It Has Been Awhile Now

It has been awhile now since i heard the robin sing
On a morn full of bloom in the prime of the Spring
When pink blossoms were on the crab apple tree
The beauty in mental images one does see

It has been awhile now going back many a year
Since the song of the dipper in the river i did hear
A water dwelling bird i often did hear and see
He was one who was quite familiar to me

It has been awhile since i've heard cock pheasant crow
In the field by the bog where the rank rushes grow
And i fancy i hear on an evening in May
The flute of the curlew in a place from here far away

It has been awhile since i heard the silver tongued rill
Babbling to the river down the field by the hill
The past may be gone but the good memories of it remain
And in fancy i walk in the old fields again

Time does not wait for anyone as some like to say
And i now show my years in wrinkles and gray
And it has been awhile now since i last heard a cow
Lowing in a lush field by the River Finnow.

What It Is To Be Human

Suppose it is what it is to be human's about
That the most confident of people have their moments of self doubt
Despite their outer show of self confidence all we see not what it seem
They do have their fleeting moments when they lack in self esteem
You may say they seem quite cocky though them you do not know
Their public display of self confidence may just be outer show
Some people are too proud any weakness to display
But pride always comes before a fall as some do like to say
We are not what to others we do appear
The most confident of people failure do fear
Success that wins the admiration of others big egos create
But a big ego it is not hard to deflate
That the most confident of people have their moments of self doubt
Is only what it is to be human's about

A Joy For To Meet

The happy person is quite popular his or her friends in numbers do grow
Whilst the sad one leads the life of a loner one that few wish for to know
Why people are attracted to happy people to undestand not a hard thing
Since happiness does seem infectious of the praises of gloom who could sing
On Liebig Street i met a fellow with a happy smile on his face
And everyone on the street did seem to know him the happiest man in the place
People like him are always popular the gift of joy they seem to sow
I envy them what i do not have and that is their rare inner glow
A happy young man in his twenties his type are a joy for to meet
And understandable why everyone liked him since he spread joy around Liebig Street
The happy person is quite popular one who never seems short of a friend
And that happiness can be infectious should not be hard to comprehend
He carried his gift of happiness with him and spread it around Liebig Street
Such people are always quite popular since they are a joy for to meet.

Memories Of Knocknagree Fair

A place in my lifetime i may never more see
The Village on the hill known as Knocknagree
I used to go there on Fair days long ago
In time going far back half a century or so
Fair day in Knocknagree now a thing of the past
Few things it does seem ever does seem to last
And only the memories with me now remain
Of what once was but will not be again
When memories of the past return to me
I think again of the Rose of Knocknagree
A young woman of striking beauty with dark shoulder length hair
I often did see her at Knocknagree Fair
Her eyes were as blue as the November sloe
And i was a boy then and that was long ago.

The Mother

Though bad things to others it's been proven they've done
The mother stands up for her daughter or son
She will tell you my child not guilty of such a crime
And should not be locked up in prison serving time
When her child is one who is without a friend
The mother his or her honor will defend
Though to the police her family may be known
The good mother her children will never disown
That her chilkdren are criminals the mother will deny
When they are otherwise friendless them she does stand by
Faithful to her own for as long as she does live
Support to her family the mother does give
She will tell you her child the justice system did fail
And because of that he or she languish in jail.

Control By Fear

Of despotic leaders we so often hear
And the respect they receive is the respect of fear
The fear of imprisonment and torture if one against them speaks out
Where one must suffer oppressive regimes by keeping shut mouth
Where many for speaking out with their lives do pay
Far too many despotic led governments in the Human World of today
Control by fear can be a soul destroying thing
The praises of their despotic leader out of fear people sing
To insure their survival they must behave in this way
Any unkind words in public of their despotic leader they feel too scared to say
To live in fear of speaking your truth is not good for the soul
Fear is the greatest weapon of all of people control
Far too many despotic leaders in the Human World of today
Who do use their power in the most abusive way.

Koroit

A Town where many claim Irish ancestry
Koroit in Victoria is now home to me
A mile from Tower Hill of indigenous history
And less than five miles from the Pacific Sea
Compared to Australia's big cities a small town not widely known
Koroit in Victoria has a charm of it's own
Most local Koroitians have a sense of place
Though their ancestry to Ireland many of them can trace
One can say of Koroit 'tis a livable Town
A nice place to live in and to settle down
Even a stranger in Koroit a welcome does find
The most of it's people are decent and kind
Koroit in Victoria is where i live today
And any negative thing of it i do not have for to say.

Based On A Lie

Immortality for human kind based on a lie
For us no such a thing we are born to die
Our average life span in years a decade with three score
Only Nature herself does live forever more

You may even become a moneyed billionaire
But the Reaper of lives the life's breath in you will not spare
From the moment we are born to our last living day
The clock on our lives does keep ticking away

Between those we see as failures and those we see as great
The Reaper of lives does not differentiate
You may not like the Reaper but would you not agree
That the life of the pauper and billionaire he treats equally.

I have lived sixty five Summers more than three decades past my prime
And i feel that i am running out of time
And since for all living things there's a last night and day
The end for me cannot be too far away.

Only In Memory Now

The last time i climbed to the cross on Clara's summit
On a November day twenty five years ago
The weather dry but the mountain air was chilly
Since the clock has ticked on and time has become my foe

The countryside of Sliabh Luachra and Duhallow green and lovely
By Caherbarnagh and the Paps of Shrone
And Kippagh and Gortavehy as ever standing silent
Above the old fields in it's face of stone

Only in memory now i climb to the cross on Clara
And view the beauty in reality that i had often seen
But memories live though memories not the real thing
And in the mind they remain evergreen

Perhaps i'll never again climb on Clara
And gaze and gaze on the amazing view
The scenery from the old hill quite amazing
A beauty witnessed by more than a few

I often climbed up to the cross on Clara
A long way north of this far southern shore
And gazed upon the beauty all around me
Above the high green fields of Claramore.

It Is Difference

if you insist you are right in your opinions then you must believe you cannot be wrong
But then to new ideas you cannot be open since to the arrogant you do belong
You believe that those not with you must be against you if with in all you say they do not agree
You do not allow for difference in thinking that is how you do seem to me
Sadly there are so many like you who only see life in one way
Who does not see one as a good person if to their god he or she does not pray
If everybody were quite like you and to you did not think differently
The Human World would lack in discussion and how very boring that would be
One quickly tire of dogmatic people who stick to their own point of view
In their thinking they never vary from them never anything new
They stick by the same political party they spend their lives resisting change
They treat those different with suspicion and look upon them as quite strange
It is difference that makes us interesting how boring indeed we would be
If we all did think in the same way and on everything we did agree.

It Can Happen To anyone

Since money does not make one immune to the black moods of despair
It can happen to anyone the pauper  or billionaire
The light of Happiness it's way cannot find
Through the heavy clouds of the darkened mind
So many people with heaps of assets and money have died
At their own hands in the act of suicide
They did not leave it to the Reaper of lives to set their time date
For them their black moods of despair did become too great
Sometimes our crosses in life can be heavy to bear
The happy at all of the time people do seem quite rare
The World is a sad place for those mentally down
Who wants to be known as the sad sack of the town?
Money from the black moods of despair none ever does save
Many wealthy people have chosen their own early grave.

Joanne O' Riordan

What a story of this girl from Duhallow's Millstreet Town
Her name is Joanne O' Riordan hard to keep a good one down
The first Duhallow person the United Nations to address
Of her awesome achievement can one find words to express

Born with Total Amelia Syndrome of her kind in the World just a few
When i say she is amazing i am not saying what is new
Such a beautiful young person so intelligent and bright
In the North Cork Town of Millstreet she is inspiration's light

A young woman in a billion her gift of life she does embrace
Far beyond Duhallow's borders her's is now a famous face
She has proved that those with the will to succeed of success cannot be denied
Because of her the Town of Millstreet is becoming known Worldwide

Here is one who has been born with courage, faith and hope
Despite all that life throws at her she seems well able to cope
With the crosses that she has in life which she so bravely does bear
The Joanne O' Riordans of the World to say the least are rare

Life for Joanne has not been easy born without hands or feet
She is a credit to her family and the Parish of Millstreet
The autobiography of her life millions of copies will sell
For she is an amazing lady with a great story to tell.

A Successful Man

You may not be every parents idea of a successful son
But if in your life you never harm anyone
And to help those in need of helping go out of your way
And perform a good deed or two every day
The town of more people like you is in need
For you are a very good person indeed
Up the so called success ladder you may not have climbed far
And you may not drive around in an expensive car
But to your aged neighbour you are helpful and kind
She says people like you not easy to find
The unsung hero of your side of the town
In your words you never put anyone down
To live a good life you do the best you can
Which is the true sign of a successful man.

Humans Never Learn

More stories of death and horrific injuries from war zones we hear of every day
Humans never learn from history it does seem this way
Even for so called war winners the price of their victory in lives lost huge to pay
That the warring kind not open to learning  as some like to say
This thing called a just war is based on a lie
Ageing men start wars for the young to fight in and die
The war winners write the war history and that's how 'twill always be
Though they too are guilty of crimes against humanity
By the most of their Nation's people the praises of war winning leaders in public are sung
Whilst many of the war losing leaders are either shot or hung
But the dead soldiers of the winning side will not be at the war victory parade
And they will not hear the bugle when the last post is played
And though the war it is over and victory is won
The mother left to grieve for her dead soldier son.

On William Henry Davies

When William Henry Davies had part of his leg amputated after jumping off of a train
He got on with life one who did not complain
The cruel luck that was his lot when in his life's prime
Did not prevent him from becoming a literary legend of his time

With one good and partly wooden leg he had to live his life
But this did not prevent him of getting a wife
He lived on to become a literary figure of note
Lionized in his time as a World renowned poet

Of the beauty around him one fully aware
He wrote of the beautiful minds free of care
He wrote of the beauty in Nature he see
The mind that is happy is poverty free

True greatness of the man cannot be denied
The ex tramp who did become known Worldwide
More than seven decades deceased but his poems read and enjoyed by many today
A literary legend of him one can say.

What We See In Others

You can make the World to live in a beautiful place
And you can see beauty in what to most is an ugly face
What we see in others is what we wish to see
At least anyhow that's how it seems to me
We all look at things one might say differently
This is how it is and it always will be
Show others a rose some will say 'tis a weed
We are all very different quite different indeed
If negative feelings are clouding your mind
What you look for in others you are bound to find
You cannot be wrong if you think you are right
But when we speak ill of others our own flaws we highlight
I have never been one of the enlightened few
But to that one might add tell us something that's new.

Nature Controls Us

All of the grass in the paddocks by rabbits eaten bare
There is scarcely enough here for to sustain a hare
The countryside looking so bare, brown and dry
And not one rain cloud in the blue and sunny sky

The farmer obliged to buy hay for his sheep
And with a wife and two young children and a home to upkeep
And lamb prices falling and hay to buy dear
For him it has been an unprofitable year

For the rabbits he has laid the 1080 bait
But without success for him to celebrate
The rabbits in numbers seem to multiply
That the bait is not working he does wonder why?

By the weather and locusts and rabbits and mice plagues rural livelihoods under attack
After good rainfall in Spring and Summer El Nino is back
Sucking any moisture from the bare ground dry
That Nature controls us none ought to deny

Yes Nature controls us it does seem this way
El Nino is back but hopefully for a brief stay
And add to that damage to crops by rabbits, locusts and mice
For all of this the farmer has to pay the big price.

I Will Love You Truly

I will love you truly till the day i will die
Since you are my soul mate how lucky am i
To have met one like you so beautiful, compassionate and kind
Since people like you are in life as a friend hard to find
You are more than a friend you are more than a wife
When i met you i met my soul mate for life
When i felt the loneliest man in the town
You were my one friend when i was mentally down
So many to my life have come and have gone
But our friendship seems for to go on and on
In meeting you lady luck for me did something great
Not many can say they have met their soul mate
You are one with so much love in you to give
And i will love you for as long as i live

Memories Of April

I see them in flights of fancy the dappled wild born trout
In pool bed of the river go darting in and out
Of the safety of the water reeds the moment they do spy
Dark shadows on the water of humans passing by
An image from my young years of places far away
That perhaps will be with me until my dying day
An image to re-visit in nostalgic moods again
The past may be gone forever but memories of it we retain
When wildflowers are in the old fields and the nesting wild birds sing
And cattle out of wintering sheds on lush grass in April in the Spring
Even when it is raining no coldness in the breeze
And new green cloaks of deciduous leaves are on the deciduous trees
And pink blooms on the crab apple tree are beautiful to see
When memories of April in mental images come to me.

If You Cannot Help One

If you cannot help one do not put him or her down
They too like you have to live in the town
Those who seek advantage from others financial pain
Must answer to Karma for their ill gotten gain
Those who take and take but never do give
Have chosen the most selfish of ways for to live
But those who are generous at giving in Karma good things receive
On such a philosophy i too believe
Those with compassion for the have nots feel genuine sympathy
Their's is a rare gift the gift of empathy
But those who live for self only their World is so small
They scoff at the thought of a fair go for all
What goes around comes around as some like to say
And Karma it does seem does work in this way.

Coincidence

Words are designed as some does say for of things to make sense
We will take for example one easy to spell word known as coincidence
If your female cat and your neighbour's female cat give birth to kittens on the same day
Coincidence the proper word for this as the language experts say
This is not a miracle but coincidence just that and nothing more
Just something that would have happened in other neighbourhoods before
Such things are never miracles since they happen every day
A coincidence not even an unusual occurence as it does seem this way
A coincidence is not unusual as most would be aware
Though some see it as very special and something rare
There is a word for to describe everything or so 'twould seem to be
What may seem extraordinary to some may not be so to you or me
For you and your neighbour's cat giving birth on the same day the word is coincidence
There is a word for everything to out of everything make sense.

On The Outback Highway

On the outback highway miles from anywhere
The nearest big town three hours driving to get to there
On either side of the highway big paddocks flat, brown and bare
In the seemingly deserted outback even gum trees are rare
This is a big Country i have come to realize
That is sparsely populated for it's great size
In Australia a long drive between most big towns in a car
To get to Interstate places one has to travel far
Miles and miles of brown paddocks is all one can see
From the outback highway miles inland from the sea
People who live in the outback their nearest neighbour may live ten miles away
In the most sparsely populated Country in the World of today
On the outback highway miles from anywhere
It is a dry and bare country the big country out there.

If I Could Live Forever

If i could live forever i would write rhymes every day
Of people and of Nature and places near and far away
I would leave it to the poets to write their poetry i would keep writing in rhyme
But i know i will not live forever i'm already running out of time
In the Fall of my existence time is running out for me
I feel grateful now for every day that i do wake to see
For close to four decades of years i have been a rhyming buff
And i am one of those people who has penned reams of stuff
I have been advised by some people to give my hobby away
And though i hear i do not heed when such words to me they do say
Since i am one who loves making rhymes with words i love to play
I hope to keep on rhyming till my last night and day
I've not lost my desire for to write rhymes though my best days long gone
As for as long as i can do i will keep on rhymimg on.

The Men Who Built The Stone Walls

The men who built the stone walls at peace forever lay
They came to the South Country from places far away
Their walls of stone a testament to their stone buildings skills across the stony countryside
Men who worked hard for little pay who in their work took pride
The men who built the stone walls at rest forever more
Far from the fields of their young years by the far northern shore
The descendants of ancestors men who built with stone and clay
The walls they built have stood the test of time as can be witnessed today
The grandchildren are ageing time becomes everyone's foe
Of the men who built the stone walls more than a century ago
Their descendants are not stone masons the stone building skill has all but died
A stone mason you may not meet though you travel far and wide
For the men who built the stone walls there was never a parade
Though they were marvellous workmen and so skilled at their trade.

In South Australia

In South Australia 'tis warm for most of the year
Though even to the sub tropics not anywhere near
A temperate climate it has we are told
Though there it never does get near to cold
Out bush in South Australia it is warm and dry
Where for weeks on end the sun burns in the sky
From sun and wind the paddocks looking brown and bare
With scarce enough of grass on them for to feed a hare
A flat and dry countryside far more brown than green
Where few trees and animals are to be seen
On all roads out of Adelaide many miles to the nearest town
Through flat open country bare looking and brown
Where in Summer the weather temperatures often reach forty degrees
With warmth in the sunshine and warmth in the breeze.

He Is Tired

He is tired of the boredom of his humdrum life
And tired of being nagged at by his ageing wife
Always trying to goad him into a verbal fight
Whatever he does with her does not seem right

Tired of working hard for below average pay
Kind things of his boss he does not have to say
Five days a week he wakes before daybreak
And cycles to his workplace when few are awake

Yet people in their ways are so very strange
He lacks in the courage to bring about change
Prefer to moan to himself that the good days are gone
Living with as he now does he will go on

Tired of living in the same old way
And tired of the people he meet every day
Than instigate changes to himself he'd rather complain
So tired of life till he dies he'll remain.

What Is A Good Person

What is a good person you are asking me
A good person be it a she or a he
Does not differentiate between black, white and brown
And be willing to help out the one who is financially down
A good person may not be the toast of the town
Or never be seen as worthy of renown
But in them they have compassion and empathy
And for others have been known to feel sympathy
A good person may never be a millionaire
But for the suffering of others genuinely care
The way you treat others says more about you
That money or the status it brings with it can do
That is my idea of a good person since of such you asked me
And with my idea on the matter would you not agree?

A Pleasant Day In April

Everytime i look out my window i see her creations there
The beauty created by Mother Nature is around us everywhere
The sun is shining in the blue sky on a pleasant day with a slight breeze
For Autumn such very nice weather of temperatures around twenty degrees
The birds who do sing in all Seasons sometimes even before daybreak
The silver bill magpies are piping their voices one could not mistake
Not unlike a pleasant day in Summer the buzzings of flies and of bees
And lorikeets and honeyeaters gathering nectar chirping on the flowering gum trees
This is the sort of day and weather that would inspire a poet to write
A poem on the beuty of Nature  for others to read and enjoy and recite
A beautiful April day in mid Autumn the magpie lark sings out pee wee
And how can i not but feel happy since beauty is all around me
A beautiful day in mid Autumn and a lovely memory to retain
One for to live on in the memory and re-visit again and again.

Mohammed From Kabul

A long way from here to his old home in Kabul in Afghanistan
Mohammed till the day he die will be a homesick man
He arrived in this Southern Land as a boat refugee
Perhaps Kabul his Hometown he is never more to see
He spent two years in Woomera Detention Centre surrounded by razor wire
Yet for that he does not seem bitter in him so much to admire
He lost his wife and two young children in the Afghanistan war Kabul he had to flee
For one who has known a tough life look no further than he
He works as a diesel mechanic one well skilled at his trade
A great success out of his life Mohammed he has made
In his mid to late forties one well beyond his prime
A man of his great stature inspired in me this rhyme
A long way from Warrnambool to Kabul for Mohammed from Afghanistan
And perhaps till the day he dies he will be a homesick man.

Denis Murphy

Though in Newmarket he did live some of his life span
In Millstreet he was born and raised and grew into a man
A quiet sort of a fellow with few words to say
Though about him he did have a very nice way
As human life goes he was not that old
In one's life span no guarantees as has often been told
Near the Town of Millstreet where he first saw light of day
By Cashman's Hill in St Mary's his last remains lay
One can only hope his parting from life was a painless release
A good person as he was deserves to die in peace
The moments of our lives do tick on and on
And before we realize it our best days are gone
To live as a good person was his just claim to renown
Denis Murphy is now at rest by Millstreet Town.

Street Pigeons

Street pigeons are descended from rock doves  they perch and roost and preen on roofs and ledges of the big buildings of the town
It is in their d n a for them to live in the way they do from their ancestors in their genes to them passed on down
By sight or sound they are quite recognizable a deep sort of throaty guttural sound they make
In towns and cities where they do live known to many from other birds them one should not mistake
Like rock doves mostly greenish blue to gray though they can be of many colors from interbreeding it does seem this way
In  parks and malls on the ground for food searching urban people do see them every day
Some people complain with their nesting twigs and droppings that they deface their buildings but street pigeons have far more friends than foes
Some even do feed them their food left-overs in life you win some and you lose some one suppose
Like all things of life  street pigeons remain close to their nature they are birds not born for to perch on trees
All things in Nature do live in their own way they do vary to varying degrees
The ways of Nature truly are amazing her wonders many and her secrets are not few
And every day we marvel at her wonders and of her ways we learn something new
We can even learn from the lives of street pigeons if they could speak such stories they could tell
Of how they love to live on urban buildings and feel at home where noisy people dwell.

An April Day

A blue April Autumn sky without a cloud of gray
The sun shining bright in the park by the bay
The silver bill magpie flutes on a gum tree
And how lovely to hear the song of the pee wee
The dark welcome swallows are high in the sky
Chasing flying insects they chirp as they fly
In the children's playground children laugh at their play
So good to be living on such a nice day
On bushes and trees the wild birds chirp and sing
Save for deciduos leaves looking brown one would swear it was Spring
The sights and sounds of Nature so pleasant for to see and hear
And the weather so pleasant for the time of year
In the distance the rumbling sounds of the sea
And the beauty of Nature is all around me.

Old Port Adelaide

Where football heroes are feted and football legends are made
In far South Australia in Port Adelaide
An old Town that has an old World history
With so many historical buildings to see
For one interested in archictecture some grand old buildings to view
One of the rare Towns where the old structures easily outnumber the new
A place that has not changed much in the passage of time
And a place that has inspired song, story and rhyme
A home to many Australians of indigenous race
Port Adelaide to them will always be home place
An old Town where people of many Nations reside
The local Port people in their Town take great pride
Where A F L football legends are celebrated and made
 A Town well worth a visit is old Port Adelaide.

All Things Can Be Relative

Some who to pass judgement seem readily inclined
Will tell you a loud voice tells of a vacant mind
But on such a matter it does seem more wise
That one not be hasty to generalize
I know of some with loud voices more than one or two
Who seemed to be blessed with a high I Q
What applies to some does not apply to all
Words from a wise person that i do recall
The one with a loud laugh you often will find
Is one who is never unhappy in his or her mind
Not all quietly spoken are knowledgeable and would you not agree
That the one who seems clever to you may not seem so to me
And a boastful person may not have such seemingly high self esteem
As all things can be relative or so it does seem.

Old Rosie

Old Rosie she has seen far better Seasons of wrinkled face and hair of silver gray
You ask her how she feels and she will tell you i cannot complain life's treating me okay
Things could be worse there are many far worse off than me one ought to make the most of every day
As is often said time does not wait for anyone and with every dawn my end not far away
Old rosie has never known of an easy lifestyle she has outlived her husband and their only offspring a son
He died of leuchaemia as a young man a month shy of his birthday twenty one
In her one bedroom flat she does live on her own and if she feels lonely such she does not show
With a smiling face she always seems so happy she is one of those who has the inner glow
I often see her in The Blue Wing Cafe enjoying a buttered scone and cup of tea
She seems to me the picture of contentment one never tired of her own company
Old Rosie she is in her early eighties one who is ageing in a graceful way
One who will tell you life is how you make it complaining never wins you friends she say
Here is a woman who is worth admiring she bears her life's crosses with dignity
I hope like her that i am well and happy if i do reach the age of eighty three.

Our Past Follows Us

It has followed you like it has followed me
Wherever we go to  our past follows us would you not agree
It even lives in us in our memory
And will be with us till death whenever that be
You may think that you have left your past behind
Only to find it does live in your mind
It has followed you from the far away town
To where you did live when your hair was dark brown
Though in reality from you they live far away
The people you knew there you see every day
The mental images of them in your mind remain
And in your flights of fancy you see them again
In reality the past to the forever gone
But in our mental images it does live on.

The Old Murray River

Near the sea in South Australia the Murray River flows brown
Through the old and dry countryside by Tailem Bend Town
A river that has flowed for centuries before the dinosaur time
And has been the inspiration of story and rhyme

On Summer days many centuries ago in the shade of the trees
The black tribes had their festivals and danced their corroborees
From the old and dry country the tribes have long gone
But the ageless old Murray forever flows on

On it's winding way to the Pacific shore
It has flowed forever and will forever more
The Seasons to our lives do come and do go
And we quickly do age and time becomes our foe

But the ancient brown Murray forever will flow
On it's way to the ocean crawling deep and slow
Through bare and dry paddocks the color of hay
To the mighty Pacific by night and by day.

There Is A Big Difference

There is a big difference between music and noise
And there is a big difference between girls and boys
And there is a big difference between horses and sheep
And the difference is great beween shallow and deep
Though in some ways it does seem they inter-relate
Between joy and sadness the difference can be great
And there is a big difference between the elderly and those in their life's prime
A half of a century and that is a long time
There is a big difference between people in every way
Though this is what makes us more interesting as some like to say
Suppose if we all thought in the same way how boring we'd be
There would not be any difference between you and me
So of the praises of difference feel happy to sing
For it is indeed quite a marvellous thing.

Lost In Translation

Though they spoke in a different language to me
I could tell that verbally on something that they did not agree
As they shouted at each other on the walk-way
I can say they did not bring joy to my day
That this middle aged  man and woman were familiar with each other i have little doubt
Though i would like to know what they were arguing about
If i did know more of it to you more i could tell
Only know that between them all did not seem well
In their mid to late fifties to me they did appear
But by age they had not mellowed seemed obviously clear
It is true everybody does not mellow with age
And every ageing person of course not a sage
What they were arguing about i did not have a clue
As i was lost in translation has that happened to you?

I Thought I Had Worries

I thought i had worries till to my surprise
That my cares are far smaller than i do realize
So many have far bigger problems than me
All things can be relative would you not agree
To say i am wealthy would be telling a lie
But compared to many so lucky am i
So many are homeless and hungry and sleeping rough
Compared to them life for me easy enough
So many grow poorer for every new millionaire
The have nots of the World are no longer rare
Poverty as such does come in varying degrees
In the refugee camps of the World millions of refugees
I have enough to eat and a bed to sleep in tonight
Compared to many people i am doing all right.

The Rose Of Semaphore

Her shoulder length wavy hair as dark as the wing of a crow
And her eyes as dark blue as the ripe Autumn sloe
Near the prime of her life a year with a score
The beautiful smiling Rose of Semaphore

She smiles at everyone that she meets on her way
As she jogs on the beach at the twilight of day
Without any sign of fatigue on her beautiful face
Like a gazelle she moves at a leisurely pace

A beautiful young woman free of conceit
Her sort of person is always nice to meet
Of her splendid beauty she does not seem aware
One with her sort of humility nowadays seem rare

The Rose of her beautiful South Australian Town
She jogs on the beach as the sun is going down
Like the graceful gazelle she is light on her feet
She strides out without effort like a natural athlete.

The Rhymers

Eventually we all do run out of time
But for as long as the rhymer lives he or she never runs out of rhyme
For the rhymer to rhyme to do is an easy thing
In their rhymes to the World the rhymers love to sing
The rhymers do write more new rhymes every day
To write in rhyme to them natural since this is their way
Most rhymers write for the love of it little else more
I am sure this is something you would have heard said before
The rhymers to rhyme words remain ever true
Since Jack rhymes with Mac and Pru rhymes with Sue
And though in the twenty first century they are seen as out of date
The rhymers in rhyme always find something for to celebrate
The plaudits all go to the modern poet
And the rhymer is not seen as one worthy of note.

I Always Have Loved Mother Nature

I always have loved our Earth Mother since i was a young school going boy
Of her i have such marvellous memories that i do remember with joy
I retain mental images of first seeing and hearing a skylark a musical speck in the sky
And even when lost to my view i could hear him as into low clouds he did fly,
The bird who does live in the river every day and every night of the year
The scratchy song of the white breasted dipper in fancy i often does hear
The tiny brown wren of the hedgerow the bird who has the big bird song
One of Nature's many unmistakeables once heard and seen one cannot get him wrong
I have always loved Mother Nature's creatures one of the many aspects of Nature i admire
Of singing our Earth Mother's praises i don't think i  could ever tire
Her wonders as we know are many and her secrets as we know not few
And every day to our amazement of her we do learn something new
I always have loved our Earth Mother and doubtless i always will
Ever since i first heard a lark singing in gray clouds above the brown hill.

Old Ron

It has been awhile now since i have seen old Ron
Perhaps he lives elsewhere in life he has moved on
Though in his mid seventies the wander bug in him strong
A man of the World to the World he belong
A lot of the World the old fellow has seen
In the pub he used to tell us of the places he's been
He has lived in India, Canada the U S and Japan,
Indonesia many Countries in Europe, South America and Pakistan
His memories of his travels many decades does span
Age does not seem to weary the born to travel man
In Hamburg in Germany he was born and raised from here far away
But true to his calling in life there he did not stay
For three months he lived in this town but he has moved on
It has been awhile now since i have seen old Ron.

Dick The Rover

Somebody mentioned Ballarat Dick the Rover said 'oh'
I do recall in that Town i lost my virginity four decades ago
When i had just turned eighteen to one far older than me
One old enough to be my mum she was then forty three

When i had performed my sexual act with me she was not satisfied
She said you climaxed far too quick which hurt my manly pride
I did not tell her it was my first time which would not have mattered to her at all
Not a good start to my sexual career as i can well recall

Dick the Rover in his late fifties now well beyond his prime
Like every other ageing male he is losing out to time
He cannot say if he has ever fathered children a lot of women to his life come and go
Now not the man he used to be time has become his foe

Somebody in the pub mentioned Ballarat which brought a big smile to dick's face
He said i lost my virginity in that renowned old place
To a woman old enough to be my mum which i failed to satisfy
But that was forty years ago since then a lot of time gone by.

Children In Their Innocence

I overheard a young boy saying to his mother as i did walk by them on the street
Gee that old fellow does look very old mum children in their innocence are not discreet
His mother must have known i did overhear him as she did blush a bit on saying good day
But i pretended as if i had not heard i smiled in passing and went on my way
I pondered on the raw truth in a child's words to him i must have seemed so very old
In his eyes even one in his or her mid thirties would not be a young person to behold
To children to speak the truth does come quite natural without even meaning to cause offense
We lose our innocence before our mid teens discretion does bring with it better sense
A brown haired brown eyed innocent young fellow of four to five to six years old maybe
I overheard him saying to his mother how old i looked he spoke his truth on me
To him indeed i must have seemed quite ancient perhaps a century in years or more
To children people in their twenties ageing and one looks old to them a few years with two score
I overheard heard him saying to his mother as they were walking by me on the street
Gee mum he does look a very old fellow children in their innocence are not discreet.

Homesick For Meningie

Her shoulder length hair is as dark as the wing of a crow
The girl from the place where the brown Murray flow
Through bare paddocks of the Coorong to the Pacific shore
The river that will flow on forever more

With beautiful brown eyes and skin chocolate brown
An indigenous beauty from Meningie Town
Just twenty one years old close to her life's prime
Her ancestors the people of Australia's Dreamtime

Homesick for Meningie her Hometown far away
She will return to there in not too distant day
She hopes to be there for the birth of the Spring
In September when nesting birds whistle and sing

A beautiful young woman of Australia's first race
In the noisy inner city suburb she feels out of place
Home is where the heart is as some like to say
Soon she will return to Meningie to stay.

Beauty And Wisdom

Though beauty in the eyes of the beholder or so we are told
Few can see any beauty in a face that is old
But from living experience one becomes more wise
Which after all does come at no big surprise
And though the praises of beauty many love to sing
It is known to fade like the flowers of the Spring
But wise words they do seem to live on and on
Long after the breath of life from the one who first spoke them has gone
Of beauty so many poems written and so many songs sung
But wisdom lives on and beauty dies young
The visual beauty plain for all to see
But wisdom always outlives it would you not agree?
Beauty and wisdom are different as the word can be
One of them is quite visual and the other hidden from all including you and me.

In Memory

In memory i only can go back in time
And in memory i only can re-live my prime
But the now is what matter as the rational say
And the past just a memory of a bygone day

Such beautiful weather for the time of year
The flute of the magpie melodious and clear
The magpie lark in the park sings out pee wee
Nature in the now so enjoyable to me

Of the beauty around me a poet would write
A poem for others to read and enjoy and recite
No memory with the real thing could hope to compare
I only tell you of what you are aware

The future ahead and the past it has gone
And we live in the now and life it goes on
In the blue and sunny sky not one cloud of gray
How great to be living on such a nice day.

An Aussie On Paper

I've decided to become an Aussie on paper but by my manner of speaking would you not agree
That i would not pass as a fair dinkum Aussie an Aussie on paper is all i can be
We all do belong to the greater human family and i am what you hear but not what you see
Whenever i open my mouth and start speaking none ever does say there's an Aussie in me

For twenty five years i have lived in this great Country the home of pittosporum and the gum tree
The home of the roo and emu and koala and the familiar birds who does call out pee wee
The home of the World's oldest race of people their culture long pre-dates written history
The Land that is home to people of all Nations that has become a safe haven to many a refugee

I was born in Millstreet in north Cork in Duhallow the home of the badger and silver back crow
I speak in the tongue of the Boggeragh ranges where River Finnow to the Blackwater flow
Of places i once loved the memories are fading from fields of my past i've been too long away
Many i grew up with have adult grandchildren i would feel a stranger in Millstreet today

I have grown to love this great Southern Country where many great people i have come to know
Most Aussie fair minded and believe on a fair go and respect for difference quite willingly show
A Land of opportunity for ambitious young people with wide open spaces for the adventurous kind
It is such a wonderful to live in Country any negatives about it would be hard to find

I've decided to become an Aussie on paper i am an Aussie on paper is a proud thing to say
Perhaps i will die in this Southern Country though far north of here i first saw light of day
I speak in the tongue of the Boggreragh Ranges an accent that will be with me till i die
An Aussie on paper is all that i can be for me to say differently would be a lie.

The Only God That I Do Know Of

For years i have loved Mother Nature yet so little about her i do know
But the more that i learn about her the more my wonder of her does grow
For to say that she is awe inspiring would be only to give to her what is her due
When i say she is the only God i do know of i do say to me what is true
I remember i first grew to love her as a boy in old fields far away
And though i know that her secrets are many i am learning from her every day
One could live for hundreds of centuries and about her not know everything
But when i learn something new of her such joy to me such knowledge does bring
The only God that i do know of to say different would be a lie
I can say without reservation that i will love her till the day i will die
I marvel at her unrivalled beauty that is everywhere around me
Every day in my walks in her quiet places such wonderful things i do see
The artists on canvas do sketch her great beauty, the writers to write of her she does inspire
The only god that i do know of  and her i do greatly admire.

Another Football Season

Another Football Season down at the local pub
The footy fans discuss the fortunes of their favourite football club
Who will be premiers in September on football's biggest day
The winners always grinners and have the last hooray
Whilst enjoying their beer they talk about the weekend games and their favourite football player
Their club colours on their scarves and beanies and their jackets they do wear
Some disappointed at the weekend that their football team was beat
But in sports  as in all things for one to win one must know of defeat
Every loss for their footy club their spirits do deflate
But next weekend they may be winners and they will celebrate
Without football at the weekend how sad would be their lives
Their football clubs to them as important as their families, girlfriends or their wives
At this time of year at the local pub the talk mostly of football
Where the highlights of the weekend games the footy fans recall.

In The Blue And Clear Sky

In the blue and clear sky just a few clouds of gray
On what is a pleasant and warm Summer's day
And Nature's sweet aroma of freshly mown hay
Wafts to me from sunlit meadows far away
It is not very hard at all for to visualize
Far easier it does seem than most realize
In my flights of fancy i often do hear
The song of the robin in the Spring of the year
The past may be gone but the memories remain
And in fancy i climb on the old hill again
To pick and eat whortleberries the blue fruits of the heather on an evening in July
With the skylark above me carolling in the sky
A tiny musical speck as upwards he does fly
It is easy to visualize give it a try.

The Once Dark Haired Butcher Boy

That poem by Denis Murphy felt like a whiff of joy
On the whereabouts of Richard Regan the once dark haired Butcher Boy
It seems he is back near  Ballydaly in his mansion by the hill
Though looking a bit older time never does stand still

I recall Bill and Abby's son as a dark haired carefree lad
In his ways a little wayward though in him nothing bad
With the Twomeys and D Dinneen he often went on pub crawl
But nothing in life stays the same and that applies to all

Nowadays he wears a straw hat just like his uncle Dan
Did when making wynds of hay in Pat Murphy's acre back then an ageing man
Most of us follow in the footsteps of the ancestral way
They do mentor us from their graves as some are known to say

No longer backing greyhounds at the Cork Greyhound Track
But now that does seem long ago when in time one does go back
The once prodigal son nowadays by good example does lead
Such a story nice to know of and a pleasure for to read

From Butcher Boy to Market Gardener a more natural way of life
'Tis said behind every good man a good woman or wife
The once dark haired handsome fellow in life has settled down
In his mansion by the mountain not far from Millstreet Town.

Shane And Theresa

The singer songwriter Shane Howard is famed and widely known
One might say of him he is Warrnambool's own
Like his mate the famed Archie Roach he calls Killarney home
Like the Grecian loves Athens the Italian loves Rome

As a singer songwriter genius of him cannot be denied
He is known Internationally and famed Australia wide
One of a family of entertainers the Howards of Warrnambool
Killarney not far from where he went to school

Born to be a poet and a singer of him one might say
In South West Victoria Shane Howard is a legend today
I know him to see him of him it could be said
That his achievements and successes have not gone to his head

Where he is often seen in his dark brown akubra sort of hat
In Killarney a local though he is more than that
Where he and his beautiful woman Theresa O Brien
With age keep on improving like good Aussie wine

Since their local influence in a good way is strong
It's thanks to the likes of Shane and Theresa  that St Brigid's  Church to Crossley community does belong
Nowadays Australian local communities becoming more empowered
Due to the leadership of people like Theresa O Brien and Shane Howard.

Australia Needs A Socialist Political Party

Australia needs a Political Party to support the have nots of every village and city and town
The people by the policies of the Liberals and  the Nationals and the Labor party kept down
No Socialist party in the Australia of today
For those doing it tough that does seem sad to say
The Federal Labor Government of Australia Labor only in name
For the plight of Australia's poor they are as much for to blame
As the previous Liberal- National Party Government who only for the wealthy did legislate
Their policies a super wealthy class does create
In Australia the gap between the haves and the have nots keeps on growing ever wide
Of a fair go  the poor sad to say  are denied
In the big towns and cities of Australia many are doing it tough
Many are hungry and homeless and are sleeping rough
Australia needs a Socialist Political Party to stand up for the have nots of every village and city and town
The people by Government policies who have been kept down.

The Person You Are

The pride of the Nation you are looked on as a great
And your many achievements the masses celebrate
From your hometown your name and your fame has spread far
But that does not tell us of the person you are
To the higher self are you one who is true
And are you one who never does deny anyone of their due
Do you feel compassion for the poor of the town
And offer assistance to the one who is financially down
Or are you one who does lend your influential voice
To those who promote the idea of a life's choice
That you can thank your own self for your wealth and fame
And that those who are poor for that have only their own selves to blame?
No your many admirers and the size of your house and your car
Does not tell me of the person that you really are.

Far South Of The Roadway

Far south of the roadway from Millstreet to Rathmore
In the Autumn of my life five years with three score
To a familiar voice one could never mistake
The flute like song of the magpie i often do wake

In rare flights of fancy i only now hear and see
In April the pink breasted chaffinch on a leafy birch tree
In a voice that was once quite familiar to me
In song in the still of the morning proclaim territory

Where i used to daydream that i might be a poet
One seen to be worthy of literary note
But daydreams are daydreams and seldom come true
And we receive from life what is only our due

From the place of the badger and brown river trout
My life's destiny carried me this far south
To the home of the roo and the pied currawong
And the magpie lark who sings pee wee all day long

Far south of the Millstreet to Rathmore roadway
The years have left their mark on me one might say
And only in rare flights of fancy now i can hear a cow
Lowing in a field on a Spring sunset by the River Finnow.

Where The Hopkins Crawls Slow

Two miles from the Bluehole where into the sea it does flow
The dark Hopkins waters at a snail's pace crawls slow
Backed up by the sandbanks at the Pacific shore
At it's widest point close to two hundred metres or more
Towards the end of it's journey a deep and wide waterway
It silently creeps seaward by night and by day
Home to swamphen, coot and moorhen and where musk and black duck reside
Birds that feel at home in waters still and wide
Were i a poet of the Hopkins i would write
A poem for lovers of poetry to read memorize and recite
A waterway that was old in the dinosaur time
That has been the inspiration of song, story and rhyme
Slowly and silently it crawls on to it's destiny
The vast ocean known as the Pacific sea.

No Two Are Exactly Similar

No two are exactly similar in every way
Our different ways make us more interesting 'twould seem fair to say
If we all were the same how boring we would be
Variety is the spice of life would you not agree
That difference makes us more interesting should not be hard to explain
There would not be an audience if everybody wanted to entertain
The introvert and extrovert in society does have their own role
The value of difference we ought to extol
Your values in religion and politics are quite different to mine
You have your opinions and that suits me fine
Though having said that it does seem to me
That we all have a preference for like minded company
You and i share little in common but that too is okay
Since no two are exactly similar in every way.

A Long Way South

A long way south of the fields in view of Clara
And Gortavehy and it's face of stone
And a long way south of rugged Caherbarnagh
And Anu's Breasts known as The Paps of Shrone

A long way south of Claraghatlea my first homeplace
Where i first looked on the bright lamp of day
A long way north of this great Southern Country
Even by the shortest route thousands of miles away

I've seen a lot of places in my travels
The pee wee's song now familiar to me
Yet in fancy i can hear the rooks at twilight
Cawing on high branches of an old beech tree

I live far south of my old homeland Ireland
And though i never more may see Hibernia's shore
In my flights of fancy i can hear the skylark
Singing high above the fields of Claramore

The passing years have left me feeling older
I am in the Autumn of my lifetime span
I live far south of Millstreet in Duhallow
And the fields i loved when i was a young man

My memory is not as good as it once was
My fastest pace one might say rather slow
I am ageing far south of the fields of Millstreet
Where the Finnow to the Blackwater does flow.

Some People When They Talk Of Life's Choices

Some people when they talk of life choices they tend to dismiss destiny
As if success to one should not be an obstacle  though born into abject poverty
Such people lack in understanding of people and lack in compassion and empathy
They may fancy themselves as great thinkers but this is not how they appear to me
They are not the insightful people that they make themselves out for to be
The child who is born in a war zone more likely to become a child soldier or a refugee
Than becoming wealthy and famous against such ridiculous odds
There are no such a thing as life's choices for the children of the lesser gods
The homeless street girl of the ghetto may give birth to a daughter or son
But the chances of that child becoming hugely successful rate at odds of a million to one
Some people do talk of life choices without allowing for circumstance
The child born to a homeless mother of wealth and fame stands little chance
But some when they talk of life choices they say such does apply to all
Such people are far from enlightened and in their thinking seem rather small.

Australia By Name

It was an ancient land mass long before the first people to it came
This is a grand old Country Australia by name
Old in the age of the dinosaurs and old in the Dreamtime
This land of rugged beauty that has inspired bards to rhyme
Centuries ago in the warmth of the Summer in the shade of the gum trees
The first Australians gathered to dance their corroborees
The country they loved and lived in looks a bit different today
Out there on the brown mountain their bones forever lay
The home of kookaburra, emu, wallaby and roo
And wombat and koala, rosella, lorikeet and cockatoo
Lyrebird and silver bill magpie, magpie lark and currawong
Birds from once heard and once seen that one never could get wrong
It is a very old Land with many claims to fame
The home of the marsupials Australia by name.

Mister O

Such sad tidings from Duhallow the news of the passing of Mister O
A legendary character of Millstreet long ago
Where he was born and raised  and with his wife raised their children in the Town by Clara Hill
Sad to think the heart that beat with kindness has been forever rendered still

He was baptized as Anthony Manley Mister O was his nickname
Do not ask me as i do not know how his alias to him came
As a tailor and an undertaker in Duhallow he was well known
And of him it can be truly said that he was one of Millstreet's own

So many marvellous memories  of him one can recall
As a young man in Sraid's green and gold he played gaelic football
As a stocky corner forward against Cork's best he did compete
He will always be remembered as a legend of Millstreet

One who was known to many he made new friends every day
He always remained young at heart  though his dark hair had turned to gray
Gone from the Town of Millstreet his well known and loved face
Within view of Clara mountain great changes are taking place

For each and everyone of us a final night and day
Sad news from the Town of Millstreet Mister O has passed away
In the Town of Millstreet he was born and raised  and in the Town of Millstreet he grew old
And to Duhallow's future generations stories of him will be told.

Time's Clock On Our Lives

Time's clock on our lives ever ticking and ticking and ticking away
And every day takes us one nearer to our very last night and day
Religious people live in hope of salvation after drawing their last breath
But none ever came back to tell us that they've outlived their Earthly death
If there is an  after Earthly death World i may be in poetasters hell
It does seem i have been quite sinful since i have penned too much doggerel
And heaven must not be for sinners or people who in god's existence does not believe
When i die for me no soul salvation i will deserve what i receive
Christ said those who deny me on Earth i will deny them before my father in heaven which does not give much hope for me
If by chance there is a life after earthly death god's kingdom i never will see
I will be with nasty old satan being whipped and punished by his jailers every day
But i can only be true to my feelings and for my lack of belief in god the price i'm prepared to pay
Time's clock on our lives ever ticking but do live for as long as you can live
Since there may not be life after earthly death but your best bet ignore the advice on that to you i do give.

Money, God And Gaelic Football

In Millstreet when i was a youngster to be good at Gaelic Football
Was seen as important as i now do recall
It was a close up third behind money and god
The values of many people to me does seem quite odd

Money god and gaelic football that i missed out on all three
For my standing in the local community did not say much of me
But now looking back on it does it matter at all
Since the biggest of human achievements in the face of eternity seems small

That the passing of time brings reflection does not come as a surprise
And in retrospect i too have come to realize
That in Millstreet cult status for people of money, god and greats of gaelic football most people did create
To diferentiate for them what was ordinary from great

I believe that nowadays in Millstreet car rallying has become the in thing
Where the praises of noise makers many rally fans do sing
Some of their heroes are International and some are home grown
In life as in sports it is each to their own

In Millstreet in Duhallow where i first saw light of day
Though i was not any good at it gaelic football i did play
I never had much money and god seemed far from me
And i was looked upon as ordinary since i missed out on all three.

Jack London

The writer who became famous everywhere
Jack London he wrote of the big World out there
His Call Of The Wild as a classic remain
A story one could read again and again

In his prime he was full of youthful elan
Jack London he was an extraordinay man
He wrote many of his famous stories in the Yukon in the Gold Rush time
Where Robert Service did pen many a memorable rhyme

Jack London he was quite a man in his day
He did live his stories one of him could say
The sense of adventure in him was quite strong
To the bigger World his stories belong

The wonders of Nature he did celebrate
The stories he wrote live on as something great
True greatness of the man cannot be denied
The spirit of adventure in him till he died

The last breath of life from him may be long gone
But the stories of Jack London are living on
The stories that so many read and enjoy
That brought me such pleasure even as a school boy.

Since John Twomey Penned His Verses

The Poet Laureate of Millstreet and |Duhallow going back decades in time
When i was in primary school he was in his poetic prime
Around the fire grate on winter evenings John Twomey's poems recited and sung
By the elders of my boyhood years in the days when i was young
John Twomey emigrated and i cannot even say
If he is one of the living or amongst the deceased lay
He was a marvellous wordsmith with words he had a way
And it does seem more the pity that in Duhallow he did not stay
Of festive occasions and celebrations around Duhallow he was called upon to write
He wrote the songs for to be sung and the poems for to recite
The last bard of Duhallow he spread the gift of joy
Back in the nineteen fifties when i was a school boy
Since John Twomey penned his verses a lot of Seasons gone
But in the Barony of Duhallow his legend does live on.

Such Beautiful Images

For as long as the gift of memory i'll retain
In fancy the beauty i've known i'll re-visit again
Of the beautiful places i've been lucky to see
The mental pictures i do carry with me
The mental pictures i look at every day
Of places from me not that far and from me further away
The images in my mind remain evergreen
Of the beauty in my many travels i've seen
My better days to the forever long gone
But the memories of beauty in me does live on
The beauty that outlives a mere mortal such as i
The beauty of Nature it never does die
Whenever i search the gallery of my mind
Such beautiful images i always does find.

What We Put Into Life

You never will become the toast of the town
If you find it easy in words for to put others down
Judge and thou shalt not be judged does remain ever true
In life what we do unto others becomes our own due
If you only look for flaws in others then flaws you will find
They are not a rare breed the judgemental kind
To any form of enlightenment they surely seem blind
They suffer from what's known as darkness of mind
Some in their own small ways are so very small
They seem absent in the promotion of the fair go for all
Sad for them they are flawed people and would you not agree
What we do look for in others is what we do see
What we put into life in turn we do receive
On such a philosophy i do believe.

Hannah Curtin

'Tis true of time it can be a great healer but time does become everybody's foe
To when Hannah Curtin was just beyond her prime years one has to go back many years ago
She lived with her husband and her children in the Town of Millstreet towards the very end of Minor Row
Despite her years a big loss to her family and she will be missed by the many of her who did know

There is little doubt she led by good example in the roles she had chosen for herself in life
To her children she was a marvellous mother and to her husband a devoted wife
'Tis sad to think a heart that beat with kindness no longer beats and is forever still
Her remains lay amongst the dead of Millstreet in quiet St Mary's in view of Cashman's Hill

A familiar face to many in the Town of Millstreet in the flesh there never more for to be seen
But as we do know memories last a lifetime and memories of her will remain as evergreen
The Millstreet of the twentieth century would be very different to the Millstreet of the twenty first century of today
Time ticking on and people getting older and few things stay as same as some do say

She raised her children in the Town of Millstreet and by the Town of Millstreet her last remains lay
A similar bell that rang for Hannah Curtin will surely ring for all of us one day
These simple lines a token gesture in her honor in a few years from the memory will be gone
But memories of her surely will outlive them for good memories of people like her do live on.

A Grand Old Pair

I do feel it an honor having them live on our street
And though i do not see them often they are a pleasure for to meet
Though it has been many Seasons since they were in their life's prime
The old pair Judy and Joe refuse to bow to time
They must be close to eighty the years have left them gray
But they  look fit and healthy and go for walks every day
Sometimes i see them in the park out walking arm and arm
They win me with their happy ways and their unprententious charm
They do not use anti ageing creams or hair dyes the pair who age with grace
Without them living in it the neighbourhood would be a worse off place
With a natural charm about them and great warmth in their hello
Known and admired by many they do not have a foe
They do not hide their wrinkles or dye their silver hair
It truly can be said of them that they are a grand old pair.

The Beautiful Woman From Argentina

Quite happy to live in the place where the rank rushes grow
The beautiful woman from Argentina with shoulder length hair dark as a crow
Far north of South America where she first saw light of day
Within view of bracken mountains she feels happy for to stay

She feels contented and happy near the babbling waterway
Home is where the heart is as some are known to say
On the trees new leaves are budding and the nesting songbirds sing
And the cattle out of sheds in the old fields in the early days of Spring

The beautiful woman from Argentina her's now a familiar face
To all of her local neighbours in what to her is now home-place
Down to earth and charming and one who is free of guile
The warmth of Argentina is in her lovely smile

The small brown lark is carolling a musical speck in the sky
And the dark swallows home from far away above the old fields fly
And the beautiful woman from Argentina feels happy in her mind
In her cottage by the river her utopia she did find.

It Has Been Awhile

It has been awhile since i saw Clara Hill
Or heard the babbling voice of the silver tongued rill
Flowing through Claraghatlea from high Claramore
To the waterways flowings to the Atlantic Shore

It has been awhile since i walked up and down
The West End and Main Street of old Millstreet Town
Perhaps there i might be a stranger today
Just one more passer by from a place far away

It has been awhile since i have heard the lowing of a cow
In a rushy field by the River Finnow
In the calm of an evening in April in Spring
When the wild born nesting birds whistle and sing

It has been awhile since i've seen rook, daw or gray crow
Or Clara in Winter in his hat of snow
And only the memories with me now remain
Of places and faces i may not see again.

All Life Forms In Nature

All life forms in Nature have their role to play
Behind bark of rotting logs hidden from light of day
The woodlice are thriving and breeding on natural decay
They are serving Nature in their given way
On the service of Nature a role for us all
On the sunlit ground millions of tiny ants crawl
To live they serve Nature who gives to receive
The one true immortal on such i believe
Like all other life forms us human off of Nature live
But most of us take from her and in return to her little give
Yet like all of her life forms we are born to die
Of life that is a fact and fact never lie
All life forms in Nature have some role to play
And some even live amidst natural decay.

A Mere Mortal

The monarch she was a beauty in her prime
But that is going back many Seasons in time
Though for one of her age she does look rather well
The years on her now are beginning for to tell
In Seasons not distant from her final Fall
It is the same for her as it is for us all
She was born to be a monarch but like you and i
She too is a mere mortal destined for to die
And death does make us all equal why otherwise pretend
The babe born today his or her life journey must end
And as for the monarch her best days long gone
The years on her showing and time ticking on
She is a mere mortal when all is said and done
No different to your or i or to anyone.

Brendan Kiely

Brendan Kiely was born and raised in the Town of Millstreet and near the Town of Millstreet Brendan died
Where he had lived with his wife and family one well liked and known far from his Hometown and countryside
One well known in Duhallow sporting circles in his younger years he played gaelic football
He won many friends in his role as a school-teacher and he left good memories of him to recall

He was not old near the three score and ten years though his physical prime one might say was long gone
But with death everyone must keep their appointment and good memories of him surely will live on
In all of those lucky enough to have known him in Millstreet his was a familiar face
The old Town for his passing will be poorer since none quite like him for to take his place

I recall Brendan as a young and a fit person though that is going back many a yesterday
On looking back the Seasons go so quickly and time as ever ticks and ticks away
In time the longest human life is not a long span and on how long we live we do not have a say
In St Mary's amongst the dead of Millstreet the last remains of Brendan Kiely lay

Grieved by his family and by people all around Duhallow where he made many friends over the years
There was so much to like in Brendan Kiely he was a man worthy of parting tears
In Millstreet he will always be remembered as he left us with good memories of him to recall
But only Nature does live on forever there is a last night and day for us all.

Are You One Of Those

Are you one of those who do feel close to tears
When you do think back on the now long gone years
And the games with your young friends in the school yard you did play
You often wonder about them where are they today?

Perhaps some like you from the old school yard live far
And perhaps some at rest now where dead people are
And perhaps some of them in the home place did stay
And like you they are showing the wear of time decay

You often think of the good times with them you've had
Of our fondest of memories the side effects can be sad
The memories are all we have of our good times long gone
And life all around us as usual goes on

Nostalgia lives on in the ageing migrant's mind
And in the happiest of memories sad side effects you will find
But we live in the now and the past is in the past
And the clock on our lives ever keeps ticking fast.

I WIll Keep Rhyming On

My rhymes i email to an internet site
But it is not for money or fame i do write
I suffer of a rhyming addiction the urge to rhyme in me is strong
To a dying breed of poetasters i do belong
I used to daydream i would become a poet
One looked on as worthy of literary note
But daydreams are just that and seldom come true
And from life we receive what from life we are due
For many years i have been a rhyming buff
And i have penned heaps and heaps of rhyming stuff
The rhymes keep coming to me on notebook i pen them down
The last rhyming poetatster of the rural town
My better days to the forever are gone
But for as long as i can do i will keep rhyming on.

The Lovely Moyne Rose

Her wavy shoulder length hair is as dark as a crow
The one from the place where the Moyne waters flow
Her eyes are as blue as the ripe Autumn sloe
And beauty goes with her to wherever she go
In her early twenties the lovely Moyne Rose
She does not wear makeup or buy expensive clothes
A natural beauty she is without guile
A charming young woman with a beautiful smile
So humble in her ways and free of conceit
And as nice a person as one could wish to meet
Yet in Port Fairy perhaps she will not stay
As she yearns for adventure in lands far away
Her loss to the Moyne Shire to another place would be a gain
So lets hope in Port Fairy that she does remain.