New Year's Eve Twenty Sixteen

The now for us is all that does matter in the dying hours of twenty sixteen
Tomorrow will be the dawn of a new year and today a memory of what has been
Tonight people will be celebrating in towns and cities Worldwide
But the poor will not be celebrating since they are at the wrong end of the social divide
No reason to be celebrating for the hungry and homeless and the financially down
Tonight there will not be music and singing and dancing on their dark and drear side of the town
No they will not be celebrating since they have nothing for to celebrate
One needs plenty money for a good time and to party with others till late
With what many take for granted in life they have to go without
Can one expect them to feel happy when they have nothing to feel happy about
Tonight they will sleep in disused buildings unfit for a cow or a sheep
Without food or a bed or blankets for comfort and on empty stomachs try to sleep
Tonight people will be celebrating the ending of another year
But in the slums on the unlit streets no music and song for to hear.

The World's Only Super Power

When i want to see beauty i need not go far
Do not even have to go for a drive in my car
Just a walk to the park and there i do see
The beauty in Nature everywhere around me

Than the greatest artists and writers she is far more great
The beauty that Nature can only create
The one who has in her the amazing power
To create things of beauty like a beautiful flower

Her wonders are many and her secrets not few
And every day of her i do learn something new
It is surely a fact and fact never lie
That we do learn from her till the day we do die

So little of nature's ways i can claim to know
Yet my love for her every day does seem to grow
I first fell in love with her as a young boy
And learning of her ways today i enjoy

Nature our Earth Mother we depend on to live
Yet we take and take from her and in return to her little give
The one who can create a beautiful flower
I believe her to be the World's only super power.

A Beautiful December Day

The magpies are warbling on the sunlit trees
Their music is carrying in the evening breeze
That blow from the sea through the park by the bay
It is such a beautiful December day
Of the beauty around me a poet would write
A poem for lovers of Nature for to read and recite
White butterflies flitting around the wildflowers
That have come to bloom in life giving Summer showers
Of singing Nature's praises i never could tire
Her beauty all around me i can only admire
A willy wagtail is singing his familiar one note song
Once seen and once heard a pied flycatcher one can never again get wrong
Not too warm or cool just a pleasant day
And the first of Christmas just four sleeps away.

Those Who Claim We Have Life Choices

Those who claim we have life choices are overlooking our life's destiny
And destiny of seven letters seems very real to me
The one destined to be a poor and sad person as poor and sad will stay
And the one destined to be wealthy and famous will know of wealth and fame one day
Not everyone do have life choices not the war and famine refugee
Or the homeless teen of the poor streets born into dire poverty
In a Human World where many are quite poor there is no equality
This is how it is and always was and how it will always be
The gift of life to anyone only comes by circumstance
And those born into extreme poverty of success in life stands little chance
And they do not have many life choices the children of the lesser gods
For to survive into adulthood many of them have to beat the odds
Those who claim we have life choices tend to overlook life's destiny
Suppose this is how it is and always was and how it always will be.

Killarney Of The Moyne Shire

On Killarney beach in the Moyne Shire white waves lap on the sandy shore
A beautiful place for to visit and linger there for an hour or more
At least twelve kilometers from the City of Warrnambool and seven to eight from Port Fairy Town
Of the coastal lands of south western Victoria one can say a gem in the crown

A place that has not changed much over time from the high ground overlooking the sea
Miles all around of open ocean as far as the eyes can see
Scenic ocean views that Australia's first people would have looked on centuries ago
It can be said of the Pacific views in Killarney that change has not become the foe

I do love to visit Killarney it is such a beautiful place
Sacred to the descendants of the Gundigtmara south western Victoria's first race
Their legends and stories preempt written history and their links to Killarney remain strong
Their ancestors did never lay claim to land ownership since to the land they felt they belong

I do love to visit Killarney where the sea views are of beauty rare
With the best coastal views of Australia a place that is one to compare
The sea views from the high ground quite amazing in a place that cannot have changed much over time
It has inspired many an artist and the writers of song, story and rhyme.

Yangery In December

In the mostly blue sky just a few clouds of gray
It is warm and sunny in Yangery today
A forecast high for the day of twenty six degrees
And the Summer air full of the buzzing of bush flies and bees
On nutritious young grass gaining weight by the day
The contented black cattle chewing their cuds do lay
With such pleasant weather how could one complain
Yangery looking healthy and green after the recent December rain
And everywhere i turn to look i do see
The beauty of Nature that is all around me
In Nature so much beauty for to admire
And of singing her praises one never could tire
And in pursuit of flying insects the dark welcome swallows fly
With the sun on their wings in the bright Summer sky.

Tomorrow Will Dawn

It is only in fancy i hear a robin sing
On a leafy silver birch tree in the prime of the Spring
When the hawthorns are cloaked in their white blooms of the May
Though the past may be gone the good memories do stay
Of the old fields lush and green after recent Spring showers
Looking quite resplendent in Nature's own flowers
And when i visualize the shrill song of the dipper i often do hear
He sings in a river to my thoughts ever near
Though my journey in life has taken me far south
Of the fields of the badger and the waterways of the brown trout
I hear the birds sing in a Spring sunrise
As i walk in the old fields when i visualize
Tomorrow will dawn and today almost gone
And of the what was only the memories live on.

Nothing To Smile About

For you and your fellow workers it has not been a good day
The company head director has given an ultimatum to all company employees to take a cut in pay
For if not his business he will be closing down
And little prospect of a new job start in a high unemployment town
The company's annual profit a bit down this year
And the company director he has made it quite clear
That if to a weekly wage pay cut they did not agree
They would no longer be working for his company
And of course to a cut in pay they agreed to since jobs are so few
That bosses hold all of the aces is not anything new
With a wife and three young children to support he must accept a cut in pay
No other option for him it does seem this way
Of his ultimatum to them the boss did not leave the workers in any doubt
For him not a good day and nothing to smile about.

Eddie Murphy

Time on the living body does take it's toll
And death is something beyond human control
Those who grieve for their dead mere words cannot console
And in the death of Eddie Murphy Ballydaly has lost some of it's soul

Grieved by his family and his many friends and neighbors and by Delia his good wife
In Eddie a great man has lost his gift of life
One who lived unshackled by guile or conceit
He was as nice a person as one could wish for to meet

As a young man quite handsome broad shouldered and tall
In the colors of Ballydaly he played Gaelic Football
And for many years as a member of the Millstreet Pipe Band
He played with them in venues in many parts of Ireland

As breeders and owners of greyhounds Eddie and Delia became widely known
Their Ballydaly dogs with Ireland's best did hold their own
And though his gift of life from him has gone good memories does remain
Of one never to be seen in the flesh again

Of Eddie a true gentleman in truth one can say
In Ballydaly he first looked on the light of day
And there from a boy he grew into a man
And lived for the greater part of his life's span

Eddie lived as a good person in every way
And he always led by good example in truth one can say
Always calm and relaxed in his lifetime his friends in numbers did grow
He was one of the few who had the inner glow

In Duhallow never to be seen in the flesh again
But of Eddie fond memories in all who knew him of him will remain
Respect to his memory one only can pay
By Cashman's Hill in St Mary's in Millstreet his last remains lay.

On This Warm Summer Evening

On this warm Summer's evening beauty all around me
A magpie is warbling on a sunlit gum tree
A forecast high for the day of twenty four degrees
And the air full of the buzzing of bush flies and bees
The cattle sheltering from the sun and the breeze
Lay chewing their cuds in the shade of the trees
Of such natural beauty a poet would write
For lovers of Nature to enjoy and read and recite
The sweet scent of grass recently mowed for hay
Is wafting in the breeze from the ocean bay
And the paddocks lush, healthy looking and green after the recent December rain
With such beautiful weather how can one complain
And everywhere i turn to look i do see
The natural beauty that is everywhere around me.

As We Have Been Told

We learn as we live as we have been told
But some men do not grow wiser they only grow old
By their stated opinions in their ways they are small
Their idea of a fair go does not include all
The racists and xenophobics have never been few
One might say that this is not anything new
A fair go for all they could never embrace
They look down on those who are different to them in creed, culture and race
Of a fair go to others in their words they do deny
That we learn as we live to their sort does not apply
The people who believe they have god on their side
On their opinions on those different to them only know how to divide
In their opinions to intolerance and mistrust they only give rise
And with age they do not mellow and they never grow wise.

A Magpie Is Warbling

The day it is breezy and sunny though cool
And in the coastal City of Warrnambool
A magpie is warbling on a sunlit tree
His flute like notes familiar to many and familiar to me
A voice that is always quite pleasant to hear
His kind known to sing every day of the year
A black and white feathered minstrel his sort known far and wide
In the towns or the town parks or in the countryside
On a December evening near the Summer's prime
Aging twenty sixteen is running out of time
In their breeding Season magpies sing at night
One often hear them warbling in the moonlight
Though the sun it is shining a cool wind blowing from Lady Bay
And a magpie is warbling in Kepler St Today.

The Longer You Live

The longer you live the sooner you will die
A mere fact of living and fact never lie
The average human life six decades and ten years in time not a long span
A few years more for a woman than it is for a man
The life reaper does treat every life as the same
The paupers and those of great wealth and fame
The reaper of lives does not differentiate
Between the life of a have not and the life of a great
The reaper will not spare you of your life because of the size of your home or your car
Or the marvelous person that you think that you are
Eventually life's reaper on some night or day
Will decide it is time to come reaping your way
The life journey you are on for you will end
This is something for certain on which you can depend.

You Often Complain

You often complain life on you is quite tough
But you have a home to live in and have never been hungry or had to sleep rough
When compared to many your biggest worry seems small
Your problems to say the least not big at all
Millions of stateless, hungry and homeless people in the World out there
The people who are not wanted anywhere
To overcrowded refugee camps from war ravaged towns, villages and cities they flee
How tragic and sad life for them has to be
And poverty does come at varying degrees
In the World of climate and famine and war refugees
Many millions of people displaced and dispossessed
Compared to them you do seem one who is blessed
And that poverty is relative happens to be true
There are millions of people far worse off than you.

On Mrs O' Keeffe's One Hundred Birthday

For a century of living she does not seem on the wane
She has lived through many Seasons Mr's O' Keeffe of Mill View Lane
Devoted to her children and to her late husband Batt a good wife
In Millstreet Town she has lived the most of her life
But perhaps in Newmarket she is destined to stay
Till her life's journey's end though that may not be for many a day
Since she first saw light of day back in nineteen sixteen
The many changes that time does bring she would have seen
As nice a person as one could wish for to meet
She made so many friends in her years in Millstreet
Life has it's good days and bad days and laughter and tears
And not many do live for a century of years
Her best years may be in the forever gone
But beyond her one hundred birthday she is living on.

It Hardly Matters To Me Now

It hardly matters to me now if i was dunce of the primary school
Far north of the coastal countryside by Warrnambool
Or if in my life's twilight years i cannot boast of a uni degree
Since time it does seem it has caught up on me

Since the years have left me wrinkled looking, bare headed and gray
And clearly i have known of a far better day
And though i am not one who has known of life's success
I am not going into old age in a state of unhappiness

Though some things in life we would rather forget
No point in growing older with feelings of regret
Of mistakes we made and opportunities lost
Some of our lessons in life come to us at a cost

Some i went to school with not living today
And some in the home Parish did choose to stay
And some in big cities are aging far away
That most go on different life journeys does seem true to say

The dunce of the classroom six decades ago
And time that rusts iron has become my foe
Far south of the fields where the waterways meet
In the green countryside near the Town of Millstreet.

One Who Does Write Rhymes Every Day

I am just an addictive rhymer one who does write rhymes every day
One of little literary importance with rhyming words who loves to play
The rhymes always keep coming to me on notebook i just write them down
But never for fame or for money and many like me in every town
I find it an enjoyable hobby just this and little else more
I have been penning rhymes for forty three years of my life of ten years with three score
I realize if i were a good writer i would know of wealth and literary fame
I am just your average rhymer with thousands of rhymes to my name
But what may seem as a waste of time to many has brought lots of pleasure to me
I penned my first rhymes at twenty seven way back in nineteen seventy three
It is something i love and enjoy doing without the bonus of monetary pay
Though not one of a literary circle i live my life in my own way
Suppose i will be writing rhyme verses until the day i do die
If i did tell you any different i would be telling you a lie.

Maureen Phibbs

To be a Hickey of Gortnacreha is one of her claims to fame
And as an Irish historian hers is a great name
One of the children of the long deceased Molly and Con
Who were much loved in Cullen in Seasons long gone

Maureen Phibbs as a historian is known far and wide
And to the people of Cullen in Duhallow she remains a sense of pride
Though her life's journey took her to places elsewhere
To far greater fame in the big World out there

A credit to Cullen of her one can say
And quite an honorable person in every way
Of conceit and guile she is one who seems free
And that she has not lost her Duhallow accent seems amazing to me

She may not have lived in Cullen in Duhallow for many a year
But her interview on tape uploaded by Michael Cashman on the Millstreet Web Site is a joy for to hear
Though fame on her life's journey of she has come to know
She retains her humility and the inner glow

Since the life's journey in Gortnacreha for her began
She has achieved so much in a seven decades plus span
Among the historians of Ireland hers is a great name
Yet she remains down to earth despite her success and fame.

Far Too Many Judgmental People

Far too many judgmental people like rabbits their numbers have grown
For kindness, compassion and empathy their sort will never be known
They look up to the social climbers and on others they choose to look down
And sad to think no shortage of them there are plenty of their sort in every town
They do not help to make a better world to live in since their own business they cannot mind
They will never be known as nice people since in their words of some they are unkind
They feel it is their right to pass judgment on others on their narrow world views they take pride
The upholders of rank and class distinction who believe in the social divide
The opinionated and self conceited who on others like to have their say
But it would be a better world to live in with less of their sort in it today
They look on the poor of the world as those who have made a wrong choice
For a better and fairer world for all theirs will never be the voice
Far too many judgmental people like rabbits their numbers have grown
For kindness, compassion and empathy their sort will never be known.

The Changed Man

For his achievements a down to earth bloke of the sporting great often was said
But over time he has become a changed man praise it has gone to his head
For his loss of humility one must assume that the praise of his fans is to blame
It can do strange things to the human mind this thing that is known as fame
A champion sportsman in the decades long gone and feted as a legend of today
Not the humble person that he used to be old timers of him do say
Friends he grew up with in the long gone years nowadays he does not wish of to know
Years of praise from his impressionable fans has caused his ego to grow
Now in his seventies and a grand dad admired by many as a legend of the town
No longer the unassuming fellow he used to be suppose this is his price for renown
When he was younger many years ago he had his ego under control
Decades of praise of his admiring fans on his former humility has taken toll
His former friends in the local pub say fame it has gone to his head
His ego swollen from decades of praise and humility in him is dead.

Christmas In The Moyne Shire

No sign of frost or snow in the Moyne Shire only the sweet scent of grass mowed for hay
The weather warm and rather humid on this December Christmas Day
The black cattle out of the sunshine chewing their cuds in the shade of the trees
Even in the shade it is warm well over thirty degrees
On Christmas Day of my younger years often snow and frost and often rain
To the bigger waterways brown flood waters flowing bank high in every drain
The southern Christmas so much different by the barby out of the sunshine
People eat their hams and sausages and enjoy their beer and wine
Very different to the Christmas as a young man i used to know
When the windswept Boggeragh Ranges wore their winter hats of snow
Christmas in this southern country is a warm time of year
Cattle in farm sheds bellowing for hay or silage is something that one does not hear
It is warm the bush flies are buzzing thirty degrees or so
Different to the Irish Christmas i remember from years ago.

The Serious Family

As honest as can be and quite free of guile
Yet Leann is one who finds it hard to smile
Her primary going children Joe and Sue and her husband Stan
In their ways in many ways quite like Leann
Not the type of family who brings joy to anyone's day
One would swear for to smile that they do have to pay
When you greet them they nod without smiling with nothing to say
It is each to their own since life is this way
They may not have worries but they do not seem carefree
The life of any party they never will be
As a family when out walking a smile with them they never do bring
As if for to smile is an unnatural thing
Whenever i meet them i bid them a good day
They nod without smiling with nothing to say.

Ron

A story to tell for his every hair of gray
He has learned from life of Ron one can say
His memories take him back more than seven decades in time
To his boyhood years long before he reached his physical prime

Some very sad memories are with him today
Of the war he fought in from home far away
So many of his young comrades who fought by his side
In the foreign fields are buried where they died

The bad memories he wishes to forget he retain
And the mental scars with him till death will remain
On his return from war into depressive moods he did sink
And for solace he turned to alcoholic drink

The woman he loved due to his alcohol addiction would not become his wife
She married and had children one of his sad memories in life
Without a woman or children he grows old on his own
Of the sorrows of life he is one who has known

Ron in his eighties is not a member of the town's returned soldiers club
But every evening he goes for a few drinks to the local pub
As a young man he fought in a war far away
And he has a story to tell for his every hair of gray.

War Does Go On

Us humans have not learned anything from wars now long gone
Since the killing and maiming in wars does go on
And in terrorism one of the side affects of war innocent people with their lives made to pay
For the sins of others this does seem sad to say
The people who look on human life as cheap
In reality only sowing what they will reap
If you do bad things bad things will be your due
What goes around comes around remains ever true
The war supposed to end all wars took place a century ago
And the enemy back then is no longer the foe
That some people have not learned from war history it does seem this way
We always had war men and we have war men today
Because of national flags , culture, religion and borders every day people die
The fact is we have not learned from war history and fact never lie.

Where Is Dan Tehan Today

The pro refugee activists out side of his office on Kepler St does sing and music play
Where is our Government Minister Dan Tehan today
He is not in his Warrnambool office where carol singers sing on the street
Suppose to him there are far more important people than their sort to meet

Scared of what the majority of his constituents might think of him or of him say
No votes for him on talking to pro refugee activists so from them he keeps away
Dan Tehan who when talking of a fair go does not mean a fair go for all
When it comes to human rights he is one with power who in his ways seem small

The Australian Government and their main Opposition Party humanity fail
Good people seeking refuge from torture by them treated far worse than the worst criminals in any Australian jail
In Australian run overseas detention centers they have spent years of time
For wanting a safer life this is their only crime

As a politician afflicted by voter dread he is not on his own
And as one who stands for human rights he will never be known
Among his impressionable voters he may be a popular man
But it does seem to me that Dan is only for Dan

Some of his constituents who sang carols for refugees outside of his office on Warrnambool's Kepler Street
Government Minister and M P Dan Tehan them did not come to meet
Perhaps for the day he choose to be elsewhere
Big noting himself in the big World out there.

Disappointment To One With A Huge Ego

Disappointment to one with a huge ego is a huge mental fall
But to the humble of mind the biggest disappointment not that big at all
At least anyhow this is how it seems to me
Though others may see it in ways differently
For the egotistical a deflated ego must be such a sad thing
When no one wishes to hear them when their own praises they sing
Since they wish to have an admired and loved face
When out of the limelight they feel out of place
When a good impression on others they can no longer make
Such a disappointment the egotistical find hard to take
Of admiration their sort of can never get enough
Not to be center of attention on them has to be very tough
The egotistical love to be known and admired far and wide
And a deflated ego to them is a huge dent to their pride.

A December Day In The Moyne Shire

White butterflies flitting above the flower beds and around the bushes and trees
On a warm evening in December of over thirty degrees
The warm air is full of the buzzing of flies and of bees
And the song of a blackbird is carrying in the freshening breeze
The distinctive warbling of the magpies who sing every day of the year
Australia's supreme black and white feathered minstrels their fluting a joy for to hear
In Summer in the coastal Moyne Shire the weather can change from day to day
The evening breeze has a certain coolness blowing uphill from the Pacific bay
The cattle out of the warm sunshine chewing their cuds in the shade of the trees
Tomorrow supposed to be cooler and more pleasant in the lower twenty degrees
January can be warmer though the Christmas weather can often be cool
A livable part of the World to live in the coastal countryside near Warrnambool
A warm day in December in the coastal Moyne Shire the weather temperature at thirty or more
Though the breeze has a certain coolness blowing uphill from the Pacific shore.

On Such A Nice Day

Everywhere i turn to look i do see
Nature's beauty everywhere all around me
In the southern December on a day of twenty degrees
Butterflies dancing around the sunlit trees
The countryside looking green after recent rain
On such pleasant weather one cannot complain
Children in the park playground laugh at their play
Flushed with the joys of a nice Summer's day
Contented cattle in lush paddocks chewing their cuds lay
Wafting in the breeze the sweet scent of grass mowed for hay
Of such natural beauty a poet a poem would write
For lovers of nature poetry to enjoy and read and recite
With the southern Christmas just a short time away
It is so good to be living on such a nice day.

Life Is Not Always Easy As Some Like To Say

Life is not always easy as some like to say
In neighborhood and family feuds there can be hell to pay
A tooth for a tooth and an eye for an eye
As a saying to the revengeful types does always apply
How can there be peace in the World if former friends bitterly disagree
I have lived for a while near a feuding family
Screaming at each other they often kept me awake at night
In such noisy and ugly disputes none can claim to be right
That such loud screaming and quarreling does intrude in neighbors only true to say
One reason i do not live in that neighborhood today
When not shouting at each other loud rock music they did play
In such a noisy and unpleasant environment few would wish for to stay
Life is not always easy as i know all too well
Of noisy neighborhoods and family disputes many with stories to tell.

From The Forested Countryside

From the forested countryside of the yellow tailed black cockatoos
The birds known to some people as the weerloos
In Suburbia for the work and the better pay
As a scaffolder on a building site today
Tall dark haired and sturdy near the prime of his life
He has met the young woman he hopes to make his wife
They plan to soon wed and start a family
The future looking bright for one of twenty three
He does not miss the quiet country town by the forested hill
A place of mostly older people where time seems to stand still
Where the unemployed are many and jobs they are few
In country towns nowadays this is nothing new
To his hometown in the countryside two hundred kilometers away
He sometimes does return to for a brief holiday.

Jenny's Brown Hen

The death of a brown hen to most people would not be a tragedy
But Jenny with this would never agree
As she reversed her car in the backyard her favorite pet she did not see
Crushed by the back wheel death did come suddenly
To Jenny's isa brown hen who under earth now lay
The death of her feathered pet brought sadness to her day
As she dug a shallow grave there were tears in her eyes
The death of a feathered friend to sadness in her gave rise
But accidents happen and death can come in many a way
And that life does go on only true to say
Death in it's many forms sorrow with it does bring
And to weep at the loss of a non human friend is not an unnatural thing
It may have been an accident but Jenny took it bad
And the death of her favorite brown hen has left her feeling sad.

Hal Roach He Had Us Laughing

The windscreen wipers working to clear the car window of heavy rain
But Hal Roach he had us laughing to Illowa from Castlemaine
The Waterford born comedian beyond his own lifetime laughter does create
In the World of stand up comedy he was an an time great
We laughed with him on radio in Seasons now long gone
Hal Roach among the long deceased but on tape his humor living on
He brought Irish humor to the World in his own inimitable way
Hal Roach still has us laughing in his many jokes today
Joy to so many people today on tape he bring
The gift of creating laughter is such a marvelous thing
One who helped to bring Irish humor to the World for to give to him his due
That laughter is the best of medicine so happens to be true
We laughed with him on radio in our days in Primary School
And Hal Roach he had us laughing from Castlemaine to Illowa near Warrnambool.

Rebecca And Tim

Rebecca is seven years old
With light brown eyes and locks of gold
She says when she grows up that she will be
A mum to children two or three

A girl or two and a boy
Her dreams to her a source of joy
She dresses her two dolls every day
Practicing for motherhood in her childlike way

Her older brother Tim says he will be a football great
A name the fans will celebrate
As great as Maradona or Pele or George Best
By him millions of football fans will be impressed

A smiling eight year old with hair of brown
He dreams of Worldwide football renown
His dreams different to his sister Rebecca of this one might say
So few see life in the same way.

The Mushera Christmas Morning Climbers

People from Aubane and other parts of Millstreet Parish on the morning of Christmas Day
Climb to the summit of Mushera Mountain quite a daunting task one has to say
For those who sponsor them for their favorite charity for this credit in heaps they are due
To climb Mushera in the depths of Winter to a cause one would have to be true

On Christmas morning no matter what the weather they scale the heights of Mushera hill
It may be frosty, raining or snowing or the gale force winds blowing a cold chill
The Mushera Christmas morning climbers some of them years ago were young
For their courage they are well worth admiring and their praises deserve to be sung

For a better World for to live in they are helping for to sow the seed
For to climb Mushera in late December they would have to be a hardy breed
Such an act not for the faint hearted they have to be quite brave indeed
And selfless in their ways of thinking the Human World of more of their sort is in need

They climb Mushera on Christmas morning boys and girls, men and women young and old
Through the knee high wet bracken they climb to the mountain summit in weather frosty, windy, wet or cold
For to raise money for charity they are brave and selfless in thinking of those in need of help on Christmas Day
This is something that not everyone would do and this is only too true for to say.

The Happy Person

The happy person is the one that others wish to know
Like a magnet she or he attracts their friends in numbers grow
The happy and smiling person is one even strangers like to meet
They carry joy with them even whilst walking on the street
Since they are people who have the inner glow
In others the seeds of happiness they do sow
Wherever they are at joy seems to abound
As they carry it with them and share it around
Those who carry their worries with them on their face
Do never bring joy with them to any place
The gloom on their countenance tell of more than words can say
They pass without smiling or bidding good day
But the happy person always a pleasure to meet
They carry joy with them even walking on the street.

A Fact Of Our Existence

We are what we are this is all we can be
What i dislike in others i dislike in me
Of the flaws we are born with only death will set us free
With it is to be flawed is to be human would you not agree?
We reap the karma we sow in life some do believe
And those who do give can expect to receive
Though others will tell you that this is not true
That from life we do not always receive what should be our due
It is not unusual though quite sad indeed
To know that some people are rewarded for greed
Though eventually to karma for our sins we must pay
Life it does seem does work in this way
And like all other life forms we are born to die
A fact of our existence and fact never lie.

The Gospel Singer

He sang Oh Lord I Saw The Light
As if heaven was in his sight
And perhaps he has the inner glow
Though then again of this i would not know
Since the praises of a universal god i cannot sing
As i doubt the existence of such a thing
But then the man who sang the gospel song
Would view my thinking on religious matters as all wrong
In the lounge room of the suburban bar
The gospel singer sang and strummed on his guitar
To hear him play and sing fans of gospel music came from near and far
On bus and train and motor car
And he sang Oh Lord I Saw The Light
Out of the darkness of the night.

On Hearing A Gray Shrike Thrush

Once seen and once heard his kind you cannot get wrong
The male gray shrike thrush has a beautiful whistling song
Mostly gray brown medium sized birds they range far and wide
Where trees are abundant in the Australian countryside
To most country people their whistling songs are well known
The gray shrikes thrushes are birds who have ways of their own
To equal them as Nature's songsters not many one could name
And compared to most other species of birds they do seem rather tame
They are not that plentiful not a common sight
And tame in their ways they allow you to get close to them before taking to flight
These marvelous feathered songsters of brown and gray
Are birds i see often though not every day
On a sunlit young tree to where i am standing near
The beautiful whistling song of a male gray shrike thrush i hear.

On Bush Flies

In Summer when the sun is out the buzzing of bush flies in the air
And bush flies on your hands and your face and your hair
In rural south eastern Australia in Summer bush flies in huge numbers abound
In town parks and paddocks all day they are buzzing around
For people of south eastern Australia against bush flies no win
When you perspire they pester you for the salt in the pores of your skin
You may wave your hands from you to keep them away
But hovering near you they are determined to stay
Not near as dangerous as mosquitoes who in their stinging bites carry disease
Rural people from small bush flies in Summer know of little ease
In January and February in large numbers they multiply
And all day long they buzz in the sunlit sky
Bush flies on your exposed skin and in your hair, mouth and eyes
And insect repellent brings little comfort in the war with bush flies.

The Man Who Does Speak Everything He Does Think

Sometimes there is a lot being said, without a word being spoken 'Ross Altmann'


He raises the frustration in others right to the brink
The man who does speak everything he does think
Though he insults people he converse with every day
He just cannot help it for this is his way
The thought process in his brain short circuiting it does seem
And this is detrimental to his public esteem
For he insults people without realizing that some of his words do offend
One who can easily make an enemy out of a would be friend
In his words he never does seem very kind
The fellow who is always speaking his mind
One can say of him he lacks in common sense
And some of his words does cause offense
Quite honest with his feelings and as a person but honesty can often come at a price
Since some of the things that he does say are not very nice.

Raining In Castlemaine

In the old former gold mining town known as Castlemaine
The people who live there always welcome the rain
In Castlemaine and all over central Victoria the climate mostly dry
And that rain is always welcome there this the reason why
The street drains are swollen in flood waters of brown
Flowing to Campbells creek near Castlemaine Town
In dry central Victoria every rainy day people celebrate
The natural green beauty that rain does create
For it's old buildings and people with a charm of it's own
And it's strong links to a gold mining history Castlemaine is widely known
In the dry diggings evidence of a gold mining past does abound
Surrounded by mounds of shale and clay many holes in the ground
And in the dry country people always welcome the rain
Today is a good day for old Castlemaine.

I Used To Daydream

I used to daydream that i might be a poet
Or somebody worthy of literary note
But such thoughts in my mind are forever dead
I go into old age as a rhymer instead

Of one who from writing knows of wealth and fame
In writing few for themselves do make a name
I used to love reading rhymes as a schoolboy
And writing them nowadays is something i do enjoy

And though my worth as a rhymer i have reason to doubt
In life and people and nature so much to write rhymes about
And i hope to be rhyming till the day i do die
If i did tell you different this would be a lie

I wrote my first rhymes when in my physical prime
In my twenty seventh year this is going back in time
This is going back the years four decades and three or so
And in retrospect this does seem long ago

I used to daydream of a great literary career
As i sat on my own in the pub supping beer
But daydreams for few people only come true
And fame as a writer has not been my due.

In Your Nostalgic Moments

Have you in your nostalgic moments felt quite close to tears
When you thought of your friends of long departed years
Some of them deceased and some showing age decay
And time ticks along as the wise one does say

The memories are with you of the far away Spring
When the birds in the park of the old town did sing
And wildflowers were blooming after recent rain
The past may be gone but old memories of it with you does remain

And the girls of your youth in the far away town
The breeze tossing their hair as they walked up and down
On the sidewalks of the street laughing as they did talk
On their way to and from the park on their summer evening walk

In the old cemetery in the town far away
Some of those you grew up with among the deceased do lay
Some are grandparents and some as single parents did remain
And like you only the memories of what was do retain

And like you some did migrate to big cities elsewhere
For to try out their luck in the big World out there
And like you reminisce on the what has been
The best of old memories remain evergreen

For many in memory only the good times do last
And in your nostalgic moments do you think of the past
To the place where you first looked on the lamp of day
In your old first home in the town far away.

Of Bourke St Mall

Of Bourke St Mall in Melbourne Victoria Australia there can be little doubt
That it is one of the most multicultural parts of the World to go on walk about
As a multicultural shopping mall it has won Worldwide renown
For it's people of most creeds and nationalities and races of black white and brown
And of all sorts of people from Countries Worldwide
Many Melbournians of their multicultural City take a certain pride
Bourke St shopping mall in multicultural Melbourne does take pride of place
As a spot that is frequented by people of many a race
No racial tension between different races of people there shoppers among each other get along fine
Of racism of any sort there i have never witnessed any sign
A City that in racial tolerance does lead the way
Melbourne in Victoria one of the great multicultural cities of the World of today
And in Bourke St Mall where the shoppers in huge numbers to do throng
People of many Nations with each other quite amazingly do get along.

Out There Under The Brown Scrub

Out there under the brown scrub by the mountain the bones of the first Australians lay
But no stones or any memorial to tell of their existence today
The government honor a flag created by colonizers and fallen war heroes instead
Without even bothering to mention the existence of an indigenous dead

Out there to the scrubby old mountains the Seasons do come and do go
But no monument there as a token of recognition for people who lived there for sixty thousand years or so
That they are Australia's long forgotten does seem such a sad thing to say
Australia's heroines and heroes descended from recent colonizers who in recent times arrived from countries far away

The long deceased people who lay under the brown scrub by the mountain never competed in the Olympics for gold
And they never fought in wars in foreign Countries so their life stories will never be told
But they hunted the kangaroos and wallabies and on warm Summer evenings had their corroborees
Where to the didgeridoo players they sang as they danced in the shade of the trees

At midnight in the scrub by the mountains their ghosts hunt the wallabies and kangaroos
And they sing as they dance in the moonlight to the music of their didgeridoos
But never a monument to them to tell of how they lived and they died
Their descendants are outsiders in their own Country and a fair go of them is denied.

Since Money Only Matter

Since money only matter how poor humanity
In a World where at least a billion people do only know of poverty
And where the World money markets are controlled by the super wealthy few
That the underprivileged are many is not saying anything new

Far too many hungry, homeless and stateless people in life doing it tough
And far too many battling for survival and living and sleeping rough
It is true that wealth and poverty comes in varying degrees
But tell this to the homeless and the stateless refugees

The wealthy of their fame and material successes can well afford to boast
And in war and acts of terrorism it is the poor who suffer most
In a Human World where many grow poorer for every new millionaire
It is only for the minority that life must seem fair

In a Human World where money only matters it does seem sad to say
That millions of people are homeless and hungry and many are getting poorer by the day
For every winner there are many losers humanity is structured this way
And sadly the working poor must keep working for poverty existence pay

In a Human World where money only matters millions of people with life struggling to cope
With their poverty existence and a future without hope
Of knowing of a better lifestyle how sad life for them must be
Compared to many i feel lucky since they are far worse off than me.

I Know Of One

I know of one who fear in his coffin he may wake from the dead
With darkness and earth all around him and earth overhead
He does not wish to be cremated since fire he greatly fear
That his is a morbid fear of death does seem obviously clear
I suppose a fear of death is a natural thing
Though an end to worry and to suffering to all it does bring
But the fear of death at a young age in the mind is sown
It springs from the morbid fear of the unknown
The fear of death grows to a big fear from a tiny seed
And those who face death with bravery are brave people indeed
And though many the praises of the brave dead do sing
The great fear of death does not seem an unnatural thing
I know of one who fears in his coffin of waking from the dead
In darkness with earth all around him and over his head.

There Are No Borders

There are no borders in the World that anyone can visibly see
No borders even where the land end at the shores of the sea
The people who create borders for to keep others out
Are the sort the Human World may be better off without
And in their sort are traces of nationalism, racism and patriotism and this is a sad thing
Since of the praises of exclusion they only ever sing
The gift of life to each individual only comes by chance
And to whom and where we are born is our birth circumstance
Xenophobia as we know it is of varying degrees
Privileged and near to privileged people blame stateless refugees
For wanting to live among them as if on their privacy and properties they wish for to intrude
Only those with empathy and compassion have in them the gift to include
The homeless and stateless and hungry who only know life as tough
Who by circumstance of birth are known to live and sleep rough.

Millstreet Did Not Go To The World Out There

Millstreet did not go to the World out there so the World out there came to Millstreet
In the Duhallow Town today people of many different nationalities you will meet
People of many cultures and creeds of Countries Worldwide and of skin colors black, white and brown
Live in view of old Clara Hill in and near to Millstreet Town

Millstreet did not go to the World out there it was a monocultural place
But change to it came from afar in latter years at a quick pace
And change for the better one might say as it brought with it people of the World out there
And change happening in view of Clara Hill as has been happening everywhere

Millstreet did not go to the World out there so the World out there to Millstreet came
In the Duhallow of today many an unfamiliar family name
In Kanturk, Newmarket and Duhallow wide the changes have been happening fast
And the what used to be only remain as a fading memory of the past

Millstreet send some of it's people to the World out there but some people from the World out there now live in Millstreet
And much for the better or so it does seem where races of different cultures do meet
And live with each other in peace and harmony and accept change for the better as a good thing
People of the World out there to places like Millstreet their ways and cultures with them do bring.

That Love Can Be Fickle

That love can be fickle this is so
They loved each other years ago
Of years both beyond the three score
And they do not love each other anymore
They both are cranky and getting old
And love between them has gone cold
Between them love is forever dead
They share a house but not a bed
They both had children to former lovers in their physical prime
Though this is going back many years in time
And as so called partners in the one house they stay
Where they argue almost every day
The bond of love between them once was strong
But to the past this now belong.

As A Result Of

As a result of a family dispute
When hidden feelings are no longer kept mute
In public former family friends of each other bad things do say
In some families it can be this way
The greater love between people when estranged becomes the greater the hate
Close friends and family disputes to bad feelings escalate
The price in money and bad feelings huge to pay
When close friendships end in an acrimonious way
In saying that irreconcilable family and former friendship differences quite a few
Is not saying anything that is new
Ill feelings on reason take toll
When hatred is near out of control
Family and friendship and close relationship breakdown
Are part of family disputes in every town.

The Day It Is Warm

The day it is warm over thirty degrees
And the air full of the buzzing of bush flies and bees
In the cool shade of the trees contented cattle chewing their cuds lay
In the warmth of the Summer on a December day
Scenes of natural beauty for the memory to retain
The countryside green after the recent rain
The distinctive warbling so pleasant to hear
Of the magpies who sing every day of the year
Of such natural beauty a poet would write
A poem for lovers of natural beauty to read and recite
With Nature's wild flowers in abundance to be seen
In the sunlit countryside looking healthy and green
With Christmas Eve only a short term away
In the warmth of the sun on a December day.

It Does Seem That Time Ticks On Fast

It does seem that time ticks on fast
And only the memories do last
Of the past and the what used to be
Only live on in the memory
At midnight today will be gone
And life as usual will go on
But life's reaper came reaping their way
And many have lived their last day
Old age seems to creep on us fast
And we cannot go back to the past
The fact is the longer we live the sooner we will die
And fact as we know never does lie
The longest lived human life in time not a long span
So enjoy life for as long as you can.

She Only Can Remember

She only can remember her loves of the past
And the good times she knew of that for her did not last
In her late forties she does not have children to enrich her life
And to any man she was never a wife
From a car crash she has spend her days in a wheelchair since her physical prime
When she was in her mid twenties this is going back in time
In her prime with shoulder length wavy dark brown hair quite lovely to behold
That is now silver gray in her wheelchair she is growing old
Despite her restricted lifestyle she seems happy enough in her own charming way
On her wheelchair in her verandah she smiles at people passing on the street and bids them a good day
Though luck in life with her it did not stay
She is one of the town's unsung heroines of her one can say
In a car accident of the gift of a fully active life she was denied
And of her one can say luck was not on her side.

He Said You Write Rhymes Every Day

He said you write rhymes every day
Of places from here far away
In Australia why do you stay
To grow older and balder and more gray
And talk of your first home afar
That from here you cannot drive to by car
But you can reach there by sea or by sky
So why you stay here makes me wonder why
Since your past in you seems to remain
And your rhymes tell of gray skies and rain
You write rhymes of the streams of the brown trout
And grow old in this land of the south
I did not reply to him since he would not understand
The migrant love of the homeland.

On The First Day Of December

On the first day of December and the calendar Summer in the coastal Moyne Shire
So much natural green beauty for one to admire
The warm sun glowing in a sky blue and gray
Who could not but be happy on such a nice day
A weather forecast high for the day of a pleasant twenty degrees
And the pleasant aroma of grass mowed for hay wafting in the breeze
That blow from the ocean across the green countryside
Where natural beauty and peace does abide
The paddocks looking lush and green after the late spring rain
With such pleasant weather how could one complain
The contented cattle chewing their cuds lay in the shade of the trees
Such beauty that makes for marvelous memories
On this the first of December the southern calendar Summer's first day
Wafting in the breeze the sweet scent of grass mowed for hay.

If There Is A True God

If there is a true god that god is for everyone
And not only for the monarch and her daughter and son
And not only for the celebrities admired for their wealth and fame
The true god would treat everyone as the same

And not only for those of a certain religion who claim god for their own
The true god any good living person would not disown
The true god would not favor gender, race or creed
The god without favorites is a true god indeed

And is the true god a she or a he
For the answer to this ask one other other than me
The true god may not have a gender for all we do know and the true god may not have a color or race
In every good mind for god there is a place

If there is a true god this god may not have a paradise in the sky
And of love any good person this god would not deny
But since i am one who lacks in the inner glow
Of the existence of a true god i hardly would know.

You Are One With Plenty Money

You are one with plenty money to give you your due
And money in life is most important is only too true
You live at a fashionable uptown address
But despite your money and material assets the reaper of lives you cannot impress
As life's reaper does treat everyone as the same
The homeless and poor and those of money and fame
Yet that money is most important in life only too true to say
And those without it are the poor of the World of today
Homeless and hungry and often sleeping rough
And you with plenty money is one who has never known it tough
And since any of the comforts of life of you will never go in need
You are one of the privileged and quite lucky indeed
But the one you cannot bribe with your money treats all lives as the same
The one who is known as Life's Reaper by name.

If She Or He

If she or he does look well it does not mean that physically they feel this way
Since that looks can deceive seems only true to say
One cannot judge a car by the body since the engine of the car may not be running well
Of any flaws under the bonnet only a motor mechanic can tell
Though our eyes only tell us what our eyes want us to believe
The outward appearance can very often deceive
For his age the fittest looking and healthiest looking man in the town
As an over fifty years champion middle distance runner he knew of renown
But he looked better than he felt it would seem true to say
He collapsed and died of a massive heart attack and was buried today
But that appearance can often deceive it does seem this way
He has run his last race and at peace now does lay
A champion athlete he was one who used to run very fast
But death only leaves us with the memories of the deceased one's past.

Time Does Age Youth

Time does age youth as the wise one does say
And there is a story in every hair of gray
The worriers in mid life are showing stress decay
Looking older than they are it does seem this way

For material success in life many do compete
To be best in your neighborhood and best on your street
To be best in the country and best Worldwide
For many it is all about ego the symbol of pride

Some their life achievements outlive them though it seems true to say
That all things in time eventually fade away
People like Nature's Seasons come to and from life go
This is how it is and will always be so

And long after the last breath of life from my body has gone
Competition for success in the World between people will go on
Life can be like a competition between people it does seem to me
Though many with such a statement would not agree

What we receive from life may not be everyone's due
But that time does age youth happens for to be true
Not everyone have success stories to tell
There are many by life who are not treated well.

The Celebrity

Though his fans in his lifetime in numbers did grow
I cannot shed a tear for one i did not know
And though he was one who had fans Worldwide
From the reaper of lives nowhere for him to hide
Of a drug overdose it is said he did die
The fact is he was born a mortal and fact never lie
A rock star in his mid fifties his fans are in tears
Though his songs and music will live on for decades of years
In his lifetime he challenged life's reaper and the reaper won
And his parents who are living do grieve for their son
His songs and his music for years may live on
But the greatest gift that he had from him has gone
I am talking of course about his gift of life
The father of ten children who never had a wife.

The Misogynist

He does hate all women just because of his ex wife
Twenty years ago she walked out of his life
And took with her their young son and daughter to start a new life elsewhere
In a distant town in the big World out there

Their marriage in time lasted a decade span
Till she grew tired of being controlled by her controlling man
His dominating ways on their marriage eventually took toll
And on leaving him she did escape his control

His wife leaving and taking their children with her to his hatred of women gave rise
In his way of thinking this is not a surprise
That all women like all men are different he fail to realize
But then males who are bullies are also not wise

Since then he has had a few love affairs but none of them did last
Since he did return to his ways of the past
The controlling gene in him he could not keep at bay
The main reason any woman with him did not stay

On his wife leaving him misogyny in his mind took to flame
And for his loveless life women he does blame
He has grown to treat all women as his foes
Among humanity there are all kinds one has to suppose.

The Old Fields I Loved

The old fields i loved in my memory remain
And though physically i may never walk on them again
The visual memories of them i do retain
In Spring green and resplendent in their wildflowers after recent rain

We all have our memories good and bad of the past
Though the good memories are those we hope with us does last
Till the life's reaper on our lives has the final say
And for me in time such a moment cannot be far away

And though the past as is said in the forever gone
Good memories of what was in me does live on
In the fields where i grew to love Nature when i was a boy
And learning of her ways today i enjoy.

In the green coastal countryside of Illowa near the City of Warrnambool
Far south of Millstreet Town in Duhallow where i went to Primary School
The fields of the badger and the waterways of the brown trout
Are living in me in this land of the south

The beautiful song that the blackbird does sing
Does carry me off to a far away Spring
And though what has been in the forever gone
In the mental images it does live on.

Our Reality

There is fact in the saying and fact never lie
That the longer you live the sooner you will die
Since death for everyone is an inevitable thing
Though most people to their very last breath of air to life does cling
Yet for all of us there is a last night and day
And for most fear of death is fear of the unknown does seem true to say
Since any deceased person has not been known to come back to tell
Of an afterlife existence for the soul of a heaven or a hell
We are born as mortals why otherwise pretend
And life's journey for everyone comes to an end
The Reaper of lives does not differentiate
Between the lives of the ordinary and of the great
And since us humans are born to mortality
That our life's journey has an end is our reality.

Since Last I Was In Old Duhallow

Since i was last in old Duhallow there has been many a Summer, Fall, Winter and Spring
And only in visualizations nowadays i can hear a robin sing
On a leafy silver birch tree when the hawthorns are cloaked in their white blooms of the May
I miss the green fields of Duhallow and i do think of them every day
Good memories known to last a lifetime and live on as a source of joy
In my thoughts the dippers often singing in a stream in peaceful Lisnaboy
Since last i see green old Duhallow so many years have come and gone
But in view of the Boggeragh Ranges life without me does go on
Yet in the gloom of a Spring twilight in a rushy field by river Finnow
I hear the drumming of a male snipe and the soft lowing of a cow
It has been years since i saw Duhallow though fond memories of there i retain
And i have the visual memories of the Boggeraghs half cloaked in the gray fogs of rain
Since i was last in old Duhallow it does seem a long time ago
And in the twilight of my existence time it has become my foe.

In A human World Where Love Rules

In a Human World where love rules there would not be discrimination of gender or race
And for fear and hatred of others in our minds there would not be a place
We would not have misogyny, xenophobia, nationalism and patriotism that to wars that can lead
And of terrorism, murder and violence we would not hear of or of read
We would not have crimes against humanity in the name of god, country and national flag
And of we are superior to others you would not hear anyone brag
The many who would have love in them among others would share it around
And in a World where love it does rule the beauty of love would abound
There will be harmony in the World when the white flower of peace is in bloom
In a Human World where love rules for hatred and mistrust there will not be any room
There will only be happiness and laughter for love is an infectious thing
Those who have the great gift of love are so lucky and of their praises i feel happy to sing
In a Human World where love rules there would be laughter, joy and harmony
And there would not be war and hunger and none would know of poverty.

Yangery In Late November

The sun it is hidden behind clouds of gray
But the blackbirds are singing in Yangery today
And sweet scent of grass freshly mowed for hay
Is wafting in the breeze blowing uphill from the bay
The birds who do sing every day of the year
The warbling of the magpies so pleasant to hear
On nutritious young grass gaining weight by the day
The contented black cattle chewing their cuds do lay
Yangery in late November looking lush and green
And as far as the eyes see beauty to be seen
Where the weather quite often is dry and cool
A fifteen minute drive by car from the City of Warrnambool
The first of the southern Summer just a few sleeps away
In Yangery in the coastal Moyne Shire it is a pleasant day.

The Saying Of Self Praise Is No Praise

The saying of self praise is no praise remains as ever true
Leave it to others to praise you if praise is your due
Though self praise nowadays does seem the in thing
And so many only too willing their own praises to sing
Among narcissistic people big egos are rife
The people who believe they are greater than their gift of life
Their love of self goes far beyond a healthy sense of self esteem
As a love of self does lead to a love of others is how it does seem
Narcissism can come from love of self taken too far
But as is said of people we are what we are
Some like to sing their own praises every day
But we all have our human flaws as some do like to say
What causes an extreme love of self is beyond me to explain
And self praise is no praise as a truism remain.

Old Jimmy The Dibbler

Old Jimmy the Dibbler is a jolly bloke
He enjoys a good laugh and can tell a good joke
Single in his late seventies divorced from his wife
With a wealthy old fellow she lives the good life
For many years Jimmy she loved and admired
But of his drinking habits she eventually grew tired
Though he never abused her in any way
He loved the grog better than he loved her and he drinks every day
Without any offspring for to worry about
Every evening he sits on the bar stool till the publican calls time out
He is always smiling he does not have a care
People like Jimmy nowadays are quite rare
He says a good laugh does keep worry at bay
Old Jimmy the Dibbler his hair silver gray.

How Can You Tell Who Your Friends Are

You have many friends in the local pub
And you have many friends in the pitch and putt club
And as you become financially wealthier your friends in numbers do grow
You are a person that many of do wish to know
Perhaps the wealthiest person on your side of the town
And this in itself no small claim to renown
Some to say hello to you seem to go out of their way
In numbers your friends do keep growing by the day
So many see you as a marvelous success
And the people who love winners you do impress
Your wife and daughter and son each own a company car
And up the ladder of success you have climbed quite far
You have your own fan club in the local bar
Yet since you are not financially in trouble how can you tell who your friends are?

Because Of Us

Because of us animals suffer the animals we kill for their meat
And on this i am as guilty as the butchers since the cooked flesh of slaughtered creatures i eat
The battery fowl raised in cages, the pigs born and raised in crates
The cattle fattened in crowded feedlots their meat is for our dinner plates
Many of the birds and animals slaughtered to feed us meat eaters not treated in a humane way
And since i am one of the meat eaters some part in their suffering i do play
I am not proud that i am a meat and fish eater like many addicted to eating cooked flesh one might say
Just one of the millions of hypocritical people in the Human World of today
If all animals and birds to be slaughtered for human consumption were treated in a humane way
Perhaps they would have had lived a good life and to many this would seem okay
Many of us humans cruel to other life forms and many creatures by us treated bad
Which does reflect on us quite poorly and this to say the least seems sad
And since i too am a meat eater this is not an honor to my name
Just like the butcher and the slaughterer for their suffering i must take some blame.

It Has Been A While Since I Walked By Finnow

It has been a while since i walked by Finnow
And in a rushy field heard the soft lowing of a cow
After sundown in the twilight of the day
In the prime of the Spring on an evening in May

It has been a while near the Town of Millstreet
That i walked in the field where the waterways meet
And heard dark brown water bird dipper with breast white as snow
Singing his scratchy song where the river rapids did flow

It has been a while since in Millstreet Town
On familiar streets i walked up and down
Where many i knew bid me a good day
All i retain are memories of that Town far away

It has been a while ten years with a score
Since i stood on the heights of old Claramore
And admired the beautiful views that stretch far and wide
Of the Cork and Kerry border countryside

Though the fields of Claraghatlea i may never more see
In fancy i often visit scenes once familiar to me
And only the memories i have to retain
Of what used to be for me but may not be again.

Those Who Do Give

The one willing to help one of helping in need
For his or her future good karma is planting the seed
Though she or he may never become a hero or heroine of the town
Since most kind and compassionate people are strangers to renown

But their sort of people i can only admire
And of singing their praises i never could tire
For those doing it tough they try to make the World better to live in
To be kind and compassionate is never a sin

To down in their luck people comfort they try to give
For self only the kind and compassionate never do live
They help the homeless, the hungry and the refugee
It is a rare gift the gift of empathy

In the helping of others they often go out of their way
And they do a good deed sometimes more every day
Just for the love of it never for monetary pay
The World is in need of more of their sort only true for to say

They do have a rare gift the compassionate and kind
For to help those in need of helping always willingly inclined
On a fair go for everyone in they do believe
And all of those who do give can expect to receive.

Why Many Working Class People

Why many working class people vote into power as the Government leader a known multi millionaire
Someone with them who in common anything does not share
Is something beyond me for to understand
Suppose to some people large amounts of money means success and respect does command
So many look up to every famed celebrity
And why this may be so ask one other than me
Since in most wealthy and famous people only self conceit i see
But then suppose we all look at things in our ways differently
Perhaps me a scribbler of doggerel rhyme
My thinking like my way of writing is of a long gone time
I am one who cannot admire the egotistical heroes and heroines of the town
who compete with each other in their climb to renown
Yet i cannot understand why people elect as their political leader a known multi millionaire
One who in common with them does not have anything for to share.

Why In The Human World

Why in the Human World there are winners and losers one must wonder why
And a fair go to some only seems to apply
Yes a fair go is something that does not apply to all
In a Human World where success to one can come at the expense of someone else's downfall
With some their love of humanity in love of self end
Only for the reason of personal gain others they do befriend
Call this narcissism or greed or call it what you may
It is thinking gone wrong in some sort of a way
Though i like egalitarian people for to give them their due
They believe all people are equal but in reality this is not true
Though of more egalitarians in the World of we are in need
For to counteract the selfishness of human greed
And though losing is a thing that most people would not choose
For one for to win others have to lose.

In The Warmth Of November

In the warmth of November in the late southern Spring
The roses in bloom and the songbirds do sing
The sun shining bright in the sky blue and gray
On what is a near enough to a perfect day
The paddocks lush and green after the recent rain
With such beautiful weather none ought to complain
A weather temperature high for the day of twenty degrees
With only a slight freshening coastal breeze
That blow across the paddocks uphill from the bay
And carry the sweet scent of grass mowed for hay
The contented cattle on nutritious young grass gaining weight by the day
By the headland trees at ease chewing their cuds lay
And the songs of the blackbirds a joy for to hear
On what is a beautiful time of the year.

Our Eyes Only Tell Us

If you wish to see ugliness this is all you will see
This is how it is and how it always will be
And those who wish to see beauty have beauty in their eyes
We see what we want to see this i realize
Suppose we all have our views on reality
And we all look at life in ways quite differently
Nature lovers see great beauty in a flowering bush or tree
But the land developer with their sort could never agree
Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder as the wise one does say
The old bloke thinks his aged wife is beautiful though she is showing time's decay
And evidently she has known of a far better day
But obviously he does not see it this way
Our eyes only tell us what we wish them to see
In my humble opinion this is how it seems to be.

Tim Callaghan

In Inchaleigh near the Town of Millstreet Tim Callaghan first saw light of day
His life journey ended for him in Killowen near Blarney from Millstreet not that far away
As a Garda Chief Superintendent he was one who was known far and wide
Beyond the borders of Duhallow's green old countryside
Like many before him and after in the home place he did not stay
One who choose to live elsewhere life it can be this way
In Liscahane near the Town of Millstreet he grew into a man
Though in Duhallow he was one not destined to live out his life span
Tall and dark haired and handsome when in the bloom of his life's prime
Though this is going back many Seasons and at least four decades in time
An intelligent and honorable person up the Garda ranks he did rise
To learn of his many successes does not come as any surprise
His last remains to be cremated and only good memories of him remain
And sadly for his family and his friends not to be seen in the flesh again.

We Grieve For Ourselves

We grieve for ourselves when we grieve for the dead
For our own mortality and of us what lay ahead
For even those who to a god kneel for to pray
Have no wish to be where dead people lay

Few do go through life without bearing some cross
And we grieve for ourselves for our own sense of loss
Sorrow is mentally painful and it's feelings run deep
But the dead do not hear us when for them we weep

When at the grave of a loved one we shed tears of grief
We weep for ourselves this only my belief
The dead past all cares and worries our sobs cannot hear
It is only the living their own mortality fear

I have wept for deceased family and friends in the flesh i will never more see
But i have come to realize that the one i was grieving for was only me
How human feelings work is far beyond me to explain
Only know that the deceased dead to feelings cannot know of our mental pain

We weep for ourselves when we weep for a deceased family member or friend
Whose journey in life for them has come to an end
This is only my opinion with which most of with would not agree
But then we all look at things one might say differently.

A Koroit Beauty

Her type of woman most men like to admire
One of the prettiest nubile young women of the Moyne Shire
With shoulder length wavy hair of a dark brown
Surely one of the finest in old Koroit Town
Tall and attractive and free of conceit
She smiles at everyone she does meet on the street
Without a husband or partner she leads a single life
Though many young males in the Moyne Shire would love her for a wife
Her type of person everyone wish to know
Since she is one who does have the inner glow
Not surprising in numbers her admirers have grown
For she is one who has a charm of her own
And wherever she is at joy seems to abound
For she carries it with her and spreads it around.

The Uni Professor

The uni professor highly educated, intelligent and well read
He has far more hair on his face than his head
A fuzzy brown beard and bald on the crown
One of the intelligentsia of his side of the town
He must be in his late forties since his only offspring a son of a former affair has turned twenty three
With his blond pretty younger lover him hand in hand walking i often see
Far too engrossed in conversation to even notice me
Some women only can love highbrows is how it seems to be
But love has it's many tastes as has been known
And as it has often been said it is each to their own
Everyone in their own groups in the social and cultural divide
And this is quite prevalent in villages, towns and cities Worldwide
One of the town's intelligentsia highly educated and well read
And he has far more face on his hair than his head.

The Government And The Homeless Unemployed

It cannot be our problem if they are in a financial hole
And though we know there are no jobs for them we must not give them dole
At our Government Cabinet meetings from any talk of them we must resist
We just have got to ignore them as if they do not exist

If we talk of unemployment in our voters this would sow seeds of self doubt
And since to us their votes are most important jobs and a booming economy we must talk about
We must keep our voters happy since we need them on our side
We will never win votes talking of the homeless unemployed

It can hardly be our problem if their parents have kicked them out
And they are homeless, jobless and hungry and wondering what life is about
And it can hardly be our problem if many of them do turn to crime
And their wrongdoings have them in prison serving well deserved jail time

Our talk must be of jobs and new industries and not of the unemployed homeless and an economy in stress
Since our impressionable voters we do have to impress
We only like them for their votes which to them is not obviously clear
And we only do tell them what they do wish to hear

And this is not of the homeless unemployed who are hard done by life
Who live in the suburbs where poverty is rife
In life we will leave them to find their own way
Since they never cast their votes on election day.

A Sad Reflection On Humanity

In the early years of the twenty first century intolerance is rife
And mistrust and dislike getting stronger by the day
Against the refugees of famines and wars
And this seems a sad thing for one for to say

On the homeless the Stateless and those in dire poverty
Extreme Nationalism and Patriotism on them taking toll
Their friends sad to say are too few
In a World where racism is out of control

And so many are becoming more poor
In the widening gap of the social divide
And no such a thing as a fair go for all
In a World where many of a fair go are denied

For to be a victim of famine and war
Should never be seen as a crime
Yet many refugees on their search for a better life
Are in detention centers serving time

The kind and compassionate are becoming rare
At a time when the Human World of them is badly in need
And that intolerance is almost Worldwide and rife
Is a sad reflection on humanity indeed.

A Woman From Knocknagree

It does seem time is against her she is eighty three
She may never again go back to Knocknagree
To the high village in Sliabh Luachra in the green countryside
By the Boggeragh Ranges that stretch far and wide

On either side of the Cork Kerry border such beauty to be seen
At all times of year so many shades of green
With views of Clara, Caherbarnagh and Gortavehy with the face of stone
And Goddess Anu's breasts near Rathmore known as the Paps of Shrone

Seven times a great grandmother her wavy shoulder length hair silver gray
She retains some of her beauty though long past her prime day
Her late husband an Aussie at peace forever lay
Twelve years ago of a heart attack from life he passed away

Far south of where as a girl she went to school
In the south western coastal City of Warrnambool
She walks on the pathway along by Stingray Bay
Weather permitting and this is almost every day

With her border collie a handsome white and black
Her constant companion she tells me his name is Mack
She lives with Mack in her unit on Banyan Street
A very nice person and always a pleasure to meet

Though she may never go back to Knocknagree again
Her Sliabh Luachra accent with her does remain
Her journey in life has brought her far south
Of the fields of the badger and the streams of the brown trout.

Few Celebrities

Few celebrities who know of success and fame
As they once were are known to remain the same
An old saying perhaps you would have heard said
That success has gone to her or his head
A successful person without any conceit
Is one in a lifetime you may only meet
For the down to earth famous people are quite rare indeed
And of more of their sort the Human World is in need
It is hard to stay humble if you are one that many admire
And of singing your praises they never do tire
It is hard to stay humble if yours is a great name
As humility often becomes the victim of money and fame
The humble wealthy and famous to say the least few
And this is not saying anything that is new.

The Clock Ticks On Fast

The clock ticks on fast past our physical prime
Eventually we all become victims of time
We quickly lose the energy of youthful elan
And the longest lived human life in time is not a long span
The pauper the celebrity and the billionaire
The Reaper of lives any life does not spare
The one who treats every life as the same
Is not one who respects money and fame
Time that rusts iron becomes everyone's foe
The famous athlete of five decades ago
The former National champion is now walking slow
The years on the best of them eventually show
The clock on our lives ever keeps ticking on
And at the stroke of midnight today will be gone.

He Does Not Have A Reason

He does not have a reason for to smile today
Since the company director has ordered a cut in employees pay
The company profits are down this year
And the employees in less take home pay must help out the company bosses have made clear

With a wife and two young daughters to support it is more money not less he does need
And a cut in wages for him makes life much harder indeed
But he cannot afford to quit his job since jobs are few
And many unemployed and looking for work such news is not new

The company financial income may be down but a huge annual profit their accounts do show
But it is only the bad financial news of them their employees do know
It is the employees must bear the burden of the company's financial loss
The workers as always must shoulder the cross

Circumstance has condemned him to work for a company that has only given him a cut in pay
That life for his sort is never easy does seem true to say
And with hope for the better he does keep faith
And all good things do come to those who for them do wait.

In Ralph Illidge Sanctuary

In Ralph Illidge Sanctuary between Cobden and Warrnambool
The day it is sunny though pleasantly cool
On a weather temperature high for the day of eighteen degrees
In this beautiful place of majestic gum trees
Near where the Brucknell Creek does go babbling along
The bird known as the grey shrike thrush is whistling his song
From once heard you never again get him wrong
His distinctive whistle to his kind only belong
In Ralph Illidge Sanctuary where peace reign supreme
Majestic old growth eucalyptus trees in abundance to be seen
A Nature Reserve with a charm of it's own
As beautiful a place as i have ever known
Quite pleasantly cool in the shade of the tall trees
Where the shrike thrush's whistling is carrying in the breeze.

A Beautiful November Day

It is quite a beautiful November Day
In the sunny mostly blue sky just a few clouds of gray
The birds are singing in the park by the bay
With the first of the southern calendar Spring just eleven sleeps away
With much warmer weather to us ever near
Late Spring can be quite a pleasant time of year
With only the slightest of a coastal breeze
A high for the day of a pleasant eighteen degrees
The flower decked park green after the recent rain
With such pleasant weather how can one complain
There is so much beauty in Nature for to see
Everywhere i turn to look it is all around me
In latter November towards the end of the Spring
The wild birds of Nature do whistle and sing.

On An Email From Russell Murphy

Received an email from Russell Murphy in Australia though he had not all good news of to tell
His cousin Eddie Murphy of far off Ballydaly in hospital and not feeling well
Which is sad for his family and many friends and Delia his beloved wife
But i feel sure Eddie will come good again in him there are more years of life

My memories of Eddie Murphy for more than six decades does span
Tall and handsome in his young years he was quite a gentleman
In his prime for the Ballydaly Club he played Gaelic Football
A good and kind hearted person in him there is nothing small

His great greyhound Poundie's Gift raced in the Irish Oaks final in Dublin going back decades in time
When Eddie was a young man a few years short of his physical prime
He and Delia with their greyhounds many big races did win
With their dogs of the Ballydaly prefix love of place comes from within

For so many years a member of the Millstreet Pipe Band
He played with them at sports and celebrations in many towns in Ireland
Unassuming and quietly spoken one who never yearns for fame
Just a good and decent person who never calls anyone out of name

An email from Russell Murphy in Australia who had some good news to tell
Though his cousin Eddie Murphy of Ballydaly in hospital and not feeling well
But Eddie is a man who loves life and i feel he will be okay
And next Spring he will be in Duhallow for to see the flowers of May.

Some People For Self Gain

That your present best friend may be your future worst enemy this point some do miss
Like Judas betrayed Jesus Christ with a kiss
And Christ was his guru as history tells us so
Going far back in time to many centuries ago
Out of the best of friendships the worst of enemies are often made
And so many people by their best friends betrayed
For self gain to some people nothing is unfair
And trust from once broken is hard to repair
A wrong done to them for some people too hard to forgive
And till the day they do die with their grudge they will live
And since feelings run deep why otherwise pretend
It is mentally hurtful to be betrayed by your best friend
To some people for self gain nothing is unfair
And trust from once broken is hard to repair.

Even The Bravest Of The Brave

It is true even the bravest of the brave
Do fear the dark depths of the grave
Though such feelings in public their sort would not claim to own
Fear of death to all kind is known
Some even have a morbid fear of waking from the dead
In a dark coffin with earth over their head
And though songs of brave death the singers do sing
The fear of death is a common thing
Many who believe in an afterlife paradise for good souls in the sky
In their fear of death their beliefs they deny
Those who sing the praises of a brave death believe their own lie
For even the bravest of the sane do not wish to die
And it is true that even the bravest of the brave
Do secretly fear the dark depths of the grave.

Their Fans Must Be Partly To Blame

The wealthy celebrities their many fans celebrate
And look up to them as special and great
But they are not all they are made out to be
Many of them in their ways quite ordinary

The wealthy and famous multi millionaire
With a normal sized ego to say the least rare
Among their sort the look at me syndrome is rife
They believe they are a great gift to life

And for this their fans must be partly to blame
Since without them they would not know of fame
That too much praise can go to one's head
No truer words have ever been said

In a Human World where self promotion does seem the in thing
Their own praises many love to sing
The humble, kind and compassionate to say the least few
On this i am not saying anything that is new.

In an age when humility seems out of date
The egotistical wealthy and famous the impressionable masses celebrate
And swollen egos they help to create
By their making of the ordinary out to be great.

Do Not Know For To Say

My life's journey began from here far away
And where and when i will die do not know for to say
For my every mistake in life i have been made to pay
But we learn as we live since life is this way

On my life's journey many nice people i have met
And then there is the few i would rather forget
And many i have known that i may not meet again
Only memories of what was in us does remain

There are some i know vaguely and some i know well
But everyone have their own stories to tell
Of their lives journeys of family, friend and foe
That everyone has a life history happens to be so

In some cases it happens for to be true
That we receive from life what is only our due
Yet the power to do good can only come from within
In a Human World where many must lose for some for to win

It is a fact us humans are mortals and fact never lie
I know where i was born but not where i will die
At the stroke of midnight the past will be today
And the clock on our lives ever ticking away.

The Town's Wealthiest Person

The town's wealthiest person was buried today
He now is at peace where his last remains lay
He shares the same grave as his deceased wife
Two years ago she lost her great gift of life
Survived by a son and a daughter and seven grandchildren who of money will never go in need
By their circumstance of birth some are lucky indeed
They are quite lucky by birth of them one can say
They will never be homeless or know of a hungry day
To be born into life as a multi millionaire
One would have to be lucky and this sort are rare
For to be born into life comes only by chance
And your future can be defined by your birth circumstance
The town's wealthiest person was buried today
But he does not need money where he now does lay.

A Stranger In Ballydaly

Since from there i have been quite a long time away
I would be a stranger to many in Ballydaly today
By the Boggeragh Ranges far inland from Hibernia's shore
In the Parish of Millstreet on the road to Rathmore

At the end of the Autumn with Winter quite near
It is cool and wet in Ballydaly in November of the year
Clara, Gortavehy and Caherbarnagh half cloaked in the gray fogs of rain
And brown storm water flowing in every roadside and field drain

The people of Ballydaly as i recall have a charm of their own
Where today i would be a stranger to many where i once was well known
But this is going back some three decades ago
And time as we know becomes everyone's foe

Ballydaly quite a beautiful place in the Spring
When in the leafy groves the nesting songbirds do sing
And in the fields cattle out of farmyard sheds from months of eating silage and hay
On nutritious young grass are gaining weight by the day

From there i have been quite a long time away
And i would be a stranger to many in Ballydaly today
And only the memories with me does remain
Of a place i did love i may not see again.

We Share One Thing In Common

We share one thing in common one has to agree
We all have our memories of for us what used to be
Yet in all of our lives the clocks are ticking fast
And we cannot physically live in the past
Time keeps ever ticking and ticking away
And at the stroke of midnight the past will be today
And since us humans are born to mortality
Some of us tomorrow may not live to see
And life does go on as the wise one does say
A lot of people who thought they were unexpendable In cemeteries lay
We are born to die why otherwise pretend
And the Reaper of lives is not anyone's friend
A last Winter, Spring and Summer and Fall
For the wealthy and famous like the poor since death is for all.

In Illowa In November

In Illowa of the Moyne Shire it is a pleasant November day
A freshening breeze blowing uphill from nearby Gorman's Bay
The countryside lush and green after recent Spring rain
With such beautiful weather few would wish to complain
Cattle on nutritious young grass chewing their cuds do lay
Looking content and healthy gaining weight by the day
The sun is glowing warm in sky of blue and gray
And wafting in the coastal breeze the scent of grass mowed for hay
The distinctive warbling of the magpies the birds who sing all through the year
And the melodious songs of the blackbirds so pleasant for to hear
With the sun on their dark wings the hunters of the sky
In pursuit of flying insects the welcome swallows fly
And the beauty in the wild growing flowers one only can admire
In Illowa in November in the coastal Moyne Shire.

Daithi Dowling

Such sad news out of Millstreet In Duhallow Daithi Dowling has passed away
In St Mary's in view of Cashman's Hill his last remains now lay
He will be missed by friends and family and everyone who knew him in Millstreet
Daithi was an honorable person as nice a fellow as one could wish to meet

Predeceased by his beloved wife Maura she passed away just a few years ago
Time that does rust steel and iron eventually becomes everybody's foe
All of us humans are born as mortals for us there is a last night and day
Though good memories of people like Daithi Dowling does long outlive bodily decay

As a young man he played for Millstreet and Ballydaly in hurling and Gaelic Football
In his prime years in the nineteen fifties and sixties he was handsome athletic and tall
In his lifetime he was quite a likeable fellow and his friends in numbers did grow
And it truly can be said of Daithi that he was one who did have the inner glow

He was one who led by good example devoted to his children and Maura his late wife
And it can be said of Daithi Dowling that he was a man who truly did love life
It is so sad to learn of his passing but such a day will come to us all
For everyone there is a last Winter a last Spring and Summer and last Fall

For all of us there will be a last sunrise and for everyone there is a last sundown
He will be missed by many in Millstreet and in places far beyond Millstreet Town
Hope in death that he did not suffer that from life his was a painless release
In the cemetery of St Mary's may Daithi Dowling forever rest in peace.

On Radio This Evening

On radio this evening i heard a well known poet
Give his views on a major writer and one unworthy of literary note
Self opinionated in his views is how he seemed to me
But each to their own one must suppose is how it ought to be
In literary circles his opinions hold some weight by those who think they know best
The opinionated literary critics the well paid and well dressed
Literature's privileged minority who are well paid to decide
On the unworthy of literary criticism and those who should be famed Worldwide
He talked of his favorite writers and his own praises did sing
To the self conceited and opinionated self praise seems a natural thing
Cannot say i liked his way of speaking he sounded a bit of a toff
Ten minutes listening to him enough for me the radio i switched off
Though i realize he is admired by many but that too is okay
Each to their own opinions as some do like to say.

So Let Us Hear It For Women

Let us hear it for women a rousing hooray
The unsung heroines of the Human World of today
For equal work to men most of them not paid equal pay
In a fair Human World it would not be this way
The grandmothers and mothers the daughters and wives
And the great single women who devote their lives
In the helping of people of helping in need
A good woman is a great person indeed
For too long some women by their men treated bad
And this putting it mildly to say the least sad
For too long by men women have been kept down
A town without women as leaders is a leaderless town
So let us hear it for women them we should celebrate
For to right a wrong it is never too late.