Mindy

Her shoulder length hair it is silver gray
Mindy is aging in a graceful way
Yet she retains much of her beauty though she is growing old
For one in her mid seventies quite attractive to behold

Last year her husband of fifty years Joe passed away
Of cancer though sick for months he fought for life till his last day
In the local cemetery his last remains lay
She misses him far more than words could ever say

Six times a great grandmother her physical best years long gone
But the will it is in her to keep on keeping on
Walking in the park her i often does see
She always does smile and say good day to me

Devoted to her family and to Joe she was a good wife
Mindy does retain her great love of life
Though Joe's illness and death on her a heavy cross
She gets on with living life despite her loss

People like Mindy are a pleasure to know
One can say of her she has the inner glow
Though life must be sad for her since the death of Joe
When out walking to everyone she meets she smiles and says hello.

A Memory Of Lisnaboy

The Summer holidays i did enjoy
In uncle Dan and aunt Mary's farm in Lisnaboy
When i was a young boy going back in time
Many years before i discovered rhyme
On weather warm in early July
With the sun shining in the blue sky
In the meadow with pikes we built cocks of hay
A memory that is with me today
In Cullen cemetery Dan and Mary's last remains lay
And from Lisnaboy i live far away
And only the memories with me remain
Of what used to be and cannot be again
When i used to watch the dark swallows fly
Above the old fields of Cullen in July.

Yangery Today

It does seem like rain is not that far away
A sunless gray sky over Yangery today
June Winter's first month all but over two sleeps from the first of July
And above the green paddocks of Yangery the gray fogs of rain in the sky
But suppose with such mild Winter weather you will not hear many complain
And though the countryside has seldom looked greener it is always welcome the rain
The cattle on nutritious young grass are gaining weight by the day
A month ago things were so different the farmers were feeding them hay
It does look like the drought is over El Nino has left Yangery for elsewhere
In bare, brown and sunburned dry places he has gone to live there
Today a gray day in the Moyne Shire but the weather mild for the time of year
And the familiar song of the pee wee in the calm air is pleasant to hear
And the recent rain has brought greenness to Yangery as green as it ever has been
In Nature in all of her Seasons there is always beauty to be seen.

Tomorrow Is Coming

Tomorrow is coming and yesterday has gone
But tomorrow will not dawn for some only Nature lives on
Yes for some this will be their last living day
Make the most of your life for time ticks away
And try to live for as long as you possibly can
For human life on average in time not a very long span
And try to be happy since the one feeling down
Is one of the friendless people of the town
Money cannot buy you the inner glow
The happiest person i happen to know
Is not one who is wealthy and he drives an old car
But he brings laughter with him to the local bar
The longest lived human life in time not long and the seconds tick on fast
And at midnight today it will be of the past.

Suppose Dogs To Their Feelings

Unconditional love is such a wonderful thing
And of it's praises i always feel happy to sing
But amongst human beings it is so very rare
I am only saying here of what most are aware
On most human loves conditions do apply
But why your dog's love for you is unconditional one must wonder why
For the love of your dog such a small price you pay
A few pats and kind words and a few feeds every day
The love of a dog for it's master is true
For it's unconditional love it demands little of you
Amongst human beings unconditional love does not exist why otherwise pretend
But your dog without conditions loves you until it's life does end
Yes your dog till the day it does die will love you
Suppose dogs to their feelings than us are more true.

Sometimes By Our Words

Sometimes by our words we are known to deceive
But in truth we are only on what we believe
And if your thoughts tell you to do others ill
You most certainly can and you certainly will
The person with empathy never deliberately harms anyone
It is only those lacking in compassion bad things to others have done
Some on their lives journey on the road to enlightenment have lost their way
And violence towards others to them seems okay
Those with compassion for the suffering of others can empathize
And that their actions can cause grief and suffering to other people they do realize
You do not need to believe in a God for to know wrong from right
The gifts of compassion and empathy does come from insight
By your treatment of others you can make the World better to live in
Since kindness and compassion are born within.

Giovanni From Milan

In his early thirties Giovanni from Milan
One can say of him quite a well traveled man
With Jo Ann his beautiful brown haired Australian wife
With a son of four and a daughter of five their gifts to their union in life

Dark haired Giovanni quite handsome and tall
With the local club plays Australian Rules Football
An amateur player he plays for the love of the game
Loved by the fans of the club his is a well known name

A carpenter by trade he earns a good weekly pay
A good family man kind in his own quiet way
He came with his parents to Australia as a child in nineteen eighty three
And he has not been back since to Milan in Italy

Few memories of Milan with him does remain
And perhaps he will never go back there again
He is known to many a well liked and good man
The fellow who goes by the nickname of Giovanni from Milan.

Far South Of Claraghatlea Fields

Far south of Claraghatlea fields Nature's beauty to see
Everywhere i turn to look it is all around me
A magpie is warbling on a sunlit gum tree
Proclaiming the borders of his territory
On the last week of June in the Winter of the year
The calls of the pee wees so pleasant to hear
The countryside looking lush and green after recent rain
In such nice and sunny though Unseasonal weather how can one complain
In Claraghatlea fields on this Summer day
The sweet scent of grass mown for silage or hay
On a pleasant sunny morning of twenty degrees
Is wafting in the gentle southerly breeze
And far south of Claraghatlea fields in the sunny Moyne Shire
A magpie is warbling to his heart's desire.

Of The Praises Of Nature

Of the praises of Nature we only can sing
And learning of her ways so much joy to us bring
And of Nature we learn something new every day
We never stop learning it does seem this way
In their works the artists and writers Nature celebrate
And the amazing beauty that she does create
The one with the most amazing creative power
That creates a thing of beauty like a beautiful flower
Our wonder of Nature only does seem to grow
And the more we learn of her the less we know of her we do know
And every day of her we do learn something new
Her wonders are many and her secrets not few
And though little of her ways i can claim to know
My wonder of Nature only does seem to grow.

The Amazing John Clare

Confined in Northampton Asylum for years
He knew about poverty and sadness and tears
As a Nature poet of the English language with the best he does compare
The poet of all Seasons the amazing John Clare

Though deceased for one hundred and fifty one years his legend in his poetry has grown
The great Bard of Helpston in a class of his own
One can say he lived his poetry since poverty and mental illness he did endure
A poet for the ages and this is for sure

In the annals of English Nature poetry his is an enduring fame
Few poets of his caliber that one could name
His great poem I Am as the poetic anthem of mental illness remain
You read his poems once and you will read them again

His last remains in the churchyard of St Botolph's lay
In his lifetime poor and neglected but a poetic legend of today
His best poems are of the Helpston countryside
And his fame as a poet has traveled Worldwide.

The Boston Terror

That Sam Langford was the greatest boxer never to become a World Champion of this little doubt
He was fighting at a time when the color of his skin ruled him out
Of ever becoming a World Champion though from lightweight to heavyweight he only fought the best
And he was never found to be wanting when put to the test
Born and raised in Weymouth Falls in Canada he migrated to Boston in the U S of A
Nicknamed The Boston Terror though long dead his legend is living today
In a non title fight he lost by decision to Jack Johnson the great heavyweight World Champion going back many decades in time
When Johnson was practically unbeatable in the height of his physical prime
Perhaps the World's greatest pound for pound all time boxer but due to the color of his skin
He never became a World Champion suppose some are not born to win
Sam Langford the great Boston Terror died as an old man poor and blind
He fought from lighweight to heavyweight and his equal would be hard to find
He never became a World Champion such an opportunity never came his way
Because he was one of the wrong color and this does seem a sad thing to say.

On The Passing Of Jimmy Doyle

Sad news out of Tipperary that i have read online today
Jimmy Doyle the legendary hurler on his seventy sixth year has passed away
A beautiful striker of the sliothar ball
Amongst Ireland's great hurlers one of the greatest of all

Of Tipperary a famous hurling County a supreme hurling player
The Jimmy Doyles of the small ball game in Ireland to say the least rare
And yet quite a humble person fame never went to his head
His legend lives on though the great man is dead

That he was one of the all time great forwards of hurling of him cannot be denied
In Ireland the great Thurles Sarsfields Club-man was famed far and wide
A skilful and free scoring hurler in his physical prime
Till he like all others fell victim to time

A down to earth person unaffected by fame
Who had won every honor in the great hurling game
Great hurlers as he was are born not made
He will be remembered in Ireland as long as the game of hurling is played

Amongst hurling fans in Ireland one held in high esteem
One can say of him he was a hurler supreme
The last breath of life from Jimmy Doyle may have gone
But he will be remembered and his fame will live on.

Where The Beauty Of Nature

Every day of the year there is beauty to see
The beauty of Nature is all around me
It may be early Winter but the paddocks looking lush and green
The beauty in Nature in all Seasons for to be seen
Us humans like all life forms of Nature are born to die
Just a mere fact of life and fact never lie
But Nature lives on and she regenerate
Till the Life's Reaper does eventually claim the lives she does create
Such joy to so many Nature's beauty does bring
And of her praises i always feel happy to sing
In the blue and sunny sky just a few clouds of gray
And the magpies are singing in the park by the bay
And how pleasant to hear the song of the pee wee
Where the beauty of Nature is all around me

That Life Is Not All Joy

That life is not all joy only true for to say
And for many often a new challenge it does seem this way
Life was not meant to be easy according to George Bernard Shaw
And some does know of this thing known as Murphy's Law
In life for some a new challenge to face every day
Suppose for life experience this is the price some must pay
Many children every day born into poor circumstance
To succeed in life they do stand little chance
Which makes the sons and daughters of the multi millionaires quite lucky indeed
But then suppose in life of luck one is in need
It is said that from life one receives what is their due
But in many cases this is not quite true
At least not for the millions of children born into poor circumstance
Who in life to succeed does stand little chance.

All He Has Are Memories

He only has memories of the what used to be
Of the place that he left in nineteen sixty three
In May when the wildflowers of Nature were resplendent in full bloom
In the old fields that bordered the Town of Macroom

He remembers the first great love of his life
The golden haired teenager who did not become his wife
With eyes as blue as the ripened sloe
But going back in time that now seems long ago

He wonders about her is she a mother and grandmother today
Or growing old in Macroom as single did stay
Or like him from the Hometown does she live far away
We all have our journeys in life one might say

He has not been in Macroom for forty years this does seem quite a long time
A widower in his early seventies his only child a daughter has twin sons in their lives prime
He only has fading memories of where to manhood he did grow
In the old mid Cork Town where the Sullane does flow

On towards the River Lane that flows to the River Lee
The lives of the rivers predate history
All he has are memories of Seasons long gone
And age telling on him and time ticking on.

Lake Pertobe

A place for it's beauty that is known far and wide
Where many different species of waterbirds reside
Lake Pertobe from Warrnambool City a kilometer away
A nice place to visit any time of year or any day

Where swamphen, dusky moorhen, and coot can be seen all year round
And chestnut teal and gray teal and silver gull and black duck in numbers often abound
And grebe and great egret, pink eared duck, spoonbill and the rare blue billed duck
Can sometimes be sighted if you are in luck

Where black swan, pelican and shoveler and hardhead visit from time to time
Old Lake Pertobe the inspiration of story and rhyme
A lake in a park with a natural charm of it's own
To many tourists Park Lake Pertobe is very well known

From Lake Pertobe by the City of Warrnambool and to the Pacific ocean near
On a calm day the rolling surf waves one often does hear
A safe haven for waterbirds and quite a beautiful place
Where of human created pollution there is never a trace.

If I Did Tell You Different

I cannot write poetry so i write rhyme rhyme instead
And i know that i will be one of the forgotten dead
But why should i worry since death of life's cares will one day set me free
The same for the wealthy and famous as it is for me
My worth as a rhymer i always do doubt
But no shortage of things for me to write rhymes about
On different things i do write every day
But that anybody can pen rhymes does seem true to say
I am one who has written pages of stuff
And for many years i have been a rhyming buff
And though some tell me on rhyming to call it a day
What i enjoy doing why should i give away
And i hope to be rhyming on the day i do die
If i did tell you different i would be telling you a lie.

The Southern Winter Solstice

In the sunny blue sky just a few clouds of gray
On June the twenty first the southern year's shortest day
For the southern Winter solstice a forecast high of fifteen degrees
A pleasant day out of doors of scarcely any breeze
A magpie lark in the green paddock is calling pee wee
And a magpie is warbling on a sunlit gum tree
Such beautiful weather for the time of year
To Earthly Utopia this place has to be near
Brown storm-water flowing in the roadside drain
And the tiny frogs singing for to tell us of rain
But for the southern Winter Solstice the weather sunny and clear
And with every new dawn the calendar Spring draws near
And a voice once heard one never again does get wrong
The gray shrike thrush is whistling his beautiful song.

On A Terrible Beauty Is Born

No doubt one of the great poets of the twenty first century one of Ireland's best William Butler Yeats
Amongst the poets of the English language by the literary critics considered as one of the greats
But one of his famous poems A terrible Beauty Is Born a poem that glorifies beauty in death
To me is not true to beauty did Yeats not fight for his last living breath?

A Terrible Beauty Is Born was inspired by the executed leaders of the nineteen sixteen Easter Rising in Dublin but in death beauty i cannot see
The only beauty i know of is living i see it every day everywhere around me
In death to me there never is beauty and in post rigor mortis only the stench of decay
But then we all look at things very differently this is how it does seem anyway

The executed nineteen sixteen Easter Rising leaders in Dublin are heroes and will remain so in the decades ahead
But i often do wonder of heroes how come the majority of them are dead?
Yeats in noble patriotic death see great beauty but i look at things quite differently
Beauty to me it is living i see it in the flowers on the magnolia tree

A Terrible Beauty Is Born is a great poem and praise to it's long deceased author is due
And that Yeats was a poet for the ages only happens for to be true
In the brutal murders of good and brave men he see a terrible beauty his great poem is living today
But i only see living beauty and it is not where dead people lay.

In June In the Moyne Shire

In June in the Moyne Shire in the cool Winter showers
The wattle trees cloaked in their bright yellow flowers
In weather temperatures that seldom go over fifteen degrees
And never any warmth in the often strong breeze
That blow from the ocean across the green countryside
With the return of the white cattle egrets the birds that travel far and wide
They will fly north to their breeding grounds in the Spring
When in the sub tropics the pied butcher-birds whistle and sing
In June in the Moyne Shire a green time of year
The weather often unsettled and the sky seldom clear
But the cattle on nutritious young grass gaining weight by the day
Six weeks ago the farmers were feeding them hay
The Moyne Shire looking healthy and green after the recent rain
And with the cool showery weather none ought to complain.

Have You Ever Felt

Have you ever felt your life to nothing does amount
That as a person you are one who does not count
That your journey in life is not leading you to anywhere
There are millions who feel like you do in the big World out there.

As well as millions who find success in material greed
Who at the expense of others materially and financially succeed
That you live as an honorable person in truth one can say
At least the little in life you have you have come by in the honest way

You may be a sad sack of a poor side of the town
Where few wish to know of you when you are feeling down
But you have a home to go to after work and a comfortable bed to sleep in
In a World of homeless and Stateless people you are one who does win

Of the praises of the wealthy and famous the gullible masses may sing
But as the wise one does say success is a relative thing
You work hard for a living as good and honest people do
But sadly the worst critic you have happens to be you.

The Cattle Egrets Of Illowa

They herald the arrival of Winter and rain
The cattle egrets are back in Illowa again
Near where the cattle are they spend their Winter days
Devouring insects disturbed by the big animals as they graze
Of their breeding territories they migrate far south
And of that their numbers are on the increase there is little doubt
One of the few species of birds not losing out to Climate Change
In fact the white cattle egrets keep extending their range
The only species of heron known to associate with big grazing animals they travel far and wide
From the northern sub tropics and tropics to the cooler southern countryside
In their lives of traveling they do travel far
And they are often to be seen near where grazing animals are
The migratory cattle egrets are back in Illowa again
To herald the arrival of Winter and rain.

Bound To Protocol

I cannot say i envy people of royalty
Since bound to protocol is how they seem to be
They have to be careful on how they behave and on what they do say
What they gain on privileges they lose in another way
Whilst many may envy them their seemingly privileged life
Doubtless they too have their worries and their moments of inner strife
And to live as they please they are not entirely free
They live a restricted life it does seem to me
True enough they have millions of admirers and money and fame
And all of the privileges in life that of one could name
To be born a child of a monarch to many would be a popular choice
But privileges of birthright too does come at a price
That they are bound to protocol one has to agree
And to live as they please they are not truly free.

How Great To Be Living

The sun may not be shining hidden behind clouds of gray
But so great to be living on this cool and dry Winter's day
A magpie is warbling on a black wattle tree
And how pleasant to hear the song of the pee wee
In the weather forecast for tomorrow some rain
But with the countryside looking so beautiful and green one ought not to complain
Though the weather is not always sunny and clear
In Nature there is beauty at all times of year
The wattles looking resplendent in their yellow flowers
They come into bloom in the Winter showers
Nature's beauty is all around me to be seen
The recent life giving rain has left the paddocks looking lush and green
The contented cattle chewing their cuds do lay
How great to be living on such a nice Winter's day.

One Of The Working Poor

One without a partner or children or wife
In his mid twenties in the prime of his life
Who secretly believes he would be better off dead
Then he would be quite free of worries instead
Than having to work hard for nine hours every week day
For well below award wages on weekly survival pay
Financially poor, depressed and feeling down
One of the working poor of the poor side of the town
By postal address of a fair go in life denied
In a suburb that has a high rate of suicide
A weekly wage has not freed him of poverty he has come to realize
In a World of many working poor this is not a surprise
With little hope of happiness or success in the years ahead
He often does feel that he would be better off dead.

Perhaps I Will Never

Well into my sixties and financially down
Perhaps i will never more see Millstreet Town
Where i was known to many three decades ago
This is going back to before time became my foe

Few of the boys and girls i grew up with in Millstreet today
Some of them migrated and some with the deceased lay
And of the past with me only the good memories remain
Of people i once knew and may not meet again


Perhaps never more to see the fields near Millstreet
In the green old countryside where the rivers do meet
Where i grew to love Nature when i was a boy
Such wonderful memories are mine to enjoy

The lust of the wander has taken me to far away
From Claraghatlea where i first looked on the lamp of day
From the fields where the rushes in clusters do grow
In the home of badger, Jackdaw and rook and gray crow

It does feel like time is catching up on me
And i only have memories of the what used to be
The fields west of Millstreet in miles far away
And the now is all that does matter as the wise one does say.

It Is Only In Fancy

It is only in fancy i see Clara Hill
And hear the babble of the silver tongued rill
Flowing through Claraghatlea from high Claramore
At the start of it's journey to the Atlantic shore

It is only in fancy i hear the male chaffinch sing
On a leafy birch tree in the prime of the Spring
When the hawthorns are cloaked in their white blossoms of May
Pleasant memories of the fields in their wildflowers are with me today

Where i grew to love Nature when i was a boy
And learning of her ways today i enjoy
Yet the more i learn of her the more i come to realize
That i know so little of her ways this is not a surprise

It is only in fancy that old friends i do meet
In one of the pubs in the Town of Millstreet
From them the yearn of the wander did lure me away
And all i have of them are good memories today

It is only in fancy i hear the male pheasant crow
In a rushy field near where Finnow waters flow
And only the good memories with me does remain
Of faces and places i will not see again.

You May Well Win Some

In long gone years a football great of the town
A stand with his name on it in the oval for to honor his renown
Six decades age he kicked the winning goal on Grand Final day
Just before the siren to a loud hooray

One who had been president of many a local committee
A role model and mentor to some is how he seemed to be
Though wise words of the sage one can readily recall
You may well win some but you cannot win them all

A grandfather eight times and three times a dad
In the local he often talked of the good days he had
When married he did enjoy his bit on the side
A fact he owned up to and on took some pride

But amongst his admirers he could not count on his ex wife
She says he did give her a terrible life
And the day she divorced him was her happiest day
I only quote here of him what she does say

Last month at his funeral there was parting tears
And in the pub his friends do recall his better years
But he lived to a good age he was eighty four
And not many do live for eight decades or more

But so few near to perfect one would have to suppose
And though he had many friends he did not die without foes
And his seventy six years old ex wife who had lived with him for twenty five years
Says he was one unworthy of parting tears.

Barnaby Joyce

Australia's Minister for Agriculture Barnaby Joyce
Has got a big head and a rather loud voice
And a ruddy round face like one who does constantly blush
To the media he talks rather quickly his words in a rush
A typical politician of him one might say
On that in ambiguous replies to questions he does have a way
In a tough political environment he knows how to survive
Like most other politicians on propaganda he thrive
A man of influence and power and wealth and fame
In Australia his face is well known as well as his name
But whilst Barnaby for himself is doing quite okay
The poor of Australia are growing poorer by the day
Like most politicians one absent of ruth
But for all of us there comes a moment of truth.

The Aubane River

In the valley in view of Mushera above Millstreet Town
The old Aubane River in flood waters of brown
From waters of the high ground in streamlet and drain
Flowing with a loud babble swollen by recent thunder rain
Generations of people to Aubane have come to and from gone
But the old ageless river forever flows on
It has flowed for centuries before the first people came
To live in the valley that then did not have a name
It has flowed forever and will forever more
On it's journey to the Blackwater to the Atlantic shore
A waterway that has inspired song, story and rhyme
That was very old in the dinosaur time
And the dinosaurs forever from Aubane are long gone
But the old waterway as ever flows on.

The Power To Do Good

Power over others is something one does not need
But you can make the World better for to live in by your words and your every good deed
And if you are willing to help anyone in need of helping and never drag anyone down
Then you are an asset to your side of the town
Some people with power over others bad things have done
But he or she with the power to do good is a special one
The kind and compassionate are humanity's soul
In an age when human greed does seem out of control
For to make the World better to live in it is up to you
Since you have the power in you good things for to do
And this does apply to every woman and man
That you can make a difference you most certainly can
Those with the power to do good have a great gift indeed
And of more of their sort the Human World is in need.

On The Town's Poorer Side

So many Homeless and Stateless people in the Human World of today
And the gap between the wealthy and poor keeps on widening which seems sad to say
Few wish to know of those financially down
And so many sleeping out of doors in the poor side of the town
Every day to survive a new challenge to meet
For the homeless teenagers of Poverty Street
Where so many young people are homeless and unemployed
Life for so many tough on the town's poorer side
No hope for employment for those without a postal address
They know of hardship and homelessness and hunger and stress
In dire poverty and luck not on their side
In the suburb of many a teenage suicide
Where those who are employed are to say the least rare
In the suburb that does not have one millionaire.

By The Southern Town

My worth as a rhymer i often does doubt
But never any shortage of things for to write rhymes about
The magpies are warbling on this sunny Winter's day
And in the blue sky just a few clouds of gray
Such beautiful weather for the time of year
The song of the magpie lark pleasant to hear
On the fourteenth day of June Winter has only begun
But a nice day out of doors in the afternoon sun
A forecast high for the day of seventeen degrees
The air is so still with only the slightest breeze
It has been awhile since we had any rain
With such pleasant weather how can one complain
The paddocks looking lush that a month ago were bare, dry and brown
In the green countryside by the southern town.

The First People Of Australia

The first people of Australia their ancestry old in time
And they are the inspiration of story, song and rhyme
It is said their ancestors lived in Australia for sixty thousand years
Till the arrival of the northern races brought to them grief and tears
In the history of Australia they should hold pride of place
But for too long in their own Country they have been a downtrodden race
The arrival of the boats of foreigners for them was a sad day
They have been treated rather badly which does seem sad to say
Their land and children stolen from them though this going back in time
What has happened to many of them would nowadays be seen as a crime
Against humanity i only say what happens to be true
One can say of the first Australians far better should have been their due
From the Country of their ancestors they seem to have the least to gain
But as the first Australians they always will remain.

Live And Let Live

Live and let live is such a beautiful phrase
On such a life philosophy one can only heap praise
If everyone practiced it how much better off humanity would be
It would be a much better World for all to live in would you not agree
Live and let live to all things in human life ought to apply
If it did their human rights those with power of anyone would not deny
But the workings of the majority of human minds does not operate in this way
And will not in my lifetime which does seem sad to say
In a Human World where many cannot say they do not have a foe
Live and let live may never be so
In a World where we are ruled by the peddlers of fear
Far too much of us against they from them we do hear
The saying of live and let live is such a beautiful thing
And the praises of it i feel happy to sing.

Your Physical Best Years

Your physical best years in the long forever gone
And only your fear of death makes you want to live on
You feel that for your years of life you have nothing to show
But that so many feel the same about life is something you ought to know
Of since they judge individuals by their material success
The makers of celebrities you have failed to impress
But their ideas of what constitutes success is open to debate
And why worry about them and who they choose to celebrate
You cannot be a successful person if you are not compassionate and kind
The flower of success cannot bloom in the darkened mind
Though it is up to everyone in their way success to define
Others views on what success entails may be different to mine
You may feel that for one of your years material success you do not have to show
But you do have what is known as the inner glow.

I Have Seen Just A Little

I have seen just a little of the big World out there
Since i left the green countryside far north of here where
My eyes first looked on the bright lamp of day
From here by sky thousands of kilometers away

From the fields of the badger and the silver back crow
Where Finnow's babbling waters to the Blackwater flow
To this far Southern Land of the emu and roo
And the big dark brown parrot yellow tailed black cockatoo

Many Springs have gone by since i last have seen
Snowdrops, bluebells and primroses on the ditch of bohreen
Nodding in the breeze in April's drizzling rain
Only memories of what was with me now remain

The lust of the wander did carry me south
Of the stream of the dipper and the wild brown trout
New challenges in life elsewhere for to meet
But no nuggets of gold to be picked on the faraway street

All i have left are the good memories of the what used to be
And so much of the big World out there i am never to see
The roadways of life i have been up and down
Since i left the green countryside by Millstreet Town.

Islamic State

If human law does not catch up with them to Karma for their horrible crimes they will pay
The leaders in crimes against humanity in the Human World of today
What they have set out to achieve they will never win
Islamic State the twenty first century's Worlds worst criminals will fall from within
Their own people will eventually turn against them this is always the case
To humanity the feared and loathed Islamic State by many have become a disgrace
If human law does not catch up with them Karma will in time
One way or other they will pay for their every horrible crime
What they have done unto others will become their own due
Since what goes around comes around does remain ever true
The clock on Islamic State it is ticking fast
Eventually they will pay for their crimes of the past
The reign of terror of Islamic State will come to an end
History does tell us on this that we can depend.

We Learn As We Live

In late Autumn when ripe the apples do fall
As is often said time does take care of all
And fallen apples make for a tasty treat
When at their ripest they are nice to eat
And i often heard said that wisdom comes with age
A rare one indeed is a very young sage
For life's experiences in time we must pay
We do learn from life or it does seem this way
Yet the more we come to know of life the more we realize
That so little we know of it this is not a surprise
Since we never cease to learn of life until the day we die
This is a fact and fact does never lie
We do learn as we live seems ever true
And what we put into life it can become our due.

True Rhymers

Their efforts may quickly fade on the pages of time
The rhymers they never do run out of rhyme
Though one can say of their sort that they had their day
Since so few things in life as they were ever stay
The rhymers their wells of inspiration never seem to run dry
That at writing rhymes they are quite prolific none ought to deny
And the true rhymer never gives rhyming away
He or she writes rhymes for the love of it not for fame or pay
Though rhymers looked on by the literary dons as an ordinary breed
The Wordsmith trade of their sort is also in need
In the twenty first century literary circles rhymers are looked on as out of date
Nowadays they are not the writers literary critics celebrate
And though the time of the rhymers in the forever gone
The true rhymers love rhyming and they keep on rhyming on.

I Saw A Man

I saw a man over four meters tall
The tallest that i ever can recall
He looked so dark though the sky was semi bright
For it was indeed a starry moonlit night
As he towered above me i came to realize
That his flattened face did not have mouth, ears, nose or eyes
He looked like one who came from outer space
A colussus of a gigantic alien race
When i spoke to him he made no reply
Methought him to be rather thoughtless or quite shy
When i moved to the right or left he imitated me
I only tell you of what my eyes did see
When the moon moved behind a dark cloud him i could not see at all
My shadow on the house gable wall.

Yarpturk Today

A nice sunny Winter's morning of fifteen degrees
The music from Kathy Baulch's house is floating in the breeze
Across the wide green paddocks of Yarpturk today
How lovely the sound when the tin whistlers play

The magpies are warbling on the sunlit trees
And though no butterflies or bush-flies or bees
In the Moyne Shire we do get some nice days in June of the year
And the weather quite often is sunny and clear

My worth as a rhymer i often do doubt
But in Nature no shortage of things for to write rhymes about
Dainty black and white birds i know and often hear and see
The magpie larks of Yarpturk are singing pee wee

Sometimes i feel that music has invisible wings to fly
On this sunny June morning across the sky
The music from Kathy Baulch's house is floating in the breeze
Where the magpies are warbling on the sunlit trees.

June In Old Mushera

Sunshine in the blue sky the air it is still
A skylark is singing above Mushera Hill
A musical speck in the Summer sky
Up to the cloud World he does sing as he fly

The wood pigeons cooing in the wood one does hear
June in old Mushera is a lovely time of year
A high countryside with a natural charm of it's own
I only can visualize the beauty i have known

The beautiful memories with me does stay
Of the marvelous scenery from the foot of Mushera on a clear Summer's day
Beauty as far as the eyes with binoculars can see
The mental pictures remain of the what used to be

A beauty that is old very old in time
That has inspired artists to sketch and writers to story and rhyme
Where above Mushera Mountain from here far away
The lark in the blue sky is singing today.

Would You Not Agree

Though for most people their dreams in life never come true
We all have our own ambitions for to pursue
But it is better to try than not to try at all
And what to one is a great achievement to another is small
And though failure is something anyone does not choose
For one for to win someone else has to lose
We all cannot be winners in truth one can say
That for winners there has to be losers since life is this way
Of the widening gap between the poor and the wealthy most people are aware
In A World where so many grow poorer for every new millionaire
A doubt on the fairness of human life will always remain
For as long as one person's loss becomes another person's gain
Suppose this is how life is and it always will be
That we all cannot be winners would you not agree?

To Judge Your Work I Am Not Qualified

A modern young poet with literary ambitions some of his poems to me did show
And asked me what i thought of his poetry i told him that i did not know
Whether it is or is not good poetry since i do not have a literary degree
What is very good to some people may not seem at all good to me

I am not a fan of modern poetry and suppose never will be
What is good to the literati may not seem at all good to me
I am not the one you should be asking about the worth of your poetry since i am a rhyme buff
Blank verse it does not interest me though i do enjoy reading rhyming literary stuff

I am not qualified to comment on your poetry literary critics are paid to criticize
And that i am not well educated is something i do realize
I could tell you that you write beautiful poetry and not many poets write as good as you
But i am not in the mood to flatter and to my thoughts i must stay true

Show your poems to a literary critic if she or he likes them you are on your way
Of becoming a major poet of the future if good things the critic of you write and say
To judge your work i am not qualified though i do wish you well just the same
And may your poetry bring you wealth and happiness and may you enjoy wealth and fame.

The Me Condition

Their own praises nowadays many only too willing to sing
In the age of the selfie this is the in thing
Millions of images of self and family on face-book nowadays to gratify our sense of pride
The look at me condition gone viral it has spread Worldwide
Because of the me condition we elect exclusive governments to govern our land
Which after all is not hard to understand
Since those with the me condition people different to them only wish to exclude
And into their territories not welcome to intrude
In a Human World where the kind and compassionate are becoming more rare
Of the needs of the less lucky in life far too few seem aware
The me condition blocks compassion from the mind
And sadly many do not know how it is to be kind
The me condition is the in thing of the Human World of today
And this does seem a sad thing for to have to say.

Of Nature

Of Nature we learn something new every day
We never stop learning as the wise one does say
We may learn of Nature till the day we do die
And yet know little about her this is not a lie
And our wonder of her only does seem to grow
Yet the more we learn of her we realize so little about her we do know
And in our every walk we learn from what we do see
Nature's beauty is all around you and it is all around me
In every city park and in every town Worldwide
The creatures of Nature are known to reside
In the woods of the countryside near the old country town
On a Spring twilight the wild birds are singing just after sundown
And from Season to Season the cycle of Nature does go on and on
And life does continue as in centuries long gone.

It Does Take All Kinds

It does take all kinds it does seem this way
Many different sorts of people one does meet every day
The friendly and nice and the sour faced who by life's cares seemed weighted down
It does take all sorts they live in every town
We all have our own ways one would have to suppose
The town's prettiest woman is not without foes
Some young women are jealous of her some women can be this way
That this is part of our human nature seems true to say
Not everyone is nice and friendly and compassionate and kind
There is such a thing known as darkness of mind
But not even the nicest of people not without some human flaw
Suppose this is all part of natural law
We all look at life in our ways differently
But then if we all were the same how boring we would be.

From The Far Away Town

He has lived in this suburb for fifty years of his life
And here raised his children with his beautiful and devoted wife
She died of cancer in her mid fifties his grief in her passing was healed in the shedding of tears
He has lived without love for fifteen lonely years
He often does think of his first home far away
Where he knows all too well he would feel a stranger today
Many of those he grew up with in the home town did not stay
And some of them at peace forever does lay
In the neighborhood where he has lived for decades to some he is known
But where he will never be seen as one of their own
In his mid seventies a nine times a grandfather showing his years in gray
One can say of him he has known a better day
An aging migrant far from where he used to live when his hair was dark brown
Here he will die as the man from the far away town.

We Are Only Mortals

We are only mortals why otherwise pretend
This journey in life for us all it does end
His army conquered many Countries the great Genghis Khan
But death proved that he was just a mere mortal man
The Reaper of lives does treat as the same
The lives of the paupers and those of money and fame
No matter what you achieve in life you eventually will die
That time it does rust iron is not a lie
And the years on the best of them eventually does show
The World's fastest human being Usain Bolt will one day walk slow
The longest lived human life in time not a long span
Age wearies the very best woman and man
A decade of years in our physical prime
And eventually we all become victims of time.

He Lives Far South

He lives far south of where his life journey began
Of where he went to school and grew into a man
Tall in his early twenties with short clipped hair of brown
The handsome stranger from the northern town
His skin quite bronzed from the tropical northern sun
To surf the big white waves one of his ways of having fun
Without the ties that go with having young children and a wife
A young man who is making the most of life
Here in the far south he will not linger to grow old
Where the weather for him is too damp and cold
of young women in his life more than a few
In every town he visits he meets someone new
Here in the far south his will not be a long stay
Quite shortly for up north he will be on his way.

No Matter What You achieve

No matter what you achieve in life for you a last living day
And you cannot take it with you as the wise one does say
The Reaper of lives a visit to you will pay
Like all other life forms we are born as mortals this is Nature's way
Nature is the only immortal and this is not a lie
Like all of her other life forms us humans are born to eventually die
The pauper in death is equal to the deceased billionaire
And mortality with the sheep and the cow in common we do share
You may be looked up to by many as the most successful person in the town
But if in your words or your deeds you do drag others down
Then by your behavior you are very small
And you are not a good living person at all
A good living person does help anybody of helping in need
And every day of a better World to live in does plant a new seed.

It Was My Love Of Rhyme

For forty two years i have been a rhyming buff
A fellow who has penned pages of rhyming stuff
In the twenty first century in the age of the modern poet
Rhymers like me not seen to be worthy of literary note

But i do enjoy rhyming though my physical best years long gone
A good enough reason for me to keep on rhyming on
And what i enjoy doing why should i give away
I hope to be rhyming on my life's final day

Simple enough stuff easy to memorize and to recite
The sort of rhymes i compose anybody could write
But in writing rhymes for most never any monetary gain
For the shortage of rhymers this well may explain

But never any shortage of material for one to write rhymes about
And of rhyming words so many of them one never does run out
In literature rhymers will never again be to the fore
It is just an enjoyable hobby and little else more

I have been penning rhyme since nineteen seventy three
It was my love of rhyme that made a rhymer of me
And i hope to be rhyming on my life's final day
For what i enjoy doing why should i give away.

A Moyne Shire Winter's Day

The freshening breeze from the ocean in it has a slight cool sting
On the fourth day of June three months from the first of the calendar Spring
The rain from the gray sky is drizzling down
On the green countryside five kilometers out of the town
Though the flute of the magpie at times one does hear
A typical day for the time of year
In the coastal Moyne Shire between Koroit and Warrnambool
The weather in Winter often wet and cool
A countryside that surely could do with more trees
As a windbreak from the gales and the often strong breeze
That often blows inland from the Pacific Shore
At speeds of eighty kilometers sometimes even more
In early June and Winter three months from the Spring and in truth one can say
That this is a typical Moyne Shire's Winter's day.

The Blue Dog Bar

Beyond Millstreet Town it's fame did travel far
The licensed premises owned by Catherine Duggan known as The Blue Dog Bar
Long deceased Millstreet's most beautiful woman when in her life's prime
Though this is going back many decades in time

Catherine a young widow with a large young family to raise
Was a woman who never did cease to amaze
Her children all quite successful became known far and wide
Far beyond the borders of Duhallow's green countryside

Her pub was named in honor of her father in law Andrew Duggan's dog Jack a big male Kerry Blue
One who to his master and his breed till death remained true
As a fighting dog he earned canine renown
As the best of his time in old Millstreet Town

A famous old pub in the Millstreet of old
Of The Blue Dog Bar many stories were told
But like most things in life it went the ways of time
And it ceased to exist long before the death of rhyme

A pub in it's time known to many in a Town from here far away
That probably had ceased to exist before i first saw light of day
But few things remain as they were as the wise one does say
And only stories of what was in memory does stay

A famous pub in Millstreet Town in the days of the horse drawn car
Owned by Catherine Duggan known as The Blue Dog Bar
And only the memories today do remain
Of what used to be and will not be again.

Power It Can Corrupt

You may be a monarch or a president and great honor for yourself win
But this does not mean you are making the Human World better to live in
For if for some reason people are suffering because of you
Then to your own higher self you are not being true
Power it can corrupt as the wise one does say
We hear of in the media and read of in newspapers every day
Of people with power who order crimes against humanity
That such people dishonor their titles would you not agree
But if you do help one of helping in need
For a better World to live in you are planting the seed
To the higher self true you do remain
Your birth into life was humanity's gain
If you help anyone of your helping in need
For a better Human World to live in you are planting the seed.

Money

With little money in life you will not get very far
And when you are out of it you will know who your friends are
He or she is your very best friend of the town
Who comes to your aid when you are financially down
Though some will tell you that money is not everything
Of the praises of it so many does sing
Money may not keep you from feeling depressed and sad
But without it you surely would feel twice as bad
Money speaks every language why otherwise pretend
And those with plenty of it are never short of a friend
Lack of money can lead people to serious crime
Things have not changed in this way over centuries of time
Money is quite important would you not agree
This is how it is and it always will be.

They Told Some Great Yarns

The stories of aging men i used to enjoy
By the peat fires on Winter nights when i was a boy
Are now fading memories of the what used to be
And one of the aging nowadays is me

They did have good yarns and did tell them well
Though such stories as they had i do not have to tell
Born to be storytellers their likes we will not see again
And only the memories of them with me does remain

Their stories died with them which does seem a shame
And the Parish without them did not seem the same
Each decade brings changes few things seem to last
And all we have left are memories of the past

For to tell a good story they became widely known
One might say of them in a class of their own
They told some great yarns by the glowing and warm peat fire
The mentors of my boyhood them i did admire.

Variety Is The Spice Of Life

Variety is the spice of life as the wise one does say
How boring we would be if we all thought in the same way
Whatever some may say it is fine with me
That most of us look at life in ways quite differently
Your views on life may be quite different to mine
And with your like minded you may wine and dine
But how boring we would be if we all were the same
If in politics we supported the one political party and in sports followed the same game
If everyone thought in the same way there would not be anything for to argue about
The point of view of everyone we would accept without doubt
Our different ways in thinking makes us more interesting would you not agree?
At least anyhow this is how it seems to me
We would have nothing for to argue about if we all thought in the same way
Variety is the spice of life as the wise one does say.

Oh Give Me The Person

Oh give me the person who does not abuse her or his power
Such a person worth knowing though as rare as a rare flower
For most people with power tend to with it get to get carried away
The egotistical are many in the Human World of today
That many in positions of power abuse this privilege does seem a sad thing
The praises of their bosses few ever do sing
Compassionate employers as ever quite rare
Of their employees rights some never do seem for to be aware
Arrogant people with little if any people skills at all
By many seen to be successful yet in their ways so small
The good leader never lead from the front only from behind
And as well as being a good leader is also humble and kind
There are millions of egotistical people in the big World out there
And their sort sad to say to be found everywhere.

This Is How Karma Works

The one who performs a good deed every day
Will receive good things in the future in some sort of a way
This is how Karma works believe this if you may
For good things in the future in the present you pay
When you help somebody of helping in need
Of your future good Karma you are planting the seed
This is how it is and how it always will be
The good things i do for someone will return to me
The one who does a very bad thing in jail may never serve prison time
But to Karma eventually he or she will pay for the crime
We deserve the good or the bad Karma in life we receive
It does work in this way on this i do believe
Those who do perform a good deed every day
In the present for their future good Karma they do pay.

I Have Seen Things Of Beauty

I have seen old Finnow in flood waters of brown
Flowing bank high in the rushy fields by Millstreet Town
And i have seen the dark Hopkins near where the surf waves do roar
Lapping on the sandbanks of the Pacific shore

I have heard the Bells of St Davids a pleasant memory that is with me today
Carrying in the freshening breeze on a balmy evening in May
And in the woods of The Catskills i have heard the male red cardinal sing
A beautiful voice of the northern Spring

When the cold winds of Japan above the high ground did blow
I have seen old Mt Fuji in a blanket of snow
In the cool Winter sun standing peaceful and bright
How could one ever forget such a beautiful sight

By Mt Rouse in south western Victoria i saw a brown hare
Breast suckling her leveret a sight to human eyes very rare
As the gray clouds of darkness were darkening the sky
I watched as i sat in my parked car nearby

In Nature there is so much beauty for to see
It is all around you and it is all around me
So little of the big World out there i have seen
But i have seen things of beauty in everywhere i have been.