I Have Never Been To Western Australia

I have never been to Western Australia though one day i hope to visit there
By all accounts a vast area of amazing scenery as beautiful as anywhere
With vast tracts of brown land uninhabited by people where dangerous snakes do abound
People have gone lost in the wilds of Western Australia without trace of them never more to be found

By decree of the powers that be in Western Australia house sparrows and starlings are shot on sight
As if they themselves descendants of colonizers do see fit to see what species of bird or animal have the right
For to live on their side of Australia the control of wild-born creatures is human arrogance in the extreme
Though many would see it as quite different this to me is how it does seem

This to me a negative of Western Australia their Government of wildlife control
Yet in the Natural environments Worldwide us humans take a far greater toll
Than any introduced birds or animals we are at the top of the food chain
And our ascent to the most dominant life form has not come at Nature's gain

I have never been to Western Australia from where i live in kilometers far away
Though i have heard some nice things about it and i hope for to get to there one day
But one news i do not like from there is that house sparrows and starlings are shot on sight
Human control of wild born creatures to me does not seem to be right.

On Few things You And I

On few things you and i can seem to agree
On your thinking you are quite different to me
Your idea of what constitutes a successful person are quite different to mine
But each to their own views and this suits me fine
We may not be friends but neither are we foes
And we must agree to differ one has to suppose
Of singing the praises of the wealthy you never seem to tire
The heroes and heroines to you i could never admire
You feel convinced that the gap between the wealthy and the poor is quite okay
But to you i look at this in quite a different way
Being poor is a thing that anyone does not choose
In a fair World for one to win big others should not have to lose
Your ideas on what is fair and just are quite different to mine
But you have your opinions and this suits me fine.

The Truly Great Are Never Heroes

To help others she does go out of her way
And she performs a good deed sometimes two every day
Without seeking recognition or reward in monetary pay
Yet not everyone of her has kind things to say
Some people in their ways and thinking are small
And in acts of kindness they cannot see any goodness at all
They see it as a weakness in those who help the poor of the town
Since they themselves never help anyone who is financially down
A widowed grandmother in her mid seventies always willing to help those of helping in need
For a better Human World to live in every day she plants the seed
On kindness and compassion by good example she does lead
Yet newspaper headlines of her sort one never does read
And some of her do not have any positive things for to say
The truly great are never heroes it does seem this way.

July Far Away

Above a rushy meadow in early July
The little mottled brown skylark does sing as he fly
A musical speck in the blue and gray sky
Of human kind one who will always be shy

On my flights of fancy the sweet scent of grass mowed for silage or hay
Is wafting in the wind of a nice Summer's day
Across the old fields looking resplendent in their Summer flowers
Looking lush and green after recent thundery showers

Memories of beauty that lives through the decades of time
Of changeable July when the northern Summer is in her prime
At mid morning the grass wet from overnight rain
Though the sun glowing with warmth is shining again

For to feed their young in their nest on shed rafters nearby
The dark barn swallows chase flying insects in the sky
By October they will have migrated far south
Of the fields of the rook and the streams of the brown trout

Time that does not wait for anyone did not wait for me
Though i retain the good memories of the what used to be
Like the sweet scent of grass mowed for silage or hay
In the Summer meadows of July far away.

At The Local Pub

At the local pub on Saturday night
Everyone is happy not a care in sight
There is laughter and music and dancing and song
And those too shy to sing solo join in the sing along
On every local troublemaker be it woman or man
The local pub manager does have a ban
And anyone after a few drinks who is looking for fight
Are told for to leave for them an early night
On Saturday night at the local pub there is lots of cheer
With lots of good drinkers of liquor and beer
For a place of fun and laughter that is trouble free
On Saturday night the local pub is the place to be
For a few hours of laughter, dancing and music and song
Where those too shy to sing solo join in the sing along.

New Year In Millstreet

Rain, hail, wind, frost or snow the members of the Millstreet pipe band will play
At the Square of Millstreet Town to welcome New Year's Day
The pubs are closed and in mood for song the New Year revelers sing along
As the pipers play For Auld lang Syne Robert Burns New Year's song

For Auld lang Syne the pipers play as the seconds are counted down
To twelve a m and New Year's Day in the Square of Millstreet Town
It is the one night of the year that most people stay up late
To join in the festivities and the birth of a New Year celebrate

And at twelve a m the cheering loud in the Town Square of Millstreet
At a moment when friends and strangers hug and shake hands in a gesture of goodwill they greet
The winds blow cold in Duhallow but the Pipers band does play
In the wide Square in Millstreet Town for to welcome New Year's Day

A new Year it has just been born the old year it is dead
And hopes for peace and harmony and for all better days ahead
And in the Square at Millstreet Town merriment does abound
Just after twelve a m on New Year's morn the sound of joy profound.

Above the streets of Millstreet Town the dawn is breaking gray
And not one person to be seen on the morn of New Year's Day
A cold wind soughing in the bare trees the only sound one does hear
And low clouds tell that rain is near on the first day of a New Year.

Love, Kindness And Compassion

Love, Kindness and Compassion does not come from elsewhere they can only come from within
By making yourself a better person you make the World better to live in
Those who take and take and never do give
Are never making the World in better to live
Four things that the Human World of is not in need
Are bitterness, anger, hatred and greed
Love, Kindness and Compassion are great gifts indeed
And those who have them every day for good in the World are planting the seed
Some people only believe on the power of might
The darkness from their minds does shut out the light
Of their own needs and those like them they are only aware
And sad to think their kind have never been rare
But those with Love, Kindness and Compassion from negativity have found a release
And they carry the banners of harmony and peace.

Clive James

Clive James the famous poet of Kogarah in Sydney will never see Australia again
Till the day he will die in England he will remain
Too unwell and unhealthy for to travel by sky
There even comes a time when the migratory bird cannot fly

On his seventy sixth year his physical best years long gone
But the great lust for life in him does live on
Diagnosed with leukemia from years of smoking and drinking booze
His battle for life he is beginning for to lose

As a writer and a t v personality he is known Worldwide
Yet due to his age and his failing health time is not on his side
But despite his great wealth and his enduring fame
That he cannot return home to Australia sad for him all the same

He has known and made love to some beautiful women over time
And though it has been many years since he was in his physical prime
And he may well have lost most of his sexual drive
Clive James though not physically well is very much alive

He still writes poems and stories and is sometimes on t v
But his home shore he is never more for to see
For in England he will live his last night and day
From Kogarah in Sydney in distance far away.

A Nice Evening In Illowa

A nice sunny evening in Illowa of nineteen degrees
With a refreshing coolness in the coastal breeze
That blows across the paddocks up from Gormans Bay
So pleasant to be outdoors on such a nice day
On the twenty seventh of December the New year just four sleeps away
The coastal paddocks scenting sweetly of grass mowed for hay
Just a few clouds of gray in the blue and sunny sky
And the Moyne Shire is looking so brown and so dry
By the weather forecast far warmer and more humid weather is near
But then the weather changes quickly at this time of year
On Christmas Eve and Christmas Day it was over thirty degrees
With a humid wind soughing in the eucalyptus trees
A nice evening in Illowa in the Moyne Shire today
With a cool refreshing breeze blowing from Gormans Bay.

When Compared To Many

When compared to many my worries seem small
And i do not have any reason for worries at all
Though with a lot more of money i am one who could do
For to spend on myself and help a friend or two
For money is seen as quite important in the Human World of today
It does speak every language as some are known for to say
There is never a parade through the streets of the town
For those doing it tough the financially down
As the gap between the wealthy and poor keeps on growing ever wide
The homeless of the poor suburb of any opportunity of success denied
As the children of poverty stricken parents due to birth circumstance
Of succeeding in life they do stand little chance
And with a home to live in and of life's necessities never in need
I cannot complain since i have been lucky indeed.

Philomena Cronin

The eldest of the family of the now deceased Jer and Mary Long
Philomena the wife of John Cronin of Caherbarnagh is still going strong
In her early seventies young at heart she does remain
The great love of life Philomena retain

A mother and grandmother with a heart of gold
People like Philomena never feel old
In her John Cronin found his soulmate in life
Devoted to her family and a wonderful wife

Time as is said becomes everyone's foe
The Long Family left Annagloor many Seasons ago
But time in the memory seems to stand still
Of when they lived in the green Townland in view of Clara Hill

Philomena she does have a charm of her own
And for her kindness and her compassionate ways she is known
A former pupil of the Presentation Convent of Millstreet
As nice a person as one could wish for to meet.

By the cottage she was born and raised in at Annagloor the river from Kippagh does flow
In the flat and green fields of the rook and gray crow
But Philomena she live in Caherbarnagh today
And in mind and of heart ever young she does stay.

Your Best Friend Today

There has to be some truth in it one suppose
That the one without friends is the one without foes
It may be just a saying but would you not agree
That the one with many friends is not without an enemy
Your best friend today may be your future foe
A mere fact of life that happens to be so
Over money and love you can lose your best friend
With most humans self interest comes first why otherwise pretend
The one without a foe is one of a rare breed
Not many of her or his sort in the World indeed
And why even pretend since people are this way
That not everyone of you has nice things to say
Your best friends today may be your future foe
And even for you this well may be so.

From My First Homeplace

From my first home-place Claraghatlea i live far away
And to many i would be a stranger there today
Where i grew to love Nature when i was a boy
And learning of her ways today i enjoy

In Claramore i often went hunting with Pudsy our brown dog
She often chased a hare in Dick Pomeroy's bog
And though Pudsy lacked in speed she was not lacking in will
But a hare in her lifetime she never did kill

Most of the mentors of my young years at rest forever lay
And time has left me looking aging and gray
And though the good memories of what used to be with us stay
We can only live in the now as the wise one does say

Yet in fancy on a Spring twilight in a field by the River Finnow
I can hear the soft lowing to her calf of a cow
As with his tail feathers the male snipe in a courtship display makes a drumming sound
As above the bog he flies around and around

Of the fields of the badger and waterways of the brown trout
My first home-place Claraghatlea i am living far south
And only the memories with me now remain
Of faces and places i may not see again.

Live And Let Live

Those who murder people for their religious beliefs are already soul dead
Or else they are not at all well in the head
And since they have lost human compassion and empathy
How sad very sad for them life has to be
The badly injured who survive terrorist attacks must suffer till they die
Those who believe that they are justified in murdering for their God believe their own lie
They ignore Moses fifth commandment which states thou shalt not kill
If human law does not catch up with them one day Karma will
In cities and towns in many parts of the World every day
People are losing their lives in the foulest way
At the hands of religious zealots or those bearing a grudge
It is not the human purpose in life to be executioner and judge
Live and let live as the wise one does say
Those who believe on this in life are doing okay.

Life Is This Way

It is mostly of the wealthy and famous we hear of and read
And of the privileged people who are born to lead
But never of those living in Earthly Hell
Though they too do have their own stories to tell

Of homelessness, poverty and hardship on the poor side of town
They know of how it does feel to be financially down
Living rough at a young age their parents in jail
The poor of the poor suburb who were born to fail

But since death brings equality it is true for to say
That they will be equal to the wealthy and famous one day
There are no millionaires or billionaires where dead people lay
Where rigor mortis is there is only decay

The homeless and hungry who may never live to grow old
Their life stories in book form will never be told
But they will be equal to the wealthy and famous one day
Since death brings equality life is this way.

The People I For One Would Rather Not Meet

The people i for one would rather not meet
Their egos over-inflated by their self conceit
Their body language tells one you look at me
My sort every day you are unlikely to see
They do not acknowledge you when you bid them good day
From you they always look the other way
The type who would never help anyone who is financially or mentally down
Their sort are not an asset to any town
Those who fail to respond to a friendly good day
Are usually the type who do never go out of their way
To help some poor bugger of helping in need
For a more compassionate World their kind never do plant the seed
A few of their sort i do meet every day
And this does seem a sad thing for to have to say.

On Christmas Day In Coastal South Western Victoria

On Christmas Day in south western Victoria it is thirty five degrees
And it is even warm in the shade of the trees
Though the paddocks scenting sweetly of freshly mowed grass for hay
To be out of doors it is not a very nice day

We have had not any rain worth talking of for at least some while
Which does not give the local farmers any reason for to smile
On the potato fields the water irrigators are going overnight
A few hours of heavy rain now would be a welcoming sight

For the local gardeners and farmers after a very dry Spring
The early Summer very warm which is not a good thing
For fruit trees and crops the dry earth is in need of rain
On ground starved of moisture for them no financial gain

For many weeks El Nino the thirsty one has been around
Sucking every drop of moisture out of the dry ground
With a dry and humid wind blowing up from Gormans Bay
In Coastal south western Victoria it is a warm Christmas Day.

Roger Casey

A poet and a comedian and quite a talented bloke
Than Roger Casey there is none better for to tell a good joke
In Duhallow the life of every party that he does attend
He is not one of those people who finds it hard to make a friend
From Cullen for it's characters quite a well known place
In Duhallow Roger Casey's is a known and well loved face
For his poetry and his humor to him quite a funny side
As a man to create laughter his reputation has traveled far and wide
Beyond Duhallow's borders Roger is well liked and known
For to tell a funny story one in a class of his own
Every community needs one like him for to spread some mirth around
Laughter follows Roger Casey where he is it does abound
For a happier World to live in he is one who sows the seed
For to create so much laughter it takes a gifted person indeed.

To Live To Be A Better Person

To live to be a better person is the best you can do
And help anyone who needs helping of you
If in words or deed they put anyone down
He or she is not a good person though the wealthiest in the town
Since they are the opposite to envy and greed
Love, kindness and compassion are great gifts indeed
For your future good Karma you are planting the seed
Every time you help someone of your helping in need
The power of doing good it does come from within
You can help to make the World a better World to live in
By performing a good deed or two every day
For the betterment of humanity your part you do play
It is not the size of your home or the size of your car
That tells me anything of the person you are.

Christmas Eve In The Moyne Shire

Christmas Eve in the Moyne Shire and scarce a puff of breeze
Less than an hour from sunset it is over thirty degrees
The warm air full of the buzzing of small bush flies and bees
As the last rays of the evening sun are retreating from the trees
The sweet aroma of the paddocks that are freshly mowed for hay
As the sun is slowly setting red just west of Gorman's Bay
The weather forecast has it for a warm Christmas Day
Tomorrow morning in the air conditioned lounge rooms children with their toys will play
That Santa left by the Christmas tree as they slept at midnight
Quite happy in their excitement and laughing in delight
The air is warm and humid just after sundown
And much traffic on the highway between Warrnambool and Port Fairy Town
On Christmas Eve in the Moyne Shire over thirty degrees
And the air is warm and humid there is scarce a puff of breeze.

On Who Is Or Is Not A Good Writer

On who is or is not a good writer even well informed literary critics known to disagree
But suppose in the works of every good writer there is some originality
Most great writers do not lose any of their literary creativity beyond their physical prime
In fact some of them even do improve with the passing of time
Not for one like me to say who is a good journalist or playwright or novelist or poet
Or who is worthy or unworthy of literary note
And those who tell us average writers are many and great writers are few
Are not telling us anything that is new
And some say great writers are born and cannot be made
Though every writer is needed in the wordsmith trade
And book sales for a writer of course has to count
For money it does seem to greatness does amount
And literary experts on who is or is not a good writer are known to disagree
People who are far more qualified on writers and writing than me.

Another Despot Is In Prison

Another despot is in prison where of time he will spend a lengthy span
Under his watch his soldiers murdered many people he is just another disgraced man
Far too many Presidents have abused power because of them many have died in the foulest way
Many looked on as heroes by the masses are in prison for crimes against humanity today
All of those who dared oppose them with their lives were made to pay
But what goes around always comes around as the wise are known to say
If the law does not catch up with them Karma will pay them a call
Karma does not fear anybody Karma as always is for all
Few despots who have escaped execution or life in prison have died in a natural peaceful way
They have died in agony like their poor victims who in their thousands in mass graves lay
If the law for whatever reason does not punish them for their crime
Karma will cause them to suffer to Karma they must serve their time
If you cause others to suffer suffering will become your due
The bad things you do to others in bad Karma will return to you.

It Is One Of Your Bad Days

It is one of your bad days nothing for you is going right
And life for you seems a constant uphill fight
But so many like you in the big World out there
Who in life never seems for to get anywhere

Life is a battle for you anyway
Struggling to get by on poor take home pay
You have to support your two young sons and daughter and their mother your wife
You are one who does know about the hard life

But hope for a better future for you and your family is not dead
You can see better days of you ahead
And hope springs eternal as the wise one does say
You feel better times for you and yours are not far away

This for you a bad day and this for you nothing new
Since of bad days in life you have known of quite a few
On low take home wages you are struggling to cope
But at the end of your dark tunnel you can see a bright ray of hope.

Far Too Much Of

Far too much of envy and hatred and greed
Of more love, kindness and compassion the Human World is in need
Self improvement it only can come from within
Make yourself a better person make the World better to live in
If you do a good deed or two every day
And for to help out others go out of your way
Out of the kindness of your heart without asking for pay
For making the Human World better to live in your part you do play
The Human World is in need of more love and empathy
If for those doing it tough you can feel sympathy
And physically or verbally never put anyone down
Then you are an asset to your side of the town
Far too much of envy and hatred and greed
Of more love, kindness and compassion the Human World is in need.

On House Sparrows

House sparrows the chirpers they are never far
From buildings and human dwellings and where people are
In Spring under house eaves and shed rafters they build their straggly nests of feathers and hay
And from dawn till darkness they chirp all the day
The females dull gray the males gray heads and brown backs and brown on either wing
House sparrows are chirpers not born to sing
Familiar and distinctive and as birds well known
One can say of them they have ways of their own
Introduced in many Countries the house sparrows in Sydney and Melbourne feel as much at home
As the house sparrows of London or Paris or Rome
From where people are they are never far away
In villages, cities and towns they are seen every day
Perhaps the bird World's best chirpers though they do not have a song
In backyards and gardens they chirp all day long.

A Rhymer In Nature And Name

I never refer to myself as a poet just a rhymer in nature and name
And praise as well as criticism are for those of a far greater fame
Than i can only ever dream of i write rhyme for enjoyment and little else more
Yet even as an old fashioned rhymer i am not one who is to the fore
The rhymes everyday to me coming and in notebook i scribble them down
But never for fame or for money or in hope of literary renown
I am one with a rhyming addiction suppose everyone flawed in some way
But i do hope that i will be rhyming right up till my life's final day
And since i am just your average rhymer who with words likes to have a play
Who is or is not a poet is not for one like me to say
I leave it to the literary critics to say who is or is not a poet
Since they in their literary criticisms proclaim the writers worthy of note
I am just your average rhymer there are so many others like me
And suppose of my rhyming addiction in death i will only be free.

On The Slopes Of Clara

I climb on the bracken of Clara the old hill that ever looks down
On some of the countryside of Duhallow and Sliabh Luachra and the fields bordering Millstreet Town
I stand on the slopes of the mountain overlooking the green countryside
Beyond the border of Cork and Kerry quite amazing views to places far and wide

To my left Kippagh and Caherbarnagh and Gortavehy in it's face of stone
To the bracken clad twin hills in east Kerry known to many as the Paps of Shrone
The fields of Rathmore and Gneeveguilla and the high country of Knocknagree
And down into Cullen towards Kiskeam and Boherbue and Derrinagree

The birds singing in Claramore wood on this beautiful evening in May
The great scenery and quite pleasant weather so good to be living today
Above me a skylark is singing a musical speck in the blue and gray sky
The little brown bird born in a nest cloaked by the bracken to sing his song he has to fly

A nice Spring day on Clara mountain in a green time of the year
The black faced horned ewes to their lambs bleating on the hills in May one often hear
How nice for to view the great scenery when standing on the higher ground
From Duhallow to the hills of Sliabh Luachra such varying natural beauty abound

A coastal breeze in the gums is rustling as the sun does peep over the bay
And a silver billed magpie is warbling at the dawn of a Moyne Shire Summer's day
The brown paddocks of Illowa scenting sweetly of grass freshly mowed for hay
South of Duhallow and Sliabh Luachra even by the short route far away.

Ted

His wife Kate who died in her late fifties is close to four decades dead
Though Ted never talks of the past but of times of him ahead
And though he will have lived a century of years next year
He does not feel death to him is anywhere near

Ten times a great great grandfather yet he does not feel old
And even in the flu Season he never catches a cold
Though on his life's fifth decade he will soon turn the page
He feels and seems healthier than many a third of his age

Though plainly he has seen a far better physical day
And what hair he has left on his balding head is silver gray
With anti aging creams or a hairpiece he never hides time's decay
He is what you see of him one surely can say

He has had a few lovers but they too have died
And though it is obvious time is not on his side
He does not seem unhappy living on his own
He will tell you of him good times ahead and a good life he has known

At ninety nine of him one can say his best years are in the past
But for one of his years he can walk rather fast
And i am not saying anything that is new
When i say that the Teds of the World are quite few.

The Mountain By Roads Of Duhallow And Sliabh Luachra

The mountain by roads of Duhallow and Sliabh Luachra they wind up and down
On view of the Boggeragh Ranges through many a village and town
By Mushera via Aubane down hill to the Town of Millstreet
By the flat and rushy fields where the waterways meet

Via Ballydaly, Kippagh and by Gortavehy's hill of stone
And through Caherbarnagh and Hollymount on towards the Paps of Shrone
On towards Rathmore and Gneeveguilla and uphill to Knocknagree
Where on a clear day there is so much beauty for to see

From the high narrow roads of the Cork Kerry border one can see far and wide
Kilometers of flat and hilly fields of the mountain countryside
On towards Ballydesmond and downhill to Cullen and Boherbue and up to Kiskeam
So many mountain by roads of Duhallow and Sliabh Luachra far too many to name

On through Glenlara, Rockchapel and Meelin and towards Kanturk downhill
In an old countryside where time seems to stand still
Banteer and Dromtarriffe, Rathcoole and Derrinagree
From the high and narrow by roads so much beauty for to see

Across country via the Sandpit and uproad to Kilcorney and Lyre
The narrow mountain roads the writers of poems and stories does inspire
Up by Gneeves and Bealach on to Cladoch through the mountain border countryside
From high Duhallow and Sliabh Luachra scenic views stretch far and wide.

Christmas Eve In Millstreet Town

On the streets the cars are buzzing up and down
On Christmas Eve in Millstreet Town
In festive mood the Town aglow
In Christmas lights on small trees by almost every window

Migrants home from cities far away
To be with family and friends at Christmas and New Year's eve and day
Though down from Clara's darkened hill
The wind is blowing out a cold chill

Where old friendships are renewed and new friends made
The publicans are doing a great trade
Selling lots of liquor stout and beer
These go well with Christmas cheer

Where revelry is to the fore
Every pub full of people to the door
People in the mood for song
Join in the pub lounge sing along

Every pub door closes without a fight
On a great ending to a great night
Then it is off to the Church at West End to pray
At midnight mass in the welcoming of Christmas Day

Early Christmas morning in Millstreet Town
All of the shops and pubs closed down
The streets are quiet and all is still
In the old Town by Clara Hill.

The Carol Singers In The Park

At Christmas i have been listening to it since i was knee height
And i cannot say it fills me with a sense of delight
The carol singers in the park are singing silent night
And among the congregation not an atheist in sight
From generation to generation of Christians this carol has been passed down
And at Christmas sung in every language Worldwide in every village and city and town
And though the sentiments in the words and the music in the carol one can only admire
Of listening to it repeatedly sung over Christmas i for one tend to tire
But we all look at things in a different way
And it is each to their own as the wise one does say
With the carol singers the audience Silent Night sing along
In a show of harmony for peace there can be nothing wrong
The carol singers in the park are singing Silent Night
And among the congregation not an atheist in sight.

The Weather Humid And Warm

The weather humid and warm over forty degrees
With a sweaty warmth in the freshening breeze
Blowing above the brown paddocks from the sunlit bay
The sun is glowing hot in the blue sky today
Crawling on your hands, legs and face and around your eyes
They buzz all around you the tiny bush flies
Born on cattle excrement in Summer in billions they multiply
Plagues of them buzzing in the sunny sky
In the headland of the paddocks out of the sun and breeze
The cattle crowded together in the shade of the trees
In the park children playground not one mother or child in sight
Far too warm today to be in the sunlight
On this very warm day in December of over forty degrees
A humid warmth in the sunshine and the coastal breeze.

Satan Gets The Blame

How come from human misdeeds and their acts of shame
It is always old Satan who does get the blame
Such thinking mostly belong to the religious kind
As if Satan does live in every evil mind

It does not mean that if to your God you do not regularly pray
That Satan will enter your mind in some sort of a way
This sort of thinking sounds quite simplistic and not quite right to me
Though with my views on this many would disagree

God is for greatness and Satan is for evil when religious people symbolize
But most symbols are human creations as many have come to realize
Symbols passed down from generation to generation of people over centuries of time
God is the one who stands for good and Satan is the one who stands for crime

Yet many of the worst crimes in history have been committed by people in their God's name
To the torch of hatred religious fundamentalists have lit the flame
Good people are being murdered by religious fanatics every day
People of Satan who only have bad words for to say

To me God and Satan are one of the same
Just religious symbols for want of a better name
But sadly for old Satan for every act of human shame
He is the one who always gets the blame.

They Cannot Give Back

With a club or a bar, bomb, gun or knife
All murderers only have the power to take human life
And of any special powers they do certainly lack
As the lives they have taken they cannot give back
To their victims and in this the twenty first century people are dying by foul means every day
Which does seem a sad thing for to have to say
And to the many who go through life without harming anyone
For a well lived life one can only say to them well done
Live and let live remains relative in the twenty first century
And applies to all of us it does seem to me
And though your own life you are entitled to defend
Your enemy in the now may become your future friend
And it only does seem quite a sad thing to say
That many good people are being murdered in the World every day.

Of Nature

We never stop learning as the wise one does say
And of Nature we learn something new every day
And the more we learn of Nature the more we come to realize
That we know little of her is this a surprise
Her wonders are many and her secrets not few
And everyday of her we do learn something new
The beauty of her many colors at all times of year
And the songs of her birds are always pleasant to hear
The Goddess of Nature the only God i can claim of to know
And my wonder of her never does cease to grow
The artists and writers she never ceases to inspire
And of singing her praises one never could tire
Of Nature we learn something new every day
We never stop learning it does seem this way.

On David Nolan's Act Of Bravery

Of the praises of brave people so many do sing
And sheer bravery for true love is such an unselfish thing
In the Bataclan Theater in Paris David Nolan shielded his girlfriend Katie Healy from the terrorist gunfire
For his act of bravery born of unselfish true love him one can only admire

Though badly wounded on one of his legs he shielded Katie on the floor
Where bravery was needed he was one to the fore
With people dead and dying all around them David coolly kept his head
Save for his presence of mind he and Katie would be among the dead

David is a true living hero of him one only can say
And the Human World is in need of many more like him today
A truly brave fellow in a situation where courage many would fail
The people of Kilcorney in him have a young hero to hail

To be in the wrong place at the wrong time is part of life's circumstance
And this is how David and Katie found themselves in Paris in France
When into the Bataclan Theater the deranged criminals crept in from the streets of night
And left death and bloodshed behind them on what was before their arrival a beautiful sight

Where so many good people did not come out of alive
David and Katie were among the lucky who did survive
His presence of mind him and his girlfriend did save
From the guns of fundamentalist terrorists of an early grave.

Quite A Common Brag

You boast of your Country and the color of your National flag
But among your kind this is quite a common brag
The heroes of your praises are not with us today
For their place in glory with their lives they did pay
Patriots and Nationalists are to be found everywhere
There are billions like you are in the big World out there
People are dying in war zones every day Worldwide
For National borders and culture and religion and patriotic pride
Your kind sad to say for war always have sowed the seed
There are plenty who think like you of any more we are not in need
Out of peaceful people heroes are never made
And they are never remembered and celebrated in a street parade
You boast of your Country and the color of your National flag
But among your kind this is quite a common brag.

John Clare And I Am

John Clare wrote his great poem I Am in the Northampton Asylum when he was mentally unwell
A poem that could only be written by a poet living in earthly hell
Yet in the English language a poem that is Worldwide famous today
An outpouring of emotional feelings from one whose mind was in disarray
John Clare who died in the Northampton Asylum to be mentally unwell was his only crime
But his great poems on life, love, birds and animals have withstood the test of time
Locked away from his children and Patty his wife
In mental asylums he spent the most of his life
Since he died on his seventieth year in eighteen sixty four many decades to time have gone
But the great Poet of Helpston his fame does live on
For his brilliant mind a huge price he did pay
But he did live his poetry of him one can say
The poem I Am the poetic anthem of mental illness was written by John Clare
And poets of his standing will always be rare.

Old Andy

The legs that once ran fast are now walking slow
The years on old Andy do visibly show
The National five thousand meters champion fifty five years ago
Time known to rust iron has become his foe
Who would believe he was a famous athlete
As he slowly walks to the milk bar near his home down the street
He sometimes sees his daughter and grandchildren but never his ex wife
Twenty years ago she left him for another but then such is life
old Andy does not drink alcohol and cigarettes does not smoke
A nice person to meet an amiable old bloke
The years have left him stiff looking and balding and gray
One i do see often though not every day
Old Andy lives with his memories of the past
When in his physical prime years he was one who ran fast.

Real And Fake

Of some of the human vocal moods one does get to learn
Such as forced laughter from the real thing not hard to discern
Forced laughter when heard it is obviously fake
From the real thing it does seem quite hard not to mistake
Forced laughter does seem to have a hollow sound
Though those of false laughter in numbers abound
But from the depths of the soul via the throat through the mouth
In an explosion of mirth true laughter gushes out
For it can be such a joyful and uplifting thing
Of those who can laugh heartily their praises i feel obliged for to sing
Forced laughter is not hard to identify
As it does seem one might say quite mirthless and dry
But true laughter from the depths of the soul gushes out
And those with such a gift known to spread joy about.

Joe And Rover

Of years he must be at least thirteen or more
Old Rover the black Labrador next door
The octogenarian widower Joe did get him from the local pound
An antidote for his grief at the death of his wife Jane in Rover he found
With a friendly bark and a constant wagging of his fat tail
For to greet me old Rover he never does fail
Joe a great grandfather says old Rover to him is a true friend
Since dogs in their feelings do never pretend
As time to both of them has become a foe
A short walk nowadays for Rover and Joe
The old dog his devoted friend for a decade of years
Who had been a source of support to him in his time of tears
In the fading twilight by their home on the by street
Joe and Rover out walking i sometimes do meet.

The Land Does Remain

We are born as mortals and all of mortal life forms are born to die
This includes everybody as well as you and i
But you cannot take with you any of your life's material gain
And the land that you lived off of behind you will remain
The land that will feed your children and grandchildren some of which you helped to destroy
Through your buildings projects amassing huge amounts of money you did enjoy
That you were an enemy of the Natural Environment many may not agree
But this is how people like you seem to me
Under the earth that you profited from your last remains do lay
And without you life in the World does go on today
So much land by your workers bulldozed and mature trees cut down
For you to become the wealthiest person in the big town
But it did not save you from the Life's Reaper your material gain
As you are now with the dead but the land does remain.

To Each Their Own

We all are quite different in our own way
And to each their own as the wise one does say
A few similar people in ways one could name
Though no two in thinking exactly the same
If we all were the same how boring we would be
If everyone acted and thought exactly like me
We would have so little for to talk about
That variety is the spice of life does go without doubt
If you live without harming another credit is only your due
And to each their own does remain ever true
And though your way of thinking is quite different to mine
This is your business and does suit me fine
There is so much truth in to each their own
It is out of difference that knowledge is grown.

The Day Is Very Humid And Warm

The day is very humid and warm with hardly any breeze
The sheep for coolness do shelter in the shadow of the trees
The weather temperatures never pleasant when above thirty degrees
And the warm air full of the buzzing of bush flies and bees
The bush flies are annoying as around your face they do crawl
They are even hard to swat being so nimble, quick and small
Bush flies not the favorite subjects of rural men and women of rhyme
They breed in the paddocks on cow patties in the warmth of Summertime
Though annoying that they crawl all over humans and animals is surely not their fault
As like most things in Nature they are only seeking salt
That forms on the skin on the sweat pores all day long they keep buzzing around
Where cattle are in rural paddocks bush flies in plague numbers abound
The day is very humid and warm well over thirty degrees
And the air it is full of the buzzing of bush flies and nectar gathering bees.

Success And Failure

Success and failure in life to me is a lie
As successful you may live but as a failure you will die
Since like all who came before us when the breath of life from our bodies has gone
We become like the billions who have failed to physically live on

And since you grew old and died and failed to remain young
It is no use to you in death if your praises are sung
The glowing tributes paid to you in your eulogy you will not hear
One can only feel grateful to be living at the end of another year

For death among people does not differentiate
It claims the lives of the homeless and the paupers and the wealthy, famous and great
And though many do see it in a different way
There is only silence and darkness where dead people lay

Success and failure are the same at life's journey's end
Since we are born as mortals why even try to pretend
That one is superior to others since death becomes our due
I only can say what to me does seem true.

Why Ask How

Why ask how it feels for to feel free
Of a very inhibited fellow like me
Who never does wish to stand out in a crowd
Of such an inhibition one not ought to feel proud
Your inhibitions may live with you for your life span
And prevent you from becoming a great woman or man
Too much humility it can be a soul destroying thing
Of the praises of the humble few ever do sing
The most of the admired people in the Human World of today
Are not inhibited in any visible way
The President of the Country had to have great self belief and in her or him the need
For success for one does need these two in order for to succeed
You never hear the most admired people in the town
In their words in public putting themselves down.

To Many

To many i am just another old timer
One of little talent an ordinary rhymer
On my life's journey a few poets i may have befriended
But to be a poet myself i have never once pretended
To be one since then i would only be lying
And the truth i have no wish for to be denying
But i love penning rhymes in my times of leisure
From it i have derived so much joy and pleasure
And as a writer of poor verse i well may be noted
But to the Goddess of Rhyme i am surely devoted
My journey in life to new places do take me
But my yearn to rhyme it will never forsake me
And this yearning to rhyme until death me will follow
A yearning that began far north in Duhallow.

Mamie O Connor

A beautiful person this rhyme penned in her honor
Mamie the wife of the late Eddie O Connor
She raised a large family of girls and boys that numbered eleven
If there is a hereafter her soul is in heaven

For to sing her praises one could think of many reasons
She lived by the Station Road near Millstreet Town for decades of Seasons
In life she had her good times and her times of sorrow
And sad to think for her there will not be a tomorrow

In life there are gains and in life there are losses
And it can be said of Mamie she bore her share of crosses
The mother's grief of losing children a few times did enfold her
But she died at a great age and few have lived to grow older

In the Ardsley Nursing Home in Farran County Cork she died in the depths of December
A woman that many in Duhallow will remember
Who for her community work so many befriended
Sad to learn that the life journey for her has ended

The Reaper of lives the life from everybody does sever
By Cashman's Hill in St Mary's she is at rest forever
A beautiful person this rhyme penned in her honor
Mamie the wife of the late Eddie O Connor.

December In Duhallow

A long way from here this far southern shore
To the high fields by Clara of green Claramore
Storm Desmond has passed but signs of it remain
In the waterlogged fields from the downpour of recent heavy rain

The soughing of the wind in the bare trees in fancy i do hear
December in Duhallow is a windy, wet and a cold time of year
The flat rushy fields flooded where the waterways meet
In wet and cold weather in the storm driven sleet

By the Boggeragh Ranges a cold and wet day
The cattle in the farmyard sheds bellowing for silage or hay
Hungry birds by the back-doors waiting to be fed
For housewives to throw out scraps of food and bread

At least fifteen weeks from the early Spring
When the wild-born birds will mate nest and sing
When the cattle on young grass will gain weight by the day
Far more nutritious to them than eating silage and hay

Memories of Irish Winters with me do remain
Of storm-water gurgling in every roadside drain
When the flooded streams and rivers often overflow
And the mountains at times are covered in snow

The Winters in Ireland to me never fun
One reason i went south for to follow the sun
To where the magpies are warbling on the sunlit trees
And the warm air full of the buzzing of flies and of nectar gathering bees

In Duhallow today it is windy, wet and cold
Whilst all around me beautiful women in their swimwear to behold
As i lay on the beach in the sunshine improving my tan
I say to myself i am a lucky man.

Double Dipping James

James one of the wealthiest men of the Town
From his lofty material perch of late has come crashing down
Behind prison bars he is locked away
Caught for double dipping as one might say
The treasurer of a big corporation with a huge take home pay
But of honesty greed often gets in the way
And James over time from the company coffers stole a million dollars or more
I am sure of similar stories you would have heard of before
Some people for others not short on nicknames
The one known as Mister now known as Double Dipping James
An up and down story of life is his for to tell
Life must be hard for him in the prison cell
His ex wife and son and daughter never visit him though from him they do not life far
When you are in trouble you know who your friends are.

The Pride Of Kanturk

The Pride of Kanturk from home is far away
She lives by the Yarra in Melbourne today
Happy in her life and feeling quite well
At the weekend she dances and socializes at the Normandy Hotel
With the love of her life from the South West Victoria Town
A dark haired handsome young man from old Camperdown
The brown haired Pride of the Town by the Allow is happy in her life
To the man she loves in June she will become his wife
She left Kanturk Town three years ago in May
When the hawthorns were cloaked in their blooms of white to gray
Life in the City by the Yarra it does suit her fine
Her face and legs and hands tanned from the Melbourne sunshine
with her husband to be in a restaurant in Southbank she dine
And with their meal they enjoy a carafe of red wine.

On Starlings

At the large numbers of them one one only can stare
In their range starlings are birds that will never be rare
At twilight in huge flocks to their roosting trees they do fly
As the shades of evening are darkening the sky

Introduced to Australia by humans many decades ago
Starlings are birds who have many a human foe
Since in their droppings they do foul buildings as in numbers they multiply
That so many dislike them just one of the many reasons why

In their straggly nests of leaves and dried weeds and of bits of plastic and hay
Four to seven bluish eggs the female bird does lay
Under house eaves and in tree and wall cavities under their nest sites their droppings to be seen
Post nesting time only add to the proof of where starlings have been

In Western Australia by Government authorized and paid shooters starlings as are sparrows are shot on sight
Despite the reasons for this i cannot say that the killing of any species of wildlife is right
Though some humans on killing find pleasure it does seem that starlings to me
Are far less of a threat to our Natural environment than us humans are would you not agree?

From where humans live they are never far away
Starlings are plentiful i see them every day
To their roosting trees at twilight in huge flocks they do fly
As the shades of evening are darkening the sky.

Such Kind And Nice People

In life i have been lucky in many a way
In the beautiful people i meet every day
People who are quite compassionate and kind
To sow the seeds of good they are readily inclined
With their sort of people it is obvious to me
That they are of the good side of humanity
Those who willingly give can expect to receive
On such a life philosophy one can only believe
Us humans are not meant for to live for ourselves alone
Any act of kindness is a thing one can only condone
The gift of doing good only comes from within
When you live as a good person you make the World better to live in
Everyday when out walking in the park or on the street
Such kind and nice people i always do meet.

A Singer Of Irish Ballads

He sang The Boys Of Wexford, Spancil Hill and Skibbereen
And Carrigdhoun, Carrickfergus and The Wearing Of The Green
Molly Malone and Slievenamon And The Rose Of Tralee
Lovely Leitrim, Are You Right There Michael and The Hills Of Knocknashee
The traveling singer of old Irish ballads at the local pub last night
He was such a marvelous songster to hear him singing a delight
Of his home suburb of Crumlin in Dublin he had made it far south
From to town to town in Victoria he was traveling about
Perhaps in his early thirties one who had traveled far
Singing ballads for a living as he strummed on his guitar
In the lounge room of a pub in Clifton Hill that is known quite well
To Melbourne's Irish migrants the Normandy Hotel
With long dark hair to his shoulders one i never see before
When he had sung his farewell ballad he had us pleading for more.

Fame And Shame

Some men they have climbed to the summit of fame
But for one crime or other plummeted to the depths of shame
And spend years of their lives behind a locked prison gate
For to pay for their sins as guests of the State
Though different by nature and different in name
They are different in most ways those known as fame and shame
Though not unlike love and hate shame is fame upside down
A prisoner today the once most popular person of the town
Some wealthy and famous people who were honored in story and song
Have served time in prison and in life have gone wrong
Fame and wealth can corrupt as some are known for to say
In life from the path of righteousness it is not hard to stray
Some who have stood on the high summit of fame
Are now in a jail cell and living in shame.

Margaret Looney Smyth

The daughter of Mrs and Mr Peter Looney of Millstreet Town's Minor Row
The recently deceased Margaret Looney Smyth and her deceased brother Michael i used to know
When i was much younger ten years or so
Back in the nineteen fifties a long time ago

As nice a person as one could wish for to meet
She used to visit her uncle Den Looney and his wife Peg in Claraghatlea near the Town of Millstreet
But in Duhallow she was one who was not destined to stay
And as Margaret Smyth in Scotstown in County Monaghan her last remains lay

A down to earth person untainted by conceit or guile
She left us with memories of her beautiful smile
By her sort the seeds of good friendships are sown
As she was one who did have a charm of her own

When Margaret left Millstreet she was young in years
And her passing in Scotstown would not have gone without tears
Her journey in life did take her far away
From where she first looked on the bright lamp of day

With her amiable ways many friends she did win
People like her make the World better to live in
In Scotstown county Monaghan may she rest in peace
For all of us from life there is a final release.

You Will Know Who Your Friends Are

You will know who your friends are when you are financially down
One of the homeless on the poor side of the town
In a disused factory doorway sheltering from the wind and rain
And sad to think that one has to lose for another for to gain
And though many with this may choose to disagree
In the Human World this is how it seems to be
The gap between the wealthy and the poor keeps widening by the day
In a fair Human World it would not be this way
There are many who to their thoughts like to give voice
Who say that everybody have the power of choice
The people arrogant enough to believe they know the workings of the human mind
In the World it does seem there are millions of their kind
But you will know who your friends are when you are financially down
One of the homeless of the poor side of the town.

Were I To Be Reborn

I judge and am judged by others every day
For being born a human the price i do pay
Quite close to the seventy and long past my physical prime
One truly can say i am running out of time

One of the millions who does have an internet blog
But were i to be born again i would like to come back as a dog
A big friendly hairy dog who everybody would hail
With a welcoming bark and a wagging tail

So many good people i have known have died
And so many unwell and time not on their side
When i weep for them i am weeping for me
And my sense of loss is how it seems to be

Wealthy people their material possessions i tend to begrudge
Were i to be reborn as a friendly dog others i would not judge
Since dogs in their feelings not known to pretend
I would greet everyone i did meet as a friend

In my physical prime some four decades ago
But eventually time becomes everyone's foe
Eventually to the scythe of life's Reaper i too will fall
And what will be for me of course will be for all.

The Buff Banded Rail

They are not birds one does see every day
Since from human eyes they like to hide away
If to them a person approaches too near
Into long grass or reeds they quickly disappear
On her breeding Season from September to February five to eight pale spotted brown eggs the female does lay
In her ground nest out of sight in heavy cover well hidden away
Two of their secrets of survival is to be secretive and slightly shy
But then to many bird species this would also apply
With buff streaks on the face brown head, gray neck and over all mottled gray
Close to water near reeds is where they prefer to stay
They eat crustaceans and insects they find on the wetland ground
And though not rare in large numbers they do not abound
Once seen for to recognize them you never again will fail
For they look quite distinctive the buff banded rail.

Since Penning Of Rhyme

Since penning of rhyme does not come hard to me
I can only write of Nature's beauty i do see
Everywhere around me every day
From where i live Utopia is not far away
Dark welcome swallows chirping in the sunny sky
On pursuit of flying insects as they fly
For hours on end at the speed of a car
Migratory birds their wings do take them far
From where they first looked on the lamp of day
To fly to live it is their natural way
My love of Nature only grow and grow
Yet so little of her i can claim to know
But we never stop learning as the wise one does say
And for every one of us it is this way.

Self Lauding

We live in a time when self lauding for some people is the in thing
Their own opinions only matter and their own praises they love to sing
Without asking they tell you of their life achievements and of their recent every success
As if their egos needed inflating others they want to impress
Self lauding by some seen as necessary for to keep themselves in the limelight
They like to boast of their successes and of their further achievements in sight
The me syndrome quite close to viral in the early twenty first century
We live in a time of big egos in the age of i, myself and me
The down to earth becoming rarer how sad to say this seems to be
People with their cameras taking selfies every day one does happen to see
Yet some of the openly arrogant seems to have forgotten that they too were born to die
They do act as if they are not mortals that death for them must be a lie
We live in a time of self lauding where self promotion does seem quite okay
And the humble decreasing in numbers in the Human World of today.

Some Voices Of Nature

Some voices of Nature one should not get wrong
The songs of the magpies and the pied currawong
The magpie lark with his familiar pee wee
And who could mistake the blackbird's melody

When the red fox is barking in the dead of night
The boobook owl is calling in the moonlight
The voices of Nature can be heard night and day
And for as long as there is life it will be this way

A voice that all south eastern Australians know
The harsh prolonged cawing of the pale eyed crow
And the distinctive calls of the yellow tailed black cockatoo
The big dark brown parrots known to some as weerloo

And high on a branch of a manna gum tree
The male koala utters a harsh grunting cry to proclaim territory
The laugh of the kookaburra and the cough of the roo
And the guttural call of the male emu

Just some of the voices of Nature that are a joy for to hear
And Nature's voices can be heard at all times of year
Her wonders are many and her secrets not few
And every day of her we learn something new.

In Illowa In Summery December

In Illowa the sun it is shining on this beautiful December day
And the freshening breeze from the Pacific carries with it the sweet scent of hay
The dark swallows chirp in pursuit of flying insects in the blue sky with just a few clouds of gray
And above the sunlit flowers of the garden the white and brown butterflies play
The weather dry not too cool or too warm just over the twenty degrees
And the silver billed magpies are warbling their flute like notes on the high trees
In Illowa close to the ocean there is so much beauty to see
An artist could capture on canvas some of the natural beauty all around me
In Illowa in Summery December between Koroit and the City of Warrnambool
The weather is often near to perfect it is never too warm or too cool
The chirping of the brown house sparrows the familiar call of the pee wee
And the blackbirds they often are singing they have such a sweet melody
In the shade of the pines out of the sunshine the cattle chewing their cuds do lay
In Illowa in Summery December it is such a beautiful day.

Have You Ever Felt

Have you ever felt an outsider that in the community you live in you do not belong
And though you have formed a few friendships you do not think them to be strong
With you they share little in common and look at most things to you in a different way
But then not everyone is born to be tribal does seem a truthful thing for to say

The beautiful sense of belonging is something that you never had
But despite what some may say of loners most loners as people are not bad
And since you have never harmed anybody and disrespect to anyone in word or deed never do pay
Then you live as quite a good person and who you are is quite okay

To the community coat-tails you are one who never does cling
You attend community gatherings since you are one who does your own thing
You do not have any friends in the community nor neither do you have any foes
The more friends you have the more likely you are to have a few enemies of this one can only suppose

You may feel you are a community fringe dweller and a stranger to local renown
But you are not alone in the World there are a few like you in every town
Who do like to live in their own way and as community minded people will never be known
But it can become boring sameness and as is said to each their own.

A Sunny Evening In Early December

A sunny evening in early December and a freshening coastal breeze
Is gently soughing in the bushes and the branches of the trees
And the air full of the buzzing of flies and nectar gathering bees
In the balmy southern Summer close to twenty five degrees
How marvelous to be living on such a pleasant day
The wild-born birds are singing in the green park by the bay
The flute like warbling of the magpies birds who sing all through the year
And the melodious songs of the blackbirds always a joy to hear
With such pleasant weather hard for one to complain
Though brown patches in the un-watered gardens tell us we could do with rain
It has rained little in three months and El Nino is about
Sucking the ground of moisture the one who creates drought
Yet on this nice day in December a pleasant coastal breeze
Has the green leaves dancing on the branches of the trees.

Where Dead People Lay

The words of a wise one and truer words never said
That only earthworms live in the graves of the dead
Your former earthly possessions no use to you there
Your family the benefit of your life's work will share
Your money in death you cannot take with you behind you it will stay
And life is for living enjoy it whilst you may
Equality prevails where dead people lay in eternal rest
Where everybody is equal and none is the best
In the place where anybody is not burdened by care
A known fact where dead people lay not one millionaire
And though those who die with billions in assets and money are no longer rare
They did not take it with them of this everyone is aware
So enjoy your money for time on you is ticking away
There are no millionaires where dead people lay.

Tadghy Duggan

Tadghy Duggan of Millstreet was one of the first if not the first in Duhallow to sell the first make of Hotpoint washing machine
To the housewives of the nineteen fifties this was the best thing that they ever had seen
In his truck he brought machines to homes for to give a washing display
And it was known that he sold quite a few washing machines every day

Tadghy Duggan the first i knew of in Duhallow when not many in Ireland
Could speak in French and the words of different languages did understand
For the most part self educated he was one of a brilliant mind
And it could be truly said of him that he was one of a rare kind

Since he was one in thinking who did seem well ahead of his time
And it did seem a pity that he did leave Millstreet when he was in his life's prime
For to travel and try out his luck in the big World out there
And what was a huge loss to Duhallow was surely a gain to elsewhere

For Tadghy he was a young man who was born with a brilliant brain
I knew him just for awhile only and never did see him again
One in Millstreet in Duhallow who would not grow old and gray
The lust of the wander was in him for places and lands far away

He was indeed quite a salesman one with a charm of his own
Tadghy Duggan throughout Duhallow was a man who was well liked and well known
I often wonder where he went to and where he might be at today
I can only hope he is alive and happy and healthy and that he is feeling okay.

Since You Never Harm Anybody

Since you never harm anybody why worry of the negative things that some of you do say
Those who in their words enjoy putting down others are badly flawed in their own way
But as long as in their words they do not defame you by broadcasting malicious lies
Then their remarks you may as well ignore for to bring yourself down to their level for you may not be wise
You may be a kind and generous person but as the wise mother said to her son
On your life's journey you may win many friendships but you will not win everyone
There will always be a few who will not like you since there are people in every town
Who in their words derive great pleasure on trying for to drag others down
Of the negative comments of those who do not like you any heed you ought not to pay
By engaging in a war of words with them their negative game with them you only do play
Playing the game of negative words with their sort is like adding fuel to a fire
By ignoring them for you far better since of criticizing you they will then quickly tire
And since you are a compassionate person and never harm anyone in any way
Then why should you bother to worry of what badly flawed people of you do say.

A Blokey Bloke

He drinks with his mates at the local and laughs loud at every smutty joke
A smoker as well as a drinker and a regular blokey bloke
His mates to him are most important and much in common they do share
A member of one of the town's many blokes clubs and blokes clubs have never been rare

Tall sturdy and dark haired in his late twenties he and his mates members of the local football supporters club
And after the game on a Saturday they meet for drinks at the local pub
Sad looking when their team loses and in victory beaming with pride
Their moods easy to read on their faces as their feelings they never try to hide

His wife at home minding their three young children he says of her she does okay
Yet to me she is often complaining though i give her the most of my pay
She says i never help with the children but this is not a true man's role in life
The man works and with his mates socializes and leaves the child minding to his wife

Sensitive new age guys help their wives with nappy changing for real men this is not their thing
We are happy when our team is victorious and the club anthem we get to sing
You will not find my sort at snobbish parties as such would not suit us at all
We socialize at the local and whilst drinking beer talk of football

His wife at home minding the children whilst in the pub he laughs at a smutty joke
Suppose this is one price that is for being married to a blokey sort of a bloke
But each to their own as is said for want of a better name
And suppose it is our different ways make us more interesting how boring we would be if we all were the same.

We All Have Our Journeys

We all have our Journeys to follow as onward through life we do go
And we all have our good and our bad days and our moments of joy and of woe
Some of the daughters and sons of wealthy parents are not anywhere near to happiness at all
One would think that with the privileges they have been born into that their biggest worry would be small
Our thinking can be our obstacle to happiness in the thoughts that come to us every day
The human brain is such a strange thing and it can think in the strangest way
A Buddhist Monk is at most times quite happy though Worldly possessions he does disown
What would i know of how it feels to be truly happy when true happiness i have never known
Life has it's trials and tribulations as most people know all too well
But every individual it does seem have their own stories to tell
Of their good and their bad days we are beings of mood one suppose
He and she may not know how it feels like to be happy though they wear the most expensive clothes
We all have our journeys to follow as onward through life we do go
And we all have our good and our bad days and our moments of joy and of woe.

It Is Not How Wealthy You Are

More money and material possessions does not make another person any better than you
It is not how wealthy you are but the good that you do
For to help those in need of your help you go out of your way
And of anyone you help who is a poor person you never ask of pay
The size of your bank account or your home or your car
Does not tell of the person that you truly are
But if to the suffering of others you seem mentally blind
Then you cannot live as a good person as your are not compassionate and kind
And since of a better World to live in they do plant the seed
Of more compassionate, kind and generous people the Human World is in need
He or she is not a good person who only believe on take and take
Though the wealthy person who is kind and generous a huge difference to humanity can make
You cannot live as a good person if you lack in empathy
Since for those doing it tough you cannot feel sympathy.

Raining In Ireland Today

The World weather forecast has it raining in Ireland today
Nothing new or unusual in this one might say
The wind blowing a gale and the rain pouring down
And flooding in many a village and city and town
Ireland was never a dry country but it is beyond me to explain
Why in Climate Change there that there is more wind and rain
Since weather records have been kept than at anytime that has been
In a Country that is known for it's many shades of green
The winds of December blow with a cold chill
Across the flooded countryside from the fog covered hill
In Climate Change in wetter Countries heavier and longer spells of rain
And brown storm water flowing bank high in every river stream and drain
The World weather forecast has it raining in Ireland today
And nothing unusual in that one might say.

Fleet Are Our Young Years

Fleet are our young years and our physical prime
The longest lived human life is not long in time
Death is for the pauper the celebrity and the billionaire
The Reaper of lives any life does not spare
For all of us there is a last night and day
But of a life for the soul after bodily death is not for me to say
Though many believe good souls have been blessed with wings for to fly
To a Heavenly World somewhere beyond the sky
The wise mother's advice to her teenage son
Was live for as long as you can and respect everyone
For poor seed into a good crop never grow
And in life the Karma you reap is the Karma you sow
In life what applies to a woman applies to a man
And live for as long as you possibly can.

She Yearns For A Life Of Adventure

She is so attractive to look at the young woman with the big blue eyes
And many of the town's young men their admiration of her do not even try to disguise
Her shoulder length wavy hair in the wind tossing as dark as the wing of a crow
Her's is indeed quite a rare beauty she is of the type of most men wish to know
Yet she has the wanderlust in her for big towns and cities far away
In her hometown on view of the mountains she is determined not to grow old and gray
The yearn it is in her for to travel on the journey that leads to elsewhere
To the big towns and the big cities in the bigger World out there
Of late she has just turned nineteen and of any ties that does bind she is free
She knows in the big World out there that there are amazing sights for to see
Working in two jobs for to save money for her journey from the mountain town
Where she has no wish to fall in love, marry have kids and settle down
Many local young men are attracted to her but she does not need the ties that bind
She yearns for a life of adventure and she has travel on the mind.

On St Patrick

St Patrick brought religion through Christianity to Ireland personally i cannot say this was a good thing
But mine is only one opinion since many in Ireland his praises do sing
Some Christians in Ireland to each other are hostile on the Catholic and Protestant divide
And far too many people in Ireland over religion and geographical borders have died

Patrick was brought as a slave from Britain to Ireland his history by now is known well
It is claimed by Christians that he saved the then Irish pagans from an eternal after Earthly death life in hell
And he did it with a three leaved clover a shamrock by name better known
One could say that of such stories that many myths and legends have grown

There are religious wars in many parts of the World mostly involving Muslims and Christians and Jews
And murder and maiming through shootings and bombings nowadays every day in the news
But one cannot blame the gods of religion for such foul crimes they are not to blame
It is soulless religious fundamentalist mentally disturbed criminals who commit such terrible crimes of shame.

Which does bring me again to Patrick brought to Ireland as a slave to be a herd boy from Britain his home
Who converted the Irish pagans to Christianity and was later canonized as a Saint by the Bishop of Rome
Doubtless Patrick was a saintly person but how was he for to know back then
That religion that is responsible for many good people can make monsters out of some men.

Does Only Happen To Be So

In life you have your good and your bad days and there are days you find it hard to smile
Enjoy happiness whilst it is with you for it may not stay for a long while
You are far better off than the homeless who live on the poor side of the town
Who do not know how it feels to be happy since they are financially down
It is true that you do have your problems which does always give rise to self doubt
In life there is always some challenge one small part of what being human is about
With a wife and young children to support on what is not very good pay
And with far less jobs than with people to fill them job starts are at a premium today
Nowadays for many life is not easy decades ago it used not to be this way
Over time the huge increase in the human population partly to blame for this one can say
If you are struggling for to make ends meet you have nothing for to celebrate
You cannot say to those who ask you how your day is that it is very close to great
Today you find it hard for to smile when others to you say hello
But that you are one of many with problems does only happen to be so.

The Rhymers They Are Always Rhyming

The poets have their off days in poetry but the rhymers never run out of rhyme
And this is how it always has been on going back the centuries of time
For to write rhyme is always so easy as easy as easy can be
To write it you need not be a highbrow one who has a literary degree
Uni literary dons refer to rhymers as poetasters as the scribblers of doggerel
By the twenty first century literary elite condemned to the Earthly poetasters hell
They tell us that anyone who does write rhyme should never be referred to as a poet
These literary critics who proclaim the literary figures of note
But i have a soft spot for rhymers since they are the wordsmiths of song
I love the old musical ballads often heard in the pub sing along
The uni literary dons have their poetry but rhyme to the masses belong
And who is to say those who love rhyme in their literary taste have it wrong
The poets have their off days in poetry in literature writers block an in saying of our time
But the rhymers they are always rhyming and they never do run out of rhyme.

John Sing Used To Say

John Sing used to say that Clara Mountain would outlive the Seasons of time
That it was a very ancient landmark when Fionn mac Cumhaill was in his prime
Sing was such a marvelous character in mood one i never see down
Will there ever again be one like him in Duhallow's old Millstreet Town?

John Sing used to say Millstreet is in the Diocese of Kerry and we live in the County of Cork
And that many he grew up with migrated to big Cities like London and New York
And though we may feel quite important on the map of the World we are small
Not many beyond the shores of Hibernia would have heard of Millstreet at all

To Mister O's drapery store where he worked as a tailor he whistled to work every day
I never see John Sing unhappy and of so few such a thing one could say
Ever a carefree sort of a fellow and always a pleasure for to meet
John Sing always will be remembered as a favorite son of Millstreet

He drummed in the Pipe Band of Millstreet in towns in the green countryside
And beyond the borders of Duhallow John Sing he was known far and wide
As a young man he played Gaelic Football for Millstreet in the green and gold
As an accurate point scoring forward though time leaves the best of them old

In his twilight years he played pitch and putt a sportsman till the day he died
And of friends he had many hundreds one who never had secrets to hide
And surely it can be said of him that he was one who did his own thing
For Millstreet it was such a sad day on the death of John O Sullivan 'Sing'.

Pay No Heed To Their Sort Of Advice

Anything you do that does not harm others cannot be considered as a crime
Though some may tell you in your unpaid hobby that you are wasting your precious time
What they say of you is their business and not yours in any way
If your hobby does keep you happy pay no heed to what they do say
There are always a few who cannot mind their own business for to offer you free advice
Their sort like to have power over others as people they are not very nice
And those who like advising others have little interests of their own
One can say they are not discerning and as sages will never be known
Pay no heed to their sort of advice and do keep on doing your own thing
Though your hobby does not bring you lots of money and others your praises do not sing
Some people believe that for your hobby you should be rewarded with pay
To them success through money only matters they see life in a narrow way
Just keep on doing what you enjoy doing to the meddlesome do not pay any heed
Those who advise others on how to live their lives must have lives that are empty indeed.

Nature Has Her Many Wonders

Nature has her many wonders and her secrets are not few
And every day of her flora and fauna we do learn something new
Recently see a black wallaby in Port Fairy near where the Moyne River meets the sea
Swimming in deep water an amazing sight to see
I stood and watched in amazement i could scarce believe my eyes
That marsupials are good swimmers came to me as a surprise
But the male wallaby seemed calm and relaxed in the waters deep and wide
As he swam across the river to get to the other side
A local woman told me he swims across the river every day
For to get from Griffith Island to Battery Point for him this is his way
To me what is quite amazing is something she does often see
Nature has so many wonders with this would you not agree
This just made me again realize so little of Nature's ways i know
But the more i learn about her the more my wonder of her grow.

West Of Millstreet I Do Say

When people ask me where i come from i tell them west of Millstreet Town
Where i lived for many Seasons when my hair it was dark brown
Claraghatlea in view of Clara by the roadway to Rathmore
Far north even as the migratory bird fly of the blue Pacific shore
And where is Millstreet Town they ask me in Duhallow in north Cork i say
From the Cork and Kerry border five to seven miles away
Those not interested in geography little of the World do know
And of towns in other Countries only a slight interest show
The only thing they know of Ireland are it's National games of Hurling and Gaelic Football
Games that they only do know of and do not interest them at all
But each to their own as is said and this does seem ever true
Most people are tribal and parochial this is to give them their due
When people ask me where i come from west of Millstreet i do say
In the Barony of Duhallow north of here and far away.

With Most Of Politicians

With most of politicians it does seem that it is all about me
And my family and friends and my colleagues as well as my family tree
And of course my political party whose political views are always right
For we believe we are good and just people and blessed with marvelous insight

We will support our war heroes though war came to us at a huge cost
Since we could not claim victory and many of our soldiers their lives they lost
In life we are bound to make enemies and we go to war to help a friend
And peace will not be in our lifetime of this why even pretend

The war supposed for to end all wars may have ended a century ago
And though you may forge many friendships you do not go through life without making a foe
And always some wanting to harm you one reason we send our troops to Countries afar
Our bravest and best young in battle to fight under our flag in war

Our war on terrorism it is a good thing for to help to keep us in power
In a patriotic voting population you do not win peace with a peace flower
The broadcasting of fear is a great idea for to keep the voters on side
To make life tough on everyone who does not agree with us and honor our soldiers in war who have died

We will talk of jobs and the economy and talk far less of Climate Change
On how to reduce carbon emissions is only in the minority thought range
We will not hear the rage of future generations from the dark deep depths of the grave
And we will not outflank our political opponents if the Planet we set out to save

With most politicians it does seem that it is only all about me
Our friends and political party and of course our own family
The right wing voters are in the majority to pander to them our best plan
And this is the only choice for us of staying in power for a long time span.

Since The Last Time I Saw Clara

On the last time i saw Clara it wore a hat of snow
And Finnow bank high in the rushy fields with a loud babble did flow
On towards the great Blackwater on that bleak December day
And the hungry cattle in the farmyard sheds were bellowing for silage or hay
As i boarded the bus for Rosslare in the Square of Millstreet Town
From the gray sky of early evening the rain was drizzling down
I was just one of the many in Duhallow back then not rare
Who took the migrant ferry for Fishguard at the harbor of Rosslare
Unlike the migratory swallow i did not return in Spring
Though often in my flights of fancy my thoughts do take to wing
And i can hear the curlew on a calm evening in May
Piping his flute like melody in the twilight of the day
Since the last time i saw Clara time has become my foe
For this is going back the Seasons to twenty nine years ago.

The Fellow Who Deserted

By his Country's Government branded as a traitor from war he ran away
But the fellow who deserted is alive and well today
With teenage grandchildren and a devoted wife
He is aging fit and healthy and quite happy in his life

Many of his comrades dead around him the place of death he fled
He could have been a deceased war hero but he choose life instead
And though by many he is condemned for this some may say he is not wrong
For the will to live as is known than the wish to die more strong

He cannot return to his home Country where desertion is a crime of shame
He lives in a foreign city under an assumed name
He fled the bloody war zone where many young heroes were made
For his kind only scorn and never a street parade

But he is fit and well and happy for one of seventy three
And in the park near his home jogging him one often does see
He jogs along the gravel path and never out of breath
His will for life is so strong he has no wish for death

Thousands of kilometers in distance from where his life's journey began
He looks quite well for his years a lean, fit and healthy man
When he fled the bloody battle life over death he choose
The greatest gift that he has he had no wish to lose.

Self Doubt

Many people have moments of self doubt though some more so than others
And self doubt to be found in every family among sisters and brothers
The teenagers who live nearby Lisa and her older brother Locky
Are very different she is shy and he seems brash and cocky

Yes Lisa is quite different to her self confident older brother
And yet they have the genes in them of the same father and mother
Do not ask me why this should be as i do not have a notion
Since the workings of the human mind in life is not my devotion

But of self doubt i know a little of since i have this mind affliction
On most social occasions it can prove to be a personal restriction
This feeling of not being good enough it can be soul destroying
That self doubt can never be your friend there can be no denying

Many people do know of self doubt and i am one of that many
And of times of high self esteem and self confidence i have not known of any
And there is some darkness in the mind of where self doubt has infiltrated
Self confidence it does erode and by it the ego is deflated.

War Is A Thing

War is a thing that has occurred Worldwide
And far too many people in wars have died
And of bombings in cities in Lands far away
We hear of and see on t v every day
The war supposed to end all wars was fought a century ago
And the enemy then is no longer the foe
And some of the friends back then are the enemies of today
Suppose it is part of Human Nature for some to be warlike in their way
War does give rise to terrorism as we all know too well
And people living in war zones are living in Earthly Hell
In fear of suicide bombers and bombs being dropped on them from the sky
It must be hard for them to sleep at night with the fear of death nearby
And in the year of two thousand and fifteen it does seem sad to say
That people in war zones are being badly injured and dying every day.

I Was Born To Be A Rhymer

I have penned rhymes of Australia on the great Pacific shore
And i have penned rhymes of Ireland and the heights of Claramore
Where on a clear day the views are very scenic and one can see far and wide
Far beyond the twin Paps Mountains in Sliabh Luachra's green countryside

I have seen bits of The U S, Wales and England and New Zealand and Japan
And i am growing old in Australia far south of where i grew into a man
But compared to some well traveled people i have not seen much at all
Pay no heed to those who tell you that the World it is small

I have penned rhymes of many people some i have met along life's way
Some of them today are living and some among the deceased lay
And i have written of birds and animals i do know or know about
But my true worth as a rhymer i have never ceased to doubt

I have penned many rhymes of Nature like the soughing of the freshening breeze
In changeable sort of weather in the branches of the trees
And of warm and sunny days in Summer well over thirty degrees
With the air full of the buzzing of flies and nectar gathering bees

I have written rhymes of Winter of gale force winds and rain
With the brown storm water flowing in every creek and drain
I was born to be a rhymer and as a rhymer i will die
And if i told you any different i would be telling you a lie.

On The Shame Of Going Back

The great Australian poet Henry Lawson once wrote a poem on the shame of going back
With little money in your pockets and your mental moods quite black
From your travels in the big World you have little for to show
Without money and lots of it few of you do wish to know

On returning to the home place after many years away
And your features with age wrinkles and your receding hair now gray
And few do recognize you on the streets of your hometown
You are never one of interest when financially you are down

In life you have known adventure but nothing in material gain
It is only the lure of nostalgia that has brought you back home again
And they show little interest in you now your friends of the past
That you have fallen on hard times such news does travel fast

You are home for a brief visit though you had planned a longer stay
Better for you where you are unknown in a big town far away
From the place where you were raised in where you first saw the lamp of day
Many who know you of you judgmental suppose some people are this way

The great poet Henry Lawson wrote a poem on the shame of going back
With empty pockets to your hometown after years on the travel track
In a human World of winners losers are not recognized
This is something that the poet on returning home had realized.

Constructive Comments

Though most people like positive comments it never ceases to amaze
that you learn more about yourself from negative criticism than you do from praise
This is if you are open to learning of your flaws as some people are
Provided the criticism is not meant as an insult which is taking things too far
Though most people do like flattering comments is obviously clear
And of praise from others they are happy for to hear
But that this can be ego inflating is a fact that is known
One reason that many celebrities believe they are god's own
And though most feel quite flattered when others their praises do sing
Constructive criticism when taken on board it is quite a good thing
For when the subject of the comment to it does pay heed
To him or to her it can be quite helpful indeed
You learn more from constructive criticism than you do from praise
For a constructive comment can help you for your standards to raise.

Enjoy Some Fun And Laughter

Do not take yourself too seriously there may not be a hereafter
And life is brief so very brief enjoy some fun and laughter
Constantly thinking of your problems does not lessen your worry
The one who weeps does weep alone and time is on the hurry
Your poor me attitude to life no friend for you is gaining
Jim and Katie with five young children i never hear them complaining
He whistles to work every day in the gray of the dawning
I have yet to see him sad faced and bored and looking tired and yawning
You tell me of your problems but you are physically healthy
And you are not short of money since you are known to be wealthy
With a healthy primary school going daughter and a wife young and pretty
Yet by listening to you whinging one would swear you were the poorest in the city
You and your wife and children worship in the church for your place in the hereafter
But you are missing out in life on the gifts of fun and laughter.

Toots Kelleher Was A Mighty Man

Everyone who had seen Toots Kelleher play of him had their own story
A famous Gaelic Footballer in his prime years he reached the heights of glory
The fans of Cork in red and Millstreet in green by him often delighted
When he was racing goal-wards with the ball one could not but feel excited

In defeat a gracious and sporting man and in victory elated
In Gaelic Football in Ireland in the nineteen fifties he was one of the celebrated
Fearless on the field of play and in courage never lacking
And quite dangerous near the opposition goals when his side was attacking

When Cork and his club Millstreet were playing often the main attraction
Toots Kelleher in his glory years was Duhallow's man of action
When he was in his glorious prime than him not any greater
But time takes care of everyone if not sooner then later

Strong as a horse of skill and dare he was a great footballer
Toots Kelleher was a mighty man he made big men feel smaller
Quite fair but hard on the field of play and fearless in every tackle
To opposition defenders he was one who proved too hard to shackle

Though long deceased good memories of Toots with us are remaining
Of umpires and referees in defeat one who was never heard complaining
And everyone who saw him play of him had their own story
In Gaelic Football in the fifties he reached the heights of glory.

It Is A Big World

Not one person could honestly tell you that he or she has been to everywhere
It is a big World the World out there
Far too big in one lifetime for any one person for to see
The saying it is a small World is misleading would you not agree
Though i live far from where i was born and raised and been through landscapes brown and green
So little of the World i can claim to have seen
And the further i travel the more i realize
That i have not traveled far this is not a surprise
It is a big World and in truth one can say
That you would not see every village, city and town if you traveled every day
Compared to many i have seen little of the World though i live far from my first home-place
Where to many there today mine would be a stranger's face
It is a big World the World out there
And not one could honestly tell you that they have been to everywhere.

Our Younger Years Go Quickly

Our younger years go quickly as does our lives prime
And eventually we all become victims of time
And time as we know for anyone does not wait
You will not keep death from your home by locking your door and your gate
The Reaper of Lives to anyone not a friend
One that most people do fear why otherwise pretend
The great gift of life is such a wonderful thing
And of the praises of death you will not hear many sing
The same for every woman as for every man
Time strips everyone of youthful elan
And that the longer you live the sooner you will die
Is based on fact and fact never lie
The old bloke his better days are in the long gone
But he says he loves life and he wants to live on.