David Attenborough

David Attenborough is a hero of wildlife conservation like his brother Richard the actor and film producer he is known Worldwide
Due to his wildlife documentaries he is World famous that he is a fountain of knowledge on Nature of him cannot be denied
It is sad to see the years on him are telling gray haired and stiff time wrinkles on his face
When he will die as everyone must one day he will be near impossible to replace
His documentaries on wildlife are quite amazing his fans in numbers over the years have grown
It can be said of him he is a genius he surely is in a class of his own
He has been making wildlife documentaries for as long as i remember he was World famous when i was in my prime
And since then there has been a lot of Seasons for this is going back forty years in time
In this time of climate change many wildlife species are endangered and Nature of many more friends is in need
The scourge of climate change it now is rampant it has found a great ally in human greed
In David Attenborough  Nature has an ally but people like him sad to say too few
From every documentary of his i have watched i have never failed to learn something new
In this time of climate change when many creatures are endangered of more people like David Attenborough we are in need
And Nature's creatures need all of the friends that they have for these are trying times for them indeed.

On Pale Eyed Crows

On fence posts on paddocks or by the roadway
The pale eyed ravens i see every day
By the name of little raven they are widely known
In south eastern Australia these plentiful corvids do have ways of their own
Like all other corvids quite clever birds indeed
To survive in climate change birds likely to succeed
In shallows of the town park lake to soften i have seen them dipping to eat stale hardened bread
At survival methods of most other birds they do seem far ahead
Whilst many species of birds are threatened crows do seem to thrive
In the harshest of environments they are known to survive
From where people are they are never far away
The pale eyed corvids i see them every day
Also known as the pale eyed ravens or the pale eyed crow
In south east Australia their numbers grow and grow.

This Is Not A Surprise

I have seen the twilight of many a day
And i have looked at life in many a way
But the more i think about life the more i have come to realize
That i know little about it this is not a surprise
For my years of life i have little in knowledge to show
This much about myself i can claim to know
Yet we learn as we live it does seem this way
And from life we do learn something new every day
But those who think they know it all one important point seem to miss
That in life one never stops learning but then suppose ignorance can be bliss
My life's journey has taken me far south of my first homeplace
Where to many today mine would be a stranger's face
And one might say in knowledge i have some way to go
Though time i realize has become my foe.

The Second Last Day Of Spring

The second last day of Spring and November and the calendar Summer near
In south west Victoria a nice time of year
After recent rain the paddocks and town park are looking quite green
And Nature at her very finest is seen
The warbling of the magpie distinctive and clear
And the song of the blackbird so pleasant to hear
And the pee wee of the magpie lark none can mistake
This morning i woke to birdsong at daybreak
Sporadic bursts of sunshine in clouds blue and gray
Not too warm or cool just a pleasant Spring day
The beauty around me i can only admire
Of singing Nature's praises how could one ever tire
The beauty of Nature is all around me
Such beauty that one does not pay for to see.

No Different To Me

That celebrities live on in history well may be so
But like everyone else to life they do come and from life they do go
Since the Reaper of lives treats everyone as the same
The poor and the humble and those of money and fame
You may be one that the masses celebrate
And see you as one worthy to be called great
But to the scythe of the Reaper you are destined to fall
Born to mortality does go for all
Are we any different to the cow or the dog or the sheep?
Since an appointment with Life's Reaper we have no choice but to keep
Like me as for them there's a last night and day
Whenever this will be the Reaper has the say
The wealthy and celebrated no different to me
Since they too have been born to mortality.

It Has Been Near Three Decades

It has been near three decades since my hair was light brown
When i lived in that green countryside just west of Millstreet Town
But the hair upon my balding head is now a silver gray
And it surely can be said of me that i have known a better day
Of any personal success stories i do not have to tell
But at sixty seven years i feel happy for to be feeling healthy and well
Some i did go to school with in Millstreet far away
By their gift of life forsaken with the deceased they lay
Where i first grew to love Nature when i was a young boy
And today learning about her is something i do enjoy
And though i can differentiate between a pheasant and a crow
So little of Mother Nature's ways that i can claim to know
So many lessons from life and Nature that we learn every day
We never do stop learning as the wise person does say.

A Few Hearty Laughs

For to keep the stress that is in you at bay
You do need a few hearty laughs every day
The pressures of work and the pressures of life
You need a few laughs to combat your inner strife
A good laugh is good for one who is feeling down
For one with few friends a sad sack of the town
Laughter is the best of medicine as many would agree
A relief to stress that does lead to extreme melancholy
Some people have stress levels that are quite low
And anxiety in their minds is quick for to grow
An ally against stress and depression in laughter you will find
Something natural that is quite good for the mind
It is hard for to beat a few good laughs a day
As it does help to keep the stress in you at bay.

Our Lives They Are Journeys

Our lives they are journeys that do end one day
And on how long we live we do not have the say
Our biological clocks on us ticking away
And in our deteriorating physical appearance for aging we do pay
There is an old song that surely does not lie
Which goes by the name of 'the longer you live the sooner you will die'
Many claim after bodily death the soul in the brain does not stay
That time has it in distance millions of miles away
That the souls in them do have wings for to fly
To the Heaven or Hell Worlds way beyond the sky
Your journey in life it will come to an end
One certainty in life on which you can depend
I know death will come to me one day or night
To say such a thing one does not need foresight.

Everyone Is Gifted

Despite what the promoters of elitism does say
Everyone is gifted in some sort of a way
Your gift may not bring to you large amounts of money and fame
But you do have a gift of some sort just the same

The gift that you have only yours with others for to share
Though of this not everyone does seem aware
Though why some refuse to share their gifts without in return some financial gain
Is something that is not very hard to explain

Since in this twenty first century money only seems to count
And if you lack in it your importance as a person to little seems to amount
Some people are not very hard to impress
The accumulation of money is their idea of success

Your gift is your's for to share with others without asking for pay
At least this is how i see it anyway
Though many with this would not see fit to agree
Suppose we all look at life in our ways differently.

Jimi Hendrix

Though perhaps his best songs unwritten and never to be sung
Jimi Hendrix died famous and wealthy and young
At twenty seven from a drug overdose he passed away
Death from misadventure or suicide or call it what you may
News of his passing left millions of his young fans in tears
His legend did not die with him it will live on for years
He lived life in the fast lane as some like to say
But for self abuse the price is huge for to pay
He well may be living enjoying his fame
With thousands of his loyal fans chanting his name
On September the eighteenth nineteen seventy Jimi Hendrix was found dead
With many years of living life of him ahead
And though the breath of life from his mortal body long gone
His songs and his music today living on.

Of Life And It's Ways

Of life and it's ways i have come to realize
That everyone does grow older but few do grow wise
But from life we do learn something new every day
We never stop learning it does seem this way
So much to learn and so little we know
Of life and it only goes for to show
That know it all people never learn anything
Yet the praises of fools you will hear many sing
Wise people with their words never put anyone down
And few of their kind living in any town
A wise person does not live on every street
Feel lucky if once a year one you do meet
We learn as we do live as some like to say
And for our every mistake in life some price to pay.

Of Your Inhibitions

You may live your life in a positive way
And make the most of your every day
But there is a side to you none do know of or see
Of your inhibitions you will never be free

Outwardly you may seem quite confident but looks can deceive
And what you see in human body language always do not believe
And though to look at you flaws in you seem hard to find
Most of the flaws we possess are hidden in the mind

In your financial successes you well may take pride
And you have got youth and good looks on your side
But to be flawed it is human though our flaws we may deny
And this to most people does surely apply

You may be one of the financial successes of the town
And wealth as we know does bring with it renown
But in the most confident mind there is at least one seed of doubt
That you have to suppress or else it will sprout

Though many look up to those who are a financial success
The many impressionable of the town are not hard to impress
You are not the person that you seem to be
Since of your inhibitions you will never be free.

The Pride Of Koroit

Beyond their Hometown in the south west countryside
The footballers and netballers and cricketers of Koroit are known far and wide
Quite joyful in victory and gracious in defeat
In the south west leagues the young men and women of Koroit always the hardest to beat
In Mickey Burke's and The Commercial Hotel after every big win the Koroit fans celebrate
They drink and make merry and party till late
In Koroit Town they do know how to party on
As their ancestors did in decades long gone
Even opposing fans sing their praises loud
The sporting young women and men of Koroit always do their Town proud
So jubilant in victory and in defeat never down
They sure are a credit to Koroit their Hometown
To wear Koroit's colors to them a sense of pride
Beyond their Hometown known and admired far and wide.

On Hearing A Greenfinch

The song of a male greenfinch takes me to far away
To a northern grove in the leafy month of May
When the old fields are wearing their wildflowers of the Spring
And the nesting wild songbirds chirp, whistle and sing
The low toned wheezy notes of a male greenfinch not hard to recognize
Though amidst the leafy greener camouflaged from the watching eyes
Amongst Nature's finest songsters they will never be known
But the green birds do possess a charm of their own
The sleeping nostalgia in me it did awake
That voice from the past i never could mistake
The voices of some birds including the greenfinch from once heard one never can get wrong
In May in the grove by my old home they sang all day long
Amongst the leafy greenery quite hard to be seen
As their name does suggest greenfinches are green.

Jim

His better days in the forever gone
But his love of life does keep him living on
Of late he has not been feeling well his health is on the decline
He even stays indoors on days of warm sunshine
I have not seen him in the park of late
Not the same man since his beloved wife Kate
Took her own life in an act of suicide
Jim must feel that lady luck is not on his side
For some aged people so sad life must be
His son and daughter and grandchildren nowadays he seldom see
It must be lonely for him living on his own
And better times like many he has known
He turned eighty one in July of this year
And his health of late not good so i do hear.

Melinda

In our side of the town none for to take her place
With a beautiful smile on her beautiful face
Kind hearted Melinda was buried today
Amongst the deceased of the Parish her last remains lay
She never had children was never any man's wife
She worked as a nursing sister all of her working life
Till she retired at sixty five some eight years ago
Time eventually does become everyone's foe
Melinda would never see anyone down
She always was helping the poor of the town
She sowed the seeds of good Karma every day
About her she had such a beautiful way
She died of a heart attack quite suddenly
And her loss will be felt in the local community. 

Giovanni

Far south of the place where his life's journey began
Poor gray haired Giovanni is an aged man
He and his dark haired wife Sophia with their young children Dino and Marie
Came to live in this Country in nineteen sixty three

Five years ago his beloved Sophia passed away
She was a dark haired beauty on her day
They had lived as man and wife for fifty five years
Mention of her name  does have him close to tears

His better days in life Giovanni has known
Six times a grandfather he lives on his own
He never again may see Italy
And the town that he left when he was twenty three

He speaks good English but the accent he was born into he retain
And till the day he does die with him it will remain
A friendly old fellow and always nice to meet
One i often see walking on the park or the street.

Just One More Politician

Some politicians do seem obsessed with their own sense of power
They do not wish anyone else for to flower
He stood addressing the converted for an hour or more
Listening for too long to the one voice can become a bore
He sure did not suffer from low self esteem
His own ideas are all that did matter that's how to me it did seem
His over inflated ego seemed too big for his head
Though his audience hung on to every word he said
And though by most of his audience he was admired
Of listening to his waffle i quickly grew tired
Ambiguous and opinionated in the things he did say
But then many politicians they do seem this way
Just one more politician obsessed with his own sense of power
He does not want anyone else for to flower.

I Am From Duhallow

I am from Duhallow just west of the Town of Millstreet
Near the damp rushy fields where the rivers do meet
And in unison to Drishane to the Blackwater flow
In the home of the rook and the silver back crow

Where i grew to love Nature when i was a boy
And learning of her ways today i enjoy
And though my wonder of her only does seem to grow
So little about her i can claim to know

The friends of my younger years where might they be today?
With them i drunk porter and football did play
But in old Duhallow i was not destined to stay
The bug of the wander in me had it's way

I have not seen old Clara for many a year
But for what used to be i have shed my last tear
The nostalgia in me it has faded to die
To say i feel homesick now would be a lie

Where i used to imagine myself as a poet
A fellow quite worthy of literary note
But imagination and reality quite different it does seem
And lack of success leads to low self esteem

Still in many ways i feel a lucky man
I lay in the sunshine improving my tan
Far south of Claraghatlea in view of Clara Hill
In the wet and the cold winds of the November chill.

For My Years Of Life

For my years of life i have little in knowledge to show
And of the ways of Nature and people so little i can claim to know
And as we do live we do learn every day
In life we never stop learning as the wise one did say
Success can be relative would you not agree
And you can only be the best that you can be
Make the World better to live in by becoming a better woman or man
And those in need of helping do help them if you can
Like all other life forms we are born to die
A mere fact of life and fact never lie
Though she may not be aware of her mortality
The old cow in the paddock is no less a mortal than me
In knowledge and wisdom i have some way to go
Though my biological clock is becoming my foe.

The Rhymers

They rhyme into old age long beyond their lives prime
The rhymers they never do run out of rhyme
Though their physical best years of life are long gone
The rhymers love rhyming and they do rhyme on
They add to their numbers of rhymes every day
With rhyming words rhymers they do have a way
Most literary critics dismiss rhymers as unworthy of note
And never afford to them the title of poet
But since the rhymer to rhyme into life has been born
He or she never pay heed to the critics scorn
The rhymes keep coming to them on notebook they write them down
Though they live as strangers to wealth and renown
The rhymer will rhyme till the day he or she die
To say otherwise would be telling a lie.

Barn Swallows

From their mud nests in shed and barn rafters in the green countryside
Barn swallows do travel by sky to Countries far and wide
And above deserts and oceans return home to breed in Spring
Their long journeys to say the least quite an amazing thing
From the countryside they first flew in the light of day
To Winter in warm climates they fly to lands thousands of kilometers away
And in the northern Spring return to their home-place to breed
The marvels of Nature are quite amazing indeed
In October in mid Autumn with the first signs of the coming Winter about
In flocks they leave their home-places for their long journey south
And in April to their birthplace they return to breed again
The amazing wonders of Nature as a mystery remain
Barn swallows by sky from their birth-places travel far
The wonders of Nature how amazing they are.

Millstreet's Brown Haired Beauty

Her shoulder length hair it was wavy and brown
The sloe blue eyed beauty of old Millstreet Town
But the wanderlust in her in Duhallow she did not stay
And she left her first home for a Land far away

Millstreet's brown haired beauty where might she be today
In anti aging creams and hair dyes does she cloak times wrinkles and gray
I wonder did she marry bear children or as single remain?
She left Millstreet by Clara never more to be seen there again

The years take care of everyone as some are known to say
She left Millstreet when the hawthorns wore their white blooms of the May
In her early twenties in the late fifties near sixty years ago
To all that is young and beautiful time becomes the foe

In late Spring in showery weather she walked in the drizzling rain
With her suitcase to the Station to board the morning train
In Millstreet in Duhallow never more to be seen there again
But what is a loss to one Town becomes another Town's  gain. 

Tomorrow For Me

Tomorrow for me will be another day
And i hope to wake from sleep in the dawning cool and gray
When the birds chirp and sing in the freshening breeze
Just before sunrise on the bushes and trees

In Nature in this sunny Land of the South
There is always so much for one to rhyme about
In latter November in the southern Spring
How pleasant to hear the birds whistle and sing

The home of rosella and magpie and the black and the white cockatoo
And of koala and wallaby and kangaroo
Of pittosporum, eucalypt and wattles trees that are widely known
One might say of them they are Australia's own.

The artists and writers by this great Land inspired
Of singing Australia's praises one never grows tired
Of an old race of people that are so old in time
They have long predated human history and they have outlived rhyme

Every day in Nature so much to learn of and see
And i do hope that tomorrow will dawn for me
For like all other mortals death is my destiny
In some future time whenever that will be.

Those Who Believe That All People Are Equal

Those who believe that all people are equal sadly to themselves only lie
When in the World every day many of malnutrition slowly die
If everybody were equal there would be none in poverty
And since this will never be the case there will never be equality
So many are homeless and quite poor for every financial millionaire
Who can blame the one hungry and poor for saying that life is quite unfair
To be hungry and without a home to live in from life should not be anyone's due
Though that death makes all equal one day does only happen to be true
From where the poor and jobless live in the poor suburb of the big town
It is a long way to success and even further to renown
Those who say all people are equal believe on a fair go for all
Though good and honorable in their words and in their thinking nothing small
When they say all people are equal they have it wrong or so it does seem to me
The poor and homeless of Poverty Street with them i am sure would not agree.

The Key To The Door Of Success

It is true what is said about money it can prove a huge test for friendship and love
Of all things in life seen as important it does seem it rises above
If you are one who is short of legal tender your friends in the World are few
When i say money is quite important i am not saying anything that is new
The praises of the financially bankrupt anyone never wishes to sing
It is true to be lacking in money for the ego is not a good thing
Money and fame are related at least this is how it does seem
It is a fact many poor people do suffer of low self esteem
The wealthy people that we know of receive all the credit to them due
Those who tell you money is not important are not telling you what is true
Without it you cannot buy the ticket to travel to places far away
Without it you are treated as inferior despite what egalitarians say
It is true what is said about money those with plenty of it many do impress
It surely does speak every language and is the key to the door of success.

Your Past Lives As A Memory

Your past lives as a memory of what has been and gone
But the now is all that does matter and time is ticking on
Our mistakes in life come to us at a cost
Though our lives darkest moments to memory not lost
Our mistakes of the past we do live to regret
And we find it hard to forgive and harder to forget
Even the happiest moments in the past we have had
To remember for us can be a little sad
But all we have left are memories of the past
And the clocks on our lives do keep ticking on fast
Laughter is the best medicine as the wise one did say
And the now is all what matters make the most of today
When tomorrow will dawn today will be gone
And life all around us as usual goes on.

In Caherbarnagh In November

The cold winds of November across the high fields do blow
And the slopes of Caherbarnagh are covered in snow
At a time of year when grass refuse to grow
The stream from the foothills through the bog bank high flow
The song of a blackbird one never does hear
In Caherbarnagh in November a cold and wet time of year
The calendar Winter draws ever near with each new day
And Christmas in time less than six weeks away
From quiet Caherbarnagh in the mountain countryside
Where from the high ground on a nice day one can see far and wide
Across the countryside of Duhallow and Sliabh Luachra of Millstreet, Rathmore and Knocknagree
Barraduff, Gneeveguilla, Cullen and Boherbue
In Caherbarnagh in November as the old year grows old
The weather is wet and windy and at times very cold.

Like A Hole In The Head

She said you lack sense for one well past your life's prime
Since you are one who waste hours of precious living time
In penning this stuff known as doggerel rhyme
It does seem such a waste though it is not a crime
To persist on penning more rhymes every day
Without the reward of any monetary pay
For decades of years you have been a rhyming buff
And you must be addictive to keep on penning rhyming stuff
I do not mean to offend you just offer you good free advice
To persist on penning doggerel is not a good career choice
I am only offering good advice to you
Than penning rhymes there are better things with your spare time you can do
Such as becoming a member of your local Men's Shed
Her advice i do need like a hole in the head.

Old Lazlo

He would be a stranger to many today in the place
Where his years ago was a known and loved face
Where he used to live when his hair was dark brown
By the craggy faced hill near the far away town

His wife of fifty years amongst the dead lay
Eight times a grandfather his hair silver gray
Old Lazlo has surely known better day
And Hungary from him now seems so far away

He came to this Country as a refugee
Walking his black Labrador Sam in the park him i often does see
He always seems friendly and pleasant to meet
As he shuffles along on his tired aging feet

One who has known of the ups and downs of life
A few years ago to cancer he lost June his Aussie wife
Often our saddest memories can be of our happiest years
And thoughts of his beloved deceased soul-mate has him near to tears

By the far away town in the green countryside
The friends of his younger years have grown old or died
And only the memories with him now remain
Of the old fields he never will walk in again.

If You Are A Nice Person

If you are a nice person others your praises will sing
And to be a nice person should not be a hard thing
But some cannot be nice to others it is not their way
It does take all kinds as the wise one did say
If the person who serves me at the shop or the superstore
Is rude to me i will not be hurrying back for more
Of the same sort of treatment for why so should i
Since i too like to be liked of this why should i lie
Though in most cases a few exceptions you will find
If you are nice to others most will respond to you in kind
Nice people do seem to make friends easily
At least anyway this is how it seems to me
The one who is rude to you never makes your day
Respect to such a person to you hard to pay.

The Tarwin

In Tarwin Lower it darkens and deepens and in silence crawls slow
As near to the Pacific it ever does flow
The waterway that has inspired the makers of story and rhyme
Like all rivers Tarwin is so old in time
The Tarwin in full flood quite a sight to behold
Of vast areas of countryside under flood waters i have heard stories told
It has flowed long before the age of the dinosaurs or the birth of the first woman and man
The Tarwin has flowed forever and on it does not have a time span
Where South Gippsland's first people hunted and fished and had their corroborees
The sound of the didgeridoos often heard floating in the warm Summer breeze
But that was in the past in the past now long gone
And as ever changes keep happening and time ticking on
And the Tarwin silently and slowly keeps flowing on it's way
Through Tarwin Lower on towards Venus Bay.

November In Duhallow

In fancy the Boggeragh Ranges i see
My past from Duhallow has traveled with me
From the overnight frost the high fields looking gray
By the old snow capped mountains from here far away
November in Duhallow is a cold and wild and wet time of year
When the cawing of the rooks and the chirping of the migratory redwings on the bare trees one hear
As to cold, wet and Wintery December time takes us near
The waterways swollen and brown from recent heavy rains for weeks have not flowed clear
In the gray of the morning in the farmyard shed
The hungry cattle for fodder are bellowing to be fed
Nothing to eat for them in the bare fields today
Their next feed of young grass in time from them far away
Storm-water is gurgling in every field and roadside drain
As down from the mountains steal the gray fogs of rain.

Those I Like To Know

People who are kind and caring to others are those i like to know
My respect and admiration for them only does grow
Towards others they are never dismissive or rude
Their key to success in life is their good attitude
Without the rewards of any monetary pay
They help people who are in need of helping every day
I admire them for their selflessness and compassion is all i can say
For to help the poorest of the poor they go out of their way
They will never be amongst the celebrities of the town
And they never yearn for wealth and renown
To live as good people they do succeed
They help those of helping who are most in need
These are the people i do wish to know
They lead by good example in the respect to others they do show.

Jones Very

Jones Very was born in Salem Massachusetts in his younger years he became a clergyman
Early in his life he developed a mental illness which remained with him for his sixty six years life span
In his lifetime he wrote many famous lyrical and religious sonnets many of them known and read today
A talented and renowned poet despite his mental crosses with words he was one who did have a way

In his latter years he became reclusive he was not one who liked to socialize
Perhaps the side effects of his mental illness in the human mind one problem to another does give rise
A great mind as is known from human history of a happy life is never a guarantee
And so it was with the gifted poet Jones Very the gloom of unhappiness became his reality

Jones Very was born in the year of eighteen thirteen in his lifetime he was known far and wide
His was a great mind that goes without question and great minds of greatness cannot be denied
But sad for him in life he was not happy as he aged his state of mind did deteriorate
Fame is of little use to one who is unhappy as so it was for this poetic great

Jones Very was a very famous poet his lyrical religious poems have withstood the test of time
He was amongst the great poets of the World when rhyming poetry was in it's glorious prime
But sad for him in life he was not happy he had his mental crosses for to bear
But he did leave his mark in human history and the Jones Very of the Human World seem rare.

I Do Know Something Of Life

I do know something of life since i have lived for many years
And i am not ashamed to say i have shed tears
For family and friends i will never more see
I loved them in life they were precious to me
Suppose in life to enjoy the good times one must know of the sad
As the wise one did say one must take the good days with the bad
And though i cannot say i have lived in Earthly Hell
Of life i am one who has stories to tell
I do know something of life i have lived for quite awhile
And from where i was born i live many a mile
And since on Karma i am one of those who believe
What life has to give me i gladly receive
I do know something of life that much of it i can say
And i do learn something new from living every day.

The Stream From The Mountain

Down through the green valley by ditch and hedgerow
The stream from the mountain with a babble in it's flow
Destined for the river to the sea far away
With a voice never silent by night or by day
It has flowed forever and will flow forever more
To the big waterway to the far ocean shore
With a babbling tongue that is never still
From the lake of it's birth by the foot of the hill
How old is the stream the centuries it does span?
It has flowed long before the age of the dinosaurs or the birth of the first woman and man
It has inspired the artists and writers and makers of song
As to the big river it babbles along
It grows darker and deeper and quieter and slow
As near to the big waterway it does flow.

I Feel That I Have Been

I feel that i have been running out of rhyme
Suppose eventually we all become victims of time
Of any success as a writer i do not have stories to tell
But here's to the birth of one more doggerel
In the blue sky i cannot see one cloud of gray
How nice to be living on such a nice day
A blackbird in the sunshine is singing some say a sign of rain
Though the weather forecast for tomorrow is sunny again
The town parkland a mass of wild born flowers
That have come to bloom in the November showers
The paddocks and town gardens looking so green from recent Spring rain
With such pleasant weather how could one complain
And though my worth as a rhymer as ever i do doubt
No shortage of things for one to rhyme about.

When Last I Was In Wonthaggi

The hills of Archie's Creek from the long dry spell brown
When last i was in Wonthaggi the former coal mining Town
This is going back in time eight or nine years or so
And in Seasons this does seem quite a while ago
Many sons of Italy and places elsewhere
Came to Wonthaggi to mine for coal there
In the Wonthaggi cemetery their last remains lay
Near where many of their descendants are living today
In the countryside the spiritual home of the famed Bunurong
They have become the legends of story and song
By the South Gippsland hills their hidden graves lay
And it is said that at midnight their ghosts do live today
And the music of their didgeridoos can be heard in their corroborees
As they dance in the night in the freshening breeze.

Knocknagree The High Village

Though in flights of fancy the past comes to me
I only have memories of old Knocknagree
The high Village in Sliabh Luachra in view of hills from here far away
In a countryside i have not been in for many a day
Sliabh Luachra for it's legends of literature and music it is widely known
And it's cultural towns and villages possess a charm of their own
Knocknagree the high Village known far and wide for it's famous Fair Day
That close to half of a century ago change brought an end to which does seem sad to say
Sliabh Luachra once the home of great traditional Irish musicians and writers though they are now amongst the forever gone
Today around the Cork and Kerry Border their legends live on
And though Knocknagree the high Village i May not see again
Good memories of it to this day i retain.

We Belong To The Land

Money brings with it responsibility as some do like to say
But with some wealthy people it is not this way
Some do take and take from our Earth Mother and in return to her little do give
And this is how they will be for as long as they live

Amongst the super rich people of the World environmental vandals abound
To come by Mother Earth's resources they dig huge holes in her ground
And where they have been digging signs of damage forever will remain
And when finished they move to elsewhere to start digging again.

Mother Earth's resources have created many a billionaire
Some have taken from her far more than their share
To people addicted to the addiction of money making greed
To multiply their profits in them there's the need

That Mother Earth supports and feeds all life forms including us humans is only telling the truth
And many who have grown wealthy out of her resources seem lacking in ruth
They seem lacking in awareness since they do not understand
That we cannot own what we belong to and we belong to the Land.

A Sin Against All

What does this Government we have elected as people of us say
When they turn people in need of helping from our borders away
The homeless, the Stateless and amongst all of these
The oppressed and the dispossessed and asylum seeking refugees
Australia is a Land of many kind and compassionate people yet i do not understand
Why the dispossessed and hungry are made unwelcome in this great Southern Land
If this is what rule by majority thinking is about it does seem to me
The majority are not very kind and compassionate would you not agree?
The past we cannot change it is out of our control
The Tampa incident now long gone was the day Australia lost it's soul
The fair go for all Australians used to feel so proud of took a beating that day
A beating from which it has not recovered and this does seem sad to say
The words of a very wise one i recall
That a sin against one is a sin against all.

This Penning Of Rhyme

This penning of rhyme for me a hungry belly game
But it is something i do enjoy doing just the same
I pen rhymes for my own pleasure not for wealth or fame
To become famous and wealthy far better ways than this one could name
Though money speaks every language as most people do know
And those with plenty of it their friends in numbers do grow
And many with heaps of the legal tender are quite famous too
There in not very much that money cannot do
Had i heaps of money i might be famous as well
And i would be recognized by many as a poet though i pen doggerel
And if of money i do not have much to my name
For this i have only myself for to blame
This is how it all does seem to me anyway
Though many might not agree with what on this i do say.

From Her Cottage By The River

From her cottage by the river that flows to the bay
The woman who hails from the Land far away
Can see the old mountain in it's face of brown
That overlooks the green countryside close to the town
She has not seen her Homeland for many a year
But for what has been she does not have a tear
Her husband died young love and happiness with him she had known
Though she has become used of living on her own
The accent she was born into with her will stay
For as long as she will live till her last night and day
A beautiful woman in her early fifties her shoulder length dark hair has in it strands of gray
She is one who does age in a graceful way
In the silent twilight the babble of the river she does hear
From the lake by the hill by her cottage flowing near.

The Old Hopkins River

It has inspired artists and the makers of story, song and rhyme
The old Hopkins River is so old in time
Towards the Pacific Ocean near Warrnambool it crawls deep and slow
How old is the Hopkins would anyone know?
Long before the first Europeans to Warrnambool came
The local Indigenous tribes for the river did have their own name
Since then many Seasons have come and have gone
But the old waterways to the ocean flows on
Where it has flowed forever and will forever more
On it's unending journey to the Pacific shore
It's existence the millions of centuries does span
It has flowed long before the age of the dinosaurs and the birth of the first woman and man
To the place known as the Blue Hole by night and by day
From it source in the country by the hills far away.

As Some Would Tell You

It is true life does not owe us anything and this is how it always will be
And we get from life what we put into it this is how it does seem to me
But some can feel by life they have been hard done by with some justification as one can say
Stricken by fate in a cruel way the strange games that fortune can play
With the lives of good living people some say this is Karma gone wrong
But Karma and fortune are different to different branches of life they belong
Yes life does not owe us anything though some about it have a right to complain
 And dame fortune she can be a trickster when one's loss becomes to another a gain
Any two do not see life in the same way we all do see things differently
To me fate and fortune to karma are different though many with this would not agree
In life some people bear heavy crosses and experience great mental and physical pain
Why this should be sets one to wondering and i leave it to the great minds to explain
That why some good people are made to suffer and know of great personal strife
But this is part of our human existence and as some would tell you this is life.

Good Memories Die With You

Good memories die with you they live on for years
And they have been known for to give rise to tears
For family and friends in the flesh you will never more see
There can be sadness on remembering the good times that used to be
That time is the great grief healer cannot be denied
The parent or sibling or good friend who has died
You do remember them with tears in your eyes
The best of good memories to sadness give rise
The past is a memory of what has been and gone
And life all around you as usual goes on
All we have are photographs and mental images of the good times we've had
And on remembering your good times you can feel quite sad
Your good memories die with you they live on for years
And they have been known for to give rise to tears.

The Great John Greenleaf Whittier

Amongst the best poets of the U S of A
His great poems on Maud Muller and Barbara Frietchie are living today
Though their creator long at rest amongst the forever gone
The legends he gave life to are today living on

The great John Greenleaf Whittier was a poet supreme
In his own lifetime one held in high esteem
He brought to the World such marvelous rhyme
His poems have lived on through the decades of time

I first read some of his poems when i was a schoolboy
And reading them today i thoroughly enjoy
His poems on people and Nature with the best compare
The Whittiers of the World are and were always rare

A poet of the masses of him one can say
With words he was one who did have a way
Amongst the great poets of the U S his place he does retain
And the fans of his poetry as fans do remain.

We Are What We Are

To our self appointed judges i may be a never do well
A knockabout fellow who pens doggerel
Since with the town's wealthy i cannot afford to wine and dine
But their ratings of me is their business not mine

I cannot say i have been there and done that
Though i have worked on a pipeline in Buninyong near Ballarat
And in the Yarra Ranges i have worked on travel towers lopping tall trees
In weather temperatures of varying degrees

By Mushera Mountain above Millstreet Town
In all sorts of weather i cut pine trees down
But this is going back many Seasons ago
Before time eventually became my foe

The opportunities of a better education i did not seize
Any of the jobs i worked in did not need uni degrees
But to me now it does not matter anyway
Since physically i have known a far better day

I used to daydream that i might be a poet
A fellow seen as worthy of literary note
But daydreams are just that and seldom come true
What we receive from life suppose is our due

I have lived for six decades and seven years in time quite a span
And far north of where i now live i grew into a man
We are what we are with that would you agree?
And a Claraghatlea fellow is all i can be.

Any Sort Of Physical Or Mental Abuse

Any sort of physical or mental abuse is a serious crime
And many who commit such offenses never serve prison time
Those who abuse their power over others are no longer rare
Of the boundaries of law they do not seem aware
Yet sad to know that some of them for their crimes are never made to pay
As many good people as criminals in prison in the World of today
You are treated as a common criminal if you are a refugee
And this does seem all wrong would you not agree?
The Government of any Country that imprisons any person seeking refuge are committing a crime against humanity
At least anyhow this is how it seems to me
In a World where millions are homeless and Stateless and living in dire poverty
A World free of persecution and wrongful imprisonment i may not live to see.

Beth Coggin

The aging Beth Coggin was a battered wife
Her deceased ex husband Fred gave to her a terrible life
When he left her for another it was her happiest day
When drunk he was violent some men are this way

The only child she gave birth to Joe in the Vietnam war died
Under fire a true hero stories of his bravery traveled far and wide
So young for to die in such a terrible way
Such things happen in war which does seem sad to say

He was only nineteen the best years of life of him ahead
The worst moment of her life was to learn her son was dead
Life has it's good moments and life has it's tears
The grief of her son's death was with her for years

In her mid eighties with shoulder length hair of gray
Quite pretty for her years and health-wise okay
One i often see out walking in the park or on the street
Such a beautiful person and always a pleasure to meet

Beth Coggin one burdened with a heavy lifetime cross
A woman who does know of the grief of loss
Her son died in Vietnam she was a battered wife
And despite all of this joy and laughter has returned to her life.

The Great Goddess Of Nature

Her beauty all around me my wonder of her grow
The great Goddess of Nature the only God i know
I am a Doubting Thomas so why waste time telling me
Of your God of Heaven since him i never see
The great Goddess of Nature to her i never pray
Her beauty all around me i see it every day
Though she is the one who feeds us respect to her many of us do never show
By taking her for granted will we reap what we sow?
The Goddess of the Seasons Summer, Fall, Winter and Spring
When in her leafy groves and woodlands nesting wild birds chirp and sing
For to describe her amazing creative powers words i do not have to say
For the pleasure that she gives us her we never could repay
The only God i know of the greatest of the great
To the great Goddess of Nature these words i dedicate.

Haiyan The World's Biggest Storm

Haiyan the World's biggest storm has blown itself tame
And where it has been through in the Philippines will never again be the same
The images of the destruction on t v are so sad as the families bury their dead
For the survivors of Haiyan many tough years ahead
Left to grieve for their dead after Nature's attack
Their homes in time may be re-built but their friends and families cannot be brought back
Even photographs of them to Haiyan have been lost
To the regions it has been through the winds of death have come at a huge cost
When Nature grows angry she leaves destruction, heartbreak and tears
And the grief she gives rise to does linger for years
That Nature is and will always be the World's number one super power is not a lie
When she grows angry great buildings do fall and people do die
Haiyan may have blown itself tame the World's greatest wind
But death and destruction in it's wake it has left behind.

Koroit In South West Victoria

With strong links to Indigenous and Irish cultures two of it's claims to renown
Koroit in south west Victoria is a historical old Town
And for it's hospitable people it is known far and wide
Far beyond the Moyne Shire and the south west countryside
Their footballers and netballers between them have won many a Premiership Flag
Any club that does beat them have earned their right to brag
Always joyous in victory and gracious in defeat
In south western Victoria the young women and men of Koroit always the hardest to beat
Nearby Tower Hill has strong links to a south west Victoria's Indigenous Race
To the descendants of the Budj Bim a sacred place
In Koroit in Victoria where the cultures do meet
A visitor there not made to feel like a stranger as she or he walks on the street
Most people you meet there always smile and say good day
To be friendly to strangers is the Koroit way.

Where Ancient Clara Mountain

Where ancient Clara Mountain does ever look down
On the green countryside west of old Millstreet Town
From the overnight frost the fields looking gray
And a cold chill in the morning air of a November day
In the farmyard in the the galvanize shed
The hungry cattle for fodder are bellowing to be fed
Confined to the farmyard for their wintering stay
Their next bite of grass in time from them near five months away
Where the migrant redwings are chirping on bare deciduous trees
The coldness of late Fall in the wintery breeze
Blows with a damp chill for to tell rain is near
To Duhallow in November a wet and cold time of year
As the gray fog from Claramore steals it's way down
To the fields of Claraghatlea west of Millstreet Town.

This Is The Twelfth Thousand Rhyme I Have Written

This is the twelfth thousand rhyme i have written but in case you get me wrong
These rhymes only came to me but to me do not belong
My gift if you could call it such amongst others i do share
Since we do not own any gift we have of this i am aware
The rhymes keep coming to me on notepaper i pen them down
And post them to an internet site but not for money or renown
It is something i enjoy doing just that and nothing more
To this you very well might say you have told us this before
Writing rhyme to me has been a gift or an addiction you call it what you may
I have written reams and reams of rhymes and add to them each day
I am not well educated one without letters to my name
And it is for enjoyment i pen rhymes not for money or for fame
For the past forty years of my life i have been a rhyming buff
And this is the twelfth thousand rhyme i have written just a lot of rhyming stuff.

On Remembrance Day

In his early nineties time has left him gray
He plays on his flute in the park every day
A seasoned old warrior a survivor of World War Two
To play on his flute something he likes to do
Unmarried without children he never had a wife
Though he has had a few sexual affairs in his life
One who knows how people live in Countries elsewhere
As he has traveled and worked in the big World out there
Old Dave is a carefree and a likeable bloke
He enjoys a few beers and everyday a few cigarettes does smoke
He says he will not die of nicotine induced cancer or alcohol poisoning and more living of him ahead
Though of old age he reckons he will be found dead
His war medals for bravery on his coat lapel he does not display
As he plays on his flute in the park on Remembrance Day.

The Seasons To Our Lives

The Seasons to our lives do come and do go
And eventually time becomes everyone's foe
And the longer you live the sooner you will die
A mere fact of life and fact never lie
The clock on our lives ever ticking away
And every day lived one nearer to our last day
Time will not wait for you like it did not wait for me
To grow old just a part of mortality
Make the most of your life since time ticks on by
On looking back the Seasons they did seem to fly
So many sad to say are harassed by stress
So lucky the people who know of happiness
Make the most of the now since yesterday has gone
And time as they say it does keep ticking on.

Take Care Of Our Own

The majority of the voting public not strong in empathy
And those different to them they see reason to fear
And the Government who realizes this on their fears do prey
By telling them what they only wish for to hear

The Government convince the already converted not a hard thing to do
That amongst asylum seeking boat refugees terrorists may abound
This for them a vote getter as they know all too well
In propaganda like this a weapon for staying in power they have found

Poor homeless and Stateless people in search of a new and safe home
Have become the pawns of a horrible political game
The way the Government is treating asylum seekers for political gain
Is not something to be proud of and to all of our shame

To the political power hungry humans rights not a priority when it comes to political power
And to poor boat refugees any mercy by the Government not shown
Many of the nationalistic in thinking do not have a broad view of life
Treat all others with suspicion and take care of our own.

Cyber Bullying

Does not matter your gender or what age you are
If you are into cyber bullying you have gone too far
In bad behavior your actions seem small
In fact you are not a good person at all
To have to behave in such a manner it does seem
That you are one who suffers of low self esteem
You have to be full of self loathing to behave in such a way
Like every other cyber bully in the World of today
A cyber bully does not have anything on which to feel pride
Because of his or her bullying their victim has committed suicide
They try to build themselves up by putting others down
Such people are never an asset to their side of the town
A cyber bully will never become the person of the year
And of too many deaths due to them of late we do hear.

Where Winning Is The Only Thing

Where winning is the only thing that does seem to count
And being a good loser to nothing does amount
Who wants to be one of the many losers in the World of today
When winning only seems to matter it does seem this way
Though you were not found to be wanting when put to the test
You feel disappointed to have come out second best
And though you did not not come out on top you put on a brave face
Inwardly you feel disappointed to be in second place
When the winner is the one that others to greater things does inspire
And the winner is the one the majority admire
The dream of ultimate success many do pursue
And those who say everyone is a winner are not saying what is true
Where winning is the only thing that does matter it does seem
That not being a winner is not good for one's self esteem.

Haiyan

Where more than twelve thousand people have reportedly died
And thousands of homes by the fierce winds destroyed
The tragic stories from the Philippines have traveled Worldwide
When Nature grows angry her destructive power cannot be denied
Leaving death, suffering and grief in it's wake Haiyan to Vietnam is on it's way
To cause more death, destruction and suffering this does seem sad to say
When Mother Nature grows angry she is an unstoppable force
And she flattens everything that does stand in her course
As she has often proved before Nature has proved again
That when angry she is an unstoppable force humans cannot contain
Yet she is the one who gives life to all
And supports all life forms including us humans from the great to the small
And for her recent tantrum in Asia she will not take any blame
Since for her destruction she does not feel guilt or shame.

Cats Are Born Hunters

Cats are born hunters it is in their nature to kill
Small birds and small animals killing to them a thrill
If the species they have killed is rare or of extinction threatened cats are not to know
Discernment is not in their nature and mercy they do not show
To any creature they can kill to them it becomes prey
The cat before killing a mouse with it will play
With it like a child does with a toy
Doing what seems cruel to us is something they do enjoy
Your pet who sleeps on the sofa by day becomes a hunter of the night
And stalk small creatures to kill under the moonlight
Far more active at night than during the day
It is in your cat's nature for to hunt for prey
And though well groomed and well cared for and never short of a good feed
Your cats are born hunters and to kill in them the need.

Your Past Will Be With You

The now is all that does matter as some are known to say
But your past will be with you until your life's final day
From the place you were raised in you may be long gone
But the memories of it are with you the past follow you on
For as long as the gift of memory you retain
The past with you it is bound to remain
The good and bad memories with you until you die
A mere fact of life and fact never lie
On remembering the past you realize how quickly time does fly
The days weeks and months seem to hurry by
You may think of you that you have left your past behind
But thought has made a fool of you and you are surprised to find
That your past remains with you though you thought from it you had gone
Whilst life all around you as usual goes on.

Port Fairy In November

Everywhere i turn to look i do see
Nature's beauty all around me
Young apples are growing on the apple tree
And the dainty black and white magpie lark calling pee wee

Port Fairy in November on a sunny Spring Saturday
Where the Moyne to the ocean slowly crawls on it's way
Along by Griffith Island where into the Pacific it does flow
At the end of it's journey deep, silent and slow

Apart from it's music festival Port Fairy has many claims to renown
Recognized as the most livable in the World small  Town
Many who do go there for a brief holiday
Do return much later for a much longer stay

Many of the residents of Port Fairy proud of their home place
And they greet every stranger with a smiling face
Which prompts me to say i do not feel surprised
That as the World's most livable small Town it has been recognized.

In A Human World

In a Human World where self proclaimed poets are many the true poets are few
In the age of self promotion such a thing nothing new
Many who do pen doggerel claim the title of poet
And proclaim themselves worthy of literary note
And though self promotion is the in thing in the World of today
Self praise is no praise as the wise one does say
That there are good poets and bad poets happen to be true
And success always seems to come to where it is due
I must seem old fashioned for to have a liking for rhyme
When the literary critics dismiss it as of another time
In the twenty first century the poets who write blank verse know of wealth and fame
But how boring we would be if we all thought in the same way and in all ways were same
Variety is the spice of life would you not agree?
At least anyhow that's how it seems to me.

Though Everyone To Live

Though everyone to live breathe in the same air
Few things in the Human World seem equal and fair
The battler never socializes with the billionaire
As nothing in common in life they do share
Amongst human beings no such a thing as equality is how it seems to be
Though with such a statement some may disagree
The majority of people cannot afford the most expensive wine
Or in the most expensive restaurants afford for to dine
Money speaks every language or so it does seem
It does win one admirers and public esteem
But in fact we all share one thing in common and fact never lie
That all humans are born as mortals and mortals do die
And though everyone to live breathe in the same air
Few things in the Human World seem equal and fair.

By The Wannon

Long before it was known as Wannon by name
And centuries before the first British explorers came
To the Geriwerd Ranges two centuries ago
On what year or what date i cannot say so
On warm Summer evenings the tribes of the Geriwerd had their corroborees
By the banks of the river in the shade of the trees
In the home to the emu and wallaby and roo
They danced to the music of the didgeridoo
But the passing of time does bring change and it does seem sad to say
No corroborees by the Wannon today
People come and go and the past in the forever gone
But the old waterway through the brown lands flow on
To the shores of the Pacific many kilometers away
Where the ghosts of the tribes of the Geriwerd are living today.

You May Not Be

You may not be wealthy and your's may not be a famous face
But you can make the Human World to live in a far better place
By being kind to others and do your good deeds every day
For your every good deed Karma you will repay
Yes good Karma eventually will become your due
Since to the higher principle you remain true
The size of your home or the size of your car
Does not say anything of the person you are
You may not be one of the celebrities of the town
But you are one quite willing to help one financially down
Always willing to help one of helping in need
You are an asset and a credit to your side of the town indeed
You may not be wealthy and famous and known far and wide
But that you live as a very good person of you cannot be denied.

The Rushy Fields

The rushy fields where the rivers do meet
A half of an hour walk from the Town of Millstreet
From the overnight frost are looking quite gray
In the cold dawning of a November day

In the nearby farmyard in their wintering shed
The hungry cattle are bellowing to be fed
For five months at least in their sheds they will remain
Until grass grow in Spring in the soft April rain

In the Finnow river in the frosty dawn
The salmon are swimming up against the strong flow to spawn
To the inland rivers in November from the Atlantic shore
They swim against the strong currents to breed forty kilometers or more

Above the old rushy fields where Finnow waters flow
The cold winds of November from the mountains do blow
Brown water bank high from recent heavy rain
Flowing to the river in every field drain.

A Little About Life

For my years of living i have  little in material things for to show
Though a little about life i can claim to know
And i do live far from where i first saw light of day
Perhaps in sky distance seventeen thousand kilometers away
To become wealthy and famous in life not my due
But that we learn as we live does happen to be true
Life does have it's lessons and more than a few
And every day we live we do learn something new
From our mistakes in life always some price to pay
Though we never stop learning as the  wise one did say
Far north of where i now live my journey in life  began
And far north of where i now live i grew into a man
And though for my age i have little in material things for to show
A little about life  i can claim to know.

November By Mushera

In flights of fancy i see old Mushera cloaked in gray fogs of rain
And hear storm-water gurgling in the roadside drain
By the narrow Butter Road that winds up and down
Through the high undulating countryside above Millstreet Town
November by Mushera a cold and wet time of year
With the  calendar Winter to the high country near
As the flood is subsiding in the cold  gray dawn
The  salmon are swimming upriver to spawn
In Mushera valley in November in the dawning cold  and gray
The cattle in the farm sheds are bellowing for silage or hay
At least fourteen weeks until the first flowers of Spring
Until the nest building male songbirds do whistle and sing
Where old Mushera is cloaked in the fog rains of gray
Above the high country from here far away.

The Only Antidote To Stress

Stress can cause heart attacks and cancer of this most are aware
Life does seem far too short for worry and care
A good laugh never fails to keep worry away
And pity the one who cannot laugh every day
Yes laughter the only antidote to stress
It brings to the mind the glow of happiness
One worry leads to another worry it does seem this way
Laughter for the mind is the best medicine as the  wise one did say
Young Davy he does have the  bright inner glow
People like he is are so good to know
In his mind for sadness there is not any space
He always does have a big smile on his  face
His  great gift of happiness amongst others he does share
But sad to say his type nowadays are quite rare.

George

Though the best years of his life he surely has seen
On his way home from the pub at night he sings God save the Queen
Though five decades of years out of Manchester in time quite a span
George remains a royalist and a loyal to England man

In Vietnam in the nineteen sixties decorated for bravery fighting under the Australian flag
Yet of his war achievement he never does brag
He came back from Vietnam to find the love of his life
Had given birth to a daughter and was her child's father's wife

Single in his early seventies George was never a dad
But to be living and healthy he is one who feels glad
His strong Manchester accent he does retain
And his love  for England  with him does remain

In his two bedroom brick unit with Joe his black and white border collie as his trusting friend
On the loyalty and love of a dog one can always depend
He takes his four year old canine friend for a walk every day
And greets  everyone  he does meet on the way

On Saturday evening he enjoys a few beers in the local pub and on his way home sings God Save The Queen
In him the love of the homeland remains  evergreen
And though he loves Australia and fought under it's  flag far away
His strong love for all that is English till death with him will stay.

None Ought To Deny

I know i do not grow wiser as i grow  old
But of so many others the same can be told
Yet for my every mistake in life  i have had to pay
That life pays us our dues it does seem this way
From life we receive what happens to be our due
In most cases anyway this does seem true
And  though losing is a  thing anyone does not choose
For  one for to win others have to lose
For my lack of success i have myself to blame
I have wasted too much time  daydreaming of wealth and fame
That daydreaming does not make things happen with that i do agree
For an example of this look no further than me
In life i have had my chances i left them go by
That for success one  must work hard none ought to deny.

Grace

She surely lives up to her given name of Grace
At charity fundraisers her's is a familiar face
A friend  to the homeless and the refugee
The widowed grandmother of seventy three
With shoulder length gray hair and soulful brown eyes
The wear the  passing of time brings she does not disguise
In hair dyes or anti aging creams she  is what you see
So natural and lovely is how she seems to me
So down to earth and compassionate and always so sweet
One can say of Grace she  is a joy for to meet
About her she has such a beautiful way
One who sows the seeds of good Karma every day
Compassionate and caring she lives up to her name of Grace
And  the Human World for her in it a much better place.

The Past Stays With Me

Tomorrow will dawn and yesterday has gone
And life all around me as usual goes on
A magpie  is warbling on a sunlit gum tree
A memory to cherish since the past stays with me

It is such a beautiful November day
The recently mowed town park scent sweetly of hay
And  the paddocks looking lush and green after recent Spring rain
With such pleasant weather how can one complain

A weather forecast high for the day of a pleasant twenty degrees
With only the slightest coastal southern breeze
The balmy air full of the buzzing of  nectar gathering bees
And the  contented cattle lay chewing their cuds in the shade of the trees

My worth as a rhymer i always do doubt
But in Nature for  me  plenty to rhyme about
Were i a poet of the beauty around me i would write
A poem for lovers of Nature poetry to read and enjoy and recite

On a sunlit wattle a male golden bill blackbird does sing
His  beautiful song a feature of the Spring
Tomorrow i will remember today the beauty i hear and i see
Such a memory for me to cherish since the past stays with me.

The Man From Dromtarriffe

In fancy he can hear a silver back crow
Cawing on a birch tree near where Blackwater flow
In the flat lands of Duhallow on towards Mallow Town
Where he used to live  when his  hair was light brown

In the pub Jimmy often talks  of his first home-place far away
Where he used to live before his hair turned gray
He may never see old Dromtarriffe again
But memories of what was in him does remain

Yes the good memories of what was are his to enjoy
Of the old fields and people he knew as a boy
And of his school-going friends with whom games he used to play
He wonders about them where they might be today

Five times a grandfather time  ticks on as they say
The man from Dromtarriffe turned eighty in May
He lives with Aussie Jean his seventy eight years old wife
The mother of his children and the  great love of his life.

The Bush Fires Do Blaze

Late Spring and Summer ahead and many warm days
And already in New South Wales the bush fires do blaze
Three weeks  from the  calendar Summer and parts of New South Wales tinder dry
The  bush fires grow fiercer as the years go by
Those in denial of Climate Change to themselves only lie
As arrogant they live and in ignorance of reality they will die
Global Warming is for real though with that some disagree
Some people hard to convince that's how it seems to be
The Government put all else before the natural environment and for this  sad to say
The future generations of people may have to pay
For the carbon emissions created by the people of today
Greed for wealth and money of common sense seems to have got in the way
Huge bush fires in New South Wales in October and November in Spring
The bush fire Season has started early this  year and this is not a good  thing.

Many Sides To Love

Of it the poets do write and the singers of it do sing
The great gift of love  is a wonderful thing
But the ending of love can cause shedding of tears
And the grief of lost love it can linger for years
And for many men and women the great love of their  life
Did not become their husband or did not become their wife
The one jilted in love a sad sack of the town
In love there is many an up and a down
Love is known to all races and is Worldwide
And love it is known to have it's bitter side
And love affects people in ways differently
As there are many sides to love that's how it seems to be
Most of the songs are about love on the radio every day
Quite a topical subject it does seem this way.

A Wonderful Memory

A wonderful memory from the calm of the night
Of a magpie warbling in the moonlight
The beautiful voice quite distinctive and clear
Of a bird whose kind does sing at all times of the year
On a moonlit night in November in the southern Spring
The song of the magpie quite a beautiful thing
At nesting time they sing night and day with borders to defend
Their flute like songs to human ears pleasant a warning to males of their own kind why even pretend
That male birds sing for love when it is defense of territory that inspires in them song
Those who might tell you otherwise do have it wrong
Last night around 11 pm i lay awake in bed
Listening to a magpie singing on a wattle tree in the backyard by the old timber shed
A beautiful memory for me to retain
And to visit again and again and again.

Like Many

Like many my life journey began elsewhere
And i went to see some of the big World out there
But despite the words of the song it is not a small World after all
The World that we live in it is far from small

The World far too big in a lifetime to see
And wherever i go to my past goes with me
Most migrants are linked to the past in some way
And do share things in common it does seem fair to say

Though i have never been to great Cities like Beijing, Moscow, Paris or Rome
My travels have  taken me  far from my first home
From where i first looked on the lamp of day
Claraghatlea near Millstreet Town i live far away

The bug of the wander is in quite a few
And lures them to far places to experience to them something new
Us migrants share at least one thing in common our life's journey began elsewhere
Before seeking adventure in the  big World out there.

To Live A Good Life

To live a good life one must give to receive
A strong link to Karma on which i do believe
On saying in life it is true we do reap what we sow
Am i telling you what you already know?
Ideas i do not have as such for to you for to sell
But give to receive in life should serve you well
Those who only know how to take and never learn how to give
Are not practicing good karmic ways on how to live
That money speaks every language is not a lie
But there is more to living than me, myself and i
In a Human World where to selfishness some are all too inclined
Good Karma awaits the compassionate and kind
And those happy to give in return do receive
On such a philosophy i do believe.

You Have Told Me So Often

You have told me so often of how marvelous  you are
And of the size of your  house and the  size of your car
And of your wonderful children and  your beautiful wife
And of your  amazing job and your successful life
So good to see you so happy with your success but nonetheless it does seem
That you need  to tell me of your successes tells me of your latent sense of low self esteem
You secretly question your self worth that's how it seems to be
At least anyhow this is how  it seems  to me
That you only like to talk of  yourself does seem obviously clear
And mostly the same stories from you i do hear
Like your great job and the size of your house and your car
And of your beautiful wife and wonderful children and  of how marvelous you are
There are many like you i meet them every day
Though self praise is no praise as the wise one did say.

For My Own Enjoyment

Of any personal successes in life i do not have any stories to tell
One of those some dismiss as a never do well
The sort of rhymes i do write for money nowadays one cannot sell
The poets write their poetry and i pen doggerel

And though my worth as a rhymer i have  reason to doubt
Never a shortage of subject matter for me to rhyme  about
By the beauty of Nature to rhyme i feel inspired
And of singing her praises i never grow tired

On this first day of November in the Southern Spring
The birds on the  sunlit trees whistle and sing
On this bright and calm evening with just a slight breeze
And a temperature high  for the day of a pleasant twenty degrees

The park resplendent in the flowers of Nature green after recent rain
With such pleasant weather how can one complain
The  buzzing of flies and nectar gathering bees
And white butterflies seemingly dance around the blossoming trees

I have never referred to myself as a poet
Nor am i one worthy of literary note
I write for my own enjoyment this and nothing more
This is something you may have heard me say before.