The Fear Of Growing Frail And Old

It does not bother you if your life story will never be told
But your's is a genuine fear the fear of growing frail and old
In a nursing home condemned to spend your waking hours in a wheelchair
Unable to walk out in the morning air

The fear of growing old it is a common fear
To know that the last day and night to you is near
Though for as long as you can do to life you will cling
Quite determined to live for to see one more Spring

The years on your ageing body now do show
And the passing of time has left you walking slow
You are not the one you were three decades ago
But then time it does become everybody's foe

For each one of us there is a final Fall
And the fear of growing old it is in us all
But the longest lived human life in time not a long span
And the woman on average by a few years does outlive the man.

Mortality Is For All

Mortality surely not based on a lie
I too like all mortals was born to die
I feel i'm no different to the cow, dog or sheep
Like them for me there will be a final sleep
How many more Springs will i live for to see
Since the passing of time it is telling on me
Some i went to school with in a town far away
Amongst the deceased in their final rest lay
Though it is going back some three decades in time
It does not seem that long since i was in my life's prime
The Seasons pass quickly and time ticks away
And each dawn brings us nearer to our last night and day
We return to Nature as do the leaves of the Fall
Like the cow, dog  or the sheep mortality is for all.

Warrnambool

Far north of this Country i was born and raised and attended primary school
But till death i could live and be happy in the Town of Warrnambool
Where i am not seen  as a stranger in a place that feels like home from home to me
Warrnambool the rural City by the great Pacific sea

Where the people are so friendly mine not seen as a stranger's face
The gem in the crown of South West Victoria is a very livable place
A bright and breezy City for it's beauty widely known
It can be said of Warrnambool it has a charm of it's own

Beautiful places such as Thunder Point, The Breakwater, Lake Pertobe and Lady Bay
Most people who visit Warrnambool say  they will return again one day
The Blue Hole where the Hopkins river meets the sea and Logans Beach where the southern right whales give birth in Spring
Of the praises of Warrnambool i feel happy for to sing

A multicultural rural City in the green coastal countryside
For it's friendly people and scenic beauty Warrnambool is known far and wide
Far north of this great Country i was born and went to school
But i found home from home far south in breezy Warrnambool.

John D Murphy

He never will look on old Clara again
And in Spring hear the birds sing in the wind and the rain
But those who knew him fond memories of him will retain
And his spirit in old Claramore will remain

In Claramore John D Murphy's life journey began
And of years of life his was quite a lengthy span
The good way of living he choose to embrace
And in Millstreet Town his was a known and loved face

A likeable fellow in his own happy way
John D who performed his good deeds every day
The seeds of good Karma for himself he did sow
People like he was nice people to know

One not out of place in the pub atmosphere
He enjoyed his sessions of guinness and beer
Whilst some seemed aggressive and looking for fight
He drunk and he laughed and enjoyed his pub night

A man who liked people and who enjoyed a joke
The likeable John was a very good bloke
By Cashman's Hill in St Mary's his last remains lay
From his old home by Clara just a few miles away.

Just For My Own Enjoyment

I have penned rhymes of Nature and of love and of life
Of the homeless fellow and the long suffering wife
Of life forms of land, oceans and waterways and animals, birds and bees
And the soughing of the wind in the branches of the trees

On many various subjects i have penned rhymes about
But my worth as a rhymer i feel reason to doubt
Without much recognition and without wealth or fame
Penning rhymes for me has been a hungry belly game

I have never referred to myself as a poet
Nor i do not feel worthy of literary note
I just write for enjoyment and nothing more
This is something you may have heard me say before

My best days in life to the forever gone
But for as long as i can do i will keep on rhyming on
The rhymes keep coming to me on paper i jot them down
Just for my own enjoyment and not for wealth and renown.

Our Reflective Mirrors

That politicians are our reflective mirrors would you not agree
At least anyhow that's how it seems to me
For the people who serve our needs best we only do vote
And some time and effort on getting them elected we are willing to devote
That there is so much corruption amongst politicians of today
Of the people who vote them into Parliament what does this say
To vote for the deceitful does seem the in thing
And the praises of such people many willing to sing
In a Human World where narrow Nationalism is becoming a common disease
Most voters would never vote for a politician who supports refugees
And the homeless and those living in dire poverty
Far too many of us lacking in kindness and compassion and in empathy
That our politicians are our reflective mirrors it does seem this way
Self interest first are the buzz words of the Human World of today.

Such Wonderful People

I've never met a really bad person of that i can say
And such wonderful people i meet every day
People who to help those in need of helping who go out of their way
Respect to them in words i only can pay

The kind and compassionate one can only admire
And of singing their praises one never could tire
To their higher selves they remain ever true
Though they seldom do receive the credit they are due

The World for them living in it is a much better place
Such wonderful causes they are known to embrace
The fruits of the good Karma they sow will be their's to receive
On such a philosophy i do believe

About their good deeds they feel humbly discreet
The wonderful people every day i do meet
Though not even seen to be worthy of local renown
And known to so few on their side of the town.

Strangers To Me

Those i thought were my friends have become strangers to me
And strangers around me are all i can see
The person i am i do not seem to know
And apart from all others in my ways i do grow
To my former friends i'm a stranger on the park or the street
Just a hello in passing when them i do meet
To each other we do have little to say
Just a good morning or evening or such a nice day
To them i'm a fellow who dabbles in rhyme
A hobby to them that seems a waste of time
Those i thought were friends only strangers though we meet every day
We have our own interests and live in our own way
We share little in common that's how it seems to be
And to them there is nobody stranger than me.

Battling The Odds

Have you ever felt the emptiness within
From the feeling you are a loser that you cannot seem to win
In your life's uphill journey you are battling the odds
You believe you must be one of the children of the lesser gods
One of the people who do survive from day to day
There are many like you who do live in this way
But perserverance always does seem to pay
And hope springs eternal as some like to say
Out of work with little money and financially down
In what happens to be a high unemployment town
You have even considered of moving elsewhere
For to try out your luck in the big World out there
Life for many it is not unlike Murphy's Law
'Tis not meant to be easy said George Bernard Shaw.

The Rose Of Koroit

The Rose of Koroit where might she be today
Some say she's in Sydney or in Byron Bay
Or in the Sunshine Coast of Queensland bronzed from the tropical sun
When you are only twenty two life can be so much fun
The Rose of Koroit of blue eyes and hair of brown
When she lived in Koroit she was the finest in the Town
But the lust of the wander was in her for places elsewhere
Far beyond Koroit in the big World out there
She has left a young man in Koroit with love ache in his heart
He knows of her life that he cannot be a part
He used to daydream that she would be his wife
And he is left to grieve for the lost love of his life
'Tis said she is in Sydney or in Byron Bay
And some say she has been seen in sunny Mackay.

Casey Stoner

A World Champion formula one bike rider one of the best of his time
Casey Stoner an Australian legend is retiring in his prime
Only in his mid twenties in his sport the World's best
One never found to be wanting when put to the test
He is retiring when on top his best years far from gone
Of bike racing Casey has grown tired in life he will move on
As a motor bike racer his is a renowned name
He has grown tired of all of the hype that does come with the fame
This is his last Racing Season he is calling it a day
From all of the adulation he is walking away
One known throughout the motor bike racing World in every village, city and town
As a young and daring rider he raced into renown
Of bike racing he has grown tired this is his final year
But his record will stand the test of time and more of him we will hear.

Of His Kind It Is Never Said

The anthem of a football club you never hear him sing
One not of any group or club he just does his own thing
On politics amongst other things his feelings are not known
Of his kind it is never said he is one of our own
Unmarried in his late twenties he likes the bar-room atmosphere
I often see him in the pub enjoying his pot of beer
He does not seem to have a friend yet he is a friendly bloke
One with a sense of humor he does laugh at a joke
One who does not seem to have a friend and he does not have a foe
Not a group type of person this is how it does seem so
A nice enough young person he does seem quite carefree
I have yet to see him in a group he is happy in his own company
He does not seem to have a tribe one who is not well known
Of his kind it is never said he is one of our own.

I Have Seen

I have seen the migrant sanderling feeding on the southern shore
Thousands of miles south of Clara overlooking Claramore
And in the sunlit Gold Coast parklands i have heard the figbirds sing
In the warmth of the sub tropics of the southern Queensland Spring

I have been in South Australia where the mighty Murray flow
On it's way to the Pacific through the brown lands crawling slow
And in Sherbrooke in Victoria i have seen the tall gum trees
In the coolness of the evening swaying in the freshening breeze

Others have seen more places and more Countries there's a lot of land to see
But those who have never travelled seem far better off than me
Lucky are the stay at home types content in their own home place
It is nice to feel a local where your's is a known and loved face

I have been in the Blue Mountains in New South Wales high countryside
For it's tall trees and scenic beauty a place that is known Worldwide
But compared to the well travelled i have not seen much at all
They are talking utter nonsense those who say the World is small

Yet i do envy the people who at home do choose to stay
Who never feel the desire to see places far away
That they have what is known as a sense of place of them would be fair to say
And are happy to live and grow old where they first saw light of day.

From Nature I learn

The years have left me feeling weary and looking gray
But from Nature i learn something new every day
Her beauty is everywhere around me
A beauty i do not have to pay to see

And though my wonder of her only does seem to grow
So little about her i can claim to know
Yet we never stop learning as some like to say
And from Nature we learn something new every day

All life forms of Nature have their own duties to perform
The wodlice who hide from the sun, rain and storm
Behind the bark of decaying wood breaking bacteria down
Quite useful in their service to Nature yet strangers to renown

My knowledge on the workings of Nature i have come to doubt
And of her ways there is so much to learn about
Her wonders are many and her secrets not few
And every day from her i do learn something new.

I Am Not A Brave Person

I am not a brave person of that i won't lie
For flag or for Country i am not one who would die
I just want to live for as long as i can
And die in my sleep without pain as a very old man
I've never been a soldier or fought in a war
Though from my first homeplace i am one who lives far
Yet many have travelled so many more miles than me
And in my lifetime many places i will never see
I am one who has loved Nature since i was a boy
And learning of her ways i still do enjoy
And though my wonder of her only does seem to grow
So little about her i can claim to know
And though my best years in life to the forever gone
For as long as my health's good i want to live on.

No Matter What

No matter what your skin color be it black, white or brown
No matter what Nation you belong to what village or city or town
We may look different from each other quite different indeed
But we all share one thing in common red is our blood when we bleed
That all humans are mortals is not based on a lie
What makes us all equal we are born to die
The same for the pauper and the billionaire
The Reaper of lives any life does not spare
Whether they live to be seventy or one hundred and three
The monarch or the president no different to you or to me
In that for them there will too be a last night and day
That death makes us all equal that does seem fair to say
No matter what Country you come from village, city or town
Your blood it is red not black, white or brown.

Far North Of This Land

Far north of this Land by the southern shore
In view of Clara in green Claramore
The old fields resplendent in their flowers of the May
And the hawthorns are cloaked in their blooms white to gray
The nesting birds sing on the bushes and trees
Their pleasant notes carrying in the freshening breeze
Blowing from Caherbarnagh across the gray sky
And the dark barn swallows near to the ground fly
I recall that i once heard a wise woman say
When the swallows are flying low rain is not far away
The flying insects they prey on near to the ground remain
They sense weather change and the oncoming rain
Far north of this Land by the hills far away
The birds chirp and sing in the green groves today.

Katie

She feels she is a lucky person to be healthy and alive
Without an ache of any sort at the age of eighty five
Three times a great grandmother it has been awhile since her hair was black
Her husband died ten years ago of a massive heart attack
Old Katie the octogenarian may have known a better day
But she feels well and healthy and about her has a carefree way
Often see her in the parkland walking her brown and white jack russell Dave
One cannot say of Katie she has one foot in the grave
Though the years on her are showing and her hair is silver gray
For one who has lived for so many Seasons she is looking quite okay
She has a marvellous memory she can go way back in time
To when she was a young child many years before her prime
Such a nice and graceful lady down to earth and free of guile
Every time that i do meet her she does greet me with a smile.

For A So Called Devout Person

In his local religious community a leading role he does play
And with his wife and children in his house of worship he does pray
But of those of different religious beliefs he does not have nice things to say
Dismisses them as failed people as those who in life have lost their way

Those who do not share his religious beliefs he looks upon as odd
And he does not speak to his next door neighbour since he does not believe in a god
Says he is a sinful person a god forsaken never do well
And like every other atheist he is doomed to burn in hell

For a so called devout person in his ways he does seem small
He does seem rather judgemental not a nice person at all
Since he looks for the worst in others his own weaknesses he cannot see
He is not the marvellous person he makes himself out to be

Of a fair go to those different in his words he does deny
But judge not and thou shalt not be judged to him too does apply
Compassion and empathy do not have religions they are products of the mind
And those who do possess them they are generous and kind.

Miracles At Tubrid

Around the fire grate on Winter nights i often heard the old man of stories tell
Stories of miracles that did occur at Tubrid's Holy Well
Of people who were blind to light who suddenly could see
He did impress on my young mind how amazing this place must be

He said the Tubrid waters has cures for every known disease
And it even cured an allergy that one old bloke had to fleas
It cured people of cancer and it cured people of gout
And drinking Tubrid water cured one of warts in the mouth

He did relate a good tale to give the man his due
And perhaps some of his Tubrid stories may have even been near to true
But i was young and impressionable then and not hard to deceive
And everything he told me of Tubrid i was willing to believe

Of the praises of old Tubrid i feel happy to sing
I often drunk cups of water of it's clear bubbling spring
And though many people come to do their rounds there in the month of May
Whether 'tis a place of miracles is not for me to say

On wet and windy Winter nights around the peat fire grate
Of miracles at Tubrid Well the old man did relate
With the dreaded reaper of all lives he too has had his date
Perhaps he tells his stories now up there by heaven's gate.

What Some See As Good Business

What some see as good business in truth is dishonesty
This is how it is and it always will be
Yet some corporate criminals never serve prison time
Due to the gray area in corporate crime
Big corporate criminals nowadays are not rare
Of which many people would now be aware
Loopholes in the law does keep them out of jail
The great power of money seldom known to fail
For small time career criminals crime does not pay
But with many big corporate criminals it is not this way
Many big corporate criminals are rewarded for their greed
In big places corruption can be great indeed
Though they live as free people till the day they do die
Some of those who see it as good business for to cheat and to lie.

We Must Be Warlike Kind

'Tis said that human beings learn from past mistakes in war this is not so
The war supposed for to end all wars was fought near a century ago
And yet war is being waged in the twenty first century
That most of us human beings are warlike kind is how it seems to me
We must be warlike kind how else can one explain
That many of the young people of today are prepared to fight in wars again
Are prepared to fight and even die for the love of a Nation's flag
To have fought in a war it does seem is seen as worthy of a brag
But even victory in war always comes at a huge cost
How can there be a winner where so many human lives are lost?
That we do learn from our past mistakes in war does seem a lie
Today in wars created by ageing males the young do fight and die
The returned war heroes home to a huge victory parade
Of suffering, tears and of death human history is made.

A Long Way North Of

A long way north of this Southern Country from Koroit Town near Warrnambool
Near Millstreet a Town in Duhallow i was born and raised and went to Millstreet School
That was in the early fifties to the early sixties going back half of a century ago
I now am five years with the sixty and time is becoming my foe

In Claraghatlea where i was born and where i lived as a boy
I first grew interested in Nature and learning of her ways to this day i enjoy
The Winter months were cold, wet and dreary the cattle in sheds wintered on silage and hay
They were out on grass in early April when the swallows returned from far away

When Spring spread her greenery in Duhallow and hawthorns wore their white blooms of May
The dipper sang in the stream rapids and the nesting birds sang to greet the day
The tadpoles the baby amphibians were wriggling in the watery drain
The past may be in the forever but the memories of it with me does remain

I never again may see Clara in his old rugged face of brown
Overlooking the green fields of Duhallow and the countryside near Millstreet Town
Where i lived as a younger person as one full of youthful elan
I am looking and feeling older and time has left me an ageing man.

To Each Their Own

To each their own as some does say
I feel it is a bit this way
And each to their own ideas
Though their opinions some don't please
If on all things we did agree
How boring indeed we would be
Many of us see things differently
And that seems quite okay to me
Even fans of sport not all the same
Not all do follow the one game
We all see the World through different eyes
This is something that i have come to realize
If we all agreed on all things how boring we would be
This is how it does seem to me.

Booming Voice

A big man well over two metres his booming voice is not hard to hear
One might say to the point of deafening if to him you are standing near
Whenever by chance i do meet him on talking to him i do not delay
His conversation does not interest me meeting him never does make my day
He talks mostly of current affairs of politics and of football
Such stuff that does not hold my attention that scarce does interest me at all
Whenever he is drinking at the local pub his loud voice one could never mistake
In the company of other loud voices such a noisy racket they do make
Yet in some ways he is a good person he never beats his children and wife
And he never chats up other women one who does lead a moral life
It is just that he does have a loud voice and his conversation is mostly the same
Such as there may be a federal election and who will win saturday's big game
He is quite well known at the local where his nickname is Booming Voice
At least he does not see me as one of his buddies for him and me that's a good choice.

I Never Could Tire

The best things in life for free are all mine
How lovely to sit in the warm sunshine
In the park by the sea on a beautiful day
For Nature's creations money we do not pay

The birds chirp and whistle on sunlit bushes and trees
Their music is carrying in the freshening breeze
That blows up the street through the park from the bay
Earthly Utopia from here cannot be far away

Were i born a poet i surely would write
A poem for others to read and enjoy and recite
Of the beauty in Nature i do regularly see
Everywhere i turn to look it is all around me

I may be a man from a far away place
And mine here to many may be a stranger's face
But of Nature's great beauty i feel glad to sing
Such joy and such pleasure to me it does bring

I grew to love Nature when i was a boy
And learning of her ways i still do enjoy
And so much about her for one to admire
And of singing her praises i never could tire.

She Is Such A Beautiful Person

She is such a beautiful person and she has such a beautiful face
And the World for her living in it is surely a much better place
One always willing to help others in her ways so gentle and kind
She is always smiling and happy the one with the beautiful mind
If everyone were only like her how marvellous to live in the Human World would be
There would not be greed and oppression there would not be war and poverty
She only looks for the good in others by good example she does lead the way
A credit to the human family she performs her good deeds every day
Not well known or not celebrated even on her side of the town
To live as a good and caring person for her is enough of renown
In my travels i've met some good people yet greater than her i do not know
She is one of those wonderful women who does have the rare inner glow
In the park sometimes i do meet her with a big smile on her beautiful face
The Human World for her living in it is surely a much better place.

I Only Know That

I only know that my life's journey one day or one night has to end
And any talk of a life after bodily death is too much for me to comprehend
Many believe in a life hereafter that the soul has wings for to fly
That there are Worlds for good and bad people millions of miles beyond the sky
I am somewhere between an agnostic and an atheist that much of myself i do know
I am not a religious person one lacking in the inner glow
And though not what you would call a great person for in some of my ways i'm quite small
I do believe that all people are equal and i do believe on a fair go for all
So marvellous are those with compassion since their's is such a great gift indeed
They rush to the assistance of people who are in their moment of need
For future good Karma for themselves they are always planting the good seed
To them everybody are equal since red is the blood we all bleed
The years have left me looking older the hair on my head silver gray
And i only know that my life's journey will end for me one night or day.

A Beautiful And Sunny Evening

I am really not much of a wordsmith my worth as a rhymer in doubt
But for me there is never a shortage of things that i can write about
A beautiful and sunny evening with a gentle cool coastal breeze
In the sunlit parks of Mermaid Waters birds chirp and sing on the bushes and trees
The beauty of Nature around me it is such a beautiful day
And the wonderful thing about Nature for to look you do not have to pay
The pied butcher birds are singing their songs one could never mistake
In the parks they have their morning chorus on the high trees in the gray of daybreak
I have been in love with Mother Nature since i was a very young boy
And every day i learn new things about her this is something that i do enjoy
I have written so many rhymes to her she is one i greatly admire
I do love for to sing her praises and of such i never could tire
The beautiful rainbow lorikeets do sing in small flocks as they fly
On this sunny evening in late Autumn without a gray cloud in the sky.

When The Pied Currawongs Are Calling

Their notes are not unpleasant quite distinctive and clear
But when the pied currawongs are calling you know that rain is near
Dark crow sized birds with yellow eyes to many quite well known
They seldom mix with other birds they do flock with their own
If they can they will plunder the nests of smaller birds to the pied currawong a treat
Is a tiny pink skinned nestling to their taste buds tasty to eat
Most bird lovers do not like them where in large numbers they abound
Smaller birds will not nest or stay they seek a new homeground
The day is warm and sunny not a gray cloud in the blue sky
And the pied currawongs are calling as from tree to tree they fly
Karra karra wong they sing aloud over and again
Nature's weather forecasters are telling us of rain
In the clear blue sky the sun shines warm on a pleasant Autumn day
But the pied currawongs are calling to tell us rain is not far away.

So Many Like Me

So many like me who does dabble in rhyme
Who have penned reams of stuff over decades of time
Who never will even know of local fame
This rhyming it is a 'hungry belly game'
We hear about poets they are born not made
But everyone welcome in the wordsmith trade
Few as we know does make the literary grade
And rhymers seem the quickest from the memory to fade
In this ever changing literary World of the twenty first century
At least anyway that's how it seems to me
Save for things like the bleating of a goat or the lowing of a cow
Few things that will not have changed in a century from now
And the non rhyming poets lauded by the literary critics of today
May well be one more literary memory in decay.

A Stranger To Everyone

A stranger on every street he does walk up and down
The dark haired young man from the far away town
A bricklayer by trade he earns a good weeks's pay
But in this town his will not be a long stay
Without children for to support or a wife
At twenty four years of age in the prime of his life
Working and driving his way around the big Country where there is so much to see
The wanderlust in him of any ties free
A handsome dark haired young man quite athletic and tall
Though not into sports athletics or football
But he does like his beer and he does his own thing
And with many a beautiful young female he has had a brief fling
But whenever he walks in the park or the street
He is a stranger to everyone that he does meet.

Patrick Cashman

Named after his father and grandfather from Millstreet he died far away
In Stouffville in Ontario in Canada his last remains forever  lay
A long way from the top of Tullig even as the migratory bird does fly
Perhaps four to five thousand or more miles if taking the journey by sky

Patrick Cashman was one i did know of but one that i never did meet
When i was a very young fellow he left Tullig above Millstreet
Like many young Irish people of the fifties and sixties his future was to be elsewhere
The lust of the wander was in him to see life in the big World out there

A long way from Tullig in Millstreet he met the woman who became his wife
In his new Country he fathered children and settled in his new way of life
Far from the high road to Mushera he lived most of his life span
And passed from life on his eighty third year as quite a long lived man

The Millstreet that Patrick grew up in is a very changed place today
The changes as ever keep happening as some have been known for to say
Most of those he went to school with in eternal rest now do lay
And our biological clocks ever ticking and ticking and ticking away

Hope for him that into his eighties that good health he did enjoy
Far from Tullig above the Town of Millstreet the place where he lived as a boy
And hope that his passing from life for him was a painless release
And in his home from home in Stouffville may his last remains rest in peace.

The Noisy Miners

Of any other species of bird they do not make a friend
With aggression their borders the noisy miners defend
Even against other family groups of their own kind
To all out aggression  they are readily inclined
Of pale yellow bills and brown legs and overall mottled gray
Within their range  birds one does hear and see every day
An aggressive species of honeyeater to many well known
They certainly do have a way of their own
I have even seen them mobbing birds of prey
From their territory they try to drive all others away
Though indigenous to Australia some ornithologists of them do say
That in the territory they lay claim to others birds too scared to stay
Even noisy miners not of their family group they put to flight
For to defend their borders to the death they will fight.

In And Near Millstreet Today

Where many fine athletes and footballers staked their claim to renown
I hear great changes are occuring in and near Millstreet Town
In the Millstreet i once lived in from here long miles away
To many by old Clara i'd be a stranger today
Yet the old fields of my younger years i know to me would look the same
Some of them as i do recall had their own given name
Where the old rill from the high ground down the fields of Claramore
Go babbling to the rivers to the far Atlantic Shore
Where i first grew to love Nature when i was a young boy
And learning new things of her something i always enjoy
In the countryside by Clara where mine was a well known face
To many i'd be a stranger now back in my first homeplace
Where the mentors of my younger years deep in Nature's bosom lay
To many i'd be a stranger in and near Millstreet today.

On This Beautiful Day

In the beautiful blue sky just a few clouds of gray
And the sun shining bright on this beautful day
The songs of the wild birds so pleasant to hear
To this beautiful place Utopia must be near
Were i born a poet of such beauty i'd write
A poem for others to read and enjoy and recite
Chasing their airborne prey flying insects in the sky
The dark welcome swallows do chirp as they fly
Though to most people here mine is a stranger's face
I could live and feel happy in this heaven like place
Here amongst Nature's wonders till the day i die
Utopia on Earth after all not a lie
Birds chirp, sing and whistle on every sunlit bush and tree
And Nature at her finest is all around me.

We Get To Know Birds

We get to know birds by sight or by sound
And the natural environment is healthy where birdlife abound
Birds losing their natural habitat due to human greed
And the place with few birds is a poor place indeed
Of land that should be for wildlife humans take more than their share
And some species of animals and birds are becoming  quite rare
Even the very thought of it does seem a sad thing
To live in a world of a silent Spring
We get to know birds by sight, chirp or song
Once familiarized with one cannot get them wrong
We hear them at dawn as they welcome the day
In appreciation of them the words i do not have for to say
I have loved birds since i was a very young boy
Just watching and hearing them is such a joy.

That's How It Seems To Me

Where midges and mosquitoes and ants do abound
For the purpose of a suntan do not lay on the bare ground
For these tiniest of critters do bite and do sting
Leaving you red spotted and itchy all over an unpleasant thing
Utopia on Earth as some are known to say
Of coastal subtropical and tropical towns yet for living in them some price to pay
Bites from stinging insects and skin cancer from long spells in the burning sun
Would hardly be anyone's idea of fun
On what constitutes an Earthly Utopia all would not agree
Like what is great to you may not be so to me
Some like the cooler climates of heavy rainfall
But what suits some of course does not suit all
But sub tropical and tropical towns not all they are made out to be
At least anyhow that's how it seems to me.

It Is Said About Writers

Rhyming words in abundance and rhymers not few
Though in that i'm not saying anything that is new
But a beautiful rhyme makes a beautiful song
To be married to music for the pub sing along
Since he or she no longer seen as worthy of literary note
One ignored by the literary critics is the poor rhyming poet
Not seen to be worthy of even local renown
Even  on his or her side of the town
Suppose on most things there is a use by date
The twenty first century literary critics only celebrate
The major novelist and playwright and major non rhyming poet
All others are not seen as worthy of note
It is said about writers they are born not made
Though everyone needed in the wordsmith trade.

The Music Of The Curlew

A pleasant sound that to my mind remains ever near
The pipe of the curlew i fancy i hear
O'er Matty Owens bog on a calm morning in May
By the River Finnow from here far away

The song of the curlew a beautiful thing
To me once a familiar voice of the Spring
Above his nesting borders he pipes as he fly
His clear flute like notes in the calm morning sky

Where the rushes and bracken in clusters do grow
In the home of the brown hare and silver back crow
To such places that often inspired me to rhyme
In memory i go back the Seasons of time

The music of the curlew so flute like and clear
Above the brown bog in the Spring of the year
A voice that for decades with one does remain
That in flights of fancy one does hear again

On a calm morning in May by the River Finnow
In a nearby field the soft lowing of a cow
And the flute like notes of the curlew echoes in the sky
Above his nesting borders he pipes as he does fly.

The Nerd

Apart from all others in his ways he does grow
And strangers to him even those he does know
He does not know one who shares his interests always seen on his own
In his side of the town to so few he is known
To some of those who does know him he is often referred
To the unendearing nickname of The Nerd
Like many of those open to learning respect from the ordinary he does not cammand
Nor is it something of such type he would wish to demand
Some people for their heroes do not look far at all
He would be admired and respected by many were he good at football
The praises of macho men many does like to sing
The workings of the human mind is such a strange thing
Yet he is a nice person in his own quiet way
Quiet waters are deep as some are known to say.

How It Must Be

As long as you do not lie about me what you say of me with me fine
Since what you say of me is your business and your business can hardly be mine
I never do say that to perfection that i am to anywhere remotely near
And you one of the town's judgemental not how to others you do think you appear
In life we do all have our problems and we all have our crosses to bear
By all accounts you do have your flaws though of such you do not seem aware
It is easy for to be judgemental and in words for to put others down
The one who talks negatively of people is never the toast of the town
To pass judgement on people is negative the judgemental in their ways are so small
They do not believe in equality or the fairness in the fair go for all
They look up to the wealthy powerbrokers those who live at the fashionable address
Some people can be very gullible and not at all hard to impress
As long as you do not lie about me when you pass judgement on me
What you think of me is your business i feel that is how it must be.

I Will Be Made To Pay

For my sins against others i will be made to pay
If not now then surely on some future day
To the one known as Karma in some sort of a way
For Karma is real  despite what some do say
Of the workings of Karma little i can claim to know
But i believe that in life we do reap what we sow
What we receive from life is mostly our due
That we give to receive i do hold to be true
Though with what i say here many may disagree
I only does see it as it seems to me
We all look at life in ways quite differently
But then if we all thought in the same way how boring we would be
Those who sow the seeds of good Karma in turn good things  receive
On such a philosophy i for one in does believe.

Jim

A long way from here to the little bush town
Surrounded by paddocks flat and dry and brown
The home of the magpie and the pale eyed crow
Where the thirsty winds from the dark mountains do blow

In the town park with his mates he played football
Happy memories of his younger years he does recall
With his coastal mates in the pub by the bay
Of his inland hometown from here far away

The town where he would feel a stranger in today
His hair dark brown when he lived there is now silver gray
Six times a grandfather estranged from his wife
He does seem contented in his single life

Fond memories of his younger years with Jim does remain
And in his flights of fancy he visits again
The far away town where he lived as a boy
And reminiscing of what was he seems to enjoy.

On The Gold Coast

On the Gold Coast the weather in all Seasons mostly warm and fine
And on most days of the year there many hours of sunshine
In the sea there people do swim every day
On the Gold Coast of Queensland from here far away

To the Gold Coast cashed up pensioners go to grow old
The more southerly Winters for them far too cold
On their sea side verandahs in the warm sunshine
Relaxed on reclining chairs drinking beer and wine

The songs of the pied butcherbirds i fancy i hear
They pipe on the Gold Coast every day of the year
And the noisy miners chirp as they fly from tree to tree
And who could mistake the song of the pee wee

But when the midges do bite your hands, legs and face
The Gold Coast of Queensland is not a heavenly place
No place truly perfect as some do like to say
Even of the Gold Coast it is sometimes this way.

Jane

I've seen pretty girls but none quite so fair
As Jane with brown eyes and shoulder length brown hair
The prettiest young woman in our side of the town
Yet she never does daydream of wealth and renown
And she does not wish to be a wealthy man's wife
She just wants to travel and enjoy her life
Since she has just turned eighteen six years from her prime
She feels for marriage and love and having children she has lots of time
She wants to see some of the big World out there
And learn how people live their lives elsewhere
The girl who does make new friends every day
About her she has such a beautiful way
Despite her great beauty one free of conceit
As nice a person as one would wish to meet.

O Reillys

Up there in O Reillys above Mt Tamborine
In the sub tropical rainforest such natural beauty to be seen
For it's amazing flora and fauna O Reillys well known
It does have a natural charm of it's own
In the sub tropical rainforest natural beauty abound
The views are breathtaking from the higher ground
Miles of lower rainforest country from O Reillys to be seen
As near to an Earthly Utopia as to i've ever been
In O Reillys the bird life amazing seen more beautiful birds there
Than in my many travels i have seen anywhere
The mental images of O Reillys with me does remain
And in my flights of fancy i visit again
The South Queensland sub tropical rainforest on the higher ground
And from there gaze on the green beauty for kilometres around.

Not The Most Likeable One

Of long and dry Seasons he had lived a span
He did look a crusty and hardy old man
His face brown and wrinkled from far too much sun
He puffed on his fag and he chomped on his bun

He looked in good health though his hair silver gray
Though clearly he has known a far better day
I said hello to him he did not reply
He did not acknowledge me as he walked by

Not the most likeable one i ever did meet
The old bloke who ignored my greeting on the street
Perhaps things for him were not going his way
We all have our bad moments as some like to say

He passed me in silence though to him i said hello
One who to me will never be a friend or foe
A crusty old bloke one i had not known
Perhaps one who does not have problems of his own.

On The Pied Butchebird

The beauty of Nature is a wonderful thing
At all times of the year the pied butcherbird sing
So pleasant to hear every day of the year
His flute like music melodious and clear

Birds to people of eastern Australia's sub tropics and tropics well known
They do have a charm of their very own
Their pleasant notes carrying in the freshening breeze
In the morning sunshine from the tops of the trees

Black and white birds in gardens and parklands a familiar sight
Quite pretty to look at in the full sunlight
Slightly larger than a thrush and smaller than a crow
Abundant in their range their numbers do grow

Distinctive to look at and in their familiar flute like song
Once seen and once heard you cannot get them wrong
In eastern Australia's sub tropics and tropics people awake
To their flute like notes in the gray of daybreak.

Mick From Donegal

I do have my life struggles but compared to Mick from Donegal
I do not have it that hard my problems seem quite small
Re-united with his young son and daughter and his long suffering wife
His addiction to the demon drink did all but ruin his life

For to save his health and marriage he gave the grog away
A man of courage and will power of Michael one can say
He is an unsung hero a person to inspire
One of such will power and courage is not hard to admire

Perhaps in his late thirties a handsome looking bloke
A witty and a humorous man he laughs loud at a joke
His alcohol addiction had his finances and health under attack
From the very brink of suicide he made the big comeback

A man who has known life's battle a man who has slept rough
In his battle against alcohol he has proved good enough
That he has not tasted alcohol for a year great credit he is due
A man that to his higher self has found his way to be true

A handsome brown haired fellow around two metres tall
A man who fought and beat the odds brave Mick from Donegal
He came back from an all time low alcohol was his downfall
When courage was needed in his life he did answer the call.

If All Employers Were Honest

If all employers were honest and treated their workers right
The workers would not need unions for them to fight
But people do abuse their power or so it does seem this way
And some employers cheat their workers out of money in every pay

Many workers in their working lives fall victim of employers greed
Which is surely one good reason why workers unions workers do need
Where one person takes advantage of another mistrust does reign supreme
Exploitation gives rise to unionism this is how it does seem

Exploitation gives rise to unionism this is not a lie
If there were not any rogue employers unionism it would die
Most employers are trustworthy it is the dishonest few
Who gives life to unionism am i not saying what is new

If all employers were honest how marvellous this would be
Since mistrust between people is based on dishonesty
I tell it as i see it this is how it seems to me
This is my humble opinion though with that you may not agree.

I Only Have Memories

Perhaps i will never see Clara again
And hear the birds sing in the wind and the rain
When Spring in the old fields is spreading her green
And bluebells are blooming on ditch of the bohreen

Where i used to daydream that i would be a poet
One seen to be worthy of literary note
But daydreams are just that and seldom come true
And fame as a wordsmith would not be my due

In Claraghatlea near Millstreet my first homeplace
To many there today mine would be a stranger's face
The mentors of my young years in their long rest lay
And the years have left me looking older and gray

In the silver tongued stream babbling from Claramore
To the waterways bound for the Atlantic shore
The white breasted dipper is singing today
Where the old fields are wearing their flowers of the May

Whilst chasing flying insects their prey in the sky
The dark barn swallows do chirp as they fly
And a bird that i have known for many a year
The song of the robin i fancy i hear

In reality the place i called home is no longer home to me
And the face of old Clara i may never more see
Perhaps the now is all that matters and the clock it ticks on
And i only have memories of Seasons long gone.

I Cannot Complain

Since to many my biggest worry does seem small
Suppose i should not be complaining at all
I am luckier than most millions worse off than me
I've never known what it's like to live as a refugee

The lady of luck to me is kind enough
I have never been homeless or had to sleep rough
I've got a home to live in and enough food for to eat
Can even afford to buy myself a treat

I cannot complain in life i've been lucky enough
I have never been homeless or had to sleep rough
So many in dire poverty due to birth circumstance
To succeed in life they've never had a chance

Of anything i have never been in need
One might say i am lucky quite lucky indeed
I've never had to sleep  in a park or a factory doorway
The lady of luck does treat me quite okay.

Though Some More Than Others

Though some more than others more generous and kind
In most human beings some good you will find
Truly evil people not well in the mind
Since to the suffering of others they seem totally blind
Though some i've met are in need of medical support
That i've yet to meet a truly evil person i am glad to report
Those who deliberately inflict harm on others to say the least rare
Though such people do exist i am well aware
Those guilty of serious crimes one could never condone
But let the one without sin be first to cast the stone
So few very few completely free of taint
At least a billion flawed people for every saint
If you are not true to yourself to anyone you cannot be true
And the karma we sow in life becomes our due
This is how it is and it always will be
At least anyhow that's how it seems to me.

On Such A Nice Day

Yellow leaves falling in the cool morning breeze
In the park of the town off of the deciduous trees
On the second day of May in the late southern Fall
And for the time of year mild weather overall
The sun shining though not warm in the blue and gray sky
And the dark welcome swallows near to the ground fly
The flying insects they prey on to Mother Earth near
They seldom do fly high at this time of year
Though the cooler and wetter months of Winter only four weeks away
The spring it is nearer with each passing day
The bird who does sing every day of the year
The flute of the magpie melodious and clear
And though sun not so warm in sky blue and gray
So nice to be living on such a nice day.

Out There In The Parkland

Out there in the parkland i hear the pee wee
His distinctive song is familiar to me
A bird that i often do see and do hear
He sings in the parkland every day of the year
The black and white birds known to some as magpie lark
Live in rural paddocks and in the town park
I have even seen them on the city street
Birds anywhere one is likely for to meet
Mudlark, pee wee or magpie lark names they are known by
Of humankind they do not seem very shy
They allow you to come close to them before they do fly
These mostly ground dwelling birds who seldom do travel by sky
Out there in the parkland the pee wee does sing
The songs his name came from many days from the Spring.

The Farmer

Many urban people do not treat the farmer as a friend
But on the farmer to live most of us do depend
Without the farmer we would not have milk, bread or meat
Or vegetables or fruit to live we have to eat

In these times of Climate Change and economic depression the farmer doing it tough
One without the other does seem hard enough
And add to that falling prices for the produce he grows
The farmer surely has his financial woes

On who governs the Country the farmer has little say
Like all others he has a vote to cast on election day
Compared to the urban population the rural seems small
And  as political power brokers not seen as important at all.

The farmer works hard every day of the year
Droughts, storms and floodings are things he does fear
Sheep and cattle and acres of crops to drought and flooding lost
Such things come to him at a huge financial cost.

Your Ill Gotten Gains

That criminals are not rare happens to be true
But the Karma they sow it will become their due
What we do unto others in turn we receive
On such a philosophy i do believe
Those who become wealthy at others expense
May not feel any shame at their serious offense
But if the law does not punish them Karma will one day
And to karma their price will be huge for to pay
With the concept of Karma some may not agree
But each to their own views that is how it should be
And though we all look at things in our ways differently
The saying of what goes around comes around appeals to me
Your ill gotten gains in huge interest may grow
But like it is said you will reap what you sow.

Those With A Sense Of Place

For to travel they do not have in them the need
Those with a sense of place they are lucky indeed
The bigger World out there they have no wish to see
They marry in their homeplace and there raise their family
Him or her in their home town a known and loved face
They live, love grow old and die in their homeplace
Whilst the one with the wanderlust travels far away
From where she or he first looked on light of day
The stay at home types in their homeplace happy to stay
There is no place like home their kind are known to say
They do not feel the desire to travel elsewhere
To the crowded cities in the big World out there
Where they were born and raised happiness they do find
The bug of the wander never enters their mind.

What Will Happen To My Last Remains

What will happen to my last remains when i've lived my last day
Whether they be burnt to ashes or buried to naturally decay
Is something that does not bother me at all
If this to me was a worry my worries would be small
I will be past all feelings of joy and of woe
And i do not need a friend or i cannot make a foe
Billions of people far better than i am buried forgotten and gone
People are born to die and life goes on and on
The longest lived human life in time not a long span
I hope for to live on for to be an old man
I look forward to seeing the pink blooms on the fruit trees in Spring
And hearing the nesting birds whistle and sing
Since of all cares and worries death does set us free
What will happen to my last remains will not bother me.

He Always Looks Lonely

To some people life can seem very unfair
For years he has battled his black moods of despair
In and out of mental institutions his moods often on the darker side
By illness of the mind his life has been destroyed
On strong medication for to calm him down
Surely one of the saddest of people on his side of the town
Yet when sane he is a good person compassionate and kind
How sad life must be for those ill in the mind
A man in his mid twenties who seems to have few words to say
One i do see often though not every day
Though quite handsome and tall in the prime of his life
He does not have children or a girl friend or a wife
Not a member of a sporting or social club he is not well known
And he always looks lonely walking on his own.

Old Harry

Amnesia has clouded his mind and all to him a stranger
But many many years ago he fought in gap of danger
His health is good though bent and gray ninety five in September
Without a memory in his mind since the past he cannot remember

He does not remember many words so he does little talking
Not allowed to leave the nursing home on his own though he has the constant urge in him for walking
Often out and about in the nursing home grounds he still craves open spaces
In their younger years he and his wife Ann had been to many places

Old Harry's soulmate and his wife she died six years ago at eighty seven
She surely is up there today that is if there is a heaven
Their union did not bring them children though four decades they spent together
They shared life's good times and not so good devoted to each other

In his younger years a decorated soldier and a good man and kind hearted
There is lots of living in him yet though his memory him has departed
The gates of the nursing home grounds locked at all times so that the amnesia inmates cannot get out
He would not find his way back home if he did go on walk-about.

We Do Crave Respect

We do crave respect it does seem this way
And we worry of what others think of us or say
And fear seems to stop most of speaking their mind
Preservation of self makes us this way inclined
We are egotistical creatures indeed
To be liked 'twould seem in us there is this great need
But having said that it seems a natural thing
That we do like others our praises to sing
'Tis in most the crave for some sort of renown
To be even well known and well liked in one's side of the town
And though some it does seem are publicity shy
The need for recognition to most does apply
I suppose this is how it is and it always will be
At least anyway that's how it seems to me.

If I Did Tell You Differently

I Am many decades beyond my life's prime
And my body it is feeling the wear of time
But i will be a rhymer till the day i die
If i did tell you differently that would be a lie
Since the prime of my life i've been a rhyming buff
I am one of those who has penned reams of stuff
To write rhyme is easy as most would agree
And so many far better at it than me
As a younger man i hoped for to be a poet
And be looked on as one worthy of literary note
And though i am one of those who did not make the grade
Every writer is needed in the wordsmith trade
The best days of my life to the forever gone
But for as long as i can i will keep rhyming on.

The Uncertainty In Life

Our biological clocks on us ticking away
And every day one nearer to our last day
And though times may be tough for the woman or man
Good times for you may be coming so live for as long as you can
Your present shortage of money may be getting you down
And you may be one of the saddest people in the town
But better days of you may well be ahead
Though at present you do feel you'd be better off dead
The dead cannot weep or laugh or sing
Life may be hard but you are alive and life is a great thing
Today may seem your worst day but tomorrow today will be gone
And life all around us as usual goes on
The uncertainty in life is an amazing thing
Who knows for you tomorrow good tidings may bring.

The One Who Has Knocked About

Though he has been in many Lands and places the one who has knocked about
He feels he is a failure in his moments of self doubt
He has seen India's and China's big cities been in Tokyo and Rome
Been in London, Paris, Athens and New York and other cities far from Home

Not patriotic or nationalistic in any sort of a way to such type he does not belong
But the wanderlust is in him and in him it is strong
There is so much of the World he says he has not yet seen
The far off Lands do beckon and the far off hills are green

One who never was a member of any community or any sporting club
I met him on a stop off on his travels at the local pub
A dark haired fellow perhaps in his late twenties he was easy to talk to
As he conversed on his travels and things he did plan to do

Surely a well travelled young person in the prime of his life and carefree
So many Countries he has been in he says he has many more to see
He stopped off at the pub on his travels  on his way home by car to the next town
The man with the wanderlust in him in any one place could not settle down.

Strange George

Always on his own he does seem rather shy
Strange George is the nickname locals know him by
On his side of the town one by sight well known
Though he is one who is always seen on his own
Getting on in years perhaps seventy or so
One without a friend who does not have a foe
Without a word to anyone for to say
He walks for an hour in the park every day
To most of the locals his is a familiar face
If everyone were like him the World to live in would be a far better place
Since he has never been known for to harm anyone
And enemies he has never made though friends he has never won
Strange George is his nickname though it seems strange to say
That we all can be strange in our own sort of a way.

To Music

Embraced by all  Races of all Nations Worldwide
'Tis true that music does cross the cultural divide
And those who claim it as their own have got it all wrong
Since music to everyone it does belong
The great gift of music is a marvellous thing
Along with song and dance to millions great pleasure it does bring
A lift to the spirits and the self esteem
Those who do not like any sort of music not many 'twould seem
To the Human World great people have come and gone
But music the healer is living on
In it's many genres too many for me to name
To bring people together it's great claim to fame
This easy to write and read rhyme in it's praise
To music the glass that toasts we ought to raise.

Suppose This Is How It Is

Whilst i do not wish upon any person or life form ill
I eat the flesh of creatures that others do kill
And what does this say of a fellow like me
That i am a hypocrite this well may be
But then since few of  us live by what we do say
We all are hypocritical in some sort of a way
To the principles we uphold few of us true do remain
Something that you have heard before that you will hear again
Us humans are complex to give us our due
To what most believe in most do not stay true
It is not any new insight with you i do share
When i say that those who live by the standard they set for themselves rare
Suppose this is how it is and it always will be
At least anyhow that is how it seems to me.

Just For The Joy Of It

I never pretend for to be a poet
Nor am i one worthy of literary note
The rhymes come to my mind on paper i pen them down
I'm just an average rhymer in a rural town
To that you may say tell us something new
When i say that poets as ever nowadays few
Since natural poets are born that way and not made
Though all are needed in the wordsmith trade
And though my worth as a rhymer i have raeson to doubt
I am never short of things for to write about
With rhyme words it is easy for to play
That is how it does seem to me anyway
The rhymes in my head on paper i pen down
Just for the joy of it not for wealth and renown.

Some Way To Go

Since to my higher self i struggle to be true
Suppose good Karma is something i am not due
At times i do feel that i leave myself down
Though many more like me on this side of the town
To be a good person i have some way to go
One can say of me i'm my own greatest foe
I am not the person that you think you do see
As there are clouds of darkness within the real me
So lucky the one of the enlightened mind
Who have it in him or her to be compassionate and kind
Who of others do only have nice things to say
The people who do their good deeds every day
To be a good person i have some way to go
I do believe i am my own greatest foe.

He Seems Out Of Place

He seems out of place where the laughter is loud
There is always one lonely one in a crowd
Those who know him for years say life he never did enjoy
That he seldom did smile even as a boy
He is nicknamed 'Ed  Sad Face' since Ed is his name
One who never has designs on wealth and on fame
He did have a girl friend a few years ago
Who left him when she fell in love with a fellow named Joe
Though by all accounts his affair with her was brief
Some say his leaving her to him came as a sense of relief
He does not have friends one who lives on his own
A natural loner by many not known
Yet his neighbour poor Sue have only good of him to say
He helps her out of kindness without asking for pay.

The Self Centred One

A boastful and arrogant fellow named Rod
He does feel that he is superior to God
To talk of self one who does never feel shy
Quite boring to describe him are words that apply

He mostly talks of self and his marvellous children and his beautiful wife
And his thriving business and his successful life
To anyone prepared to listen to him waffling away
To waste with him half of an hour of their day

One i often see in the park or the Street
I pretend to be in a hurry when him i do meet
He does seem quite boring as the word can be
At least anyhow that's how he seems to me

His five favourite subjects are i, myself and me
And his successful business and wonderful family
One who talks much of self but then talk it is free
He does seem quite boring would you not agree.

John

He does not have the things many men seem to need in their life
Such as children and community status and a partner or wife
John has been out of Poland for more than sixty years
But for his past he is a fellow who does not have tears

In conversation an interesting man for to engage
For he is one who has the wisdom of a sage
From talking to his kind life insights one does gain
Years of wonderful memories with him does remain

His wonderful memories the decades does span
For an octogenarian a healthy and a lucid man
One i sometimes see in the park or the street
He is a pleasure for to talk to and meet

Well into his eighties he lives on his own
In Warrnambool he is one who is well known
Such wonderful insights and memories he does have to share
The Johns of the World to say the least rare.

On How We Treat Others

On how we treat others we do have a choice
And like it is said it is nice to be nice
For your acts of kindness good things you receive
On such a philosophy i do believe
What we do look for in others we usually do see
And we create our own good or bad Karma would you not agree
Those in their great lust for wealth and renown
Who do seek advantage in dragging others down
The folly of their ways will surely live to rue
Since they will receive the Karma they are due
They are the best people it does seem to me
The people who for others have compassion and empathy
They sow the seeds of good Karma every day
By in helping others going out of their way.

Like All Life Forms

Like all life forms we are mortal and that is not a lie
We are born from woman helpless and as helpless we will die
Only Nature lives forever that is how it seems to me
The only one i know of who outlives mortality
The only God i know of from me not far away
Her name is Mother Nature i see her every day
It truly can be said of her time never becomes her foe
The colors of her Seasons to her do come and go
Our Seasons pass so quickly and fleeting is our prime
The life journey ends for everyone we all run out of time
Make the most of life, to others be kind and live for as long as you can
That applies to every woman and applies to every man
From the birth pains of a woman our life's journey began
And we live for an average of seventy years in time a lengthy span.

It Is Not Hard To Imagine

It is not hard to imagine as some are known to say
In his flights of fancy the places he grew up in he visits every day
Above the silent valley a musical speck in the sky
The small brown lark is carolling as towards the clouds he does fly
The great beauty of Nature he first grew to enjoy
In Brittany far north of this Land where he lived as a boy
Now in his early fifties his hair is silver gray
Yet in fancy home fields from him are not far away
Though the past is long behind him in the forever gone
Of where he grew into manhood the memories living on
The wanderlust was in him he left on a balmy day
Upon his great life's journey in the pleasant month of May
The wander bug was in him some of the bigger World he see
The last time he saw the home fields was in nineteen eighty three.

We Share Much In Common

The rhymes come to me and on paper i pen them down
Though in that for me there's no wealth or renown
And something for me to rhyme of every day
To rhyme is so easy it does seem this way
A bird whose song is quite familiar to me
The silver bill magpie pipes on a gum tree
In practicing his music he spends some of his time
A bird addicted to song as i am to rhyme
The beautiful music so pleasant to hear
Of the bird who does sing every day of the year
We share much in common does that seem a strange thing
I rhyme for the love of it and he loves to sing
He is an ageing bird and i am an ageing man
But we will sing and rhyme for as long as we can.

Football Is His Religion

He does have a very sad look on his face
Disappointment in sport can be hard to embrace
At the weekend the team he is a fan of did not win
Yet life does go on and the sky did not fall in

Who knows after next weekend's game he may be feeling great
A win for his team he may have to celebrate
He may laugh and joke with his mates at the pub
And join in the chorus of the song of the club

Football is his religion and his club is his god
Suppose in him in that there is nothing odd
His team has become a huge part in his life
Almost as important to him as his family and wife

Even in the lunch room at work he does talk of football
And of others interested his team's game at the weekend he does recall
He suffers of footballitis an addictive thing
That moments of joy and sadness to him bring

By the sad look on his face it is not hard to tell
That at the weekend his team did not do well
Football is his religion and his football club is his god
Yet suppose in him in that there is nothing odd.

Most Birds Are Recognizable

Their songs and their colours to their identity a give away
The beautiful birds i do see and do hear every day
The magpie the bird with the beautiful flute like song
By sight or by sound one cannot get him wrong
The magpie lark known to some as the pee wee
His song is a clue to his identity
And the blackbird who in his breeding Season sings at daybreak
Is one by his song that one could never mistake
And who could mistake the calls of the weerloo
The huge dark brown parrots known to many as yellow tail black cockatoo
And the flute of the gray shrike thrush so melodious and clear
His music is always quite pleasant to hear
Most birds are recognizable by their appearance or song
You get to know them and you cannot get them wrong.

She The Immortal One

I have loved Mother Nature since i was a boy
And learning of her ways i still do enjoy
Yet so little about her i can claim to know
And my wonder of her only does seem to grow
I do love her creatures the wildborn and free
And her beauty we do not need to pay to see
In reality the World's only Super Power
The one who can create a beautiful flower
Her Seasons to her they do come and do go
And to the longest lived life forms time becomes their foe
Death is for all of her life forms the facts never lie
And she the immortal one will never die
And whether we are buried entire or to ashes do burn
To her earth or water one day we will return.

So Many Roadways

So many roadways  i've driven up and down
And i've travelled a bit been in many a town
Koroit where i now live close to Warrnambool
Is thousands of miles from where i went to school
Yet so many Countries i never may see
So many have seen far more places than me
Yet i envy the stay at home people who love their homeplace
Where i was raised mine would be a stranger's face
The life's journey for so few leads to wealth and fame
But having said that no two exactly the same
And it would only seem quite a fair thing to say
That we all look at life in a different way
The now is all that matters since yesterday has gone
And our journey in life to it's end will go on.

He Is From The Place

He is from the place of the dark brown weerloo
The birds known to many as yellow tail black cockatoo
The high wooded country from here far away
Where he feels he would be a stranger today
His once dark brown hair it is now silver gray
But for one in his late sixties he looks quite okay
Ten times a grandfather and estranged from his wife
He does not feel unhappy in his single life
He is all too aware that time does not stand still
That in the wooded countryside by the brown hill
The passing of time would have brought change to there
And many of his friends of his younger years like him now live elsewhere
In outer suburbia he feels happy to stay
Far from where he first looked on the bright lamp of day.

Though some In Denial Of It

Though some in denial of it far more than a few
When i say Climate Change is upon us i'm not saying what is new
But doubtless to say carbon emissions due to us at present and in decades long gone
The scourge of Climate Change has helped to hurry on
That Climate Change is a natural occurence well may be so
Since climate scientists have proven the existence of an ice age thousands of centuries ago
But human environmental practices in the twenty first century on climate has an impact
And that by hundreds of years it may hurry on Climate Change may well be a fact
Human greed is becoming to the survival of human kind a dangerous enemy
That is how it does seem and would you not agree
That the future generations for our mistakes may pay
That we may be sowing the seeds of our species extinction does seem sad to say
Though some in denial of it to them such thinking is strange
We are at the start of an age of Climate Change.

Her Great Gift Of Faith

She goes to the cemetery every day
And kneel at the grave of her dead husband and pray
That to re-unite with him her soul it will fly
Up to god's kingdom way beyond the sky

Though she could not bear him children with her he did stay
And remained faithful to her till his life's final day
In each other in life they had found their soulmate
And she believes that he waits for her by heaven's gate

One might say of her she has known a better day
In her early sixties her once brown hair is gray
Free of any conceit she is ageing with grace
With the warmth of kindness in her beautiful face

Her husband died in his mid sixties of heart failure a few years ago
Without him she feels lonely she misses him so
But she is convinced that in heaven for her he does wait
How marvellous indeed is her great gift of faith

For forty years he was her soulmate in life
And she believes they will live again as man and wife
She believes when she draws her last breath that her soul will fly
To join him in god's kingdom way beyond the sky.

I Come From A Place

I come from a place far north of here miles of sky
And my heritage one thing i never deny
Claraghatlea near Millstreet Town is my first homeplace
Where to many mine years ago was a known face
To many there i'd be a stranger today
Just an ageing fellow that the years has left gray
But i bet the old fields i loved would look much the same
Some of them i recall had their own given name
Though fond memories of them with me till death will stay
The mentors of my young years with life's departed lay
And though them in the flesh i shall never more see
I owe them for their life's insights they passed on to me
My heritage is a thing i could never disown
But where i came from to only few i would be known.

'Tis Hard To Care About

'Tis hard to care about one who about you does not care
Who little in common with you seem to share
That we like some better than others seems natural to me
'Tis hard to like everyone would you not agree?
Yet because you do not like one does not give you the right
For to look on that person as a lesser light
Treat everyone as your equal since that is their due
To your own self you can only remain true
Treat everyone as an equal never put anyone down
Leave that to the judgemental few of the town
If you do not like one do not be that person's judge
Their right to a fair go him or her don't begrudge
Still 'tis hard for to care about one who about you does not care
One who with you in common has little to share.