Some People Ask Me

Some people ask me for my rhymes how much money i receive
When i tell them i write just for enjoyment me they do not believe
They give me this strange look and to me do say
You have to be joking and from me walk away
The people who do have money as their god
They look on amateur writers as stranger than odd
For everything they do they expect the reward of monetary pay
And their sort i happen to meet every day
On saying this i am not saying anything new
That their sort as is known are not in the few
Multi millionaires and billionaires them greatly impress
They daydream of living at a fashionable uptown address
The financially well to do they only do admire
And to become billionaires in their lifetime to they do aspire.

We All Need Some Ego

We all need some ego for survival it does seem this way
But people with overblown egos i meet with every day
Their own praises only too willing to sing
With some self promotion nowadays does seem the in thing

Some base success in life on the accumulation of money and fame
Quite aspirational people for them for want of a better name
Of those doing it tough they only do say
If you are poor you have chosen for to live this way

The self conceited aspirational lacking in empathy
Who for those less privileged than they are cannot feel any sympathy
Compassion is a thing that is born of the mind
And people as they are not this way inclined

We all do need some ego to survive it does seem
Especially those who do live with quite low self esteem
But the egotistical whose egos are quite overblown
To be caring and kind their type are not known.

Every Day He Has To Fight His Battle

Every day he has to fight his battle against the black moods of despair
But he is one you never hear say that life to him it is not fair
For years he has been on medication for to keep him from losing his mind
Yet he is a very good person and known to be compassionate and kind
Overweight and balding in his early fifties mental illness it has ruined his life
Because of it he will never father children or have a girl friend or a wife
He has known of far more bad than of good times and of days when he wish he would die
But the fact is the desire to live than the wish for death is far stronger and fact as is known never lie
Compared to his mine is a good life though i am poor financially
I could not even hope to imagine how tough on him life has to be
His troubled mind is his own war zone he fights his own war every day
Depending on strong medication for to keep the black moods at bay
I cannot say that i do envy one like him often mentally down
In life there is not any laughter for one of the clinically depressed of the town.

Never An Asset

I have traveled a bit been in many a town
And have mixed with many races of black, white and brown
To find there are far more good than bad people in every race, gender and creed
Though of those with extreme views the Human World is not in need

Pay to everyone the respect they are due
And treat others as you would like them to treat you
Live by this code of honor and you will be doing okay
What goes around comes around life is this way

Though for generalizing in the Human World there ought not be a place
For the crimes of one some condemn a whole race
The words of a wise one i do recall
The one who only believes on a fair go for some cannot believe on a fair go for all

The power to do good does come from within
For to make the Human World better to live in with yourself you begin
Those of kindness and compassion also have empathy
You only can be the best that you can be

Money and fame is what many desire
But in a badly flawed person there is not much to admire
Those who for their own advantage verbally put others down
Are never an asset to their side of the town.

On This The Twenty Eight Of September

On this the twenty eight of September a marvelous Spring day
In the sunny blue sky just a few clouds of gray
The wild birds are singing in the park by the bay
Earthly Utopia from here cannot be far away
The park lush and green after recent showers
And the capeweed in bloom in their yellow flowers
Quite amazing the natural beauty created by rain
With such pleasant weather how can one complain
The warbling songs so pleasant to hear
Of the white backed magpies who sing every day of the year
On a forecast high for the day of a balmy eighteen degrees
White butterflies are dancing in the gentle breeze
With Nature at her finest for to be seen
And everywhere looking so healthy and green.

Bluebells Not Blooming On The Ditch Of The Bohreen

Bluebells not blooming on the ditch of the bohreen by my first home from here far away
And a chilly breeze blowing from the Boggeraghs in green old Duhallow today
The leaves that were green in the Summer to the cool winds of late September turning brown
And the river by heavy rain swollen flowing bank high in the fields by the town
The barn swallows perched on electricity power lines are flocking for their long journey south
They fly for hours above the ocean their stamina never in doubt
They will return to breed in mid April in the coolness of the mid Spring
Just one of the wonders of Nature and the workings of Nature is a wonderful thing
In late September in the woods by the Boggeragh mountains birdsong is a thing one does not hear
And it can be quite cool, wet and windy in Duhallow in the Fall of the year
The rivers are often flowing bank high in the fields where the rushes in clusters do grow
In the home of the rook and the badger, the brown hare and silver backed crow
Bluebells not blooming on the ditch of the bohreen and the hills half cloaked in the rain fogs of gray
The cool winds are blowing in Duhallow and rain from there not far away.

The Anthem Poem Of Millstreet

The poem which she did write in the name of Millstreet
The Town in the green countryside where the waterways meet
As the anthem poem of Millstreet it well ought to be
A beautiful poem to live in memory

A daughter of migrant parents from Coolinarne who migrated to the U S in post Irish famine time
She wrote the poem Millstreet when she was in her prime
I had not heard of her before reading the article on her by Michael Cashman on the Millstreet web site
Or the beautiful poem after a visit to Millstreet that she did write

Just goes to prove that a great poem can be written by a poet not well known
But the poem Millstreet by Julia A O' Sullivan any major poet would have been proud to own
It is a beautiful piece of writing in truth one can say
And as is said of poetry a well written poem does not die in a day

Her visit to her ancestral home place inspired her to achieve something great
In Millstreet a poem of great beauty she did create
She was inspired to poetry on her arrival on parental home ground
And on meeting her Irish relatives the effect on her was profound

Millstreet by Julia Agnes O' Sullivan as the anthem poem of Millstreet well ought to be
In my humble opinion this is a gem of poetry
Since her visit to her ancestral home place more than a century in time has gone
And thanks to Michael Cashman on the Millstreet web site for putting it on.

Balding Middle Aged Ted

He is not tall and handsome balding middle aged Ted
But he has a reputation of being good in bed
Of his sexual prowess among some women word of him has got around
And locally stories of his sexual exploits true or not does abound

Since their sexual needs Ted has satisfied
A few local middle aged women from their husbands have secrets to hide
Though of his sexual conquests Ted would never brag
For local male virility he is one who helps to carry the flag

Though in the local pub he is one quite well known
He is not part of any social group there he always drinks on his own
Whilst the younger drinking mates on their sexual prowess do waffle away
Ted on such matters has nothing to say

It is true the old saying that shut mouth never catch flies
Ted to engage in such public boasting is too wily and wise
Action speaks louder than words as the wise one does say
With Ted anyhow it is surely this way

Ted an unmarried father has just turned thirty nine
As a sexual being he matures like good wine
He is not handsome looking broad shouldered and tall
But at loving making of him it is said there is nothing small.

A Strong Love Of Rhyming

The Rhymes come to me and in notebook i write them down
But never for honor or literary renown
I only repeat what i have said often before
That i write for enjoyment and little else more
One addicted to rhyming i feel i must be
And it is my love of rhyming made a rhymer of me
I must be addictive it must be this way
For to feel the need to write rhymes every day
But each to their own as the wise one does say
And i am one with rhyme words who does love to play
Some are born with the gift of beauty to create
But everyone cannot be famous and wealthy and great
I just write for enjoyment without hope of gain
And a strong love of rhyming with me does remain.

Tower Hill Of The Gunditjmara

Tower Hill of the Gunditjmara the now south west Victoria's first race
Where they had their dreaming a spiritual place
Where on warm Summer evenings in the shade of the trees
They played their didgeridoos and had their corroborees
They truly believed to the land they belong
And from generation to generation their bond to country till death did remain strong
But their way of life changed forever when the foreigners came
And nothing again for them would be the same
Thousands of centuries before Cook and his sailors came south
They hunted and fished and in their country traveled about
The people who believed they belonged to the land
Something the colonizers could never understand
Today in the volcanic valley of Tower Hill where people come to visit from far and wide
The spirit of the Gunditjmara the south west's first people will always reside.

The Winner Is Always the Hero Or The Heroine

As in all types of sport as in all codes of football
As in all aspects of life the winner takes all
Of the glory the adulation and the fame
And the loser left with the tag of the forgotten name
We cannot all be winners as the wise one does say
But the winner is always the hero or the heroine of the day
In sport as in life none does wish to be beat
And it takes a brave person to smile in defeat
The praises of the winner the majority sing
And losing it is quite a humbling thing
Their disappointment at losing few can ever hide
Disappointment at their loss of ego and a dent to their pride
The winners do laugh and smile as they celebrate
Whilst the losers looking sad are resigned to their fate.

The Clocks Ever Keep Ticking Fast

The clocks ever keep ticking fast
And few things as they were seem to last
The years to our lives come and go
And time becomes everyone's foe
Since our life journey comes to an end
Us humans are mortals why otherwise pretend
We age fast beyond our physical prime
And we all do become victims of time
You may fight for your life's final breath
But eventually your body will succumb to death
Death take the lives of the old and the young and the strong
In time the longest lived human life is not long
I can only live in the now and who knows what will be
Since tomorrow i may not wake to see.

Perhaps I Will Never Walk In The Old Fields Again

Perhaps i will never walk in the old fields again
Or see Clara half cloaked in the gray fogs of rain
Or hear the ripple of the silver tongued rill
Flowing to the river down the field by the hill
Or hear the dark brown bird of breast white as snow
The water bird dipper one of most country people know
Is singing above River Finnow on low branch of tree
In waterways a bird one often hear and see
Only memories of such beauty i do retain
And when i visualize i see the old fields again
In the green countryside where the waterways meet
In view of the hills near the Town of Millstreet
But the now is all that does matter as the wise one does say
And the past it has gone and the old fields are far away.

I Have Been Lucky In Life

I have been lucky in life of this i can say
In the beauty around me i see every day
The great beauty in Nature one does not pay to see
It is all around you and it is all around me
This a pleasant enough day of around eighteen degrees
Of intermittent sunshine with a gentle Spring breeze
Blowing across the paddocks from the saltwater bay
No reason to complain on a day like today
The song of the blackbird a voice of the Spring
To listen to is such a beautiful thing
And the warbling of the magpies a joy for to hear
The birds who do sing every day of the year
And the lush and green paddocks after recent showers
Are looking resplendent in their Nature's flowers.

Cullen's Greatest Son

Cullen's greatest son is a Worldwide known literary name
But he remains as he was before his ascension to fame
He retains the common touch despite his poetic rise
That culminated in his winning of the Whitbread Poetry Prize

A down to earth genius of him one can say
With words Bernard O' Donoghue surely has a way
From Cullen in Duhallow to lecturing in Oxford greatness is his due
And despite his great achievements to his higher self he remains true

As a Duhallow literary ambassador he is widely known
But the people of Cullen claim him for their own
In the Literary World a writer of note
One who deserves the acclaim of a major poet

Long after the life from his body has gone
His poems and his essays will surely live on
A high place in literature he does attain
And despite his success great humility he does retain

That we age as we live is beyond our control
And eventually time on all life does take toll
In Cullen in Duhallow Bernard O' Donoghue first saw light of day
But his life's journey for him from there may end far away.

A Far Tougher Journey

A far tougher journey in life than mine of you would have known
But why tell me of your worries i have worries of my own
Yet there are people in their millions than us doing it far more tough
Homeless and often hungry living and sleeping rough
Among millions of poor people poverty comes in varying degrees
In a Human World of a reported sixty five million refugees
Compared to them your worries and mine does seem rather small
In fact we should have little to complain of at all
Though you and i drive around in a very old car
There are billions far worse off than you and i are
With homes for to live in and three meals a day
One might say in life we are doing okay
We are far better off than those living in extreme poverty
How very sad indeed life for them must be.

The Egotistical And Look At Me Types

The egotistical and look at me types are not rare now it does seem
It is a gift of the humble what many call low self esteem
Self promotion is the in thing in the World of today
In this the age of the selfie ego on public display
Far too many with this syndrome known to some as look at me
Those when looking in their mirrors gods and goddesses do see
To me it is a pleasure to meet one of humility
As they are not in the many sad in all as this may be
Far too many who feel superior to be found in every town
People who love building themselves up and enjoy putting others down
Young people taking selfies i do see every day
Many out of control egos which does seem quite sad to say
I must be a cynical old bugger for to see life in this way
One of those inferior rhymers who with rhyme words love to play.

Some Of Those

Some of those who go to pray and drink from the waters of any known holy well
Seem further from an afterlife of heaven and nearer to an afterlife of hell
Though they believe they will be with their god forever the doubt is if they will
Since they are known to hold grudges and on others do wish ill
Believing on a god does not make one a better person since forgiveness and compassion is within
The mind of every good person, to not believe in a god should not be a sin
Believing in a god will not make you a better person or compassionate and kind
Since the creatures known as good and evil are creatures of the human mind
You do not have to be a religious person to live in an honorable way
Since i do know of some atheists who do good deeds every day
Goodness is a gift of the mind as the wise person did say
For to live as a better person to a god you need not pray
He or she is a good person though in a god they do not believe
If they live true to the higher self and give to receive.

Live And Let Live

Since everyone is responsible for their own piece of shame
For the sins of the parents the son or daughter not to blame
Yet in a World where self appointed judges are no longer rare
Those not guilty of any crime of their judgement the judgmental does not spare
There are Government appointed judges to judge people for alleged crime
And for serious offenses the guilty in prison spend time
But in an age when unpaid judges are not in the few
On the one sent to trial they publicly air their view
The innocent children of criminal parents should not be condemned to fail
Since it is not their fault their mum or dad is in jail
Linked to a criminal by d n a is not an offense
Judgmental people known to lack in common sense
Live and let live as the wise one does say
But sadly for many it is not this way.

Of Government Interference

Of Government interference of peoples existence the evidence is rife
They dictate to them on how to run their life
Yet it is not by any good example the Government or their opposition do lead
Of abuse of taxpayer money for their own advancement by politicians we often hear of and read
That many politicians are lacking in compassion does seem sad to say
By them those doing it tough treated in the harshest way
That they legislate for the wealthy only seems obviously clear
Of a politician visiting the slums one does not often of hear
For the working poor and the unemployed and those sleeping rough
The Government in their policies only making life for them more tough
Government for the wealthy only is how it does seem
Which does nothing for the poor and their sense of self esteem
And that one person's loss becomes to another a gain
This is how it always was and is and how it will always remain.

If Tomorrow I Do Cark It

If tomorrow i do cark it and today is my last living day
Leave me in peace forever in the spot where i do lay
I have had quite a good innings on me why waste your time to pray
I enjoy my favorite hobby since with rhyming words i love to play
If there is a life hereafter for me the poetasters hell
With a pencil and a notebook there i would do rather well
Scribbling rhymes to Satan despite what many of him do say
He cannot be much worse than many i do meet with every day
I know of so many so called devout people who to their higher selves do not live as true
They do not practice what they preach this is to give them their due
They find far too much enjoyment on verbally putting others down
Yet they are looked up to as admirable on their side of the town
If tomorrow i do cark it for me do not shed a tear
For the dead are past all caring and your sobs i will not hear.

In Your Neighborhood Of Hypocrites

Some spend too much time in worrying on what others of them do say
To conform like all conformists has become the human way
Mr And Mrs X who live next door do not like the look of you
Though it is surely not their business how you look since no harm to them you do
They do not like you with your shirt off exposing your hairy chest
And they do not like you in your garden in your tattered time worn vest
They want you to look just like them prim and proper in your attire
You are not the type of person to live near them they do desire
In your neighborhood of hypocrites you must feel one out of place
Not surprising you often think about moving to where yours would not be a known face
But no matter where you do move to though none there who know you by name
There will be people there for to judge you everywhere is much the same
They do not like you working in your garden displaying your hairy chest
Perhaps they are jealous of your physique though for this you should feel blessed.

I Am Not

I am not that well known a fellow nor neither do i wish to be
Cannot boast of a professional career or a good education that comes with a uni degree
Like many just one who loves Nature and the beauty that is all around me
And i too can only marvel at the natural beauty everyday i do see
I do know of so many greedy people who to money can only relate
And yet these are the sort of people that the masses out there celebrate
In a World where millions are homeless and hungry their sort i could never admire
Yet singing the praises of the wealthy and famous many never do seem to tire
Though many of them enemies of our Earth Mother for their financial gain some of her beauty they destroy
Tree removal and in the earth making huge holes to make huge sums of money some of the super rich enjoy
I would rather live and die as a poor unknown person than become wealthy in such a way
It is only the future generations will suffer for the greed of the very wealthy of today
I am just an ordinary fellow who only believe on live and let live
And i only can admire the people who lives to receive for to give.

The Black Cows Are Bellowing

Though not short of grass and not in need of hay
The black cows have been bellowing all of last night and today
Just displaying their sorrow of them one can say
Since from them the farmer has taken their calves away

Humans do grieve and cows do grieve too
They grieve for their young as human mothers do
The bond of love between a cow and her calf as a human mother and her child is as strong
And those who will tell you different have got it all wrong

Their calves gone to the abattoir for to be slaughtered for wealthy people to eat
As veal for to buy is quite expensive meat
And the cows left to bellow themselves hoarse sounds of their sorrow travel far and wide
In the still morning air across the green countryside

The black cows are bellowing in the paddock nearby
The wailing of their grief echo to the sky
Though with plenty of grass to eat and not in need of hay
They mourn for the calves from them taken away.

For Your Gift Of Memory

For as long as the gift of memory you retain
Memories of your past with you will remain
Memory the only link from the past that does remain strong
It even can come to you in the words of a song
Good and bad memories live on through the years
Memories of happy times and of grief and tears
Though time that rusts iron has become your foe
Memories live in you of the long ago
For those who lose their gift of memory how sad life must be
Everyone to them strangers friends and family
The loss of memory comes to one at a huge mental cost
Without such a precious gift one is truly lost
You may feel life is against you and feeling quite sad
But for your gift of memory you ought to feel glad.

So Little Of Life's Ways

So little of life's ways of i can claim to know
And of material things for my years i have little to show
But we learn as we live as the wise one does say
With me anyhow it does seem this way
We can only live in the now and the now is today
The past it is dead like a leaf in decay
At midnight this evening today will be gone
And tomorrow will dawn and life will go on
At the doorstep of seventy i feel lucky to be alive
So many to this age not known to survive
What time i have left i want to live in peace
And hope my parting from life is a painless release
With the one who said one only can be the best one can be
I for one only can say i do agree.

Where The Araglen Flow

Behind the gray clouds the sun hidden away
The rain drizzling down on Duhallow today
On a silver birch tree a silver backed crow
Is cawing in a field near where the Araglen flow
On a day in September in the early Fall of the year
The song of the robin is a joy for to hear
The Boggeraghs cloaked in the gray fogs of rain
And brown rain water flowing in every field and roadside drain
On the electrical power wires the barn swallows congregate
To the southern tropics they will soon migrate
They will be gone before the arrival of the migratory redwing
Who for to breed in the woods further north will have left before Spring
The cool winds of September from the Boggeraghs blow
Far north in Duhallow where the Araglen flow.

Nancy McLean

In the grave where her husband lay
Nancy McLean was put to earth today
In Koroit never to be seen in the flesh again
But good memories are sure to remain

Of a good mother to her children and to her husband a good wife
In her eighty eight year of life
Nancy McLean breathed her last
One of the last living links to Koroit's long gone past

Free of conceit and of guile
Nancy had a lovely smile
She passed from life quite suddenly
Without pain and peacefully

In the cemetery of Tower Hill
The heart that beat with kindness forever still
In her long life many friends she made
And good memories of her will be slow to fade

In Koroit Nancy was well loved and well known
She had a charm of her own
One i did feel privileged to know
As she did have the inner glow

In Koroit she first saw light of day
And in nearby Tower Hill her last remains lay
The breath of life from her body may be gone
But in all who knew her good memories of her will live on.

Christina Noble

Despite a childhood of poverty, rape and violence she would not accept defeat
The amazing Christina Noble by life refused for to be beat
She spent much of her childhood in an orphanage in Dublin and as homeless on the street
But as her surname suggests with nobility life's toughest challenges she did meet
Thousands of poor children in Vietnam and Mongolia her praises do sing
She help to make their lives better hope and joy to them she does bring
The dream of making life better for others in her charitable works she does pursue
And she is one who through her hard work who has made her dreams come true
To thousands of poor children who had been struggling to cope
She has given them food and shelter as well as faith and hope
A woman of compassion and empathy she is generous and kind
It is true the seeds of greatness take root within the mind
She works tirelessly on behalf of the disadvantaged without seeking wealth and fame
For a better World to live in for many Christina Noble carries the flame.

In Early September

In early September near the prime of the Spring
The nesting wild songbirds chirp, whistle and sing
In cool enough weather of a high fifteen degrees
Of sporadic sunshine and rain in the breeze
The sheep and cattle on nutritious young grass everyday weight do gain
And the farmers are happy without cause to complain
From Nature a gift to the countryside rain
Those who farm the land they are smiling again
In the paddocks that look healthy and lush and green
Wildflowers in abundance in clusters to be seen
An old fellow says heavy September rain makes for a good Spring
At this time of year this is such a good thing
The song of the blackbird melodious and clear
And the warbling of the magpie is a joy for to hear.

The Past As Is Said

The past as is said in the forever gone
We live in the now and time keeps ticking on
Tomorrow will dawn but not for everyone
And a mother will give birth to a daughter or son
The last day for some and for others life does begin
In a World where many must lose for one for to win
But little point in regretting the what might have been for you
And feeling far better things should have been you due
But the now is all that matters and the now is today
And in the moment one is better to stay
In memory we are only linked to the past
The now is all that does matter and time ticks on fast
And that the longer you live the sooner you will die
Is a fact of life and fact never lie.

Have You Ever Wondered

Have you ever wondered in moments of self doubt
What reason for living and what is life about
Some may call this negative thinking but negativity
Is never far distant from reality
You are just one of many millions like you in the World out there
Who feel that in life they are not getting to anywhere
They do have their moments that border despair
And who can blame them for feeling that life is unfair
Money does not grow on the trees of the street
And everyday in life a new challenge to meet
For so many people who are doing it tough
Those hard done by life living and sleeping rough
Yes so many like you who are feeling down and out
Who often ask themselves what life is about.

So Many Poor People

So many poor people in the World of today
They only know of life in the hard way
As victims of famine and war refugees
They live with their nightmares of bad memories
The poor homeless children of Poverty Street
Everyday in life a new challenge for them to meet
We only do hear and do read of the privileged few
On saying this i am not saying anything that is new
Human life not that different to a game of football
Of the fame and the glory the winners take all
In life for one winner many have to lose
Though losing is something that anyone would not choose
And so many poor people in the World of today
They only know of life in the hard way.

I Fear Death

I do not believe in the hereafter one reason that i do fear death
One reason i wish to keep living and that i will fight for my final breath
I do not believe post bodily death that the soul has wings to fly
To the paradise of the God people believe in a World somewhere beyond the sky
Of the post bodily death places often referred to as heaven and hell
Any deceased person i have known of their existence to me have not come back to tell
I am one of those a Doubting Thomas i need proof before i believe
To religious thoughts my mind is not open and a closed mind new thinking will not receive
In ways i envy those with the gift of faith for faith it does give rise to hope
And those with hope in the life hereafter with the thought of death can better cope
Suppose we are what we are in our thinking and what we are till death we will be
What is true and real to many people is just an illusion to me
I fear death because i want to keep living since i do not believe in a God in for to pray
But i like any other mortal know that i must die one day.

Kathleen Murphy

Her name was Kathleen Murphy before she became Brendan Murphy's wife
And in Millstreet in Duhallow she spent most of her life
A mother and grandmother though she was not old in years
And among her friends and family her passing did give rise to tears

I remember Kathleen Murphy when her hair was dark brown
One of the finest women east of old Millstreet Town
As the senior member of her family at Murphy family gatherings none to fill her place
And from Millstreet in Duhallow hers will be a missed face

Though it is a fact us humans are mortals and fact does never lie
It is a sad day for a family the day a mother die
She was a well loved person who did make many a friend
And so sad to learn of Kathleen that her life's journey did end

Suppose it is the fear of death that most people do fear
But every day we live to see to our last one more near
The fate of Kathleen Murphy becomes the fate of everyone some day
In St Mary's near where she used to live her last remains now lay

A beautiful looking woman when in her physical prime
Good memories of Kathleen Murphy will outlive this simple rhyme
Written in her honor hope from life hers was a painless release
A good and gracious person may she now rest in peace.

A Marvelous Thing

I am one who live far from my first home place and i have been in many a town
And i have known of and worked with many races of all shades of black, white and brown
Only to find in all races there are good and bad people this much i have come to realize
Though different in culture and creed and color our similarities in most ways should not come as a surprise
In a Human World that can be numbered in billions there are far more good people than bad
And for racists, sexists and xenophobic one has for to feel a bit sad
But having this said our difference makes us more interesting as the wise one has been known to say
How boring we would be as people if we all thought in the same way
The years have left me feeling older far south of where i first saw light of day
In my physical prime in the nineteen sixties my balding head is silver gray
That none of us are getting younger does have to apply to us all
Though i am one who wants to go on living i well may have lived my last Fall
After recent rain the paddocks looking green and healthy bedecked in their wildflowers of Spring
The beauty that is born of Nature is indeed a marvelous thing.

One Of The Humble Successful

For as long as your success does not cause you conceit
And you do not ignore your friend and neighbors when them you do meet
And remain as you were before you knew of wealth and fame
And treat everyone rich and poor as the same
Then you as a person is doing okay
As you are one of the humble successful of today
With those doing it tough some of your wealth you share
A rare one indeed the generous multi millionaire
And since you are one who does not look down on the poor and others do not judge
You for your wealth i for one do not begrudge
Though you have become very wealthy you have not changed at all
In your ways in you there is nothing small
In your kindness and generosity you plant Karma's good seed
And of more of your kind the Human World is in need.

John Joe Forde

For John Joe Forde in Dereen in Millstreet the journey in life began
And there from a boy he grew into a man
As a boy in the nineteen fifties when his hair was dark brown
He attended the old Primary School in Millstreet Town

In Duhallow John Joe was well liked and well known
Well worthy of the title as one of Millstreet's own
A tall handsome fellow when in his life's prime
Though this is going back many Seasons in time

Some thirty miles from Dereen from where he spend his younger years in life
He lived in Ballincollig near Cork City with his children and wife
One who did work hard for his every pay
And nothing easy in life ever did come his way

One who in his lifetime planted Karma's good seed
And his passing for his family and friends quite a sad time indeed
One can say of him quite a nice man to know
He was one of those who had the inner glow

He often stood on Clara's slopes looking down
On the green countryside bordering Millstreet Town
It must have been thirty years since i last saw John Joe
And this in itself seems a long time ago

He was a decent human being of him one can say
By Cashman's Hill in St Mary's in Millstreet his last remains lay
Hope his parting from life was a painless release
The good man John Joe Forde may he now rest in peace.

The Clock On Our Lives

The clock on our lives ever ticking away
The babies born yesterday are one day nearer their lives journey's end today
Us humans are mortals like all other life forms why otherwise pretend
Even for the wealthiest of the wealthy life's journey must end
The longest lived human life is not long in time
We age rather quickly beyond our physical prime
No matter what you achieve in life death becomes your due
On saying this i only do say what happens to be true
The average human life span is three score years and ten
And in most cases women by a few years live longer than men
For the poor and the wealthy, the great and the small
Like all other life forms a last day for all
No matter how wealthy you are your life's journey for you must end
For you too are a mortal why otherwise pretend.

The Praises Of Happiness

When you are in a good mood to strangers you even say
Good morning, good evening, good night or good day
Happiness can be quite an infectious thing
That friendliness creates friendliness seems a human thing
Though our happier mood a long time may not last
An old pearl of wisdom i recall from the past
That wherever happy people are happiness is to be found
Since they carry it with them and spread it around
The one who is known to have a smiling face
Is made to feel welcome in most every place
The life of every party of them one can say
About them they do have a new friend making way
A smile as is said does not cost one a thing
The praises of happiness everyone does sing.

Nature Lives By Her Own Laws

That Nature lives by her own laws happens to be true
And she can be quite destructive for to give to her what is her due
In her storms and fires, flooding and earthquakes she has wrecked many a town
And great human constructed buildings she has brought down
Her presence it is around us every day
And she is very beautiful in her own natural way
Yet the one who can create things of great beauty like a tree or a flower
In her darker moods is a destructive power
Who can create suffering and grief and heartbreak
And leave behind death and suffering in her wake
Yet Nature to us humans is our truest friend
And for our very existence on her we depend
Her Earth Mother the food that we live on does grow
Though of her ways we have so much to learn of and know.

Not Too Old To Rhyme

I have written so much rhyming stuff it does seem
Though this does not do anything for my self esteem
My rhymes rather simple and easy to recite
For my own enjoyment the only reason i write

Since i am not one with a literary degree
What is or is not poetry why do you ask me
I am just one of those who writes rhymes every day
A rhymer writes rhymes and a cow does eat hay

There is so much beauty in this Land of the south
And so many things for to write rhymes about
The wild birds are singing in the coolness Of the Spring
The workings of Nature is an amazing thing

Wherever i turn to look beauty i see
Pink blossoms in clusters on every fruit bearing tree
I well may be one on the wrong side of time
But as of yet i am not too old to rhyme.

They Died For Ireland

They thought that they were fighting for freedom of British rule for Ireland in a war far away
But perhaps the tag of traitors with them in Ireland does stay
David Lloyd George the then Prime Minister promised them of British rule Ireland would be free
If they fought on the side of Britain in time going back a century
Of course the young Irish believed the one known as the Welsh Wizard back then
For freedom from British Rule would have been a dream come true for brave young Irishmen
But Lloyd George went back on his word whilst thousands of young Irishmen died
Fighting for Irish freedom from Britain on the British side
Many of the young Irish from the first World war to Ireland never made it back
They died for the love of their Country under the Union Jack
The pledge made to them by David Lloyd George they did believe
But many politicians in their words are known to deceive
In Ireland they are not remembered in story and song
And to say the least this is strange and very wrong.

Long Before

Long before the first humans came down off of the trees
Through centuries of time life forms had been evolving by degrees
To suit the environment they were born to live in
The changes in Nature takes place from within
That most of today's life forms evolved from dinosaurs does seem true to say
Though Nature in this had a huge part to play
Darwin's theory of evolution a truism of today
One can say of Nature she does things in her own way
In Climate Change us humans as a species may struggle to survive
Whilst some other life forms in the harshest of weather extremes are known for to thrive
The climate is changing as the climate experts do say
The Polar ice caps are slowly melting by the day
Long before the first human being there was Climate Change
And recent news of Global Warming does not come as anything strange.

I Remember I Heard Burns Afton Water

I remember i heard Burns Afton Water in the Square in Millstreet Town
Sung by an old traveling musician with gray in his hair of brown
As he played on his concertina at the September Horse Fair
The beauty in his singing voice and music wafting in the morning air

A song from the pen of Robert Burns a literary man of note
The National Bard of his Country Scotland's most famous poet
By an aged Irish traveler singer musician one who had traveled far and wide
With his family in their horse drawn caravan in the green countryside

He sung the song Afton Water as on his concertina he did play
The beauty in this wonderful memory remains with me today
As sellers for the scrutiny of buyers trotted their horses up and down
And the smell of horse was in the breeze in the Square in Millstreet Town

But the old traveling singer musician singing Afton Water was the highlight of my day
Such a memory lasts the decades and until death with one does stay
Our happiest memories of the past we do wish to retain
And in the mood for reminiscing we do visit them again

An Irish Traveler singing a song of Burns does now seem in the long ago
At the September Horse Fair in Millstreet Town going back sixty years or so
He rendered the song Afton Water as on his concertina he did play
A memory that remains with me from long ago and far away.

It Is Not For Fame Or For Fortune

It is not for fame or for fortune that the urge for to write in them is strong
It is just that they find contentment in writing for they are the makers of song
They write just for their own enjoyment a short story, poem or a play
Without any wish to become wealthy and famous they are not ambitious in any way

They are not known as masters of language who can boast of a literary degree
Writing to them just a hobby they do not take themselves seriously
The people who will never be honored in a civic reception or a street parade
But if there were not any writers there would not be a wordsmith trade

Not seen to be worthy of literary criticism unlike those who are deemed to write well
As those whose stories are looked on as inferior their poems dismissed as doggerel
Yet not everyone sees them as losers in their local communities where they are known
For their writing skills they are admired and honored as those of our own

It is not for literary fame or fortune that they spend their free time every day
In writing a poem or short story or a never to be published play
They write for enjoyment only without any desire for literary renown
Yet in their own way they are famous on their own side of the town.

Bunjil The God Of The Kooris

Bunjil the God of the Kooris the land known as Victoria today
As the creator of the people, the flora and fauna, the mountains and rivers homage to him they did pay
To white fellows God not that very different since they too believed Bunjil created everything
In their corroborees and song sessions the praises of Bunjil they did sing
In their beliefs Bunjil was reborn as an eagle a monarch of the southern sky
Above the great land he created he watches over as he fly
The Dreamtime Kooris had their God in Bunjil it is each to their own beliefs as they say
To Victoria's first people Bunjil was no less a God than the Gods many nowadays kneel to and pray
In the Bunjil Cave in Pomonal near the Geriwerd Ranges in Victoria the rock art of Bunjil to be seen
Art that has outlived many centuries to tell of where a God had been
The legend of Bunjil is living and will live on forever more
For as long as the creeks and the rivers do flow to the far ocean shore
Bunjil the God of the Kooris the eagle of the southern sky
Above the Country he created he keeps a watch on as he fly.

On My Flights Of Fancy I Go Back The Years

On my flights of fancy i hear the Claramore Rill
With a crystal clear tongue that is never still
Babbling in the fields from it's source by the hill
Towards the ocean bound rivers it flows with a will

And on a beech tree near where Finnow does flow
The harsh and loud cawing of a silver back crow
In the fields where my love of Nature began to grow
Yet so little about her i can claim for to know

Yet of Nature we learn something new every day
And you never stop learning though time has left you gray
The know all knows nothing as the wise one does say
In life we never stop learning it does seem this way

We get to know birds by their chirping or song
Some of them from once heard you never again get wrong
All life forms including us humans to Nature belong
Though with many of us our bond to her is not that strong

And though for the what used to be i have shed my last tears
On my flights of fancy i go back the years
And the babble of the Claramore Rill i do hear
And though in distance far to me me it does sound near.

For To Make The World Better

For to make the World better to live in
On some self improvement one ought to begin
Since there is more to living of life than me, myself and i
Success based on wealth and fame is based on a lie
That good people are not self centered seems true indeed
They make the World better to live in by helping those of help in need
For to help other people they often go out of their way
And practice kindness and compassion in their good deeds every day
The self centered for to make the World better to live in any part never play
And that they are not rare does seem sad to say
The people who are blessed with the inner glow
The kind and compassionate are a privilege to know
The desire to do good in them is born within
And they help to make the World better to live in.

We Are All Individuals

You and i see things in ways differently
What is ordinary to you seems amazing to me
We are individuals for want of a better name
How boring we would be if we all were the same
If on everything everyone did agree
How boring indeed us humans would be
We learn from life as we live every day
And we learn from each other does seem true to say
And the more we do learn the more we realize
That we do know so little this is not a surprise
That wisdom does belong to the old to doubt does give rise
Since i have known some young people for to be very wise
You and i look at life in a different way
We are all individuals in truth one can say.

The Old Wannon River

In the Geriwerd Ranges of scrub, bushes and trees
Where the dark tribes once lived and had their corroborees
The old Wannon River babbles on night and day
Through the treed countryside to the sea far away
As old as the land through which it does flow
The age of the Wannon anyone does not know
Poems and stories about it are written and told
In the age of the dinosaurs it was very old
Through the Geriwerd ranges towards the Pacific shore
The old Wannon River will flow forever more
The rivers are as old as the hills one might say
Long before the first human being looked on the lamp of day
For as long as the trees and the flowers and the grass has been growing
The waterways to the oceans have been flowing.

That Beauty Is In The Eyes Of The Beholder

That beauty is in the eyes of the beholder remains true today
The old bloke in his eighties his hair silver gray
Can only see great physical beauty in his aged wife
Though her physical appearance does tell of one of a long lived life
But in a frail and aged woman great physical beauty he see
With the saying beauty is in the eyes of the beholder one has to agree
Love only sees beauty in truth one can say
To him she looks as pretty as she was on their wedding day
And this is going back the years to six decades ago
Long before time that rusts iron had become their foe
Seven times great grandparents they are showing time's wear
But he sees his aged wife as one of beauty rare
Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder to him does apply
And that love only sees beauty seems hard to deny.

On The Murder Of Daniel Buckley

Some stories of local war history ought not to be told
Since they only reopen the mental scars of old
The story by historian Jack Lane on the Millstreet Website is not new one can say
Only goes to prove that bad memories of foul acts do not die in a day

The murder of Daniel Buckley of Millstreet Town was murder by Nature and murder by name
It took people far worse than he was to commit such a crime of great shame
His life taken from him in the cruelest and foulest way
In an unmarked grave in a field his last remains left to decay

To deliberately sever anyone from their life's dreaming is a terrible crime
His life taken from him before he reached his physical prime
Daniel Buckley had a mother who loved him as well as a dad
The darker side of humanity can be so very bad

Another story i remember from my youth that happened in Rathmore in a field by a bog
An old man branded as an informer by freedom fighters was gunned down like a dog
The allegation against him were later proven to be quite untrue
Informer or not a better death than this is anybody's due

Some of the so called Millstreet armed robbers as a boy i knew
And of far worse people than they were i have known of quite a few
Perhaps then in their eighties time had left them gray
Quite amiable old fellows not bad in any way

Execution is murder by another name
And murder in any case is an act of shame
Daniel Buckley's murderers for their crimes were never made for to pay
But then suppose bad things happen to people every day.

Gerald Healy

In Murphy's Terrace in Millstreet in Duhallow where he lived as a boy
A carefree existence Gerald Healy did enjoy
But in view of Clara mountain he was not one to stay
He would raise his family from there far away

One who was well known and liked in Millstreet Town
As a boy i remember his hair was brown
In the schoolyard at the lunch hour with the other boys games he did play
The Millstreet he grew up in is a changed place today

The Healys of Murphy's Terrace are known far and wide
And many of them are aging beyond Duhallow's green countryside
But their family links to Millstreet their children can trace
To the Town by the Finnow their parental home place

Gerald spent his young years in high Claramore
This is going back in time years beyond three score
A handsome young man in his physical prime
But eventually we all become victims of time

On looking back the years time seems to go fast
In his late sixties or early seventies he breathed his last
Hope his parting from life was a painless release
In St Mary's by Cashman's Hill may he now rest in peace.

On The Third Day Of September

There is so much in Nature for one to admire
And of singing her praises one never could tire
On this the third day of September and the southern calendar Spring
So sweetly the golden billed blackbird does sing
Behind the gray clouds the sun hidden away
In what is typical weather for an early Spring day
And the countryside looking quite healthy and green
And Nature's own wildflowers in their billions to be seen
In the parks and the paddocks and by the roadway
In Nature such beauty to see everyday
A freshening breeze blowing from the saltwater bay
For to describe Nature's beauty i do not have words to say
On a weather temperature high of eighteen degrees
The kangaroos rest in the shade of the trees
And the countryside looking so green after recent rain
With such pleasant Spring weather one ought not complain.

With Many People Life Is About

With many people life is about the making of money and fame
Since the poor person never becomes a great name
The me, myself and i syndrome alive and well today
That greed is an in thing does seem sad to say
In a World controlled by the wealthy few many are doing it tough
And many are homeless and hungry, living and sleeping rough
And even though they live as extremely poor on the poor side of the town
They too have their dreams of wealth and renown
For to live as a poor person is not what one would choose
But in life as in all things for one for to win others do have to lose
In life it is true money does take one far
With many people it is about owning the biggest boat, new home or new car
In the twenty first century more than it ever was greed for money is the in thing
Of the praises of poor people you never hear anyone sing.

Old Peter Says

Old Peter he said with a shake of his head
The most of the very brave men are long dead
They died for a flag in a war far away
And i who was never in an army am living today
Fifteen years ago cancer robbed him of Kate his beloved wife
Gray haired Peter in his early eighties has seen his good and bad days in life
Ten times a grandfather he looks well for his years
He says for the past he has shed all of his tears
Old Peter says brave men in wars have died young
And the dead do not hear when their praises are sung
Old Peter says most heroes went young to the grave
With their lives they paid for being so very brave
One who does love life though his best years long gone
And for as long as he can do he will keep living on.

Far South Of Where Glasheen

Far south of where Glasheen to Finnow does flow
Where the rushes in clusters in the old fields do grow
Perhaps i will live my last night and day
From the fields of my youth i may die far away
Where i was born and raised nowadays few would know me
With most every migrant this is how it seems to be
And though the past as is said in the forever gone
The memories of the what used to be in us does live on
On this sunny day in September in the early southern Spring
The wild birds of Nature does whistle and sing
And from Nature i learn something new every day
In life one never stops learning in truth one can say
Far south of where Glasheen to Finnow does flow
In the flat fields where the rushes in clusters do grow.

Such Wonderful Memories

Such wonderful memories with him do remain
Of friends of the past he will not meet again
Too old to return to the town far away
Where he did first look on the bright lamp of day
Many of the boys and girls he went to school with where the deceased are do lay
Time takes care of all as some are known to say
A divorced grandfather in his mid seventies his best years long gone
And the clock on his life ever ticks on and on
Where to most people his would be a stranger's face
Today in his hometown he would feel out of place
He has not been in his first hometown for close to forty years
And though for what used to be he has shed his last tears
He retains the good memories of the what used to be
In the far away town he will never more see.

Those Who In Their Words

Those who in their words are unkind
To acts of compassion are never inclined
They only find pleasure on verbally putting others down
And sadly people like them in every town
The flaws in others they only see
Their sort do lack in empathy
Of others any nice things they do not have to say
They like to use their words in a hurtful way
Of their sort quite negative people indeed
The Human World is not in need
Since they obviously do not believe on a fair go for all
Their outlook in life it is very small
I much prefer those who believe on live and let live
And to receive in life one must learn how to give.

I Hope To Be Writing Rhymes

I hope to be writing rhymes till the day i do die
If i did tell you different this would be a lie
On this nice afternoon in the land of the south
So many things for one to write rhymes about
The wild birds are singing on the bushes and trees
And the weather is sunny with a freshening coastal breeze
Blowing above the paddocks from the saltwater bay
For the last day of August and Winter quite a beautiful day
The contented cattle chewing their cuds in the paddocks do lay
For to describe such serene beauty i do not have words to say
Of Nature every day i do learn something new
And of rhymes of her one might say i have written quite a few
I have been a rhymer for decades and i hope for to stay
As a man of rhyme till my last night and day.

Above The Flat Paddocks

Where the rank grass in clusters on the damp ground does grow
Above the flat paddocks where the Moyne waters flow
In the sunshine the larks and the pipits are singing today
With the first of the calendar Spring less than twelve hours away
For the time of year the weather quite okay
The sun it is shining in the sky blue and gray
The song of the male blackbird so pleasant to hear
His distinctive notes so melodious and clear
At twelve o clock this evening on the stroke of midnight
The magpies will be singing in the moonlight
When Spring will arrive in the coastal Moyne Shire
To be living to greet her what more could one desire
Above the damp paddocks in the sunlit sky
The larks and the pipits do sing as they fly.

Like The Day Millstreet Played St Nicholas

Some memories do not live long they seem to die fast
Whilst some a whole lifetime with us seem to last
Like the day Millstreet played St Nicholas in the Park in Macroom
In the Summer sunshine when Nature was in bloom

In a Cork County senior championship match as i do recall
In a game that was not a great advertisement for Gaelic Football
It was not a good day for sportsmanship at all
Since the Proceedings ended in an all in brawl

A game that left the legendary Cork hurler Christy Ring with a broken jaw
And that ended in anger and left feelings raw
Who broke Christy Ring's jaw in an angry physical display
In Cork G A A circles remains as a mystery today

Some claim that it was not one from Millstreet who broke Ring's jaw but a fellow Cork hurler out to settle a score
A rumor that lives on today and will live forever more
Of a game that did not end in handshakes only missing teeth and black eyes
Yet that none of those involved were not left with life threatening injuries was a welcome surprise

For the brawl Millstreet blamed the Nicks and the Nicks Millstreet did blame
And all i have left are fading memories of an unsporting game
For i was a boy then and this is a long time ago
And time that rusts iron has since become my foe

More than a decade of years before i reached my life's prime
And this is going back many decades in time
To the all in brawl between the players and supporters of St Nicholas and Millstreet in the Park in Macroom
In the Summer sunshine when Nature was in bloom.

Nature Lives On

Us humans like all other life forms born to life to die one day
On all life death eventually does have the say
Though Nature the one true immortal forever lives on
She has outlived the age of the dinosaur in centuries long gone

Any life form as such death does not spare
The one who claims the life of the earthworm claims the life of the human billionaire
Many believe on an afterlife for the soul when the human body does die
But as is said what is true to some to others is a lie

Death claims the lives of the young and the old and those in their physical prime
And eventually we all become victims of time
And the longest lived human life in time not a long span
On average a few years more for a woman than it is for a man

And though many of us humans do not treat her as our greatest friend
For our very existence on Nature we depend
The one some refer to as Earth Mother the food we live on for us grow
Yet little in the way of respect many of us to her does show

The longest lived human life in time is not long
And those who think they are greater than Nature have got it all wrong
Us humans born to die but Nature lives on
She has outlived the last dinosaur in centuries long gone.

Everywhere I Turn To Look

Everywhere i turn to look i can only marvel at what i do see
In the beauty in Nature that is all around me
On this the second last day of August two days from the southern calendar Spring
The male wild born songbirds do whistle and sing
It has been raining this morning and more rain on the way
And the sunless sky looking overcast and gray
Yet the weather quite mild for the time of year
And the song of the blackbird quite pleasant to hear
And everywhere looking so lush and so green
Such beauty in Nature only to be seen
My worth as a rhymer i have reason to doubt
But no shortage of things for me for to write rhymes about
And Nature inspires me to write rhymes of her every day
She is quite amazing of her i can say.