between herself and Tony Abbott the leader of the Opposition the difference seems so small
That one would have to ask if there is any at all?
Julia Gillard lacks in compassion going by what she does say
Australia's majority conservative voters with her do have their way.

Circumstance Is Your Foe

It would seem to me circumstance is your foe
I wish i could help you in your time of woe
Your finances are in a terrible mess
As you search for work without any success
With a wife and two young children to keep and a home mortgage to pay
You are out in search of a job every day
But the unemployed are many and jobs they are few
You may say to that tell us something that is new
In your circumstance it is hard to feel happy or so it would seem
You feel out of sorts and low in self esteem
'Tis hard for to smile as you walk in the town
When you are out of work and financially down
I wish there was something for you i could do
But i am financially embarrassed like you.

Life Does Have It's Heartaches

He has left town the sturdy young Kiwi shearer the fellow who is known as Jim
He has left a young woman heavy hearted Linda is so in love with him
The sheep have been shorn around these parts and more to be shorn elsewhere
The sheep farmers in need of more shearers in shearing sheds in the big country out there
Lovely brown haired Linda pines for the handsome dark haired young man
So carefree and full of life's youthful elan
She used to daydream he would make her his wife
But he has moved on without her in his life
For her handsome shearer she's easily moved to tears
The love ache is something that can linger for years
But new love will come to her on some future day
Time is a great healer since life is this way
She pines for a love that was not meant to be
Life does have it's heartaches that's how it seems to me.

Derrygallon's Pat O Callaghan

His legend the Seasons and decades does span
Derrygallon's Pat O Callaghan a remarkable man
A two time Olympic Gold Medallist an amazing feat
In his prime in hammer throwing in the World the fellow to beat

The story of Pat O Callaghan is a story often told
In Amsterdam and Los Angeles he won Olympic Gold
In the Olympic Stadium the cheers for him rang loud
The then Pride of old Ireland done himself and Duhallow proud

His amazing record the test of scrutiny stand
The best in Duhallow was the best in the World and Ireland
One honoured and feted and held in high esteem
In his prime in World hammer throwing the champion supreme

One never found to be wanting when put to the test
He competed against and beat the World's best
From the World of the living one who is long gone
But the legend he created will forever live on.

Your Worth As A Person

Your worth as a person you so often do doubt
And survival to you is all life is about
That's what happens to people in life due to lack of success
Low self esteem is known to give rise to unhappiness
Yet you are not alone on feeling this way
So many like you that does seem sad to say
Who too battle the odds of their ghosts of despair
I do not blame you for saying that life is unfair
All over the World in every village, city and town
So many hard done by life are feeling down
But due to their will to live they keep hanging in there
The have nots of the World to be found everywhere
Things can only get better for you is all one can say
And Lady Luck will soon come smiling your way.

The Friends Of My Past

The friends of my past i may never more meet
Some of them age in the Parish and the Town of Millstreet
And some of them in places from Duhallow much further away
Where they would be showing the wear of time's decay
And some of them amongst the deceased do lay
On how long we do live we do not have a say
Since we are born as mortals death is for us all
To the scythe of the Reaper all things of life fall
I recall days in February by Clara Hill
The wind from the north blew with a cold chill
Across the high bare fields of old Claramore
Far inland in distance from Hibernia's Shore
Yet despite the weather i looked forward to sunday to the game of football
With my friends of the past such memories nice to recall.

The Big Dry Country Out There

You will not see vegetable, fruit or grain crops in the big dry country out there
On either side of the road through the outback that could lead you to anywhere
A country of very few people and of very few trees
Where the coolest day in Spring and Summer is well over thirty degrees
A brown scrubby country of few sheep and cattle where the feral camel reside
An unfenced and untameable land of wildness for at least a thousand square kilometres flat and wide
A tough and unforgiving environment for one in poor health not the place
Those who survive in the Australian outback the hardships of life do embrace
In the arid scrublands far inland from the coastal cities in the home of the red kangaroo
The air full of the buzzings of bush flies and the screamings of leadbeater cockatoo
Where the nearest bush town to any place is more than one hundred kilometres away
Not the sort of land anyone go to for to spend their annual holiday
A flat unfenced and scrubby landscape for hundreds of kilometres around
People have lost their way in this country and were never again to be found.

'Tis A Gift Few Do Have

All of humankind are our sisters and brothers
But if you cannot love yourself you cannot love others
At least anyhow that's how it seems to me
Though with that sort of thinking some may not agree
Narcissism is love of self in the extreme
Quite different to self love that's how it does seem
A narcissistic person can never have a soul mate
To self and self only such people can only relate
The true love of self is a marvellous thing
Great joy to it's possessor it surely does bring
Such love gives rise to love of humanity and every day
To help other people they go out of their way
The true love of self is a great gift indeed
'Tis a gift few do have and more of their kind we do need.

I Have Written A Whole Pile

I have written a whole pile of old fashioned rhyme
And despite what some advise me to i will never call time
On what i so enjoy doing i write every day
Advice i do not like to hear i ignore anyway
Every day of the year more rhymes i do write
And i email them off to an internet site
Yet i've never pretended for to be a poet
Nor am i one worthy of literary note
'Tis something you may have heard me say before
I write for enjoyment and little else more
The Goddess of Rhyme is one i do admire
And of singing her praises i never could tire
She is one the Human World should celebrate
And this offering of words to her I dedicate.

You Say We Live In A Free Country

You say we live in a free Country but can you say you are truly free
Of fear of attack from another of which you have no guarantee
We live in fear of suicide bombers or other forms of attack
And the gift of life from once it is taken cannot again be given back
Not everyone obeys Moses commandment the one that states thou shalt not kill
If somebody wishes to harm you they can and they certainly will
Your right to life is a basic freedom and that to you cannot be guaranteed
Your argument of your free Country is open to question indeed
No my friend this is not a free Country though more freedom here than most Land's maybe
But your idea of what is freedom is not a true freedom to me
It should be a basic human right our lives their full course for to live
But that is not a guarantee that any Government to you can give
You tell me about your free Country your thoughts on such may suit you fine
I am not saying you are wrong in your thinking but your ideas of freedom are different to mine.

Some Men

Some men love their wives and their children and are known to be caring and kind
Gentlemen in the true sense of the word any fault in them not easy to find
But some other males they are not this way their wives and their children they do beat
In any way not to be trusted they lie and embezzle and cheat
Some men are narcissistic and boastful they take love of self that bit far
Self alone is their only focus their great job and their expensive new car
They want to be the centre of attention with their yuppie mates in their local bar
They take their need to be loved to the extremes but then suppose this is the way they are
Whilst others are shy and introverted they never do have much to say
You never do see them at parties to socialize is not their way
Whilst some do need power over others the need it is in them to rule
And they abuse their power in a big way and find pleasure in to others in being cruel
Many males wish to be wealthy and famous to be amongst the privileged few
On saying most men in their ways very different i am not saying anything that is new.

On Australian Magpies

They sing in the darkness long before daybreak
The Flute of the magpie one cannot mistake
They often wake from their sleep and sing on the moonlit tree
Their notes familiar to many and familiar to me
The Australian magpie is not a corvid but a piping shrike
The black and white bird does not have a look alike
The difference between them and the smaller pied mud nest building bird known as the Pee wee
In song and appearance distinctive as most would agree
Distinctive from others in their flute like song and in every other way
They sing in the night and they sing in the day
They sing all year round Summer, Fall, Winter and Spring
The silver billed songsters are born to sing
They kill nestlings and small birds to eat mercy they do not show
Yet despite their name of magpie they are not a species of crow.

Due To Bombings And Shootings

Due to bombings and shootings it does seem sad to say
Good people are dying in war zones every day
To live in a war zone was their only crime
And to be in the wrong place and there at the wrong time
At the madness of suicide bombers their gift of life of them denied
Far too many good people in this way have died
The grief at the loss of a family member for years with the mourners do stay
How many more people must die in this way?
Though Moses Fifth Commandment states thou shalt not kill
If someone wishes to harm you they can and they will
For the madness of one some with their lives do pay
So many do die in a violent and un-natural way
The fact is we are born as mortals and facts never lie
But who would choose such a way on which for to die.

Sean Radley's Night

A man who deserves to be in the limelight
On February the nineteenth at Noel C Duggan's Green Glens Arena 'twill be Sean Radley's night
A likeable character in every way
We do need more like him is all one can say

A credit to Duhallow and to the Town of Millstreet
A nicer person than him one could not wish to meet
That he was born, raised and lives in Millstreet to us a sense of pride
Beyond Duhallow's borders he is known far and wide

One i do recall from Millstreet long ago
Sean Radley the man who does not have a foe
He is known all over the World from Melbourne to Rome
He welcomes visitors to Millstreet and makes them feel at home

For his acts of kindness he is quite well known
One can say of him in a class of his own
His late mum and dad in him raised a good son
Sean Radley would never offend anyone.

A beloved character of Millstreet's present and past
The tickets for the celebration in his honour have been selling fast
One well worthy of his great moment in the limelight
All roads will lead to Millstreet for Sean Radley's night.

Through Our Different Eyes

We must beg to differ it does seem to me
Through our different eyes we see things differently
If we all thought in the same way how boring we would be
Variety is the spice of life would you not agree?
The one who does not follow the leader for individuality strikes a blow
For her or his sort of a person my admiration does grow
In thinking for themselves courage they do display
We need more of their sort in the human World of today
Of crimes against humanity too often we do read of and hear
The dictators survive by the instilling of fear
In the majority of the populace where 'tis wise to keep a shut mouth
Only the bravest in such an instance does dare to speak out
Those who choose to be different i can only admire
And of singing their praises i could never tire.

The Bird Does Not sing For

The bird does not sing for the joys of the Spring
With him song is a territorial thing
The neighbour male bird of his kind know by the tone of his voice
That to venture inside his borders would not be a good choice
Since he know that to do so that feathers would fly
In the bird world as in the human World there are laws to live by
And at nesting time male birds their borders defend
When amongst males of their own kind they do not have a friend
The bird does not sing to serenade his bird wife
Since songs of love are never part of bird life
'Tis not out of love that the male bird does sing
With him song is a territorial thing
The aggression in his voice the neighbour male hear
The reason his borders he won't venture too near.

Not An Earthly Paradise

Those who have never lived here will never understand
That this is not an Earthly Paradise this great far Southern Land
The devastating Victorian bush fires, Queensland's destructive Cyclone Yasi and of biblical proportions flood
Yet courage in abundance flows in Australian blood

Australia is not an Earthly Paradise travel brochures can deceive
It cops it's share of beatings from Nature that you'd better believe
Photos of young beauties in bikinis on sunlit beaches you may see
Tourism promoters only show the glamorous side and that's how 'twill always be

Months of drought and scorching sunshine followed by huge storms and heavy rain
Many farmers in Australia know of huge financial pain
By the extremes of weather their cash crops are destroyed
And in floods and raging bush fires some of their livestock have died

The home of the marsupials and the gum and wattle tree
Australia a safe haven for the Stateless refugee
And compared to most Nations a racially tolerant people that is the Australian way
A fair go to everybody the broad minded Aussie say

But not an Earthly Paradise this great Land of the south
From Nature it has copped many a hiding in wind, flood and fire and drought
In fact this so called Earthly Paradise you will not find anywhere
In any Land or Island of the big World out there.

If You Cling To The Belief

If you cling to the belief in your times of financial strife
That good things for you will happen in your life
Then good things will assuredly happen for you
If you truly believe that such is your due
But if in your tough times of hope you only despair
And tell yourself life to you is quite unfair
Then the listening Universe up there will only believe
That any of the material things you do not wish to receive
Great thinkers who is to say they are wrong believe it to be
That the Universe does pick up on our negativity
Though many with such thinking would not agree
Our thoughts can prove self destructive it does seem to me
If you cling to the belief that good things will come your way
Then success may be your's in a not distant day.

The Fair Rose Of Penshurst

In his memories of her she has not grown old
The fair Rose of Penshurst with ringlets of gold
That grew to her shoulders she has not aged a day
In his mind time has not left her looking wrinkled and gray

When he was a young man in old Penshurst Town
Long before the years brought the gray to his hair of dark brown
The fair Rose of Penshurst was then in her prime
But that is going back many decades in time

On sunny evenings in Summer as she walked on Bell Street
With her beautiful smile everyone she did greet
The fair Rose of Penshurst was free of conceit
As nice a person as one could wish to meet

In her early twenties she left Penshurst for to live elsewhere
And to try out her luck in the big World out there
But young in his memory she does remain
And in fancy he see her in Penshurst again.

I Only Do Write Of

Of my worth as a rhymer i have reason to doubt
And few interested enough in to read any of the things i have written about
Such as the pink spots on the skin of the wildborn brown trout
On the bed of the clear river pool when the sun is out
Or the beautiful song the gray butcherbird sing
In the World of Birds quite a distinctive thing
Or the homeless one who daydreams of becoming a billionaire
It goes without saying that his type are not rare
There are millions of them in the big World out there
The have nots sad to say are to be found everywhere
I only do write of what i do hear and see
Of the World we live in as it appears to me
From Nature and Life we do learn every day
We never do stop learning as some like to say.

I Feel I Do Live

I feel i do live in my own Earthly Hell
For many years i have been an infidel
If you have a God with me that is okay
Since each to their own as the wise one did say
Because i do not have a religion some may look on me as bad
But for that i do not feel guilty not even a tad
What they think of me is their business not mine
And what is their business with me does seem fine
In life the best you can do is live good as you can
And that applies to every woman and to every man
Live as good as you can live and never harbour a grudge
And never appoint yourself as anyone's judge
Eventually to the scythe of the Reaper everybody does fall
And 'tis every person for him or for herself and God for us all.

I Am From The Place

I am from the place where the Cails waters flow
The home to the badger and silver back crow
I left there to move south twenty four years ago
With Clara in his hat of December snow
The old hill that overlooks high Claramore
Far north even as the migratory birds fly from this southern shore
I may even seem a stranger in the Claraghatlea of today
Who is that old fellow many there of me might say
It has been many years since i heard a mother cow
Lowing to her young calf in a field by the Finnow
Or heard the dipper sing in the silver tongued rill
That babbles to the river down the fields by the hill
Good memories of what was in me does remain
And in fancy i walk in the old fields again.

She Swims in The Merri Again

She comes from the flat and green country the home of the dark pale eyed crow
Near Warrnambool in coastal South West Victoria where the dusky waters of the Merri flow
On to Lake Pertobe to the ocean at a place known as Lady Bay
But far north of the Caramut roadway the years have left her looking gray
One childless in her early seventies she never was anyone's wife
A beautiful woman of brown eyes when in full bloom in the prime of her life
When her hair was as dark as the feathers of the glossy one the pale eyed crow
That often cawed on the tall gum by her old home near where the ageless old Merri does flow
Deep and slowly in the flat coastal paddocks near the City of Warrnambool
In fancy she hear the dark moorhen scream loudly in a deep Merri pool
In the river where she used to swim with her young friends going back six decades ago
The years do seem for to go quickly time does become everyone's foe
Yet she has her beautiful memories and in her mind fresh they remain
And with her young friends in the Summer she swims in the Merri again.

In Almost Perfect Weather

At a table on the sidewalk by a cafe in the town by the sea
Four middle aged women sit chatting enjoying cake and tea
In almost perfect weather around twenty three degrees
With a nice warmth in the sunshine and a gentle breeze
That blows up the hill through the park by the bay
So good to be living on such a nice day
The birds chirp and sing on the blossoming trees
And in the warm air the buzzings of flies and of bees
The voices of birds quite familiar to me
The song of the magpie the call of the pee wee
In the distance the rumbles of the incoming tide
In the sea side town Nature too does reside
The weather is pleasant and breezy and bright
And brown butterflies dance in the Summer sunlight.

Jack Casey With His Dog King Of Clara

Jack Casey with his dog King of Clara who had won a race at the Cork Track
Had to walk home due to missing out on their car drive a journey of close to forty miles back
To his home on the Clara Road by the Town of Millstreet going back at least six decades in time
When Jack was a hardy young person quite close to the peak of his prime

A journey of close to forty miles even by the short route a long walk for a man and his dog to undertake
But the courageous young man and his noble canine had spirit in them hard to break
They reached their home by Clara Mountain as a Summer dawn brightened the sky
Since Jack Casey and King of Clara's long walk more than sixty Summers have gone by

Jack Casey not known as a sportsman in athletics he did not compete
But i recall him even as an old man he was hardy and quick on his feet
He went to the U S as a young man and returned home to grow old and to die in Millstreet
His long walk does live on in legend as quite a remarkable feat

The story of Jack Casey and King of Clara i often heard as a young boy
By the ageing mentors of my boyhood their stories i used to enjoy
From the old greyhound track in Cork City to Inchaleigh by Millstreet Town
Jack Casey and his dog King of Clara they walked their way into renown.

Why Worry Since Worrying

Enjoy your life time on you ticking away
And every dawn one nearer to your last day
Why worry since worrying your bills for you will not pay
As young people all worriers grow prematurely gray

Why worry since worrying does give rise to stress
And clutter up your mind with unhappiness
Cheer up and be happy words easy to say
But 'tis hard for to smile with things not going your way

But worrying can be such a depressing thing
And change to your life for the better it never will bring
The problems you have it only helps to magnify
And the happiness you deserve of you does deny

You cannot change what has happened since yesterday has gone
And time on your life ever keeps ticking on
Those known to be worriers to themselves are unkind
Since worrying does block happiness from the mind.

The Fault Is My Own

For years i have lived on the poverty line
And for that i own to it the fault is all of mine
What i receive from life is what i am due
That is how i see it and i believe to be true

I do not pity self or from others seek sympathy
It is my own fault that i'm in poverty
One of the non achievers of the small town
Low in self esteem and financially down

Struggling financially on a low income with bills for to pay
I never think of tomorrow just live for today
And only self induced hardships i have known
For my poor existence the fault is my own

It is my own fault that i've never known of success
That for years i have lived in a financial mess
I cannot complain that by life i've been hard done by
I did have my chances that i will not deny.

Why Expend Your Energy

Why expend your energy on nursing a grudge
Leave those who have wronged you for Karma to judge
Revenging your mind on another seems self torturous to me
Move on in your life and let old grudges be
The one who has wronged you to Karma will pay
What goes around comes around life is this way
You talk about payback two wrongs never make a right
The windows of the bitter mind are shaded to light
You cannot change what has happened the past it has gone
Leave the one who has sinned against you to Karma in your life move on
Scream into your pillow for anger release
Those with revenge on their minds with themselves not at peace
That you hold on to your grudges is of your own choice
Leave the one who has wronged you to Karma to you that's my advice.

Not Everyone Can Be

Not everyone can be wealthy and famous that is a fact of life and facts never lie
Those born to very poor parents in most cases as poor do die
Most people do have their daydreams and though few daydreams ever come true
Some form of success will come to you if that happens to be your due
The praises of the wealthy and the famous the majority of the masses do sing
To be loved and admired by so many has to be an ego inflating thing
But not everyone can be a winner and in comparison to non winners the winners seem few
That is something everybody does know and what everyone know is not new
'Tis hard for the homeless teenager to scale the heights of success hill
For such a person to be successful would take great belief in self and will
Not too many of life's big winners come from the poor side of the town
'Tis hard to rise again and keep fighting when by life you have been put down
Not everyone can be wealthy and famous though everyone wishes to be
'Tis so hard for the poor and the homeless for to rise above their poverty.

You See That Old Fellow

You see that old fellow his hair silver gray
He came from a Country from here far away
A village in Italy north east of Rome
He has grown old far south of his first ever home
Three decades ago his wife died suddenly
She did not live to grow old only fifty three
He has known of life's ups and downs the laughter and the tears
And he looks rather well for a man of his years
He has lived for four score and ten years in time quite a span
He is not your average ordinary man
With twenty great grandchildren his seed will live on
Long after the breath of life from him has gone
In the neighbourhood where he has lived for years he's well liked and well known
A self sufficent person he lives on his own.

Since I Know I Am One

Since i know i am one who does pen doggerel
To me something i do not know of me do tell
The words of a wiser one than you i recall
If you cannot say something nice of a person say nothing at all
Your words though not asked for of me may be true
But for that it does seem credit you are not due
Since you tell me something i've told others before
That i write for self enjoyment and little else more
You are one who does like to play games of the mind
And people like you with their words are unkind
Since you like to use your words for to put others down
You will never become the best loved one in the town
And i only can wonder why you waste your time
On reading the stuff i do write that you call doggerel rhyme.