On Port Fairy

A beautiful place i feel privileged to know
Port Fairy where the Moyne into the Pacific flow
An old  coastal Town full of beauty and life
Where the warmth of hospitality amongst it's people is rife
The gem of Victoria's south west coastal countryside
For it's  marvellous music festival Port Fairy is famed Worldwide
In the warmth of  their  hospitality it's people take pride
The lure of Port Fairy cannot be denied
With a natural beauty all of it's own
As a tourist attraction it is widely known
Belfast Lough and Griffith Island where the shearwaters breed
It is a beautiful part of the World indeed
As a tourist attraction it remains to the fore
Where the  Moyne  winds  it's way to the Pacific Shore.

On Live And Let Live

We should live for to live and let live
And help those of helping in need
And  not be taking more than we give
And for our good karma plant the good seed

If there is a god that god is for all
And not for the privileged few
The true god  would not want us warring for her or for him
But of a supreme being's existence i wish i knew

You do not have  to be religious to be kind
Acts of kindness are performed by the  good
And goodness lives in the individual mind
Though the formation of  thought patterns i've never understood

Some give far less than they receive
And that is not a good thing
On live and let live i believe
And the praises of kindness i will sing

Where Mine Many Years Ago

Where mine many years ago was a known face
And as a boy and young man it was my favourite place
But from there i have been by far too long away
And to many in Claraghatlea i would be a stranger today

Above the rushy fields west of the Town of Millstreet
Where the rivers from Kippagh and Gneeves do meet
The dark barn swallows do chirp as they fly
In pursuit of flying insects across the  gray sky

Where i grew to love Nature when i was a  boy
Her sights and sounds remain to me as a source of joy
And from Nature we learn something new every day
We never stop learning as some lke to say

I have not seen Claraghatlea for some twenty six years
And for  there i no longer shed nostalgic tears
The memories of what was i only retain
Though often in fancy i walk in the old fields again

The migrant Athenian loves Athens and the migrant Roman loves Rome
And i love Claraghatlea it was my first home
But even the memories are fading of what used to be
At least anyhow that's how it feels  to me.

They Will Never Applaud You

Since you helped  for to elect them to govern on election day
That you call them your government with me is okay
But one has to lose for another to win
And your government cannot represent those who did  not vote them in
To the position of power in the parliament though on election night
The leader of the party you voted for vowed with a grin of delight
To legislate for everyone even every political foe
You cannot legislate for those who voted against you though in public you say so
What you say to placate them to them of little note
If they wanted you for leader for you they would vote
They will never applaud you and you they only tolerate
Those who voted for you on election day were those who did celebrate
You may call them your government but it does seem to me
That others do look on them quite differently.

The Past Came With Me

Wherever i go to my past goes with me
And often in fancy i hear and i see
In Spring a pink breasted chaffinch singing on a leafy birch tree
Such beauty that lives on in the  memory
The sights and the sounds live in my mind today
That came with me to here from a place far away
Where i grew to love Nature when i was a boy
And learning of her ways i still do enjoy
When the cool winds  of April from the hills did blow
The little mottled brown dunnock sang in the hedgerow
And the dark brown river bird dipper with breast white as snow
Sang on a rock in the stream where the rapids  did flow
Yes the past came with me from a place far away
And in my mind it is living today.

John Shaw Neilson

John Shaw Neilson he wrote of The Country Out There
And The Orange Tree and You And Yellow Air
And Marian's Child and Granny Sullivan
From the pen of the poetic talented man

He was born in Penola and in Nhill spent most of his young life
He died without children and  he never had a wife
But hundreds of beautiful poems he did create
The Bard of the Mallee was a poetic great

The John Shaw Neilsons of the World to say the least rare
With the Bard of the Mallee few could hope to compare
His poems brought him little in financial reward though he did know of fame
And in death his has become a legendary name

John Shaw Neilson wrote of brolgas dancing in their courtship display
In a bare brown paddock in the warmth of a Mallee Spring day
His poems have outlived him and of him 'twould be fair to say
That he was one with words who did  have a way.

In Ireland

In Ireland they do laud their literary greats
Such as Joyce and Beckett and Heaney and Yeats
But their  National Bard James Clarence Mangan seldom mentioned at all
And few do speak of Patrick MacGill of Donegal
Patrick Cavanagh, James Stephens, Etna Carbery and  Austin Clarke
In Irish Literature they did leave  their mark
And of the praises of the  great Oscar Wilde Irish literary critics do not sing
His works nowadays in Ireland are not the in thing
He is  better known elsewhere than in Ireland today
Of Literature in Ireland what does this say
The works of  O Casey and Synge today in Ireland not well known
Though they were true Irish and of Ireland's own
The literary critics of Ireland have their chosen few
You may say to that do tell us what is new.

Not Seen As Successful

In life i am not seen as successful though of opportunity i have  not been denied
I will end my days as a poetaster though to be a poet my best i have tried
In my mid sixties and  feeling the years now one might say time is  not on my side
How many more years are left in me is for the Reaper to decide
I often think of  my young years in Millstreet in Claraghatlea from here far away
In the place where i grew into manhood i might feel a stranger today
I was a young man in the sixties and the years have left me looking gray
The longer you live the  sooner you will die as some have been known for to say
I used to daydream in my late twenties that i would become a famous poet
One referred to as a man of letters and seen to be worthy of literary note
But daydreams are that only daydreams and for few do only come true
As has been said by the wise one we receive from life what is our due
The facts say i am not successful and fact as we know never lie
I was born to be a poetaster and as a poetaster i will die.

That Money Speaks Every Language

He is far from the best looking ageing man in the town
And it has  been awhile since his hair was natural brown
But he walks hand  in hand with a blond haired young Rose
Money speaks every language one would have to suppose

Four times divorced and ten times a grand-dad
As women go for himself he has not done bad
His latest lover in her mid twenties is in her life's prime
He wines and dines her and gives her a good time

Old father time on him does keep ticking on
Well into his seventies his best days long gone
With brown hair dye he does cover his gray
And though he may be ageing he does not feel that way

That money speaks  every language not hard to understand
With his beautiful young woman he walks hand in hand
For his years he looks sprightly for to give him his due
That money speaks  every language happens to be true.

When Memories Come To You

When memories come to you of the long gone years
Do you have to struggle for  to contain the tears
That bubbles within you and yearns to flow
For faces and places that you used to know

Where is she now that beautiful woman with the wavy hair of brown
Back in your prime days she was Rose of the town
But that in years by now four decades ago
And like to all others time has become her foe

A beautiful young woman free of conceit and guile
She  always did greet you with warmth in her smile
But you lacked the courage to ask her on a date
The sad thing of regret is that it always comes too late

The clock on your life ever ticking away
And in your hometown you would be a stranger today
Your physical prime to the forever gone
And life  all around you as usual goes on

And only the memories with you now remain
Of faces and  places you will not see again
And the days come and go and time  ticking away
And each dawn one nearer to your final day.

Burns

He was more than a literary man of note
The ploughman of Ayrshire was a legendary poet
In Scotland a day for to honour his name
His poems and songs live as a testament to his fame

True  greatness of him never could be denied
His  songs and poems are sung and read Worldwide
His legend in death only does seem to grow
And  his  spirit lives on where Afton Waters flow

Through valleys and fields that are old in time
That Burns did glorify in song and rhyme
He did not live to grow old he died rather young
With his best poem unwritten and his best songs unsung

The National Bard of Scotland but to all he belong
He penned for humanity Worldwide the New Year song
At New Year Auld Lang Syne is sung everywhere
In villages, cities and towns in the big World out there

He lived  life to the fullest though he died  rather young
He drunk, loved, danced and he laughed and he sung
And  though he did not live for to grow old and gray
He wrote the poems and songs that are living today.

Roger Federer

He is the World's best some of him does say
And tennis players like him are not born every day
The Swiss great Roger Federer amongst tennis best
The one never found to be wanting when put to the test
For the past decade in Tennis Grand Slams he  is the one to beat
A man humble in victory and always gracious in defeat
A great serve and  return of serve and always quick on his  feet
One  might say of Roger the tennis player complete
About him he has such an easy going way
So cool under pressure nerves he never display
Arguably the best tennis player of his time
He seldom was beaten in his glorious  prime
By all who love tennis he is one who is known
Roger Federer is in a class of his own.

Of Nature

Of Nature my wonder only seems  to grow
Yet so little  of her ways i can claim to know
Her secrets from everyone  hidden away
Though from her we do learn something new every day
 I have loved her since i was a very young boy
And learning about her i still do enjoy
The  one who can create a beautiful flower
She will always be the World's number one super power
Us humans for  our survival on her does  depend
Yet we never do treat her as we would a dear friend
She grows the food we depend on for  to live
Yet we take and take from her and  in return to her nothing give
Earth Mother or Mother Nature or call her what you may
I love her and will till my very last day.

Autumn In Duhallow

All we have are our memories of the past
And sadly memory in some people till death does not last
Some lose their gift of memory which does seem so sad
For some things most of us take for granted we ought to feel glad

In fancy i can hear the gales of Autumn roar
Above  the old high fields of green Claramore
And old Clara  is cloaked in the gray fogs of rain
And stormwater is flowing in every dyke and drain

And new fallen Autumn leaves by the swirling winds  blown up and down
On the roadway to Rathmore just west of Millstreet Town
Autumn in Duhallow weatherwise a changeable time of year
And with each passing day Winter drawing ever near

To the old fields of Duhallow from here far away
When the overnight frost at morning leaves the countryside looking gray
The memories of what was in me living on
But the now is all that matters since the past it has gone.

Anyone Can Rhyme

I repeat here what i have said often before
I write rhymes for enjoyment that and  nothing more
Anyone can rhyme Tim rhymes with Jim
And fish as we know they are born to swim
Anyone can rhyme but poets are few
To that you might say tell us something that is new
And though writers are  born and cannot be made
Everyone is needed in the wordsmith trade
Long after the last breath of life  from him or her has gone
The words of  the poet for centuries will live on
And though every writer dreams of being wealthy and  famous  few do succeed
That for  every winner many losers does seem true indeed
Anyone can write rhymes but poets are few
You might say to that do tell us  what is new.

Nothing In Common To share

With him i have nothing in common to share
And  that of me he feels the same i am all too aware
Whenever we meet we have little to say
Except good morning or good evening or hello or good day.

He is a good person in every way
Works hard for to support his  wife and  his children and his taxes he does pay
Yet he  does  have little in common with me
And  we look at life one might say differently

His views on life are quite different to mine
And with the town's aspirational he wine and dine
Amongst the social climbing class he  is well known
Perhaps of that one can say to each their own

Sometimes i do see him in the  park or the street
Just a hello in passing whenever we meet
So little in common we do have to share
In the World  we live in such things are not rare.

Love And Kindness

Love and kindness the greatest gifts of human kind
Two greater gifts  than them one could not hope to find
Those who have them have compassion and empathy
And in the suffering of others feel great sympathy
Those with love and kindness are lucky indeed
And of more of their sort the Human World is in need
If everyone were loving and kind we would not have wars, homelessness and poverty
And amongst those of different religions, races and cultures there would be harmony
It does seem a sad thing for to have to say
That many lack in love and kindness in the Human World  of today
The loving and kind to help others out do go out of their way
And in making the World better to live in a big part they do play
For their own good  Karma they plant the good seed
And of more of their kind the Human World is  in need.

Birds Fly In Small Flocks

Birds fly in small flocks to their roosting trees nearby
And the thunder is cracking in the gray evening sky
The currawongs all day in their songs  forecasting rain
As forecasters of the weather they have got it right again
It is a  gray ending to a nice sunny day
When thunder is rumbling heavy rain is on the way
Weatherwise September is changeable in the early Spring
Four Seasons in a day in Victoria is not an uncommon thing
But as the warm and dry days of Summer with each passing day drawing near
Rain is always welcome at this time of the year
In the warmth of the mid day sunshine the pied currawongs
On the high trees were calling with rain in their songs
And in the darkening twilight birds in small flocks do fly
To roost for the night on the trees nearby.

Consider Bradley Manning

The wisdom in the saying of live and  let live does seem obvious to me
And difference does make us  more interesting would you not agree
And though we may not agree with what some have to say
To their right to express their  opinions to them we ought to pay
Free speech should not have boundaries but such is not the case
Those who divulge government secrets a lengthy jail term bound to face
Consider Bradley Manning's case in the U S of A
And  this the land of free speech as some are known to say
Why should a government hide information from their people yet to whistle blow on them is a crime
And the one who breaches trust on classified information destined for years of prison time
Yet even in the most democratic of Countries free speech has it's limits that is how it seems to be
And no such a thing as free speech even in a democracy
Bradley Manning is in jail for leaking of government secrets in the U S of A
And this is a Country of free speech as some are known to say.

Mid September In Victoria

The magpie lark sings his familiar pee wee
And a magpie is warbling on a black wattle tree
And the dark welcome swallows do chirp as they fly
In pursuit of flying insects in the gray evening sky
Mid September in Victoria in the early Spring
The male nesting birds to proclaim their borders do whistle and sing
The song of the shrike  thrush melodious to hear
It is such a beautiful time of the year
Today though not sunny not cold a cool eighteen degrees
And a nice  sort of freshness in the freshening breeze
That blow up the hill through the park by the bay
How nice  to be living on such a nice day
The wildflowers in bloom after recent Spring rain
And  with such pleasant weather how  can one complain.

Nature At Her Finest

Here there is a smile on Nature's beautiful face
I could live till i die in this peaceful place
Just a few clouds of gray in the blue and sunny sky
Without any human buildings to look at nearby
Nature at her finest writers and artists to creativity inspire
And of singing her praises one never could tire
With Nature at her finest no beauty to compare
And places such as this in the twenty first century rare
The river flowing gently and the  nesting birds chirp and sing
In the  warmth of September in the early Spring
Nature at her finest is all around me
And everywhere i turn to look beauty i do see
The beauty that Nature can only create
That artists and writers in their works celebrate.

Some Loves

Some loves do last a lifetime and some  loves end in tears
And the  loveache of lost love can linger on for years
And the love that's fastest to bloom is usually first to die
That every love is born to last is surely based on a lie
Though everyone hopes  to find lasting true  love all do not succeed
And those who find their love soulmate are quite lucky indeed
And though the praises of love the masses love to sing
Love can have it's downside and can be a hurtful thing
And nothing does seem sadder than an old  love in decay
An ageing pair in love years ago who now quarrel night and day
The attraction that gives rise to love started before the first kiss
And true  love at it's pinnacle is a feeling of sheer bliss
But love  can have it's downside as some all know too well
And the loveache of lost love is life  in earthly hell.

The Rose Of Kanturk Town

With eyes as blue as a cloudless sky and shoulder length hair of chestnut brown
She lives far south of the  Allow the Rose of Kanturk Town
Warrnambool in Victoria thousands of miles south of her Hometown in Duhallow
The beautiful young woman from North Cork does have the inner glow

Twenty five years old with lots of charm she  is in her life's prime
She left Kanturk five years ago in the depths of Wintertime
When the fields beside the Allow with frost were silvery gray
And a cold wind blew from the northlands on a dreary winter's day

From her old home in Duhallow thousands of miles away
Each evening with her Australian husband to be she walks hand in hand at Lady Bay
A long way south of where she first saw light of day and  where she  went to school
In Victoria's coastal south west City of  breezy Warrnambool

The wanderlust was in her for the bigger World out there
And she left Kanturk her Hometown her future was to be elsewhere
She lives and  works in Warrnambool and  enjoys the coastal City life
And to her nice young Aussie man she will make a marvellous wife.

We Are What We Are

We are what we are with that would you agree
The monarch and  president born to die like you and me
For this thing known as success with each other we compete
For our sense of self esteem which can lead to self conceit
But since we are mere mortals why otherwise pretend
Success and failure will not matter to us at the end
Of our life's journey on some future night or day
On our lives the egalatarian reaper has the final say
And  though we may fear the reaper the reaper treats everyone fair
The one who does not differentiate between the lives of the pauper and the billionaire
The wealthy and famous in one way no different to you and i
In that one day or night they are destined to die
We live in the now and yesterday gone
And the clock on our lives ever ticks  on and on.

The Beauty In Nature

The beauty we do not have to pay for to see
It is all around you and it is all around me
The beauty in Nature we see every day
The World's greatest beauty it does seem fair to say
Were i a  poet of Nature a poem i would  write
For others to read and  enjoy and recite
Of Nature's beauty i have  loved since i was a boy
And learning of her ways  i still do enjoy
Our amazing Earth Mother who does have the power
To create a thing of natural beauty like a beautiful flower
The artist and writer to creativity she inspire
And of singing her praises one never could tire
It is all around you and it is all around me
The  beauty in Nature that we do not pay to see.

Their Only Crime

So many good people serving long prison time
Yet not guilty in any way of any crime
Just for speaking out against an oppressive government in jail they may die
That any good person is  not in prison is surey based on a lie
So many good people in prison have died
Their right to free speech of them had been denied
In their case fortune did not favour the brave
From their cold and dreary prison cells to a deep prison grave
The praises of free speech many may sing
But in some Countries for one to speak one's mind is quite a dangerous thing
That any good person is not in prison is a fallacy
In some Countries to speak out against the government is not a good idea
So many good people serving long prison time
To speak out against the government was their only crime.

Doesn't Bother Me

Doesn't bother me if literary experts dismiss my stuff as doggerel and from writing i do not know of wealth and fame
Since i write for enjoyment only and it does not bother me that mine will never be a famous name
I pen rhymes for my selfish pleasure and despite what some of me do say
I do intend for to keep writing i will never give rhyming away
I never say i am a poet such a title not for one like me
But if others do refer to themselves as such then that is their right would you not agree
We are what we really think we are a wise one has been known to say
Though some  will tell you poets are a rare species in the  Human World of today
Yet every writer is needed to boost the numbers of the wordsmith trade
And few writers of any genre are destined for to make the  grade
I may be an addictive rhymer but i enjoy rhyming just the same
As my friend  the late Neily Flynn used to tell me writing can be a 'hungry belly game'
But for as long as the life's breath is in me i will never give rhyming away
Though only few writers can tell you that from writing they make  their living pay.

Old Merri Flows Onwards

Through flat and green paddocks in waters of brown
Old Merri flows onwards towards Warrnambool town
In and out of Lake Pertobe it slowly winds it's way
And on to the Pacific at Lady Bay
The river that has inspired story and rhyme
Was old very old even in the Dreamtime
Through the age of the dinosaurs and centuries before
It babbled it's way to the Pacific shore
In the reeds by the  river in the early Spring
When the  golden billed blackbird on the wattle tree sing
The dark dusky moorhen she sits on her nest
With her eight buff blotched eggs warm beneath her breast
Where old Merri river slowly winds it's way
On to Lake Pertobe en route to Lady Bay.

When Last I Was In Yarram

When last i was in Yarram the South Gippsland Town from here far away
The gray butcherbird sang on a warm October day
And a magpie was warbling on a sunlit blackwood tree
And a magpie lark in the park was calling pee wee
Yarram is a Town that is widely known
It is an old  place with a charm of it's own
Though i was a stranger there on every street
The people were friendly and pleasant to meet
Time has ticked on quite quickly that's how it seems so
For that must have been close to a decade ago
When the deciduous trees get new leaves and the nesting birds chirp and sing
South Gippsland a beautiful Shire in the Spring
Of when i was last in Yarram the memories remain
And often in fancy i visit the old Town again.

Some Will Tell You

Some will tell you that you cannot be successful if for such you don't try
And that they are not wrong in their thinking seems hard to deny
As for me i know i would be better off financially today
If i only availed of some of the chances that did come my way
I have spent many years penning reams of rhyme
And many would see that as a waste of time
Since  for my writing efforts i never receive pay
And that money is most important does seem fair to say
Us humans from an early age with each other compete
To be best in our neighbourhood and best on our street
The majority the famous and wealthy admire
And of singing their praises some never seem to tire
The gap between the haves and the have nots of  the World is widening by the day
Which does seem a sad thing for to have to say.

His Bit On The Side

He tells his wife he's on company business in Bali and  that is not much fun
Whilst he lay on a beach with his mistress enjoying the warmth of the sun
And in the evening after dinner in their hotel room they enjoy a bottle  of good wine
And after that what does happen your guess it is as good as mine

Whilst she at home takes care of their children a boy of four and a girl of  three
Unaware of his unfaithfulness to her how naive  some women can be
Some men their extra marital affairs from their wives are good to hide
And he is living life to the fullest and enjoying his bit on the side

His mistress who knows he  is married a beautiful brunette in her life's prime
In Bali she is only with him for  to enjoy a good time
And for as long as money on her he is ready and willing to spend
To him she will be a bit more than a mere platonic friend

They go for a swim in the afternoon in the warmth of the tropical day
And together on the beach for an hour they do lay
He will go home to his wife and children with a healthy looking deep suntan
But of his  unfaithfulness to her she will not suspect her man

Some women can be quite gullible and not very hard to deceive
He told  his wife he was going to Bali on company business and him she  did  believe
At twilight he walks hand  in hand on the beach with his lover with the sea at low tide
And later after a few drinks  he enjoys his bit on the side.

Not A Very Long Span

Our Childhood years seemed to pass quickly and so did the years of our prime
And from mid life on we grow  to realize that we are becoming victims of time
The seconds on our  lives keep ticking and ticking and ticking away
The babby that was born this morning tomorrow will have aged by a day
The longest lived human life in time is  not a long one and  time ever keeps ticking on
On looking back the passing of the Seasons we realize how quickly they have gone
Live life to the full and be happy at least as happy as you can
Be for life seems  to hurry on quickly and time does not wait for any woman or man
In retrospect it does not seem long since i was a young man though that was many Seasons ago
The weeks and  the  months go so quickly and time becomes everyone's foe
And the one in the nineteen sixties who did run fast today in the parkland jogs slow
On the champion athletes in their  prime years the years do eventually show
It is true about time it does not wait for any child, woman or man
And the  longest lived human life as time  goes in truth is not a  very long span.

Above The Mudflats Of Mcloughlins Beach

Above the mudflats of Mcloughlins beach in the September sky
The eastern curlews do flute as they fly
And though to here Mcloughlins beach not a  place that is near
In fancy their beautiful music i do hear
The song of the eastern curlew is a beautiful thing
Above the Gippsland mudflats in the Southern Spring
From their breeding grounds in Eastern Siberia to Australia they do fly
When the warmth of Spring is  in the southern sky
It is a mystery of Nature beyond  human kind to explain
How  migratory wading birds can make it so far south and fly home to breed again
A mystery that only seems to grow and grow
The  more we learn of Nature the less of her we know  we do know
Above the mudflats  of Mcloughlins beach from here far away
The eastern curlews are singing today.

The Extraordinary Man

From where he does live hardly a launching pad to renown
The extraordinary man in the ordinary town
Quite a talented artist his type of person rare
No artist for  miles around with him to compare

By locals one who is not referred to as one of our own
And  though born and raised locally by locals not that well known
In the country town football is the in thing
And  the praises of football players many like to sing

Were he as good at football as he is at art him they would celebrate
And he would be admired as special and  great
On saturday when others are watching football he is in the park by the bay
Sketching flora and  fauna on a nice sunny day

He now does realize his future is elsewhere
That wealth and fame awaits him in the big World out there
In kilometres distant from the ordinary town
The extraordinary man will know of artistic renown.

The Literary Experts Decide

Who is or is not a poet ask someone other than me
Since i am one  who does not have a literary degree
The literary experts decide who makes the grade
Who becomes wealthy and famous in the wordsmith trade
I will tell you again as i have told you before
I just write for enjoyment that and nothing more
Ask someone other than me if you are or you are not a poet
And if you are one worthy of literary note
If you remain as local or become famed far and wide
Will never be up to me for to decide
My personal opinion is that you write well
That your work is poetry and not doggerel
One good write up from a reputable literary critic could assure you of wealth and fame
And in the Literary World make your's a great name

If We All Seemed Similar

Of the praises of Country many love to sing
And  the National flag to them a sacred thing
Whilst others  like to boast of their culture and race
And others have  in them a strong sense of place

How boring we would be for want of a better name
If we all seemed similar and in our ways were much the same
And on any subject we could not disagree
How utterly boring indeed we would be

Many people love sports especially football
Whilst others love staring at art on a gallery wall
And others enjoy socializing in the cricket or bowling club
Whilst others enjoy a few beers with their mates in the pub

We all look at life one might say differently
And you in your ways very different to me
As different as an agapanthus is from a rose
But this does make us more interesting one  would have to suppose.

Margaret Was A Humble Person

That life with it's joys has it's sorrows does seem sad to say
All is quiet and dark where Margaret's last remains lay
In the bosom of Earth Mother to a  natural decay
In the old Millstreet graveyard from here far away

To a good man Michael Casey Margaret was a good  wife
And three sons and a daughter their union brought to life
Good memories live on and with us do stay
For as long as we live till our last night and day

Margaret was a humble person she never did  wish to be known far and wide
A young friend of her's Caroline  Daly emailed to tell me that with dignity she died
That though she was suffering and in obvious pain
She did remain positive and did not complain

In her sixty ninth year Margaret breathed her last
A crippling stroke took it's toll things do happen fast
We are born as mortals that is not a lie
And one day or night we are destined to die

That news of her passing with grief brought regret to me i cannot deny
In that to her i never got to say goodbye
And only the memories now with me remain
Of one i loved i will never see again.

Many Are Into Self Promotion

With a smaller ego some of us would be nicer people at least that's how to me it does seem
But some  say those who do have a small ego do suffer of low self esteem
Many are into self promotion nowadays it does seem the in thing
It does seem for to be successful your own praises you have to sing
When i was a boy self praise was seen to be boasting but now it is seen as quite okay
A different World i was raised in than the World i live in today
It is not a nice Human World to live in where fame and success comes from obsessive greed
Where self praise is seen as quite normal by many who yearn in life to succeed
If self promotion is not seen as boasting then boasting how can one define?
But then that one  chooses to place themselves above others should not be  any business of mine
Yet things have changed much since i was a schoolboy and that was a long time ago
And many nowadays believe the one who cannot bring him or herself to part-take in boasting are those who are their own foe
Some of us would be nicer with small egos though self praise nowadays is the in thing
And it does seem for to become successful your own praises you have to sing.

Lady Luck Is On His Side

One can say of him he's a hard one to scare
As he is  one  who has taken many a dare
But luck is on his side he is lucky indeed
As he drives on narrow country roads at far too fast a speed

He swims in dangerous deep waters where great white sharks abound
Near where danger is present he  is to be found
From risking his life a strange sort of pleasure he does gain
And lady luck with him does ever remain

The young man who does not know  the  meaning of fear
He feels quite happy to be where danger to him is near
Some say he will not live to grow old and  gray
Though lady luck with him continues to stay

We need luck for survival as some  like to say
And the one who dices with death every day
Is one who does not know the meaning of dread
Without lady luck by now  he would be dead

He has never been involved in an accident at least not so far
Though on narrow country roads he drives too fast in his  car
And in deep shark infested waters he often does swim
He is  lucky that lady luck remains with him.

In Fancy I See Those Old Green Hills

In fancy i see those old green hills that in Summer and Autumn look brown
That overlook old coastal South Gippsland  by the highway to Wonthaggi Town
Long before it was called South Gippsland this was an old  countryside
On the beaches the bones of Australia's first people covered by the sands washed in by the tide
On warm evenings in Summer in the cool shade of the coastal trees
The  Indigenous people had their gatherings and enjoyed their corroborees
The passing of  time does bring changes and few things ever do last
And only a fading oral history remain of the Bunurong's past
Above the paddocks of Kilcunda on warm evenings in Spring
The swallows are chasing flying insects and the  larks in the sunny sky sing
In the old and beautiful Bunurong coastal lands a historical countryside
For scenic beauty it is known beyond Australia people  visit from Countries Worldwide
In fancy i see the hills of South Gippsland from where i live now far away
It is not very hard to imagine and i visit there every day.

With Many

With many middle aged to ageing people tracing of family history is the in thing
Suppose in a way that is  quite natural to some form of authenticity we like for to cling
To as our sense of identity though the negative  cynic in me
Says little advantage to you in knowing of your  family tree
Some people with a  famous ancestor in public  the fact do like to make known
But their blood relationship to a criminal is something they wish to disown
It is all about food for the  ego for want of a better name
One reason that we are enamoured by our links to wealth and to fame
But in real truth are we any different to the  cow or the pig or the sheep
Like them to the one known to us  as the Reaper an appointment we are destined for to keep
Like them we are only mere mortals and like them we are born to die
It is only of fact i am speaking and fact as we know never lie
Many middle aged to ageing people the  family history do like to trace
But you never hear them once mention their ancestor who died in disgrace.

There Are Many So Many

There are so many people far worse off than i
As it will not be of thirst or of hunger i will die
Poverty exists in varying degreees
In the refugee camps of the World  millions of refugees
The millions of homeless hungry who live and sleep rough
Compared to them i would not know what is tough
Of a fair go in life i have never been denied
The good lady of luck is always on my side
I have never been homeless or known of  hunger pain
And i am not one who has cause to complain
The gift of life only comes to one by chance
And many are unlucky by birth circumstance
I feel luckier than most of that why should i lie
It will not be of hunger or thirst i will die.

Narcissistic In His Ways

Narcissistic in his ways or so he does seem
He never will suffer of low self esteem
To sing his own praises he is never shy
That he is not very popular no need to wonder why
Into self promotion in quite a big way
Of himself he only has nice things to say
He boasts of his beautiful young wife his two handsome young sons his great job and new car
One might say he  takes self love that bit too far
His five favourite subjects are i, myself,  me
And my material possessions and my family
Talking of self and his  life seems to suit him best
On the stories of others  he has no interest
Of talking of self he never seems to tire
Though that side to him does seem hard to admire.

Tired Of

Tired of being talked back to by his teenage son and daughter and nagged at by his cranky wife
And tired overall of his  miserable life
Only out of a sense of duty with the  family he stay
Life for some is not easy as some like  to say

Waking for work at dawn every week day
For him there's never been an easy pay
In four to five years when his children reach working age he will move to elsewhere
And start a new life in the big World out there

He feels by then his duty he  will have done
Leave them to their own devices his wife and daughter and  son
In four to five years from now  in life he will move on
As he feels all hope of saving his marriage has gone

Tired of being treated in a shabby way
With his present wife he will not grow old and gray
In five years from now he will be forty three
And of duty to family he will be free.

Those With Love And Kindness

Those with love and kindness are lucky indeed
And of more of their kind the Human World is in need
If everyone had love and kindness there would be harmony
And of terror, want and war the World would be free
Those with love  and kindness in their ways not small
And  they do believe on a fair go for all
They are a credit to their side of the town
And  in their words they never put anyone down
Those with love and kindness they know how  to share
And for the welfare of others they genuinely do care
To help those in need of helping they go out of their way
And they perform a good deed and often more every day
The better side of humanity they do embrace
And the World for them living in it a far better place.

Lake Baikal

Twenty per cent of the World's spring water in one lake it is said
At least anyway that is what i have read
Of  Lake Baikal in Russia from here far away
A wonder of Nature i would love to visit one  day
Bigger than some countries this amazing spring lake
A journey to there one day i'd love to make
A fifth of the World's spring water in one huge  lake seems almost unbelievable to me
This is one of Nature's wonders i would  love to see
Twenty per cent of the World's spring water in one lake the thought awe inspire
Of singing Nature's praises could one ever tire
Her wonders are many her secrets not few
On saying this i am not saying anything that is new
Twenty per cent of the World's spring water make  of  this what you may
In Lake Baikal in Russia from here far away.

I Hope To Be Rhyming

I never could warrant the title of poet
Nor am i one worthy of literary note
I am just a rhymer and little else more
This is something you may have heard me say before

Many Seasons have passed since i penned my first rhyme
In nineteen seventy three that is going back in time
When i was twenty seven and my hair was dark brown
In a far away place by a far away town

By Nature to rhyme i am often inspired
Of singing her praises i could never grow tired
I do love her today as in Seasons long gone
Her beauty forever destined to live on

I am not a poet just a mere rhyming buff
Though i am one who has penned pages of stuff
The years have left me looking old bald and gray
But i hope  to be rhyming till my last night and day.

Like And Dislike

Like and dislike only human feelings when all is  said and done
But i cannot bring myself to hate anyone
For hatred a stronger form of dislike that seems to grow over time
That can lead the hater against the hated one to commit a serious crime
Only a saint could love everyone unconditionally
And living saints are rare would you not agree
And though as the  sinned against the one who has sinned against you for  you hard to forgive
Why live with a grudge for as long as you live
The feelings of  like and dislike are quite human indeed
But a strong sense of dislike to hatred can plant the seed
And hatred for anyone something in your life that you do not need
As it has given rise to many a foul deed.

The Beautiful Rosie

She was one who did age with charm and grace
And she had such a memorable and beautiful face
And though she will never be seen in the flesh again
Fond memories of  Rosie with all who knew her will remain
She now lay in the same grave as her deceased husband Stan
In life  she was a good woman married to a good man
In her eightieth year she died in her sleep
Today at her funeral her children and grandchildren their sorrow was deep
A beautiful person with a beautiful mind
So warm and caring and compassionate and kind
The humble quiet achiever who performed many a  good deed
She often helped others of helping in need
With the man that she loved her last remains lay
The beautiful Rosie was buried today.

We Need It For Survival

We need it for survival that's how it does appear
The bravest of people have in them some fear
The few born without fear destined to die young
And little  use to them if their praises are sung

He or she are foolish not brave who drives too fast in a car
Or chooses for to swim where big crocodiles are
Such people may not plan for a long life  for themselves ahead
Most of those who dice with death by their thirties long dead

By a bugler at the grave of the brave young soldier the last post is  played
But he did not march in the town in the war victory parade
And he  does not hear when his praises are sung
Many of the fearless have been known for to die young

The good do die young or so we are told
But i know of  many good people who have lived  to grow  old
One reason for their long lives is that they did not lack in fear
And that without it they would have died younger seems abundantly clear.

Fond Memories Of Birdsland

Fond memories of Birdsland with me does remain
And often in fancy i walk around the lakes again
With black and white Jedder  my deceased canine friend
I will remember her till my own life's journey will end
At twilight the white cockatoos calling on the tall eucalypt trees
Their harsh voices carrying in the freshening breeze
As the shades of night cloak South Belgrave Hill
I retain memories of such beauty and i always will
Remember old Birdsland and with me the memories will stay
For as long as i live till my last night and day
Of that safe haven in South Belgrave  for the  wild and the free
An Earthly Utopia it does seem to me
Fond memories of such beauty with me remain
And often in fancy i visit old  Birdsland again.

The Camera Never Lies

Of the economic depression in Ireland so much spoken of and written about
But Sean Radley's online images of the September Horse Fair in Millstreet on this casts a doubt
The streets lined with traders stalls from Minor Row to the West End of the Town
And yet we are led to believe that Ireland is economically down

In the fair field horses of many colors and sizes the medium and the  small
Near them the shetland ponies did seem rather small
Domestic birds and small animals in wire cages to be sold
Reminds me of fair days  in Millstreet in the days  of old

Brendan Murphy there with his camera filming for L T V
Something to look forward to in the future for Millstreet migrants for to see
The people from the town and  places by Clara who live far away
Old memories do linger as some like to say

Of floundering economies in Europe we do read of and hear
And for Ireland economically we are told another bad year
But the traders and publicans there can hardly complain
Though the farmers of Ireland are praying for less rain

Never believe all you hear only what you do see
And though of economic hardship in Ireland most seem to agree
Sean Radley's images of the Millstreet September Horse Fair tells of prosperity
And the camera never lies that's how it seems  to me.

Nora Theresa Gallivan

The wanderlust in her young mind for places far away
Here she  would not raise her children and in brown dye cloak her gray
Nora Theresa Gallivan where might she be today
Some say she is in England others say the U S A?

Beautiful green eyes and shoulder length wavy hair of brown
The finest of the young women on our side of the town
A charming unconceited girl with warmth in her smile
Single in her early twenties one who was free of guile

Ten months ago she left the town to experience life elsewhere
For years she had daydreamed of travelling in the bigger World out there
Young Joe who was in love with her often seems close to tears
The ache of lost love has been known for to linger on for years

She left the town ten months ago and the old family home
Some say she  is in New York some say London or Rome
Young Joe who was in love with her in the  pub drinks on his own
The ache of love remains in him and  happier days he has known.

Robert William Buchanan

A long dead poet well worthy of recall
Robert William Buchanan first saw light in Caverwall
Of him it can be said with words he had a way
His  poems outlived him and are widely read today
By many literarry critics rated as a major poet
He remains as a writer worthy of literary note
In his lifetime he never became financially well off though he  knew of widespread fame
And in the Literary World his is a well known name
His works i have  known of since i was a boy
And his poems to me remain as a source of joy
He was an asset to the wordsmith trade
He was a poet and poets are born not made
Though since he died one hundred plus eleven years have gone
His legacy of words today lives on.

Is Life After Bodily Death

Is life  after bodily death something based on a lie
Or does  the soul with the death of the body too die?
And since i only believe on what i do see
For an opinion on this ask some one other than me
Many believe their God awaits them in his  kingdom in the sky
Where their souls  on bodily death with wings to will fly
The gift of faith with them i do not have to share
I am not one of those who does  believe in prayer
Yet many like me in the Human World of today
Who do not have a God for to kneel to for to pray
To Karma we do pay for  our every sin
And the God i believe in is living within
And every person who is good and kind
Has a God who has made a home in his or her mind. 

A Victim Of Time

At twenty five  she was the town beauty though that seems a while ago
And fifteen years  later it does seem time is becoming her foe
With a son of five and a daughter of three
She is  not the beauty that she used to be
No longer the  number one beauty of the town
To cover the gray in her raven dark hair she has dyed it brown
She has put on weight some ten kilos or more
Amongst the town beauties no longer to the fore
Most people look fit and well in their life's  prime
But eventually we all become victims of time
For a while she  was the  young woman the local young men wished to know
But already the years on her beginning to show
And worse for her the unfaithful man she  is married to having his bit on the side
And that feels  quite shattering to her sense of pride.

Big Jim

Not everyone born to be lucky for some life must seem quite unfair
Big Jim twenty five in his life's prime on his head not one rib of hair
From weeks of radiation treatment for his type  of cancer no cure
Unless for him a miracle happens an early end for him for sure

The doctors hold little hope for him a year at most to live for him they do say
His once massive shoulders are shrinking and  time on him ticking away
The only offspring of a  widowed mother for him she will be left to grieve
That her only child will not outlive her she refuses for to believe

Big Jim he  has not fathered children nor he does not have a partner or wife
Some people are born for to die young and  his will not be a long life
Yet he is an inspiring fellow and people like him are quite rare
One never does hear him complaining though life's heaviest cross he does bear

He suffers a terminal illness  and he has absorbed months of pain
Big Jim he is an inspiration he does not know how to complain
He always seems so very happy a big smile on his handsome face
He is happy for to be living the great gift of life he embrace.

Claraghatlea

Claraghatlea the place i was born in and where i lived for many a day
Till the bug of the wander got in me for cities and towns far away
Where i spent the best years of my life and grew to a man from a boy
Where i had my first lessons in Nature and where i knew of sadness and joy

The years have left me looking older the passage of time on everyone does show
In Claraghatlea to many now i would be a stranger and few people there i would know
The faces change as they grow older but the old fields would look much the same
As they looked when i last did see them some of them had their own given name

In fancy in the grove  by my old home the song of  the robin i hear
The past may be in the distant forever but the memories of  it to me near
Where i had my first lessons in Nature in the  place i grew into a man
Our prime years they do pass so quickly and we quickly lose our youthful elan

Claraghatlea in view of Clara mountain where i spent my boyhood and prime
Today there to many i would be  a stranger i have not been there for  years of  time
And though the past may be in the forever the good memories with us do remain
And often in my flights of fancy i walk in the old fields again.

Peter P

 I told  Peter P of the beauty i'd seen
Of bracken clad mountains above valleys of green
Of unpolluted river and clear flowing rill
With the babbling tongue that has never been still

But with my sort of stories  he was not impressed
He said above ugly landscapes the sun too sets in the west
Stories of Nature's beauty does not interest him at all
His  favourite topic of conversation is  football

He hopes the Club he barracks for this year Collingwood will win the flag
Something that to him would be worthy of a brag
Most of us look at life in ways quite differently
If we all had similar interests how boring we would be

Of the demise of the thylacine he does not shed a tear
And  my stories of Nature he did not wish to hear
That to me by him made abundantly clear
He only hopes this will be Collingwood's year.

You May Have Been Found To Be Wanting

You may have been found to be  wanting when put to the  test
But in fairness you did  try your very best
And  though your best was not good enough at least not this time around
To lose in a good way as you did there is honor to be found
You accepted defeat with a smile on your face
It does  take great courage for to lose with grace
As happy in defeat as if you had won
You congratulated the winner said to him well done
For your good attitude you have won new admirers even though you were beat
You offered no excuses you smiled in defeat
It does take a brave one for  to lose with grace
Who though disappointed has a smile on his  face
To lose with honor is never a sin
The next time around may be  your turn to win.

The Memories Remain

The memories remain with me of the places i've been
And the people i've met and the beauty i've seen
We physicaly age every year past our prime
But the best of good memories  live on in time
The good and not good memories we garner on life's way
A journey that has to end for us  one day
And since time it does seem is catching up on me
So much of the World i never will see
Yet i do live far south of the place of my youth
From the old rushy fields where my manhood took root
People to my life come and go but the memories with me will stay
For as long as i live till my last night and day
Of the people i have met and the places  to i have been
Yet so little  of the World  i can claim to have seen.

For A Lifetime Of Devotion

For a lifetime of devotion to their owners little in return they do need
Just a few kind words every day a few pats and a feed
For loyalty and unconditional love on them you can depend
Than your dog you do not have a truer friend
The faithfulness of dogs has inspired story and rhyme
And stories of their devotion and loyalty to their owners do live on in time
Your dog for to please you his  or her best always try
Why people love their dogs one can understand why
The dog that to other dogs and  humans towards aggression is inclined
More than likely is one it's boss to is unkind
The personalities of the ownerss in their dogs do show
By the behaviour of their canines them you get to know
For loyalty and devotion on your canine  you can depend
Than him or her you do not have a  greater friend.

A Fair Go To Everyone

A fair go to anyone we ought not to deny
And a fair go to eveeryone ought to apply
No matter your religion or culture or race
For discrimination in the Human World there ought not to be a place
But some people are discriminated against every day
In a fair Human World it would not be this way
Respect to those different by some are not shown
When the seeds of discrimination in fundamentalism are sown
Of such things we read and hear of every day
From places not distant and  places far away
Since red is  the colour of the blood we all bleed
Of discrimination humanity is not in need
Before we did  walk on the floor we did crawl
So why not drink a toast to a  fair go for all.

Before We Did Walk

Before we did walk on the floor we did crawl
And a similar fate does await us all
In that at the end of our life's journey the body does die
The same for the billionaire as you and i
Though the World's greatest theologians of a life after death claim to know
Any real proof of such they cannot seem to show
They talk of the Kingdom of their invisible God  in the sky
Where on bodily death all good souls to do fly
The only God i know of she lives all around me
And the beauty she creates everyday i do see
The mother of  the four Seasons Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall
Her name Mother Nature she is known to all
And whether my last remains  are buried or to ashes do burn
Of Nature i am and  to her i will return.

Old Memories Die Hard

In my memory i can scent the new mown hay
And i can hear and see the robin on a warm Summer's day
Singing on a high branch of a sunlit birch tree
And Nature in bloom everywhere around  me
It is even far easier than most realize
In moments of reflection for to visualize
When Nature is wearing wildflowers in her green
And beauty is  everywhere for to be seen
The best years in my life by now are well gone
But fond memories of what was are still living on
Like the song of the robin and the  sweet scent of hay
In the warmth of the sunshine of a nice Summer's day
Old memories die hard as some do like to say
And for as long as i live such things with me will stay.

How I Spend My Time

How  i spend my time no one's business but mine
The life i live now seems to suit me just fine
Not materially successful i pen doggerel rhyme
Though many see that as a waste of good time
Of the  praises of those i admire i do sing
And i go my own way and i do my own thing
I do believe in karma and in give  to receive
Bad karma awaits those who cheat and deceive
For many years i have been a rhyming buff
And i am one who has penned a whole heap of stuff
But i never could lay claim to be a poet
Nor am i one worthy of literary note
But how i spend my time  no one's business but mine
The life i live now seems  to suit me just fine.