Old Benny

Our journeys in life we are born to pursue
And that everyone gifted in some way i believe to be true
Old Benny the Nature Artist was buried today
In Nature's earthy bosom his last remains lay
He sketched Nature's beauty the mountains, rivers, fields and trees
As well as animals and birds and insects and bees
The wild growing flowers in his walks he did see
In his leisure hours he sketched from memory
His beloved Annie the love of his life
For forty years to him a devoted wife
That to her he became a stranger does seem sad to say
She lives in a home for the aged today
Though he never will sketch Nature's beauty again
Those who knew him fond memories of him will retain.

No Fool Like An Old Fool

One cannot say of Fred he's a pleasure to meet
Or that he is quite humble or free of conceit
After a recent visit to his plastic surgeon he has dyed his gray hair brown
He fancies himself as a man about town
One not short of money he lives the good life
For a pretty blond in her mid twenties he has divorced his third wife
She has confided in her friends he is not much use in bed
And only for his money she loves ageing Fred
She is the same age as his grand-daughter one in her life's prime
And her lover Fred is battling the ravages of time
He has heaps of money and expensive gifts for her he does buy
And going to expensive restaurants and high class parties with him she does enjoy
He is convinced she does love him his ego playing tricks with his head
No fool like an old fool no truer words said.

When All Else Has Gone

In fancy i can hear the silver back crow
Cawing on a bare beech when the Winter winds blow
Across the high country from here far away
The past may be gone but the memories of it does stay
In me though for years i've not seen the old hill
Or heard the babble of the silver tongued rill
Flowing to the big river by ditch and hedgerow
Through old fields where rushes in clusters do grow
When all else has gone the memories do remain
And in fancy i walk by the river again
When the hawthorns are cloaked in their white blooms of the May
And the nesting birds sing on a pleasant Spring day
And the brown lark a musical speck in the sky
Is singing as up to the clouds he does fly.

Clive Palmer

Clive Palmer the mining magnate is many times a billionaire
But when asked to pay a small amount of taxes he screams out unfair
Whilst Australians on average to lower incomes of taxes do pay the big share
And sad to think that the pollution caused by the forces of greed it is poisoning the air

A leading exponent of the forces of greed
Clive Palmer is politicized for to serve his own need
And that the political parties he patronize are riding high in the polls what does this to us say
That money speaks every language it does seem this way?

He does not want to pay any tax out of his billions in profit from mining Aboriginal Land
This is something i struggle for to understand
In a World where millions of people struggle to survive and many of hunger die
The so called fair go for all the likes of Clive does surely belie

One looked up to by many and by many admired
But by such a person i fail to feel inspired
He does not seem to be doing much for those in poverty
Clive is all about Clive that's how he seems to me

That the political parties he patronize are doing well in the polls to me no surprise
As money speaks every language i have come to realize
And it should be obvious to all that Clive is only for Clive
In a World where millions of people are struggling to survive.

Since For To Be A good Person

Since for to be a good person seems beyond my reach
I cannot put into practice the things i do preach
And like as is said words are easy to say
With me anyhow it is a bit this way
Make the World better to live in by becoming a better person i believe to be true
And what we receive from life happens to be our due
And the Karma we do reap is the Karma we sow
Am i telling you something that you already know?
In every good person a God you will find
And kindness and compassion does live in the mind
As a self centred person i may live till the day i will die
But there are many more like me and that's not a lie
I am not without flaws but there are many like me
And that the near perfect are quite rare would you not agree?

Michael Buckley Of Aubane

He must have been into his eighties of human years a lengthy span
Michael Buckley of Aubane he was a good man
In life he performed his good deeds every day
I only say of him what does seem fair to say

The praises of such a man ought to be sung
He was in his prime years when i was quite young
So humble in his ways unconceited and shy
The term of saint like to Michael apply

Though one that i had not seen for many years
News of his passing in Aubane would have reduced many to tears
For in the valleys by Mushera he was well loved and well known
And in Aubane they always do grieve the passing of one of their own

One in his life who never did make a foe
To Aubane he had seen many Seasons come and go
A nicer person than he was one could not wish to meet
He will be sadly missed in the Parish of Millstreet

From his old home in Aubane just a few miles away
By Cashman's Hill in St Mary's his last remains lay
In life he was a good person down to earth and kind
And better than he was would be hard to find.

For Latter March

For latter March sunny and humid close to thirty degrees
And warmth in the sunshine and warmth in the breeze
That blow from the sea through the park by the bay
For Autumn it is quite an unseasonable day
Most Summer days were quite cooler than this the weather acting strange
The reason for this surely is Climate Change
World weather temperatures are rising experts on climate do say
One might say of such it is looking this way
The weather quite warm though Autumn getting old
And the forecast for tomorrow is cooler yet not cold
Yesterday and today very warm for the time of year
Seems more like prime of Summer weather though Winter is near
The weather is changeable as the word can be
This might have to do with Climate Change would you not agree?

On The Passing Of Jim Stynes

A victim of cancer in his mid forties of life years his was not a long span
But apart from his fame as an A F L footballer Jim Stynes was a very good man
In Melbourne he commenced programs for the disadvantaged a friend of the youth of the street
The many in life he befriended of him say a pleasure to meet
Born and raised in far away Dublin in Australia he knew of National renown
As a Brownlow Medallist and Melbourne Club President he was known in every Australian city and village and town
But Jim Stynes was more than a football celebrity as his work on behalf of Melbourne's disadvantaged to does testify
The term of one who led by good example in life to him does apply
One who was worthy of his nickname as the honorable Gentleman Jim
He was such a genuine person there was nothing to dislike in him
He did think about other people he did his good deeds every day
To help those most in need of helping he often went out of his way
Jim Stynes was a very good person who of life did not have a long span
A victim of cancer in his forties he was an extraordinary man.

What Is Our Due

Though i am not what one would call a literary success
The feelings i have in rhyming words i express
I've been called a poetaster but suppose i could have been called worse
A rhyming addiction is my life time's curse
I am one who has written a whole heap of stuff
And for many years i have been a rhyming buff
And though my worth as a rhymer i have reason to doubt
I am never short of things for to write about
It is true about poets they are born not made
Though all writers needed in the wordsmith trade
I used to daydream that i would be a poet
Or someone quite worthy of literary note
But daydreams are just that and seldom come true
And life only does give us what is our due.

The Master Blaster

What most only dream of for him has come true
Sachin Tendulkar has achieved in cricket what is only his due
One hundred test centuries he has proven once and for all
That sportsmen to be great do not have to be burly and tall
One who is well worthy of his Worldwide fame
Perhaps the greatest player of his chosen game
The Master Blaster for him is his nickname
The one that the great bowlers have failed to tame
Cricket's greatest batsman for a two decade span
The great little Indian is an amazing man
At his age the physical best of most people has gone
But the great little Indian goes on and on
In cricket he remains as the batsman supreme
He is the greatest ever or so it does seem.

As We Have Been Told

Money speaks every language as we have been told
And i'd like to grow happier and healthier and wealthier as i grow old
But 'tis said what we are due from life we receive
If on such a philosophy you do believe

The longest human life in time not a long span
I would like to live on for to be an old man
And have heaps of money and be happy and wealthy till the end
The one without money often short of a friend

Perhaps it is for the poor and the homeless the wealthy invented God
As a means of hope for the World's downtrod
That in their Earthly poverty their ticket to paradise they will gain
Till death the hope of soul salvation in them does remain

My best days 'tis true to the forever gone
But i do love life and i hope to live on
To pop the champagne corks on a big lotto win
For to daydream of better times never a sin.

Like Everyone Has

Like everyone has i am one who has a past
And only the good memories of what was we do wish to last
The bad and sad memories we've known we wish to forget
Just like the old saying goes one lives to regret
Past friendships gone wrong and mistakes we have made
Some memories we have we wish from us would fade
We may look on the past like every yesterday
But bad like good memories with us tend to stay
Till the reaper claims the life's breath from us whenever that be
Like the good we remember every bad memory
Suppose for as long as we live this is how 'twill remain
When in memory we visit our past days again
In life we know of happy times and times that are sad
And we do remember the good and the bad.

Those Who With Their Words

Those who with their words choose to put others down
Are surely not an asset to their side of the town
They highlight their own failings by behaving in such a way
Their kind never grow wise they just grow old and gray
The people i'd rather not talk to or meet
Their type sad to say does live on every street
Sad to say in their way of thinking they do seem quite small
Since they do not believe on a fair go for all
To make up humanity it does take all sorts as some are known to say
Respect in words to others some find too hard to pay
But the generous of spirit in their words always kind
In others they only look for the good and good they do find
Some to the higher self could never be true
But what we put into life in return we are due.

You May Pray To Your God

You may pray to your God somewhere up there beyond the sky
Where when you draw your last breath your soul to will fly
But even for a soul with strong wings such a journey seems far
You may struggle to get there from where you now are
Yet some will even tell you that God you will  find
In every good person living in or her mind
Your belief in an external God you does not guarantee
Of a life after death existence in a heavenly kingdom it does seem to me
But having said that i am a cynic a mere infidel
And my kind never bound for to where angels dwell
I am one who suffers of darkness of mind
And perhaps i'm an atheist or that way inclined
If i said i believed in a life after death i'd be telling a lie
I was born a mere mortal and as a mere mortal i will die.

On This Pleasant March Day

The morning was drizzling the sky gloomy gray
But sun has shone through 'tis a beautiful day
The songs of the magpies floating in the breeze
And the weather temperatures near perfect around twenty degrees
And a bird that does sing every day of the year
The voice of the magpie lark always pleasant to hear
Without variation to his familiar song
By his often sung pee wee one could never get him wrong
The ash tree is losing it's first brown Autumn leaves
And the brown sparrows are chirping beneath the house eaves
And though my worth as a rhymer i have reason to doubt
In Nature never any shortage of things for to write about
The morning sky overcast was drizzling and gray
But the sun now shines bright on this pleasant March day.

No Point In Complaining

No point in complaining that life is unfair
When none wish to hear you and none seem to care
And they will tell you we have cares of our own
And far greater problems than your's we have known
But if you feel happy and full of good cheer
They ask you to join them and buy you a beer
The sweet lilt of laughter is an infectious thing
You are made to feel welcome when with you joy you do bring
If you feel sorry for yourself sadness is your due
Laugh and the World laughs with you remains ever true
The most likeable person you know in the town
Is never the one who is sad faced and down
The unhappy person his or her friends are few
To that you might say tell us something that is new.

On Ian Thorpe's Comeback

The best two hundred metres swimmer in the World four or five years ago
But that his best is behind him it well may be so
In his comeback to swimming he was not in the race
At the Australian two hundred metres Olympic Trials he did not swim a place

In his mid to late twenties Ian Thorpe the former Olympic and World Champion does seem past his best
The one never found to be wanting when put to the test
It does seem the great man is past his swimming prime
One might say of him one more victim of time

In his twenties his best is behind him that's how it seems to be
The man who swam to many a glorious victory
But time has become his nemesis his best in the past
The  World record holder at two hundred metres when he used to swim fast

That he was a great swimmer does go without doubt
But even in his twenties by time he has been found out
Beaten by swimmers who at his best with him could not hope to compete
Has the mighty Ian Thorpe swum at his last swimming meet?

The Sun In The Gray Clouds Is Hidden

The sun in the gray clouds is hidden on this cool though pleasant March day
And the silver bill magpie is piping his song to his identity a give away
The swallows fly low o'er the parkland where they are flying insects abound
It is said that in cool changeable weather their food source flies close to the ground
For years i am one who has loved Nature though little of her ways i do know
And the more i do learn about her my wonder of her only does grow
The artists inspired by her beauty the writers laud her in story and song
Like all of her other life forms i feel to her we do belong
And whether we are buried entire or cremated when our last remains to ash does burn
She is the one who does receive us to her bosom we do return
A cool and cloudy day in early Autumn just a tad over eighteen degrees
The weather though cool not unpleasant with only a very slight breeze
The perfume of Nature so pleasant in the leaves of the peppercorn tree
And the magpie lark in the park he is singing his familiar song of pee wee
The sun in the gray clouds is hidden and though cool it is quite a nice day
And i feel no cause for to grumble since life with me is quite okay.

The Ordinary Man

He is not interested in music, dancing, singing or art or literature
Though of football he is a big fan
On saturday evening after the game he drinks with his mates at the Local
The fellow known as The Ordinary Man

With a wife and one son of thirteen
Who with the local club plays under age football
He says my son is a great player
And a future great name for to recall

He is not interested in politics or current affairs
Of such things he does not wish to hear
His family his work and football
Are the things in life he holds most dear

He feels proud of his nickname of The Ordinary Man
To him it is a down to earth name
He seems ordinary enough in his interests
But then no two does seem quite the same

On saturday evening after the football he drinks at the local
With his best mates Joe, Willie and Stan
He will be forty on his next birthday
The one known as the Ordinary Man.

On Callanan And Gougane Barra

When Callanan penned his famed lines on Gougane Barra the lust of wander was in his young mind
He thought of the great beauty all around him the beauty he would be leaving behind
His health not good he needed warmer climate in Portugal the weather mostly fine
Far away from places he loved such as Gougane  Barra he went to there for health mending sunshine
He never did return home from Portugal where at a young age the great Cork bard died
Never again to see Lough Lene, Inchydoney or Gougane Barra places in poetry that he glorified
To Ireland the great poet was lost forever yet his poems are very much alive today
Had he lived to an old age many great poems he would have written but such is life as some are known to say
He did die young which seems more of the pity but his name lives as a major Irish poet
A great translator as well as one who wrote great original poetry in Irish literature his name lives on as one worthy of note
His poems the Recluse Of Inchydoney and Gougane Barra live on as memorable that true poets are born not made is not a lie
The Outlaw Of Lough Lene and the Convict Of Clonmel further testimony to his greatness great poetry such as he wrote never die
When Callanan wrote his great poem on Gougane Barra his thoughts were of a Country far away
Where he went to live and died as a young migrant a legend then and a legend still today.

Such Is Life After All

Compared to many my problems does seem few
Though to that you might say tell us something that's new
Though physically my better days in life long gone
Not hungry or homeless i keep on keeping on
I am one who does not suffer any ache or pain
So i am not one who has cause to complain
So many homeless and hungry and of helping in need
Compared to them i am quite lucky indeed
Life's not meant to be easy as J B Shaw once did say
But for the privileged minority it is not this way
The eldest son of the monarch was born to be king
And hardship to him is an alien thing
Yet my biggest problem to some would seem small
And one would have to suppose such is life after all.

The Woman Of Rhyme

She is a few decades beyond her life's prime
Perhaps in her early fifties the Woman of Rhyme
Her once brown hair clipped short is now silver gray
One might say she is ageing in the natural way
She writes about Nature the birds and the bees
That in Summer takes nectar from the blossoming trees
Of the animals that she does see every day
In her poems she always has nice things to say
In the Literary World not seen as one of note
Yet in her own right she is a fine Nature Poet
She never publishes in book form the poems she does write
She just emails them in to an internet site
Not in any Book Club she does her own thing
And to her online readers great joy she does bring.

The Dark Merri Waters

In and out of Lake Pertobe and on to Lady Bay
The dark Merri waters slowly winds it's way
And follows on the course of it's destiny
For to join the great waves of the Pacific Sea

The river that has inspired story and rhyme
That was very old even in the Dreamtime
When the local tribes had their corroborees
Where they danced, sung and told stories in the shade of the trees.

Through flat coastal paddocks of rich green to brown
On to the great ocean near Warrnambool Town
For centuries and centuries it's been babbling along
It was even very old back in the birth of song

In and out of Lake Pertobe to the ocean nearby
The river that was old long before birds did fly
How old is the Merri the answer none does know
On to the Pacific it ever does flow.

Very Competitive

Us humans are very competitive with each other we do compete
To be best in the neighbourhood and best in the street
To be best in the parish and best in the town
Though only the few ever know of renown
The daydreams most have of success never seem to come true
Some will tell you what we receive from life is our due
And that for our every mistake there is some price to pay
You make out of that whatever you may
But for one to win some have to lose just like in the horse race
And in life for us every day some new challenge to face
But the fact of the matter and fact never lie
Is that whether we know of success or not we are born to die
No different to other life forms in this way
For us too there will be a last night and day.

A Man Of Doggerel

I have penned one might say a lot of rhyme though i do not write that well
I am just one of the ordinary a man of doggerel
Yet penning rhymes on different things brings lots of joy to me
And to rhyme to me is easy as easy as can be
The years on me begin to show my better years long gone
But i am happy when i am rhyming and i will keep rhyming on
I hoped i might become a poet but that is going back in time
Perhaps three decades or more ago when i was in my prime
That was in my daydreaming days but daydreams seldom come true
And from life i'm one who receive what only is my due
That poets are few and far between is surely not a lie
And i will be a rhymer until the day i die
Though i will never be a poet i've come to realize
Perhaps i will keep rhyming on until my last sunrise.

Those Who Can Give Love

It's praises the poets and the singers do sing
The great gift of love is a marvellous thing
So lucky are those with love in them to give
They serve as an example in the way they do live
For those who cannot give love one has to feel sad
And though as people they may be good living and not in any way bad
But if they could give love how much greater they would be
At least anyway that's how it seems to me
Those who can give love have in them compassion and empathy
Amongst people they do create harmony
If everyone were like them humanity would stand to gain
And the flower of peace would be blooming again
There would not be wars for people to die in
And compassion in the Human World would have a big win.

Who Are They

They say that everyone can be a winner
But then one must ask the question did those known as they
Ever have to miss out on a dinner
Or ever been homeless even for a day?

If what they say is right there would not be a loser
But as we know life does not work in this way
Since there cannot be winners without losers
Despite what those who promote life choices do say.

If every person in the World was a winner
How marvellous and amazing this would be
Imagine for one to win that there would not be a loser
That does seem quite incredulous to me.

They say that everyone can be a winner
But words as we know easy for to say
But with their words they seem a bit too positive and optimistic
And then of course one must ask who are they?

Go Sing Me A Rhyme

Go sing me a rhyme of the wild birds of song
Who in their nesting time of year sing all the day long
On every bush and on every tree
When there is so much beauty in Nature to see

Go sing me a rhyme of the unsung of the town
The people who take care of those feeling down
In them there is so very much to admire
Of singing their praises could one ever tire?

Go sing me a rhyme of the silver tongued rill
That babble on down from the field by the hill
That never stops flowing by night and by day
On to the big river to the sea far away

Go sing me a rhyme of the young girl and boy
Who in the park playground do laugh loud in joy
As they see saw up and down on the see saw swing
The happy sound of laughter is a beautiful thing

Go sing me a rhyme of Nature's roses and flowers
That bloom in the sunshine after Summer showers
A rhyme that is so very easy to write
And for to memorize and to sing and recite.

Seven Billion Plus People

Seven billion plus people in the World quite a number indeed
And for Mother Earth quite a lot of stomachs to feed
Yet some have too much food and some for lack of it die
And a fair go for all is surely based on a lie
That we do breed like rabbits to us must apply
And like rabbits our numbers seem to multiply
And despite wars and famines the World human population increase
And amongst people of different tribes there will never be peace
Not too far from where wealth in abundance abound
The homeless of Poverty Street to be found
This does seem quite unfair would you not agree?
In a fair Human World this never would be
Seven billion plus people in the World believe that if you may
And for lack of food some die does seem sad to say.

Not Those To Complain

Though you will never hear him say life is unfair
For years he has been battling his black moods of despair
He is on medication which on his physical appearance does show
Into a fat fellow his body did grow
Ten years ago in his late teens he was quite a famous athlete
Tall and lean and so very quick on his feet
But the sudden onset of mental illness wreaked havoc in his mind
Though you'll never hear him say life to me is unkind
And though no longer an athlete you will not hear him say
That he is one who has known a better day
With his cross in life he has learned how to cope
And of future happiness he is not without hope
From knowing one like him an insight one does gain
That those with heavy life crosses are not those to complain.

The Memories In Me

The memories in me do remain evergreen
Of beauty i've known and of beauty i've seen
The beauty of Nature that to be re-born has to die
Though that she is an immortal is certainly not a lie
The beauty i loved since i was a young boy
And to look at as an ageing man i do enjoy
On talking of Nature could one ever tire
In her there is so much to love and admire
The beauty in Nature that is all around me
Wherever i turn to look i do see
The magical beauty that she does create
The one that the artists and poets celebrate
In their paintings and poems and it is not a lie
That to be re-born such beauty must die.

The Ancient Finnow River

From the high country by Gneeves by ditch and by hedgerow
Through the home of the badger, the rook and gray crow
For centuries and centuries it has journeyed it's way down
To the great Blackwater River through the fields near Millstreet Town

Long before places of Millstreet and Duhallow received their given name
From the high country by Gneeves that man has failed to tame
The ancient Finnow River with a babble in it's flow
Has journeyed on for centuries for how long none does know?

Of the River known as Finnow stories are written and songs are sung
It was an ancient waterway when Fionn was very young
And though his legend still lives that was centuries ago
But it can be said of Finnow time has not become it's foe

It has flowed for centuries and centuries through the Seasons of time
To the ancient Finnow River i dedicate this rhyme
From the high country by Gneeves the ancient waterway
Through the rushy fields of Millstreet it babbles night and day.

Be Happy If You Can

Be happy if you can and try to enjoy every day
For the clock on our lives ever does tick away
The Seasons pass quickly we grow old too soon
And for all of us there is a last rising moon
If you feel despondent and in spirits low
You are not the person everyone wishes to know
The happy one seems to make friends easily
With laugh and the World laughs with you i have to agree
Few do wish to know the sad sack of the town
Alone on the street he or she walk up and down
You need not have to wonder why this should be
Since a smiling face far more appealing to all 'twould seem to me
Be happy with your lot is all i can say
Life seems too short for sadness and time ticks away.

True Beauty

True beauty from us is never far away
The beauty of Nature we see every day
The beauty the poets and artists celebrate
That only Nature has the power to create
Such beauty we do not have to pay to see
It is all around you and it is all around me
Far greater than any beauty humans can create
Than Nature herself there is none quite so great
The one i have loved since i was a young boy
Her pleasures are free for all to enjoy
In her every blade of grass, bush, tree and flower
One can only marvel at her creative power
Compared to her's the greatest human achievement seems small
The one who supplies us with our every need and who feeds us all

If Ever Again

If ever again i should see Claraghatlea
I'd like it for to be in the month of May
With the old fields lush and green after recent Spring showers
Looking quite beautiful in their wildborn flowers

If ever again i should see Claramore
By Clara far inland from Hibernia's shore
It would have to be when the brown lark does fly
Above the high fields for to sing in the sky

If ever Inchaleigh i should see again
I'd like it to be when in the watery drain
The little dark tadpoles are wriggling about
With tiny eyes, wriggly tail and a tiny mouth

If ever again Annagloor i should see
It will be when white blooms are cloaking the hawthorn tree
And chaffinch with the pink breast is singing his best
As the sun is going down in the sky towards the west

The passing of time has left it's mark on me
And if ever again Ballydaly i see
I hope it will be when cattle are out on grass and the  nesting birds sing
And the old fields are wearing their flowers of the Spring.

I Pity Poor Jenny

I pity poor Jenny who grieves for her pet
Her happy times with him she will never forget
Her black labrador Doogie had known a better day
Though sorrowful tears she has shed for her loyal friend passed away
In his prime quite a beautiful dog to behold
He had turned fourteen for a labrador that is old
He did not suffer prolonged pain since he died suddenly
Still her dog to Jenny he was family
It is true what is said of a canine friend
That for love and loyalty and friendship on him or her one can depend
Your dog's love for you is unconditional and it does seem fair to say
When others forsake you he or she as your friend stay
Labradors are quite loyal dogs to give them their due
And to his end old Doogie to Jenny remained true
Respect to his memory in tears she does pay
In the yard of her home his last remains lay.

The Narcissistic One

The managing director of the company wears a self satisfied grin
This year six million in annual profit for him another win
He showers on his faitful employees lots and lots of praise
But he is not so forthcoming when they ask him for a raise
At his end of the year company party he puts on a big show
Of his affluence and social rank he likes others to know
The narcissistic streak in him does seem quite strong
To that sort and type he is one who belong
To say that he is in any way near to generous would be telling a lie
His five favourite talking subjects me, myself, my company,  family and i
One who takes love of self one might say a bit far
Never any room for humility where his kind are
He rates as one of the wealthiest people in the town
And heaps of money guarantees one of renown.

The Same Old Story

Every week-day of his life the same old story
In bed by ten for work at half past five
And after breakfast to his employers yard for his work start at seven
Across the suburb for fifteen minutes he does drive

And after work he stops at the supermarket
For to buy some provisions for the night
Go home and eat watch t v for a few hours
His social life on entertainment does seem light

At the weekend he goes to watch the football
And at weekend evening watches sports on t v
Though in himself he does not seem unhappy
His social life lacks in variety

He's never had a wife and he never has had children
Although he had a partner for awhile
But she met someone than him she loved better
Yet of love that did not last he now does smile

He is forty one ten years beyond his prime years
And though he may never have any children or a wife
With him it may always be the same old story
But he seems happy enough in his life.

To Birdsland

If i had wings like a swallow then surely i would fly
To Birdsland in the Yarra  Ranges across the miles of sky
Above the home of beauty to nightfall from daybreak
I'd fly above the high paddocks and fly above the lake
Fond memories of Birdsland i have for to retain
And only in flights of fancy i visit there again
Each time i think of Birdsland memories of Jedder come back to me
My old black and white canine none as faithful as she
In Wonthaggi in South Gippsland her bones forever lay
But her i will remember until my dying day
Had i wings like a swallow i'd fly fast as a car
To Birdsland in South Belgrave from here in distance far
But in moments of reflection i often visualize
The whistle of the shrike thrush in Birdsland at sunrise.

If You Cannot Love Yourself

If you cannot love yourself you cannot love anyone
That is what the wise mother did say to her son
When she overheard him saying to himself i do not love me
With her wise words to him i have to agree
To love self your praises to others you do not have to sing
Since that is more like narcissism to self love a different thing
The person who loves self is one who loves all of humankind
And to compassion and empathy are that way inclined
The person of self love never bears a grudge
And never sees fit to be anyone's judge
I have so much to learn but this i do know
That true love of self to love of others does grow
Like the wise mother's words of advice to her masochistically inclined son
If you cannot love self you cannot love anyone.

On Seeing A Centipede

A strange little critter to look at indeed
It does have more legs than it does seem to need
As it crawls in the grass it's fastest pace very slow
Though little of it's way i can claim to know
Out of sight into cover it moves fast as it can
Five metres to crawl to it in distance quite a long span
Since birds enjoy eating it's kind every day
It does feel safer under cover well hidden away
From the likes of the blackbird nearby with the bright golden bill
In Nature it does have it's role to fulfil
Just like me and the bird with the beautiful song
Our common bond is to Nature we belong
Like the strange little critter known as centipede
Who does have more legs than it does seem to need.

We All Have Our Own Flaws

He is not a good person good things he has not done
But he like you has a mother and she loves him as her son
To your opinions on him any heed i do not pay
Since of him you do not have one kind word to say

We all have our flaws would you not agree
And is he any more flawed than you or than me
His most serious crimes minor only proves his lack of common sense
The odd bar-room scuffle or minor traffic offence

Since he does seem far from the worst offender in town
And not the type who does kick one who is down
He is not a bad person though he does not observe every man made law
But do you know of anyone who does not have a flaw?

One to the side of reckless one might say a tad
But even his worst sin does seem far from bad
We all have our flaws some we do not wish to own
And a near perfect person i have not known.

The Dark Side Of Love

The birds chirp and sing in the parkland today
But the clouds of his mind they are gloomy and gray
Of the praises of love you may hear many sing
But the dark side of love is a sorrowful thing
A bright full moon shone in a calm starry sky
And a boobook owl called on a wattle nearby
When she told him that from him she would have to part
That she loves another better and she must follow her heart
The dark side of love is a sibling of woe
Since that mild Summer's night eight months ago
Out of the public eye he has wept in his bed
For a love lost to him tears by him often shed
The day it is pleasant the birds chirp and sing
But his mind is not full of the joys of the Spring.

Home Is Where The Heart Is

Your life journey may have begun in a place far away
But home is where you live now the house where you stay
Though the migrant Roman will tell you where he now lives is home
The home of his heart it will always be Rome
The love of place in the migrant does remain
And the good memories till death he or she does retain
Of their young friends of the past in their first homeplace
Where their's today well may be a stranger's face
Of far away places the ballad singer may sing
But the lust of the wander is an addictive thing
The yearn for adventure in the big World out there
Lure young people from their first homeplace for to travel and live elsewhere
Home to many is where they presently do live and stay
But home is where the heart is some are known to say.

Hypocritical In His Own Ways

The religious person judgemental of me
He says that god's face i surely will never see
In his eyes i am one who is rather odd
He sees little hope for one without a god
To voice his opinions on others he sure is not shy
But judge and thou shalt not be judged to him too does apply
He may claim to be religious but he is not very wise
And he is hardly an earthly saint in his god's eyes
No he will never have the title of an earthly saint
For he is a fellow who is not free of taint
In his house of worship to his god he does pray
But he is hypocritical in his own way
Since he says i am one who is destined for hell
To him i do dedicate this doggerel.

Of Nature We Are

'Tis a fact of life and fact never lie
We are born of a woman eventually to die
Like all other life forms for us there's an end
We are only mere mortals why otherwise pretend
Like the insect, fish or amphibian the fly, trout or frog
Like the humble earth worm the bird or the dog
Whether we are buried entire or to ashes we do burn
Of Nature we are and to her we will return
Like the food that we eat on us a use by date
The monarch and the president the masses may celebrate
But they too mere mortals that and nothing more
Though of the social rank in life they are to the fore
We return to Nature when the life from us has gone
And she the immortal forever lives on.

Nature Lives On

From us true beauty is never far away
We do see it in Nature every day
The wild-born trout at pool bed of the stream
Bask in the sunshine their spotted skins agleam
A thing of Nature's beauty one does not pay to see
And i see it every day all around me
Her amazing creative powers in every blade of grass and flower and bush and tree
In Nature's World to look at it is always free
Nature i grew to love as a young boy
And learning of her ways a thing i do enjoy
Her wonders many and her secrets not few
And every day from her we do learn something new
Immortality for human kind it is a lie
But Nature lives on as the one who will never die.

John Tarrant

A sad loss to  his siblings, relatives and friends and a sad loss to Eileen his good wife
It truly can be said of John Tarrant that he was one larger than life
He was such a likeable fellow untainted by guile or conceit
It is sad for all of those who knew him that him they will never more meet

In his early twenties he left Gortavehy young and healthy and happy and strong
The lure of the wander was in him in the big World out there he belong
He traveled far south to Australia in the Snowy Mountains he worked for some time
The work was hard but he enjoyed it and back then he was in his prime

In Melbourne in the employment of Franki Pile he worked hard for his every pay
A man who became friends to many all of him had good things to say
He married Eileen Smith of Keady the woman who became his soul-mate
I recall the day they were married their union we did celebrate

With wavy foxy hair and broad shoulders a handsome man in his prime day
He and Eileen returned home to Ireland the lure of home strong as they say
He was such a generous fellow and about him he had a nice way
His beautiful mind is now sleeping in Youghal his last remains lay

To speak of him as one of the deceased in some ways is sort of a lie
John Tarrant he was larger than life and people like him never die
A spiritual fun loving person who left us with good memories of him to recall
One who did make friends very easily and who believed on a fair go for all.

We Only Can Visualize

We can only visualize what used to be
The things again we never more may see
Though in flights of fancy i can see again
Old Clara half cloaked in the fogs of rain

'Tis true the savage loves his native shore
In my memory's eye above high Claramore
The dark winged swallows chirping as they fly
And the skylark singing in the sunny sky

The robin singing on the alder tree
In Claraghatlea that once was home to me
When i was younger and in my life's prime
Going back just over three decades in time

Perhaps i'll never again hear a cow
Lowing in a field by the River Finnow
On a Summer evening as the sun goes down
In the quiet countryside just west of Millstreet Town

An old voice that remains as ever young
The mountain rill born with the ceaseless tongue
By ditch and hedgerow every night and day
On to the river babbling on it's way

To memory we are slaves as some do say
And the biological clock as ever ticks away
The now is all that matter since the past has gone
And all around us life it does go on.

On Julia Gillard

Julia Gillard is a habitual liar this is what those who oppose her do say
But it always takes one for to know one since they themselves too are this way
It is true that we dislike in others the things in ourselves we do not wish to see
Most politicians are habitual liars this is how it does seem to me
The first female Prime Minister of Australia Julia Gillard is quite good at lying
But as a politician in that she is not unusual as most politicians the truth are always denying
That is why she became the Prime Minister one might say she has learned her trade well
To lie to Julia does come easy the truth to her harder to tell
Yet the Opposition members are quite hypocritical since like her most are the same way
The truth to them never comes easy in Parliament they do lie every day
It always takes one for to know one a saying that is ever so true
The politicians who call Julia a liar are good at lying to give them their due
That is why she became the Prime Minister at lying she is one of the best
She surely would be a hot favourite for to fail a lie detector test.

Kevin O' Sullivan

Of Millstreet Town a lifetime resident for years he had lived on Main Street
Poor Kevin O' Sullivan has gone to the Reaper he is one we will never more meet
He must have been into his eighties of human years his was a long span
But he is one we will remember for Kevin was a gentleman
In fact it can be said of him that he would not harm a fly
Quite friendly amongst people he knew though with strangers he felt a bit shy
One of the elder citizens of Millstreet one well loved and well known in the Town
Main Street without him will seem the poorer where he often walked up and down
He was a kind and honest person one who never sought worldly fame
To distinguish him from other O' Sullivans 'Kevin Sal' was his nickname
As far as i know he was childless and he never did have a wife
He was such a likeable fellow one who led an honorable life
In the old Cemetery at the West End the last remains of Kevin lay
Never more to be seen around Millstreet and that does seem a sad thing to say.

I May Not Be One Of

I may not be as one of the successful  for such i lack in the ambition and drive
At this stage of my life i feel happy to be healthy and to be alive
I may not be old but i'm getting there last December i turned sixty five
My ambition for now is to be happy the only form of success for i strive
The pee wee in the town park is singing the magpie flutes on the gum tree
Oh isn't it great to be living Nature's beauty is all around me
To live happy and feel close to Nature what more of life could one ask or need
I cannot complain i feel healthy one might say i am lucky indeed
On March four the fourth day of Autumn the sun shines in clouds blue and gray
The temperatures in the low twenties it is such a beautiful day
The nectar eating honeyeaters chirp on the blossoming bushes and trees
And white butterflies in the sunshine do seemingly dance in the breeze
Though not financially well off i am healthy and living and all but free of inner strife
And that is enough of success for me what more could one ask out of life?

Simple Rhyming Sonnets

Simple rhyming sonnets are easy to write
And easy to memorize, read and recite
But the literary experts as doggerel such stuff classify
And to voice their opinions such people do never seem shy
But since rhyme seems to go well with music and song
I like rhyming sonnets they jingle along
Blank verse may be the in thing when it comes to poetry
But in literature as in all things we do need variety
On literature as in all things it does seem to me
We all have our own preferences would you not agree
If we all thought in the same way how boring we would be
In our difference from others we define our individuality
And with those who love simple rhyming sonnets common ground i do share
Though our sort of people nowadays seem to be rare.

You Weep For Yourself

I recall a wise person to me once said
We grieve for ourselves when we grieve for the dead
We grieve for a love and a friendship to us lost
That to our feelings does come at a huge personal cost
Since feelings as such does not exist in the dead
They do not hear you sob when your tears for them are shed
You do weep for them for the good times knowing them you've had
Of our life's happier days the memories can be sad
You weep for yourself for a friendship from your life gone
But life is for the living and life does go on
The grief caused by loss from you will slowly fade away
Time is the great healer as some do like to say
You weep for yourself at your own personal loss
The death of your dear friend has become your grief's cross.

They Are A Unique Breed

They are a unique breed the judgemental kind
They seek flaws in others and flaws they do find
It takes all sorts to make up humanity as some like to say
Suppose they cannot help it if they are this way
Yet sad to think the people they like to verbally put down
Do happen to be the have nots of the town
The judgemental kind in their thinking quite small
As they do not believe on a fair go for all
Since they never could believe in to each their own
For love of humanity they will never be known
From living it does seem insight they never do gain
As the social divide they promote and maintain
So narrow minded and negative in their ways to the point of unique
They seek the flaws in others and they do find what they seek.

In This Bureaucratic Governed Human World

In this bureaucratic governed Human World the greedier seem to thrive
Whilst the millions of have nots struggle to survive
A thousand poor for every millionaire
The distribution of wealth as ever seems unfair

It does seem such a sad thing for to say
That people are dying of hunger and in war zones every day
And sad to think that though they caused suffering, death and created many a refugee
That 'tis the winners who do write the war history

But the reaper of lives on all lives has the final say
He deprives people of life's breath every day
He is not one who respects wealth and fame
He treats the life of the monarch and the pauper as the same

In this bureaucratic governed Human World in the social divide
The widening gap keeps on growing ever wide
And many grow poorer for every new millionaire
Whoever said that all in life is fair.

Sean Radley Bound For Dublin

Sean Radley bound for Dublin with some of his L T V back up team
For to present The Late Late Show a thing of which some can only dream
With his story researcher Mary Kelleher, cameras Ita and William Fitzgerald and one in Millstreet's Hall of Fame
None other than Eily Buckley her's is a widely known name

To the story by Michael Cashman on the Millstreet Website some truth may well apply
Though that negotations are in progress Sean himself does deny
But standby for the announcement on National T V
That Sean, Mary, Eily, Ita and William are signed on by R T E

Since going by Michael Cashman's story things are looking this way
There is no smoke without fire as some are known to say
To this story there is more than rumor or so 'twould seem to me
What will be a huge loss to L T V a scoop for R T E

Sean, William, Ita, Eily and Mary for fame in Dublin bound
At least that is the story the word has got around
Since Michael Cashman posted his article on the Millstreet Website he is one in the know
And of their to be huge yearly salary the speculation grow

Sean Radley and his main back up team leaving L T V for Duhallow media a sad day
Michael Cashman online has run the story believe it if you may
But the contracts as of yet not signed and one can hope anyway
That they will have a change of heart and with L T V will stay.

What Is The Human Body

What is the human body only flesh and bone
Without a mind we would be as unfeeling as a stone
Many claim when the body dies the soul from the mind does fly
To another world somewhere beyond the sky
Yet none i have known who have died have come back to me to tell
Of an afterlife of a heaven or a hell
And so far apart from majority thinking i have grown
That i've become too cynical to believe in to me what seems unknown
My gift of life does mean so much to me
I treasure every day i live to see
And i hope to live for as long as i can
And die a painless death as an old man
For without my gift of life i'd be part of earth and clay
As dead as dead can be as some do say.

You Try To Keep Smiling

You try to keep smiling though times may be tough
And your journey in life is becoming quite rough
And at times you struggle to keep tears at bay
It does feel hard to smile when you are feeling this way
Yes it's hard to feel happy when you are feeling down
And you are doing it tough on the poor side of the town
But fortune favours the brave as has often been said
And for you much better times may be ahead
Behind the dark clouds of your life bright sunshine you can see
You are a brave person as most would agree
By refusing to surrender to your inner strife
It can be said of you that you are larger than life
Despite life's hard knocks hope from you not gone
And you feel your better days are coming on.

The Former Rose Of Morwell

The former Rose of Morwell in brown dye cloaks her gray
Her oldest grandchild twenty one today is her birthday
Though only in her late fifties the Seasons on her show
That time does erode beauty as a fact of we do know
Twice married and twice divorced she now lives on her own
And she now lives far from Morwell where she is not well known
She was a brown haired beauty when she was in her prime
But that's going back three decades and that's quite a span of time
Despite hair dyes and makeups she does look fifty eight
She has lost the hour glass figure she does look overweight
An attractive looking young woman when her hair was natural brown
When she was the pin up girl of Morwell's Gippsland Town
She was the Rose of Morwell some thirty years ago
And like it has been to everyone time has become her foe.

On Literary Critics

'Tis said some of the failed writers become literary critics instead
And though well educated and very well read
It should not be up to them for to decide
The winners and losers of the literary divide
On one who is or is not a good writer the reading public they advise
And their opinions influence the judges in every literary prize
If you are a young aspirational writer to you i must say
If the literary critics do not like your work best give your writing ambitions away
For when they deny you of press coverage they starve you of fame
To insure that in literature your's will be an all but unknown name
As literary powerbrokers their influence cannot be denied
For to be a successful writer you need them on your side
On some failed writers believe what you hear or disbelieve if you may
That as literary critics they earn their fame in this way.

Though Hope Of Better Times

Though hope of better times in me not dead
At my age i don't look too far ahead
But to daydream of great wealth ought not be a sin
I would gladly welcome a big lotto win
A million in money having said that two
In my old age wonders for me would do
But such a daydream becomes reality to few
And to that you may say tell us what is new
My better days to the forever gone
And the clock on my life  ever ticking on
But i try to make the most of every day
Since time does not wait it ticks and ticks away
A huge lotto win would be my dream come true
But such good fortune may not be my due.

The Long Winding Road

The long winding road it does lead to somewhere
To some other place in the big world out there
Along by the mountains it winds up and down
On through the flat countryside to the far away town

On the long winding road that leads to places far
Are many a cyclist and motorbike, truck, bus and car
That links villages and towns in places far and wide
Far inland from the ocean in the remote countryside

The long winding road built by men some now dead
For the benefit of the road users in the decades ahead
Men who worked hard for their money every working day
And for them there never was an easy pay

The long distance truck driver on the long winding road
Is racing fading daylight to his distant abode
His wife and children expecting him home for the tea
Three hundred miles inland from the town by the sea.

Your Teary Eyed Day

Have  you ever experienced your teary eyed day
When tears from your eyelids will not go away
As you think of the happy times that used to be
And of dear friends you knew that you'll never more see
And though memories of happier days linger on
You have come to accept that the past it has gone
And the teary eyed mood with you does not remain
Tomorrow you may well be smiling again
The human moods and feelings to us come and from go
The joy and the laughter the tears and the woe
All of these sort of feelings in life we have known
Though some of them we would prefer to disown
And so many do know of the teary eyed day
The black mood of sadness slow to fade away.

When I look In My Mind

When i look in my mind don't like the hidden me
I'm not the type of person i'd like myself to be
Others can be our reflection would you not agree
What we dislike in others in our own selves we see
An inflated ego of our compassionate side does take toll
It is something that is hard to keep under control
I do struggle with my own ego every day
To keep the arrogance from surfacing in me at bay
In our own little ways most of us can be small
But it's true there is a nicer side to us all
The air that inflates the ego known as pride
But the arrogant too do have their softer side
When i look in my mind i do not like what i see
There is so much darkness in the hidden me.

On Seeing Photos Of Hawaii

The beautiful photos i have seen of Hawaii
I can only dream of such beauty since a dreamer am i
It is true of the camera it never does lie
I would love to live there to grow old there and die

To imagine such beauty one only can try
The blue and the gray clouds of the clear sunny sky
The beautiful native brown beauties lovely to behold
To look at makes one forget that he is old

How lovely to sit on your verandah overlooking the sea
Enjoying your breakfast with coffee or tea
And in the cool twilight to go for a stroll
Where Pacific waters on to the beach roll

To live in such a place how lovely 'twould be
My idea of an idyllic lifestyle it does seem to me
Beautiful beaches clean air and a bright sunny sky
The imagination does have wings to fly.

Looks Can Deceive

One would swear butter would not melt in his mouth
But the secret he hid from the world it is out
That he often went home from the pub and knocked his wife about
By the court found guilty of assault beyond reasonable doubt

His marriage of three years has come to an end
A suspended nine months jail sentence if he does re-offend
His wife with their two year old adughter is living elsewhere
From where they live a court order on him to stay clear of there

He does seem a nice enough sort of a bloke
One known to drink in moderation and who can laugh at a joke
To the casual observer he does seem this way
But looks can deceive as some are known to say

His traumatized ex wife is not feeling well
Of life with him she has not a good story to tell
With a broken jaw, broken nose as well as broken teeth
She feels sorry now him she ever did meet

A beautiful young woman in her life's prime
And though her physical injuries will heal in time
The bad memories of beatings from him with her will remain
She has vowed that she will never marry again.

It Has Always Been This Way

For any woman or for any man
A century of years is quite a long life span
It is way above the human life average of three score and ten
And women by a few years known to outlive men
Yet some human beings are not granted much time
Some die in their childhood and some die in their prime
The years go by quickly and time ticks on fast
And all we have left are memories of the past
Of a life after death of a heaven or hell
There is no concrete proof as anyone has not come back to tell
Though some firmly believe the soul has wings to fly
To the world of their god far beyond the clouds of the sky
I only know that millions of people are born and die every day
This is how it is and it has always been this way.

Ruth Pitter

Ruth Pitter from Ilford a laureate of rhyme
Her verses live on through the Seasons of time
Though her poems are not quite as popular as they ought to be
As a poet she was not what you would call ordinary
Ruth pitter is deceased the life from her long gone
But the poems she gave birth to are living on
One of the last great rhyme poets of her one could say
With rhyming words she surely did have a way
In the twenty first century poetry change is happening fast
And rhyme is now seen as a thing of the past
But rhyme is not dead yet despite the negative press
And a preference for poems that rhyme some do express
And though Ruth Pitter the poet a score of years with the dead
By lovers of rhyming poetry her poems are still read.

Great People Indeed

Since any act of kindness is never too small
Kindness shown to me by others with joy i recall
Though not wealthy i feel lucky in every other way
Since kind hearted people i meet every day
What goes around comes around on such i believe
Those kind in their ways in other ways do receive
When to help those in need of helping they go out of their way
Some sow their seeds of good karma every day
As a sibling of love and compassion as well as empathy
For those doing it tough they feel great sympathy
The homeless and poor of the poor side of the town
Who battle the odds the financially down
Always helping the people of helping in need
The kind hearted people are great people indeed.

Today It Is Warm

Today it is warm some thirty eight degrees
And warmth in the sunshine and warmth in the breeze
The calendar Autumn just five sleeps away
For so late in summer a very warm day
The bird who does sing every day of the year
The flute of the magpie so pleasant to hear
He sings on high branch of sunlit wattle tree
A song familiar to many and familiar to me
High on the gum trees the young long bill corellas of parental care in need
To their noisy parents they call out for feed
From the nearby paddock the sweet scent of hay
And the pee wees are calling in the park by the bay
And from the hot sun the cattle are sheltering in the shade of the trees
On a day that is close to the forty degrees.

A Stranger To Many

With most of the people there that i would meet
Today i'd be a stranger in Claraghatlea and the Town of Millstreet
A stranger to many in Inchaleigh and Annagloor
Absence from home in many ways has left me feeling more poor

Far inland in Duhallow from Hibernia's shore
A stranger to many in Ballydaly and Claramore
A stranger to many in Clarabeg and in Dereen
Though memories of once familiar faces and places in me evergreen.

In the home of the otter and badger and silver back crow
A stranger to many where Finnow waters flow
That to the Blackwater does journey on down
Through old rushy flat fields close to Millstreet Town

In Millstreet in Duhallow i once was well known
Where many did say of me one of our own
But in my years of absence from there time has left me looking gray
And to many in the place i call home i'd be a stranger today

A stranger in the countryside by Clara Hill
Where in fancy i can hear the silver tongued rill
On it's way to the river by ditch and hedgerow
In a constant babble it ever does flow

Absence makes the heart grow fonder some are known to say
With me anyhow it does seem this way
But my home is here now and here i will stay
From Millstreet in Duhallow many miles away.

Good Karma They Warrant

To me it does seem quite a fair thing to say
That kind and compassionate people are born this way
Though some with such thinking may well disagree
At least anyhow that's how it seems to me
Yes some they are born with the bright inner glow
And such people surely a pleasure to know
The people who do their good deeds every day
Who to help those in need of helping go out of their way
The kindest and the most compassionate people in the town
Yet they are even strangers to local renown
For their future good Karma they plant the good seed
By helping those of help who are most in need
To their higher selves they remain ever true
And the good Karma they warrant will become their due.

The Great Equalizer

Love, kindness and compassion these are the big three
As they lead to the rare one known as empathy
Those who possess such gifts a scarce breed indeed
And of many more of their sort the Human World is in need
Many observe Moses unwritten commandment of your own self take care
With some it is take and take more but never give or share
Yet in the Human World for every new millionaire more in dire poverty
How unfair the distribution of wealth in the Human World seems to be
In a World where millions of people grow poorer by the day
And millions are working for bare existence pay
But the Reaper of lives is the fairest of all
Before the sweep of his side the rich and poor do fall
So here's to the Reaper the one many does fear
The great equalizer that's how it does appear.

You May Be Found To Be Wanting

You may be found to be wanting when put to the test
But why worry about it you did try your best
To the race for the top spot by one better than you beat
But what matter most you were gracious in defeat
The praises of the winner the majority sing
But you went down with honour and that is a great thing
You did not make excuses the winner of credit you do not deny
You did lose with grace and to win you did try
By admitting you were not good enough on the day
You accepted defeat in an honorable way
By your good attitude in defeat honour you do gain
You proved yourself to be noble and not in any way vain
One of a rare breed who can lose with grace
You looked like a winner with a smile on your face.

In Late February

The first of the calendar Autumn just a week away
On what is a nice and sunny Summer's day
The nearby paddock scenting sweetly of newly mown hay
And the pee wee does sing in the park by the bay
At the end of Summer and Autumn quite near
Late February can be a pleasant time of year
In a voice that's familiar to many and familiar to me
The magpie is fluting on a sunlit gum tree
Sheltering from the sun and the freshening breeze
A fat old lone black angus bull in the cool shade of the trees
Sits chewing his cud at ease and carefree
How calm and contented he does seem to be
High above the parkland the dark swallows fly
And white butterflies seemingly dance in the sky.

On Youth And Age

Age can bring with it wisdom as some like to say
Though the future  belongs to the young it does seem this way
The old bloke on his head has gray hairs to show
And the passing of time has left him walking slow

Eventualy time becomes everyone's foe
Lucinda the town beauty of two decades ago
A middle aged mum looking plump and 'tis obviously she
Is no longer the beauty that she used to be

The  future as is said belongs to the young
It is mostly of young love that pop songs are sung
In the twenty first century ageism is rife
To be ageing is not an advantage in life

The ageing in their young years did dance rock n roll
But time on them is taking physical toll
To good memories of what was they fondly do cling
Whilst the young go to parties to dance, drink, laugh and sing.

Dan O' Donoghue

In Ireland Jack Mullan was known as Mr Coursing when i was a young man
On looking back the Seasons in time that a lengthy span
But to a man from Millstreet Town such a title now does belong
When it comes to coursing dogs and coursing Dan O' Donoghue never wrong

Three times Irish Coursing tipster of the year quite an amazing feat
When it comes to coursing dogs and their breeding as a judge the one to beat
He is now Ireland's Mr Coursing something worthy of a boast
To the genial chap of Lackabawn we ought to drink a toast

A larger than life character is the amazing Dan
When he was younger years ago he was a mighty man
But sad to say physically not the man he used to be
Life can be cruel in many ways that is how it seems to me

But as an expert on coursing and on coursing dogs he has come into his own
And in Irish coursing circles he is one who is famous and well known
Far beyond the borders of Duhallow his native countryside
Through the length and breatdth of Ireland he is famous far and wide

It is an honour to know such a man who has brought honour to Millstreet Town
As an expert on coursing and coursing dogs he has earned his own renown
As a young man a manhole builder now he knows of a greater fame
In Irish coursing circles his is a renowned name.

The Young Schoolboy Next Door

The young schoolboy next door his dreams are not small
He visualizes himself as a great of A F L Football
In the famed black and white of Collingwood the hero of Grand Final Day
Echoing in his ears for him the magpie fans loud hooray
The A F L footballer who inspires song, story and rhyme
A legendary sportsman the best of his time
A role model for young footy barrackers the player they most admire
Of singing his praises the Collingwood fans never tire
The best under fourteen player with the local juvenile club
His dad is so proud of him and at the local pub
He tells his mates of how great a player his son will be
With his views on the matter his mates with him do agree
Yet when he is not with them of his son they do say
That from a to be great player he does seem far away
That the best underage player in a small rural town
Does seem quite a long way from football renown.

He Has Convinced Himself

He has convinced himself he is a major poet
One who is quite worthy of literary note
Though locally known still unheard of elsewhere
Now he has to convince those of the bigger World out there
That as a poet he is up there with the best
One who has passed in flying colours his poetic test
A confident fellow he is what he does seem
Not one who is lacking in low self esteem
At the community rooms on poets night the applause for him loud
Of their local poet laureate his fans are quite proud
The most celebrated literary figure of the town
Is well on his way to far greater renown
At least that is how he does feel anyway
That he lacks in self confidence of him one cannot say.

A Sixty Five Year Old Rhymer

A sixty five year old rhymer my best days long gone
But the urge to rhyme in me i will keep on rhyming on
Till the Reaper of lives claims the life's breath from me
Sometime in the near future whenever that will be
Some do advise me for to  give rhyming away
But any heed to their advice i never does pay
The best of advice the addictive never heed
And in the addictive rhymer to rhyme there is the need
The urge to rhyme in me i cannot deny
And like rabbits my rhymes do seem to multiply
Every waking day more rhymes i do write
And then email them off to an internet site
Some men do grow older but they never grow wise
I must be of that sort i've come to realize.

Gone But Not Forgotten

With a beautiful smile on her beautiful face
The town without her seems a much duller place
The young woman who makes a new friend every day
Spreads her gift of joy in a town far away
Compassionate and charming and free of conceit
As beautiful a person as one could wish to meet
Gone but not forgotten fond memories of her with us remain
What is a huge loss to our town is another town's gain
Dark wavy shoulder length hair and brown eyes and skin chocolate brown
Her leaving has been a sad loss to the town
The lust of the wander has lured her to elsewhere
She is making new friends in the big World out there
One who is untainted by conceit or guile
She has beauty and charm and a wonderful smile.

What Is life All about At All

What is life all about at all why otherwise pretend
Since it is just a journey that does have an end
Like all other life forms us humans are born to die
I only say what is fact and fact never lie

Just born to life to work and to breed
When the life from many has gone they are survived by their seed
In the offspring they create their egos live on
That part of them lives though the life from them gone

What is life about at all one must wonder why
Like the rabbits do we breed and multiply
The human population increasing by the day
Like rabbits we live to breed it does seem this way

Since our human population is out of control
On the Planet we do live off of we are taking toll
We pollute the air, land, waterways and the sea
What is life about at all why bother to ask me?

What To Him Is Homeground

He had been in distant Countries from his first homeplace far away
One who had witnessed many a sunrise and sunset distant from where he had first seen light of day
But that nostalgia does linger surely not a lie
He returned to the homeplace to grow old and die
Today in the town-park where he played as a child his ashes were spread
Whilst a school mate the eulogy on his life read
Though many women had come to and gone from his life
He did not have children or did not have a wife
One in his lifetime who had been to many a town and city seen many a Country and countryside
One who had seen so much and traveled far and wide
One who had been to London and Paris and Delhi and Rome
But all of his roadways did lead him to home
To die and be cremated and his ashes spread around
With Nature in peace on what to him is homeground

I Do Love This Land Australia

Though i was born and raised by distant mountains from where i now live far away
I do love this Land Australia more than words can ever say
The home of kookaburra, wombat, wallaby and roo
Of lyrebird, lories and rosellas and many species of cockatoo
Of aussie magpie, butcherbird and pee wee and pied and gray currawong
Each in their own way distinctive even by their call or song
Koala, platypus and echidna, pardalotes and megapodes
Each have their own favourite places where they set up their abodes
Marsupials of all shapes and sizes from the mighty to the small
From the tiny honey possum to the red roo near three metres tall
In the land of the oldest race of people with strong links to the Dreamtime
Source of many a song and story and that has inspired the bards to rhyme
Home of dingo, quoll, numbat and tassie devil, pittosporum, gum and wattle tree
In a great and ancient Country where the black tribes once ranged free.

Margaret

On our life's journey for us many a dawn
When Margaret left Claraghatlea for Tooreenbawn
To marry Michael Casey a good man
Her new life close to Mushera she began

In Tooreenbawn four miles from Millstreet Town
Within view of Mushera  in his cloak of brown
She raised four children got on with her life
In her new challenge of mother and wife

In her younger years quite lovely to behold
She did not live for to grow very old
A crippling stroke from her took most of her quality of life away
And at sixty nine she lived her last night and day

She may have lived and died as one unsung
But when mum was ill she took care of us when we were young
The job of mother on her young shoulders fell
Of an easy life poor Margaret could not tell

Our best of memories can move us to tears
When I think of Margaret and the bygone years
I do feel sad of that why should i lie
Though the happiest memories in us till we die

In Millstreet now not much for one like me
So many there i knew i would not see
Good memories of them are all that remain
Though the mental pictures of them i retain

In the old Millstreet Town cemetery at peace now Margaret lay
From the homes she loved not very far away
From Claraghatlea where she looked on her first dawn
And from her marriage home in higher Tooreenbawn.

Duhallow In Mid February

The cold wind of February from the mountains do blow
In the fields of Duhallow where the Blackwater flow
In the home of jackdaw and rook and the silver back crow
The hungry cattle in farm-shed for fodder bellow
Though with every passing day Spring weather drawing near
Mid February in Duhallow is a cold and wet time of year
The river Blackwater in flood waters of brown
Is flowing with a loud babble on towards Mallow Town
The migratory redwing thrushes chirping on the bare hedgerow
Their northern woodlands are now covered in snow
To their homes in Northern Scotland and further north for their breeding stay
In a month from now will be on their way
The old fields at morning with frost hoary gray
In Duhallow in mid February on a cold and windy day.

I Hope To Go On Rhyming

My rhymes not considered to be poetry and i'm not much use at writing prose
We all cannot be above average as one would have to suppose
But we all do need a hobby and for as long as i do live
I hope to be penning verses as rhyming joy to me does give
Anyone can be a rhymer 'tis as easy as can be
I've been stringing rhymes together since late nineteen seventy three
For to continue on rhyming it does take a rhyming buff
In close to forty years of writing i have penned a lot of stuff
To those who see me as addictive i must say they are not wrong
To the growing band of addictive rhymers i am one who does belong
I have never found it that hard to find things to write about
Though my worth as a rhymer i have reason to doubt
And i hope to go on rhyming until the day i die
If i told you any different i would be telling you a lie.

Does It Matter Anyway

A friend of mine did tell me of what a sort of former friend was saying of me
One who by his own admission is now my sworn enemy
What he said of me is quite untruthful but does it matter anyway
Since to karma for his nastiness the price will be his to pay
Karma does reward and punish i have come to realize
And the price of karma will be huge to pay to one for treacherous lies
What goes around does come around as some are known to say
Your words will come back to haunt you when with dangerous words you play
That he told untruths about me comes to me as no surprise
Since i had grown to mistrust him to his kind one becomes wise
But i am not out for revenge since karma of him will take care
What we do to others to our own selves we do i have become aware
With his lies he may have harmed me but that too is okay
Since he has sown the seeds of his bad karma by the words that he did say.