The Man From Duhallow

His long hair silver gray that was dark as the wing of a crow
When he lived in the place where the Blackwater flow
In green old Duhallow north and far away
From where he is living and ageing today
One who does not have children or never had a wife
Though he has had a few female lovers in his life
He is now on his own and showing the wear of time
Over forty years past his physical prime
A man who has driven on many a rough track
For to shear in the shearing sheds of the outback
Of the fields of the badger and waterways of the brown trout
The man from Duhallow is ageing far south
As well as shearing he has worked on city building sites and many a pipeline crew
Of occupations he has had quite a few
One can say he is one who has been there and done that
He has shorn sheep in Queensland and worked on pipeline crews in Ararat
On his travels in the big country up and down
He has drunk in pubs in many a town
Perhaps he will not see the Blackwater swollen by heavy rain
In fields of Duhallow flowing bank high again
Since more likely than not his last remains will lay
Far south of where he first looked on the lamp of day.

When Life Has Gone From Me

When life has gone from me to me it will not
Matter if i am remembered or forgot
Death removes from us the gift of memory
And of the trials that life brings does set us free
Time on our lives does keep ticking away
Live in the now make the most of your day
Tomorrow will dawn but not for everyone
To be remembered in a good or a bad way in life for how they done
Life it is terminal in truth one can say
And the longest lived life in time not a long stay
Nature's reaper of lives is reaping every day
Eventually for to come reaping my way
No worries or cares where dead people lay
In the dark earth the flesh slowly decay.

Kill That 'A Rhyme Of Human Intransigence'

Kill that insect kill that wasp kill that spider and kill that bee
To us humans they pose some danger and they might bite and harm me
Kill that mozzie kill that blowfly kill that rat and kill that mouse
These are diseases carrying critters who dare to invade our house
Kill that snake and kill that scorpion and kill that treacherous crocodile
On the river bank big and sleepy looking but it has death in it's smile
Kill that shark a human eater few it bites on does survive
The only good shark is a dead one they are too dangerous alive
Kill that fox and kill that rabbit shoot to death the kangaroos
And since they eat the flower buds on our fruit trees kill the noisy cockatoos
Try to kill every living creature who with us does not live in peace
All creatures that can harm us physically or financially death for their kind a release
Kill that lion and kill that tiger and kill the dangerous polar bear
It does not give them the right to harm us though in numbers they are rare.

On Meeting A Koroit Woman

It has been many years since she left Koroit Town
Back in the mid seventies when her hair was light brown
To learn about life in the big World out there
The journey in life for some lead to elsewhere

Far from where they first looked on the bright lamp of day
Though the homebody always near to or in first home stay
And though she left Koroit in her physical prime
In memory she often does go back in time

To her younger years in primary school
In Koroit fifteen kilometers from Warrnambool
One who is ageing in the graceful way
Her once wavy light brown hair is now silver gray

A widowed grandmother of sixty three
Though she is one who seems far younger to me
For one of her age slim, attractive and tall
I met her in Melbourne in the Bourke Street Mall

When i said i live near Koroit it brought a smile to her face
She said it will always be my first homeplace
Where i used to live when my hair was light brown
In the Moyne Shire in beautiful old Koroit Town.

Your Greatest Achievement

Your greatest achievement in life may seem small
And to many is not an achievement at all
But you have hung in there when the going was tough
And you have been hungry and you have slept rough
And the challenges life brought to you with bravery you did meet
You are no longer homeless on Poverty Street
And you are no longer one of the poor of the town
As is said of brave men they cannot be kept down
What resilience can do you are one who has shown
With your lovely wife and young daughter you live in a home of your own
You may never become a known multi millionaire
But people like you are to say the least rare
From Poverty Street you have come a long way
Fortune favors the brave as the wise one does say.

Killarney In December

The pee wees they are calling in the park beside the bay
And white butterflies dancing in the breeze in the bright sunlight of day
Killarney in December by the Pacific shore
On almost perfect weather in life who could ask for more
In their car on the high park overlooking the sea
An old pair eating cream buns and sipping from their cups of tea
Enjoying the pleasant weather and the ocean scenery
In a place of natural beauty and of pollution free
On an evening in Killarney three sleeps from Christmas Day
From this place of peace and beauty utopia cannot be far away
The warbling notes of the magpies always a joy to hear
And the familiar songs of the blackbirds melodious and clear
And the silver gulls are mewing above the park by the bay
In Killarney in Victoria three sleeps from Christmas Day.

They Make Heroes Out Of

You never turn your back on the financially down
But you will never become a hero for helping the poor of the town
They make heroes out of soldiers and those who excel at football
But the names of good samaritans are never on any memorial wall
Of renowned athletes and swimmers heroes are always made
When they come home with their medals for them a street parade
But never any honors for compassionate young Joe
Who without pay helps his poor aged neighbor the feeble widow Mrs Broe
They make heroes of winning politicians on election night
Their voters all looking happy and cheering in delight
But they never do make heroes of those who are doing it tough
Though they do give life their best try they are not seen as good enough
To be looked upon as heroes of their best try nothing made
For them never any bonfire or any street parade.

On The Bard Of Knocknagree

It is thanks to the likes of Jerry O'Leary of Umeraboy that Ned Buckleys poems are living
In the book of Ned's poems he has given to Knocknagree a gift that is worth giving
When it comes to Duhallow and Sliabh Luachra's literary greats his name is worthy of mention
The poems of the famous Bard Of Knocknagree are well worthy of attention

Ned Buckley died in 1954 this is going back many a Season
His legacy his amazing poems and this of course is the reason
That his name is living on today and by his fans celebrated
For far too long the famous bards by literary dons under rated

A Duhallow literary icon of his time at poetry readings often the main attraction
With fountain pen and writing pad he was a man of action
In the many poems he brought to life he had the gift of giving
And it is thanks to people like Jerry O' Leary that his name is still living

Ned Buckley was a famous poet his poems do not lack in passion
Though sadly in these changing times rhyme has gone out of fashion
In the literary circles of today his sort may be under rated
But the famous Bard Of Knocknagree deserves to be celebrated.

December Far Away

The old hill is wearing it's white hat of snow
And it is cold in the fields where the rushes do grow
Brown storm water flowing high in stream and drain
On it's way to the big river swollen by recent rain
In farmyard sheds cattle bellowing for silage or hay
They always feel hungrier on a cold Winter's day
For fodder the cold seems to increase their need
For farmers in Winter their animals financially expensive to feed
A cold wind in the wind of a December day
And the sun behind gray clouds is hidden away
The cold winds are soughing in the naked trees
With the weather temperatures a chilly zero degrees
The weather forecast has more rain on the way
Close to eighteen weeks from the birth of the May.

They Tell Me This Duggan

They tell me this Duggan must be soft in the head
Than writing rhymes he would seem more normal instead
If he were like us chasing the money god
Some people in their ways are so very odd
Though he never will be one of literary note
He must really fancy himself as a poet
Since he adds to his numbers of rhymes every day
Just for the love of it and never for pay
A strange enough fellow in his own strange way
With rhyming words he is one who loves to play
With his lack of money one must pity his wife
She may have done better for herself in life
Than being with a rhymer instead of a poet
And who will never be one of literary note.

Your Friend For Life

If you are kind to your dog then you are one who can depend
That your dog is bound to look on you as his or as her's greatest friend
For when you treat your dog with kindness you your dog will never forsake
Dogs known to grieve for their dead master have wasted and died of heartbreak
No street parade for the dead canines who defending their masters lives have died
For their true worth dogs overlooked by many and honor of them is denied
Of all of the companion animals dogs they are surely the best
They even are more loyal than even the most loyal person when loyalty is put to the test
The bravery of the bravest canines from history allowed for to fade
For them flags are never unfurled or for them never a street parade
Dogs ought to be celebrated for their loyalty until death your dog to you will be true
Dogs by far the most loyal of companion animals and this only to give them their due
You may lose the love of your friends and family and you may lose the love of your wife
But your dog will never judge you she or he is your true friend for life.

Allow Yourself

Allow yourself to feel contented if only for a short while
If about your biggest worry you can manage a smile
Then with your tribulations you can manage to cope
The one who can smile under stress is one who lives in hope
Of a change of luck in the days ahead
In the one who can smile hope it is far from dead
Some people like to complain though compared to some their biggest worry is small
And in truth have nothing to complain of at all
On their attitude to life they become their own greatest foes
In humanity there are all sorts one does have to suppose
In human beings the greatest barrier to any form of happiness
Is this weight on the mind that is known as stress
And the one who can smile despite having a bad day
Is the one for self who can see better times on the way.

How Nice To Be Out In The Weather

How nice to be out in the weather on this beautiful breezy Summer's day
The sun shining bright in the blue sky with only a few clouds of gray
The wildbirds are chirping and singing in this park by the Pacific shore
It is true of lovers of Nature that each day they do love her more
Of singing the praises of Nature it surely would be hard to tire
She is the queen of her four Seasons and so much in her to admire
Her secrets they are in the many and her wonders are not of the few
And in truth it can be said that of her every day we do learn something new
She inspire the artists and writers of her to sketch and to write
Stories of her many wonders and poetry to read and recite
The sounds and the sights of Nature beautiful to hear and to see
Carrying in the freshening breeze of evening the familiar song of the pee wee
How nice to be out in the weather on this beautiful December day
The pleasant scent in the breeze blowing of grass mowed for silage or hay.

I Only Retain The Mental Images

I only retain the mental images of the beauty i have seen
When bluebells, snowdrops and primroses bloomed on the ditches of every bohreen
In Spring in view of far away mountains that i only now can visualize
Though far south of the place i was raised in i may witness my last sunrise

So few with the wanderlust in them in their first home ever do stay
They even depart their homeland shores to wander in Lands far away
I may never again see old Ireland and Hibernia's wild rocky shore
Or climb again on the steep fields that lead up to high Claramore

In the home of emu, echidna, koala, wallaby, little raven and gray kangaroo
And magpie and white long billed corella and dark brown yellow tailed black cockatoo
Of Nature there is so much to know of and new things to learn every day
In the book of life so many lessons as the wise have been known for to say

From the fields of the fox and the badger and the waterways of the brown trout
The yearn for the wander did take me to this big sunny Land of the south
The past from us all gone forever memories of it we only retain
Though sometimes on my flights of fancy i go to my first home again.

The Surviving Members Of Australia's Stolen Generation

The Surviving members of Australia's stolen generation are showing the wear of time today
Taken from parents who loved them as children they have known of life in the hardest way
The Australian Government to them has said sorry but sorry hardly good enough
To people taken from their families and tribes as children life on them has been made so tough
Placed in foster homes as very young children because of their birth circumstance
Robbed of a biological family and tribal upbringing at corroborees never to dance
Sorry will never repay them and bring back to them their lost childhood years
All they have left are the regrets of what they missed out on in tears
The first people of this great Land of Australia have never been treated that well
Of dispossession and discrimination they have the saddest stories of for to tell
To people as children wrongfully taken from their parents sorry seems so easy to say
Many of their ancestors victims of massacres for being Australia's first people such a price they did pay
The surviving members of Australia's stolen generation they have been treated so wrong
As children taken from their loving parents and the tribes that to they did belong.

At Thunder Point

The beauty of Nature is such a wonderful thing
In the gloam of a December evening the blackbirds do sing
In the scrub at Thunder Point on the Pacific's rocky shore
Such wild natural and rugged beauty that is forever more
Such beauty that is free for all to admire
Of singing Nature's praises one never could tire
At Thunder Point so much wild beauty to see
The volcanic rocks jutting out from the sea
From the sandstone cliffs miles of ocean to view
Such amazing scenery it's rivals are few
For artists to sketch and for writers to write
Stories and poems for to read and recite
About Thunder Point overlooking the sea
The amazing beauty in Nature one does not pay to see.

On Reading The Ballad Of Reading Jail

For many years fame and fortune on him smiled
The amazing Irish writer Oscar Wilde
Until his sexual preference had him in Reading Jail
In a place where wealth and fame to nothing avail

But his years in prison for him not a waste of time
Since on release he wrote the Ballad Of Reading Jail which in it has memorable rhyme
A poem true to life of it one can say
With words Oscar Wilde was one who had a way

The truth in the Ballad Of Reading Jail will never die
To the humanity of those who uphold the law it does give the lie
Centered around the last days of a wife murderer who was hung for his crime
A poem that has withstood the great test of time

A poem of the inhumanity of people to their fellow kind
The compassionate among jailers never easy to find
Told in a poem of a murderer more noble in his death
Than those who did rob him of his living breath

The story of the last days of a man who had murdered his wife
That tells of the darker side of human life
The truth in the Ballad Of Reading Jail Lives on
Though the life's breath from it's author for eleven decades and seven years has gone.

A Ballad Of Superiority

Of the path to a better life they know the way
We must follow our leaders believe what they say
For more jobs for our children more trees must be cut down
For to build more factories in the industrial town

We must not allow into our Country any more refugees
They are as useless to us as the leaves of the trees
For a hike in our taxes we will gladly pay
For their incarceration in Islands from our shores far away

We have got to keep digging bigger holes in the ground
In places where uranium is to be found
For our allies to make bombs with if our enemies need to be destroyed
Remember it is us who have god on our side

Our capitalist right wing government we should celebrate
On opening more coal mines and building more factories more jobs they create
We do not need greenies their thinking all wrong
To back in the dark ages their sort does belong

Who is this local bloke Duggan who pens doggerel
That he is just an obscure agitator does seem just as well
He believes we are helping to destroy the planet that feeds us such a stupid idea
Just as well that with him many do not agree

That we are superior people gives us the right to brag
We got to keep waving the National flag
The superior person drives the biggest car
We ought to feel proud of the people we are

In the future there ought to be a big factory on every street
So our children for jobs do not have to compete
Every opportunity for land development we ought to seize
We need les natural habitat for wildlife and to remove more trees

That we are superior to others we have come to realize
And this in itself is not any surprise
To the majority opinion we do belong
And all of those who choose to differ do have it wrong.

Happy People

One can say of them they have the inner glow
The people that many do wish for to know
Wherever they are at happiness is to be found
They carry joy with them and spread it around
They even share happiness whilst walking the street
Happy people are always nice for to meet
Their faces are seldom without a big smile
Getting to know a happy person is always worthwhile
They do look at life in a positive way
And to those feeling down bring some joy to their day
Why happy people are likeable not hard to explain
Of worries they may have they never complain
Wherever they are at joy is to be found
They carry it with them and share it around.

Perhaps I Am Just A Poetaster

Perhaps i am just a poetaster i used to daydream i would be a poet
But nowadays i even feel relieved that i am not one of literary note
I feel happy i have never been shortlisted for any big literary prize
I am satisfied at being a rhymer of late i have come to realize
That i am not worthy of literary honors though i am one who loves to pen rhyme
Though my sort they did have their moments way back there in a long gone time
There seems to be very few rhymers among the poetic greats of today
Time with it does always bring changes as the wise are known for to say
As a young man i daydreamed of literary renown but daydreams for few do come true
From life it is said we receive what happens for to be our due
I feel happy just to be a rhymer just one of the not too well known
I would hate to be wealthy and famous since they do not have lives of their own
I am just your average rhymer one who loved reading rhymes as a boy
And as an ageing male in my seventies penning jingles is a thing i enjoy.

Randy Old Fred

For his years a randy fellow the grayhaired old bloke known as Fred
Women that he has made love to say that he is real good in bed
Some men virile in their seventies more so than men half of their age
Fred though quite a womanizer is not one you would call a sage
In the pub with his mates he talks of his sexual liasions as to himself he drinks a toast
Fred does have quite a big ego of his sexual prowess he does boast
His younger pub mates look up to him see him as one to admire
They do find it quite amazing that for sex he has not lost his desire
I remember the words of a wise one going back in time many a day
A woman is as old as she looks and a man is old when he stops looking he used to say
His words does apply to gray haired Fred who with women does have a way
He satisfies many aging local divorcees and for his pleasure does not have to pay
Fred is a randy old fellow many women he has satisfied
And on his sexual prowess he is one who does take great pride.

Of The Good And Bad Memories

Of the past good and bad memories with you remain
That you often visit again and again
Times of happiness and times of tears
Way back there in the long gone years
But the now is what matters and in truth one can say
That we only can live in the moment and day
The past only memories of what might have been or what we should have done
And tomorrow will dawn but not for everyone
Some say we receive from life what is only our due
And that we should learn from the past happens for to be true
In a World where for a minority of winners many have to lose
You cannot have everything that you do choose
Of the past good and bad memories you do retain
But that the now is all that does matter as a truism remain.

Through The Eyes Of A Self Admirer

Though an oldie going on eighty taking selfies every day
That self admiration is not ageist only does seem true to say
Self images she does not like from her smart phone she delete
She is only one of many enamoured in self conceit
Such things every day i notice what then does this say of me
Am i too just a self admirer this is how it seems to be
Though not one into taking selfies self conceited just the same
Too much love of self as is said for it has another name
Of the self conceited and narcissistic the numbers are on the rise
But what we do dislike in others is in ourselves i do realize
Perhaps i too am too judgmental since some things i cannot ignore
But in this i am just one of many like me there are many more
With her smart phone she takes selfies love of self in her is strong
In her mind she is a beauty and in her truth she cannot be wrong.

One Person's Weed

There are aspirational people in every town
Who yearn for far greater recognition than local renown
Their own praises always quite willing to sing
This yearning for wealth and fame is such a human thing

Of their climb up the social ladder others quite willing to tell
And of how they are doing quite financially well
True beauty in their minds never allowed for to flower
Their craving for money is a craving for power

But then when all is said one does have to suppose
That one person's weed to another is a rose
But how boring we would be if we all thought in the same way
Our different ways in thinking make us more interesting in truth one can say

And though no two in their thinking exactly the same
There are so many people who equate money with success and fame
Such things that to competition between people to does give rise
Financial wealth and fame seen by many as a very great prize

Aspirational people are to be found everywhere
There are billions of them in the bigger World out there
But then when all is said one does have to suppose
That one person's weed to another is a rose.

To Be Center Of Attention

To be center of attention this is their choice
The people who love the sound of their own voice
The shy and the humble always seem to lose out
And are left to wallow in their own self doubt
It is hardly stating anything that is new
To say the humble of mind are in the too few
In a World where many for attention compete
In every social occasion where people do meet
I can only admire those of little to say
Who manage for to keep their egos at bay
Though others their praises never may sing
They live in their own way and do their own thing
They never walk with a swagger when on the street
And they leave it to others for attention to compete.

You May Never

You May never receive the credit you are due
But to your higher self try to remain as true
To your belief on a fair go for all as true do remain
And never hope for anyone's loss to become your financial gain
Try to stay true to the truth in live and let live
Karma can be quite kind to those who willingly give
Leave it to those who everyday does compete
To be best in their neighborhood and best on their street
Never boast to others of how great you are
Of the size of your home or of the size of your car
Self praise is no praise as the wise one does say
To live as a better self this should not be your way
You only can live to be the best you can be
But perhaps what i dislike in others i do see in me.

On Ode To The Earth By Robert Murray Smith

Now here is a poem for the ages that in time is bound to live on
Long after it's author Robert Murray Smith to the land of forever has gone
In every great poet there is a great poem and Ode To The Earth is Robert's best
A poem that will live on for centuries of good poetry time is the test
Though from writing poetry few do make a living in the literary World of today
It can be said of this talented fellow that with words he surely has a way
Every day millions of poems are written but great poems they are of the few
On saying this i say what is factual and not anything that is new
On Ode To the Earth Robert has written a great poem that any poet to write of would feel proud
On writing it he shone like the sun on an overcast day that burns it's way through the gray cloud
When Robert composed his masterpiece he reached the summit of fame
The great poems live on through the ages and so do their authors by name
Ode To The Earth it is a great poem as many would surely agree
It will become a favorite of literary critics in the twenty second century.

A Hero Of Mine

Your Greatest achievement to some may seem small
But what is a great to many does not apply to all
On what constitutes success no two feel the same
Since not everyone see an achievement in being a celebrity and being one of wealth and fame
For to help other people you often go out of your way
And you perform a good deed or two every day
For your future good karma you are planting the seed
Of more people like you are the Human World is in need
It is not what you do for yourself but what for others you do
Since your good deeds and your kindness say more about you
Between people you never differentiate in any way
And unkind things of others you never does say
With royalty and celebrities you never may dine
But you happen for to be a hero of mine.

Wise People Are Born Wise

There may be some truth in the saying i have come to realize
That wisdom does not always come with age wise people are born wise
I know many silly old blokes and many silly old dears
And i know some in their twenties who are wise beyond their years
That few of the wise are leaders in the Human World of today
Leaves us mentally the poorer and this seems a sad thing to say
We make small gods of the wealthy narcissistic and celebrities admire
And of singing the praises of sporting heroes many never seem to tire
But there are not many wise people cheering in the football crowd
The wise are good at listening and they never do talk loud
Those who have the gift of wisdom are quite privileged indeed
The World better for them in it of more of their sort we do need
I know many silly old blokes and many silly old dears
And i know some in their twenties who are wise beyond their years.

Make The World Better To Live In

Make the World better to live in by becoming a better you
For the one in need of helping do the best that you can do
Those who uphold class distinction are allies of narcissism and greed
Of our sort of human World of social rank humanity is not in need
We do not need class distinction too much of it in every town
Time to give the poor a fair go drag those social barriers down
People judged poorly due to their lack in money does seem all wrong to me
This is eighteenth century thinking in the twenty first century
If you look for flaws in others flaws are not that hard to find
Make the World better to live in by being more compassionate and kind
The one who wields the scythe of death will come reaping your way
And the poorest person of the town will become your equal one day
Make the World better to live in by becoming a better you
For the one in need of helping do the best that you can do.

We Are Ninety Per Cent Water

We are ninety per cent water or so we are told
Our childhood and prime years go quickly we soon do grow old
For this thing known as success with each other we compete
The down to earth person one does not often meet
With many the ego is out of control
On the humble gene it does keep taking toll
The age of the internet narcissism in many create
So many their own selves only celebrate
In a garden of weeds quite a rare thing a flower
We elect the egotistical into positions of power
The look at me syndrome gone viral Worldwide
To feel superior to others should not be a sense of pride
The gullible masses the praises of the narcissistic does sing
And this in itself is a very sad thing.

As A Rhyming Person

As a rhyming person not one to the fore
I write rhymes for enjoyment that and nothing more
This is something i have said a few times before
Yet i am one who keeps penning rhymes by the score
Though it does not do anything for my literary esteem
I have a rhyming addiction or so it does seem
But i feel no desire for literary renown
I leave it to others to be best in the town
I do leave it to others to vie for success
Since anyone i am not out to impress
In rhyme i have written through decades of time
Since i was at the peak of my physical prime
To rhyme i am addicted and it would not be a lie
If i said i hope to be rhyming until the day i do die.

A Warm December Day In Warrnambool

A City that is often sunny and cool
But it sometimes does get quite warm in Warrnambool
The air temperature quite close to forty degrees
And there is even warmth in the freshening breeze
Blowing in the coastal City from Lady Bay
On what is for south western Victoria an extremely warm day
In climate change the weather quite moody in truth one can say
And in the often breezy coastal south west it is often this way
Yesterday a weather temperature high of a cool nineteen degrees
The timid breeze gently stirring the leaves on the trees
Though the weather forecast has rain on the way
For Victoria's south west coastal City quite a warm day
Where the weather quite sunny in Summer is often pleasantly cool
In the beautiful old city of Warrnambool.

Live For The Day

Since into the future only visionaries do see
The now is all that does matter what will be will be
Nature decides the length of our lives span
Not everything does go according to plan

That death is not ageist is only the truth
It will not ignore you because of your youth
Though the old than the young sooner more likely to die
That death does not differentiate is not a lie

Many young people who had planned for years ahead
Are at rest forever in the place of the dead
Victims of illness, accidents, foul play and even suicide
It does not mean that you will outlive the old though time is on your side

Live for the day this the best you can do
Tomorrow may not dawn for me or for you
On how long anyone will live there is no guarantee
We are born into life as creatures of destiny.

I Only Have Memories

I only have memories of Winters i did know
When the Boggeragh mountains were covered in snow
And every rill, stream, river and drain
Flowing swollen in brown waters of recent rain
For me life it is very different today
And that the past just a memory seems true for to say
The Winters much milder in this place far south
Of the fields of the badger and waterways of the brown trout
I only have memories of rain, storms, frost and sleet
And snow on old Clara overlooking Millstreet
And hearing cattle in farmyard sheds bellowing for silage or hay
Many Winters ago in a place far away
We live in the now and the past it has gone
And the clock on our lives ever keeps ticking on.

To Coin Such A Phrase

To coin such a phrase it did take someone wise
To say the more you do learn the more you realize
That you are one who knows little at all
And everything you do learn your memory cannot recall
From the book of life we do learn every day
That we never stop learning does seem true to say
Though the know it all person in ways is lucky indeed
Since of any more knowledge she or he is not in need
For as long as the gift of memory we retain
The ability to learn in us does remain
Though the praises of learning many may sing
The accumulation of knowledge can be quite a humbling thing
Since the more you do learn the more you realize
That you do know so little this is not a surprise.

You Do See Them Often

You do see them often in the park or on the street
The people you know of but would rather not meet
Only silence between you never a good day
Between you no greeting words there are to say
With you in common they have nothing to share
And a simple good day they do not have to spare
You do see them often you know them by face
But among their circle of friends you would feel out of place
Through different eyes difference we do see
Each to their own is how it seems to be
You are not the type they would like to befriend
Social opposites in true terms never do blend
You do see them often though not every day
And between them and you there is nothing to say.

Sadie

She pushes her shopping trolley along the side street
Gray haired old Sadie with gaps between her teeth
An octogenarian she lives on her own
And of better days in life she surely has known

Sadie she never was any man's wife
Or never had children to care for in life
Retired from her nursing job fifteen years ago
And time that ages all things has become her foe

The wrinkles of time on her aged face
Sadie is one who is ageing with grace
One who does not wear makeup or use hair dye
She is how she seem to Sadie does apply

From one in need of help she never turns away
Sadie she does her good deeds every day
Sadly people like her never know of renown
One of the ageing unsung of the town

When she does smile gaps between her teeth does show
Pushing her shopping trolley she shuffles on slow
Sadie has helped many people in need
She is a wonderful woman indeed.

A December Night

The moon moves silent in the starry sky
A fox does bark in the paddock nearby
Familiar in it's wild distinctive cry
Of humans and their dogs it's kind justifiably wary and shy
To lure the fox from their young the masked lapwing take to flight
Their harsh cries pierce the stillness of the night
They know the fox on their young it would prey
The reason they mob it for to send it on it's way
Mopoke mopoke in the silence one does hear
A boobook owl is hunting somewher near
The smaller birds in cover wake in fright
They live in fear of the hunter of the night
In the Moyne Shire a fox is on the prowl
And i hear the cry of a hunting boobook owl.

It Is Only The Winners

One might say they kicked their way into renown
The heroes of football are played through the town
Behind the citizens band on the sidewalks the happy fans singing loud
Waving the club colors delighted and proud

They are deemed to be worthy of a street parade
And on winning the cup heroes of them are made
Had they lost in the big game in the pubs of the town
Their disappointed fans their sorrows would drown

Life one suppose like the big football game
To the winners go all of the glory and fame
The losing fans are left to weep in their beer
The winning fans feel they have the right to cheer

It is out of winners that heroes are made
The losers from memory so quick to fade
Suppose this is how it is and it always will be
It is a winners World would you not agree

Tonight in the pubs the winning fans will celebrate
They will sing the club song and party until late
Whilst the fans of the losers will weep in their beer
It is only the winners have the right to cheer.

A Happy Person

She is such a lovely young lady free of conceit and of guile
She helps me for to feel younger when she greets me with a smile
Every time that i do see her in the park or on the street
People like her are worth knowing and always a pleasure for to meet
She is one who does not ignore me though my hair is silver gray
Always greets me with a big smile and wishes me a nice day
People like her are not in the many in the World of today
Most of them if not looking at their smart phones from you look the other way
People like her we need more of to your day some joy they do bring
Their happiness they share with others and this is such a marvellous thing
Happy people make others happy as they do have the inner glow
She is one of those rare people i feel happy of to know
A down to earth and lovely person free of any sort of guile
Every time that i do see her she always greets me with a smile.

Legal Crims

Legal crims control the World they have money they have power
And just like the weeds of the garden they do stifle every flower
And sad to think the gullible masses look up to them and them admire
Like them to be wealthy and powerful many social climbers to aspire
Illegal crims are locked in prison where they do deserve to be
But sad to say their legalized kindred are enjoying the good life living free
Making millions whilst many grow poorer in a World where billions live in poverty
All because of legalized criminals who seem proud of their dishonesty
In a World where millions of people are stateless and homeless and dying of hunger every day
Legal crims are growing wealthier it should never be this way
I for one do not respect them and them i never could admire
I see nothing good or gracious in them of praise worthy to inspire
Millions because of them poorer such a sad thing for to say
They ought to be locked in prison and for their sins be made to pay.

The More I Learn About Nature

The more i learn about Nature the more my wonder of her does grow
Yet so little about her of i cannot claim to know
I learn something new about her every day
In life we never stop learning it does seem this way
I first grew to love Nature when i was a boy
And learning about her today i enjoy
And the more i learn of her the more i realize
That i do know so little this not a surprise
Her secrets are many and her wonders not few
And every day of Nature we do learn something new
Our Earth Mother grows the food on which we do live
Yet we take and take from her and in return to her little give
In Nature there is so much beauty to see
And wherever i look it is all around me.

Lake Cartcarrong At Winslow

The gray and fawn gray shrike thrush does whistle and sing
His song to listen to such a beautiful thing
On a sunlit blackwood tree by Lake Cartcarrong
His voice from once heard one never again could get wrong

Lake Cartcarrong in Winslow with a charm of it's own
To rod and line and small boat fishers it is widely known
It is said that fish there are in plentiful supply
Even in drought conditions it never goes dry

Where many species of waterbirds in large numbers abound
And waders on the lake shore probe for prey in the soggy ground
Where birdwatchers often visit hoping to photograph a species of waterbird that is rare
That with their birdwatching friends online they can share

On the wetlands by Lake Cartcarrong ibis in large flocks to be seen
In as beautiful a place as to i have ever been
A place i visit often though not every day
From Winslow earthly utopia cannot be far away.

Near Where The Araglen Flow

On a cold December evening cold enough to snow
In the fading twilight a silver backed crow
It's voice carrying in the frosty winds that from the Boggeraghs blow
Is cawing on a naked birch tree near where the Araglen flow

On through the darkening fields of Cullen it babbles it's way
In a voice never silent by night and by day
Near the shamrock bridge it flows into the Blackwater and into a bigger waterway grow
How old are the rivers would anyone know?

In quiet old Duhallow as darkness cloaks the sky
The unmistakeable wildness in a vixen's cry
Out hunting or perhaps calling for a mate
On her breeding season she needs to copulate

Rats and mice under cover disappear
When the distinctive scream of a barn owl they do hear
The usually silent hunter of the night
It's hearing so good to detect and kill prey it does not need light

A chill wind from the Boggeraghs tell rain may be near
In a Duhallow twilight on a cold and wet time of year
And on a naked birch tree a silver backed crow
Is cawing near where Araglen to the Blackwater flow.

Young Man Or Young Woman

Young man or young woman make the most of your prime
For you too like me will become victims of time
Time did not wait for me and will not wait for you
Make the most of your young years this the best you can do
Youth is a thing for anyone that does not last
And some as they age have regrets for the past
For their youthful mistakes some price they had to pay
We do learn from the past as the wise one does say
Not much point in regretting on what has been and gone
When life all around you as usual goes on
Time is our master to it we must bow
And the past has it's memories and we live in the now
Young man or young woman make the most of your day
Since time on your lives does keep ticking away.

Oh Isn't It

Oh isn't it so very nice to scent the grass mowed for silage or hay
Wafting to you in the gentle breeze of a pleasant sunny day
White butterflies out and about seemingly dancing in the breeze
On a balmy day in December of around twenty degrees
In Nature on all Seasons so much beauty to be seen
The paddocks after recent rain are looking lush and green
So much amazing natural beauty for one to write about
Of the coastal countryside of this Land of the far south
The beauty of our Earth Mother writers and artists does inspire
And of singing her praises some never seem to tire
The warbling flute like music so pleasant to hear
Of the silver billed magpies who sing all through the year
Swallows chasing flying insects in the sky blue and gray
Oh isn't it good to be alive on this nice Summer day.

The Best Of People

Treated by their government as those who did fail
And abused and beaten by their jailers in jail
For speaking out against their oppressors this is the price they do pay
Good people are dying in jail every day
Though treated as criminals by their government for human rights they speak out
They show what true courage can be about
True heroes though most of them remain unsung
And sadly many of them in jail do die young
Languishing in prison their only crime
Is to speak for freedom and justice in their Country a crime
An autocratic dictatorial government that any criticism does not tolerate
Anyone who speaks against them becomes an enemy of the state
The best of people yet they languish in jail
It is their government that them does fail.

Racism Is A Thing

Racism is a thing people meet with every day
In hurtful things of them the racists does say
Of their culture or their religion or the color of their skin
In a World where some are quite racist a fair go seems hard for to win
Without racists the Human World would be better for to live in indeed
Of their sort of humanity we are not in need
Racism people only known for to divide
With the increase in the human population it is on the increase Worldwide
It does not have a nationality or it does not have a race
Racism can be found in every place
Where people of every nationality live
For the racially villified It can be hard to forgive
Far too many racists in the World of today
Those who practice live and let live better people than them in every way.

Though The past Is Long Gone

Though the past is long gone and from you far away
In memory you can visit it every day
And your friends of the past you do visit again
And as they looked and were to you they remain
The great gift of memory such a marvellous thing
The past to the present to you it does bring
Some of your past friends though deceased in your memory alive
Good memories as is said the years do survive
The great gift of memory is a precious gift indeed
And those who do lose it of pity in need
Though you are getting older and time on you ticking fast
It brings back to you happy days of the past.

There Is Always A Few

You never harm anyone in any way
And You help those in need of your help every day
Among the kindest and more compassionate people of the town
But there is always a few in their words to put you down
Though good in the World you only wish to do
Not everyone in their words have praise for you
It is true for your kindness positive recognition you do need
But to the few who say negative things of you why pay any heed
In their words to anyone they are not kind
Those who seek flaws in others flaws always manage to find
Unkind words you hear of you spoken on your sensitive feelings take toll
But negative opinions of you by others are beyond your control
To unwarranted negative comments of you any heed do not pay
Since the majority who know you good things of you do say.

The Self Absorbed

The self absorbed are those i see very day
Enamoured with their phones they never look my way
With their smart phones they do seem obsessed
Staring at them they do seem quite possessed
Of smart phone addiction they may never be free
Of what is happening around them they never look to see
Staring at their mobile screens of the young the latest craze
People and their addictions never cease to amaze
Their own praises to their friends the young do sing
In the early twenty first century this is an in thing
The young technological savvy by smart phone communicate
And those not into technology does seem out of date
I pass them in silence on the street every day
Staring at their smart phones they never look my way.

The Seeds Of Good Karma

The seeds of good karma in good deeds are sown
Live and let live and to each their own
No favor done for anyone is a favor too small
And here's to the beauty on a fair go for all
You will be judged better not for the good you do for yourself but for the good for others you do
And treat others as you would like them to treat you
What goes around comes around only true for to say
You will reap the rewards of your kindness and compassion one day
If to your higher self you do remain true
Good things in life will become your due
Those who in their words like dragging others down
Are never among the popular of the town
Karma will reward you for your every good deed
Do not expect good crops from poor quality seed.

Declan

He is always the quiet one and he never talks loud
One who never adds volume to the noisy crowd
Declan is one who never has much to say
He just lives his life in a calm and quiet way
In his early twenties near the prime of his life
With a part time girlfriend he does not have a wife
For one of his years he is rather wise
That age does not guarantee wisdom i have come to realize
Not tribal in his ways or not into sports in any way at all
He cannot understand why grown men jostle with each other for possession of a football
Tall dark haired and handsome he is twenty three
Of any tribal loyalties he is one who is free
A down to earth fellow in his own quiet way
Quiet waters run deep as the wise one does say.

It Was My Love Of Adventure

It was my love of adventure that brought me far south
Of the fields of the badger and the waterways of the brown trout
But i hoped to return for to grow old and gray
To the place where i first looked on the lamp of day

But the flame of nostalgia that in me brightly burned
Has faded to a flicker i have not returned
To the green countryside just west of the Town of Millstreet
And the old rushy fields where the waterways meet

Thirty one years in this beautiful southern Land
All things in life never do go as planned
I have grown to love this Country and i have shed my last tears
For the what used to be in the long gone years

Here in the home of emu, koala, echidna, wallaby and gray kangaroo
And long billed corella and galah and yellow tailed black cockatoo
I receive lessons from life and Nature every day
We never stop learning as the wise one does say

I never returned to greet the flowers of May
In the old fields i loved by the Town far away
I have fallen in love with this southern Land
Not all things in life ever does go as planned.

December In Duhallow And Sliabh Luachra

The Boggeraghs are cloaked in the fogs rains of gray
It is cold, wet and windy in Duhallow and Sliabh Luachra today
A forecast high for the day of a chilly three degrees
And the cold winds are howling in the bare deciduous trees
Christmas and the birth of a new year in time not far away
In the gray dawn cattle in farmyard sheds bellowing for silage or hay
Every river, stream, rill, field and roadside drain
Are flowing bank high swollen by heavy rain
In Duhallow and Sliabh Luachra December is a cold, windy and wet month of the year
And birdsong is a thing that one does not hear
The mornings if not windy and wet are cold frosty and gray
And December the twenty first is the year's shortest day
In Duhallow and Sliabh Luachra three months from the Spring
You never hear any bird whistle and sing.

One Of The Wealthiest

One of the wealthiest and most influential people in the town
These happen to be his two claims to renown
He does have a god to that he often does pray
Though he is not kind or compassionate in any way
He does not feel any sympathy for those doing it tough
The hungry and homeless who live and sleep rough
He says for their poverty existence they have themselves to blame
It is not his fault if they live without a penny to their name
Nobody is perfect in truth one can say
One of the town's wealthiest people is poor in another way
No space for compassion in his self absorbed mind
The known multi millionaire in his thinking and his words not kind
One materially wealthy who in a god does believe
Though he does not believe on giving to receive.

On A December Morning

I am one who may never run out of rhyme
But eventually i too will run out of time
For eventually all life journeys come to an end
The Reaper of lives does not treat anyone as a friend

Do try to make the most of your every day
For time that rusts iron keeps ticking away
And only the lucky survive to die old
The funeral bell for the young too has tolled

The birds chirp and whistle on the sunlit trees
On a beautiful December morning of close to twenty degrees
And on the park garden beds the beautiful flowers
Looking healthy in full bloom after the recent showers

On this sunlit Land of the far south
Such a beautiful morning for to write rhymes about
With the sun on their dark wings chirping as they fly
Welcome swallows chasing flying insects in the blue and gray sky

Nature always does leave us with great memories
White butterflies dancing in the gentle breeze
Blowing uphill from the ocean in this land of the far south
Where there is never a shortage of rhymes to write about.

A Tough World To Live In

A tough World to live in for many today
The homeless and hungry who only know of life in the hard way
The stateless and malnourished and war and famine refugees
It is true that poverty can be of varying degrees
Of things the privileged take for granted many must go without
Of hardship many people only know about
Thousands of people are dying of hunger every day
In a fair and just World it would not be this way
In a Human World where many malnourished people at a young age do die
That everybody are born equal is based on a lie
That some are more equal than others only true to say
Inequality is rife in the Human World of today
Some governments to those who are different their basic human rights are known to deny
A fair go to the wealthy only seems to apply.

People With Each Other Compete

Every day with each other for this thing known as success people do compete
To be best in their neighborhood and best on their street
A stepping stone for them to far greater fame
So many who do aspire to become a great name
On this cyber age infatuation on the rise
Not a great World to live for the compassionate and wise
The look at me syndrome Worldwide nowadays rife
Infatuation with smart phones for many is a way of life
In an age when everyone wants to be famous and narcissism with many is the in thing
And so many their own praises only too willing to sing
And it is not saying anything that is in anyway new
To say that the humble nowadays are of the few
And this in itself is a sad thing to say
In a Human World where people compete for attention every day.

The Song Of A Male Goldfinch

The song of a male goldfinch pleasant memories to me does bring
Of far away leafy groves in Summer and Spring
The memories of sweet freshly mowed grass for silage or hay
Come wafting to me from meadows far away
With red around their bills and mostly light brown, fawn and gold
Goldfinches are beautiful birds to behold
Familiar and distinctive in their appearance and their twittering song
Once seen and once heard one never again get them wrong
With each passing Spring their numbers seem to grow
That they were introduced by humans to Australia they are not to know
Environmentally friendly birds since they enjoy eating the seed
Of thistles and every sort of noxious weed
A male godfinch singing on a sunlit willow tree
Rekindles an old memory of boyhood in me.

For Our Own Extinction

For these things known as development and progress some price for to pay
More species of wildlife becoming endangered every day
Mostly due to natural habitat destruction and human induced climate change
The thought of a World without wildlife does seem stranger than strange

No fit home for wildlife in the concrete town
On land for development more old growth trees are cut down
Factory chimneys with gray smoke polluting the sky
To say us humans are friends of our Earth Mother the truth would be to deny

In the abuse of the natural environment for the benefit of the super wealthy greedy few there is a lot to desire
In those who become billionaires at our Earth Mother's expense there is nothing to admire
The World is for us humans to live in and with other creatures to share
And sadly the environmentally conscious nowadays seem far too rare

In our environmental practices us humans should not feel any pride
So much natural beauty for money every day is being destroyed
But eventually we too will have a huge price to pay for our greed
For our own extinction we may be planting the seed.

A December Day In Illowa

The sun shining bright in the sky blue and gray
In Illowa of the Moyne Shire on a nice December day
The countryside looking green after the recent rain
With such pleasant weather how could one complain
A forecast high for the day of twenty degrees
And blowing from the ocean a freshening breeze
With the sun on their wings in the summery sky
In pursuit of flying insects the dark swallows fly
The black and white cattle gaining weight by the day
Content in the sunshine chewing their cuds do lay
The marvels of Nature one does not pay to see
Everywhere i do look it is all around me
Natural beauty the artists and writers inspire
So much beauty in Nature for one to admire

Old Dave

He was born and raised far north of this town
Old Dave in his eighties has seen many a sundown
A well travelled fellow and nobody's fool
He says he will live out his days in east Warrnambool
In his early eighties quite knowledgeable and wise
Every morning he drives to Thunder Point to watch the sunrise
He does not have children or a partner or wife
His black four year old border collie named Tim his companion in life
Wherever he goes to his dog goes with him
He says he does have a true friend in Tim
Some of his friends are deceased and others he has not seen for years
But for the what used to be he has shed his last tears
Old Dave says that a true friend is so hard to find
And his only companion is not of the human kind.

One Does Have To Suppose

He said to me i have been told you are the fellow who pens reams of rhyming stuff
For too many years for your own sake you have been one of those a rhyming buff
A rhymer who writes for enjoyment only not for the reward of pay
Suppose as is said of fools that their sort are born every day

You have written so many rhymes of this Town known as Millstreet
And of the green countryside where the waterways do meet
But in writing for you never any money or fame
Perhaps you will die as you live as an unknown literary name

You have writen heaps of rhymes of the characters you have known
People battling through life who have ways of their own
And in your own words you do honor the dead
But an eulogy for you more than likely will never be read

His opinions on me does suit me quite fine
For this is his business and his business cannot be mine
He is not my friend nor is he one of my foes
It is each to their own one would have to suppose.

I Often Visit Claraghatlea

I often visit Claraghatlea on evenings in the Spring
When nesting birds in leafy groves do whistle chirp and sing
And the hawthorns look resplendent in their white blooms of the May
Whenever one does visualize nowhere seems far away
I hear the male snipe above the bog as darkness cloaks the sky
With his tail feathers make the strangest sounds as above his territory he does fly
That anywhere is not far away i have come to realize
The past it can become the now when one does visualize
From the high fields of Claramore the old silver tongued rill
Goes babbling on through Claraghatlea it's voice is never still
I may have physically left the old fields but the mental images of them with me stay
And in my visualizations i visit them every day
I often hear the wild birds sing in Spring before sundown
In my first homeplace in Claraghatlea just west of Millstreet Town.

Old Dino From Milan

Old Dino from Milan his hair silver gray
Is one i see often though not every day
Sometimes with rod and line he is fishing from the pier on the bay
A hobby he enjoys to pass time away

Dino a great grandfather he is eighty one
Grandchildren to Bruno his only son
His beloved wife of fifty five years Gabriela of cancer died three years ago
Her passing from life for him was a time of woe

But as Dino says he owes it to his deceased wife
For to carry on with the living of life
During her long ilness to him she often did say
Dino do not grieve for me when from life i pass away

Dino of brown eyes and of average height
Quite healthy for his years and mentally bright
Down to earth in his ways and free of guile
Stranger and friend he does greet with a smile

Though the accent of Italy he does retain
Perhaps he will never see his birth City again
One loved by many a likeable man
Australia needs more like Dino of Milan.

The Former Flower Of Kirkstall

Her hair was as dark as the wing of a crow
But as is said of age on beauty it does show
In her physical prime she was the Flower of Kirkstall
In the Koroit countryside then the fairest of all

Though her former beauty she will never regain
Her blue eyes some of their beauty does retain
Though she does not have a partner or was never any man's wife
Her daughter's two teenage sons carry her genes in life

The former Flower of Kirkstall has known of a better day
With dark hair dye she cloaks her natural gray
Much heavier now than when in her life's prime
As is said of beauty it does lose out to time

In the Melbourne eastern suburbs from her first home by car five hours away
The former Flower of Kirkstall she is aging today
Though not quite the beauty she once used to be
She is quite attractive for one of sixty three

The finest of her homeplace four decades ago
But as is said of time it becomes everyone's foe
Once the Flower of Kirkstall of the coastal Moyne Shire
In her prime years one many young men did admire.

Your Greatest Gift

It is good to be healthy and feeling well and alive
In a World where many to twenty do not even survive
Though it is not always true the good only die young
In a World where the praises of aging celebrities by the gullible masses are sung

With your gifts and talents others you may impress
But your life is the greatest gift that you possess
And since life after death may be based on a lie
We lose everything on the day we do die

Though few wish to die and then be forgot
Post bodily death it will not matter to you if your are remembered or not
Just Try to remain healthy and live for as long as you can
And leave it to Nature's Reaper for to call time on your life span

Lucky are those who long outlive their prime day
And enjoy good health as they grow old and gray
Not everybody has such luck on their side
Every day many people are dying at a young age Worldwide

Try to be healthy and happy and live for as long as you can
And hopefully die in your sleep without pain as a very old woman or man
Like all other life forms us humans are born to eventually die
The same for the billionaire as you and i.

The First Of The Calendar Summer

The first of the calendar Summer and the first of December and the rain drizzling down
On the streets and the parks and the sidewalks of old Koroit Town
The weather wet and cloudy for the time of year
But weatherwise that Nature is never predictable is obviously quite clear
But with the precipitation none ought to complain
Since after the dry spell of weather it is always welcome the rain
The parks and the paddocks of Koroit looking green
And as healthy looking as they have ever been
Do not see any white butterflies out and flying about today
From the rain under cover of leaves they are hiding away
In their short lives they are only active in weather fine
One can say of them they enjoy the warmth of the sunshine
And how nice for to hear a male blackbird sing
One who is known to sing his finest songs in the Spring.

Quite Outstanding People

Of more of the kind and compassionate the Human World is in need
For their future good karma they keep sowing the good seed
By the good deeds that they do perform every day
The people who in them have a caring way
Always willing to give without expecting to receive
That karma will serve them well one can only believe
Though for them there never is a street parade
And heroines and heroes of their sort never made
They are happy to remain as the unsung of the town
Those only too willing to help the financially down
For their selflessness them one can only admire
For to be wealthy and famous to they do never aspire
Quite outstanding people of them one can say
Those who do perform their good deeds every day.

The People Admired By Many

The people admired by many for their gains in material greed
Though of more of their sort Mother Earth is not in need
In their yearning for more billions in money the Earth they seek to destroy
Not much hope for a good future for every young girl and boy
By taking from our Earth Mother their fortune in billions does grow
Yet sadly these are the people many do wish to know
Yet despite their multi millions in money they are not very wise
Since they are helping to destroy the one who does feed us they fail to realize
In their material gains they take a great sense of pride
Whilst the gap between the wealthy and poor growing wider Worldwide
This race for material gain to me does seem all wrong
Due to them the children of the future may never hear birdsong
And sad to think that those who abuse our Earth Mother many do admire
And just to be like them they to do aspire.

The Athlete

A World Champion athlete when in his life's prime
Though this is going back many decades in time
In middle distance running a World Champion and winner of Olympic Gold
But time ticks along and great athletes grow old
In his physical prime one never found to be wanting when put to the test
He competed with success against the World's best
He set World record times as a young athlete
And the fans flocked to watch him when he did compete
To athletic history he now belong
And he is remembered in story and song
But all is dark and quiet where at peace he does lay
That time does take care of the best of them only true to say
In his prime a World renowned athlete one the fans did celebrate
But he failed in the end for to outrun his fate.

There Has To Be Some Truth

There has to be some truth in the saying one suppose
That the one with many friends is one not without foes
And though many good deeds you have been known for to do
Not everyone has nice things to say of you
You may be one of the most compassionate and kindest people in the town
But there is always a few willing to drag you down
We have been learning in life before we learned how to crawl
But as is said you may well win many but you will not win them all
He or she very lucky as the word can be
Who has many friends and not one enemy
We all look at life one must say differently
And our different ways makes us more interesting would you not agree
And there has to be some truth in the saying one suppose
That the one with many friends is one not without foes.

Most Politicians Are The Same

Most politicians are the same they are good at deceiving
And they are so good at telling lies that their own lies they start believing
Of honest politicians there surely are not many
At being deceitful most of them to say the least are quite canny
An honest politician is one well worthy of being celebrated
He or she for their honesty ought to be congratulated
The one who votes for the one political party all of her or his voting life to change remains a stranger
But sadly their sort it does seem of extinction will never become in danger
Of politicians in truth it has been said that most of them to their own careers only devoted
And that they only do take care of their own for this they are quite noted
When they talk of their love for their Country you must know that they are lying
That most of them are quite untrustworthy of this there can be no denying
Even among politicians it can be said there is the honest exception
But if you believe what most of them does say you are open to deception.

A Warm Evening In Late November

A warm evening in late November of thirty seven degrees
It even does feel warm in the shade of the trees
Even in the shadiest of places it does seem hard to stay cool
It seldom ever gets this warm in or near Warrnambool
In one of Australia's cooler Cities it is quite warm today
With only a very slight breeze blowing from Stingray Bay
The gardens are in full bloom after the recent rain
From precipitation followed by sunshine Nature always stands to gain
The first of the calendar Summer only two sleeps away
With a cooler start to Summer the weather experts say
White butterflies flitting above the sunlit trees
On a warm evening in very late Spring of thirtry seven degrees
That it is a bit too warm for many seems only true to say
Though going by the weather forecast tomorrow will be a cooler day.

The Power To Do Good

Though the materially super wealthy many admirers do win
The true power to do good only comes from within
The individual you may not be a millionaire
But if you are kind and compassionate then you are one of the rare
For truly selfless people as ever are in the few
And this is not saying anything that is new
Money and material things will never make a kinder person out of you
This is only saying what happens to be true
The words of a wise one are worthy of recall
Make yourself a better person make the World better for all
Those with the gift of selflessness are great people indeed
And of more of their sort the Human World is in need
We can make the World better to live in by the kind things we do
The power to do good is in me and in you.

Agapanthus

Those who say they are non native and invasive and do not belong
In truth are mistaken and have it all wrong
As much as the Roman feels content in Rome
The agapanthus in Australia makes themselves at home
With their origins in South Africa they are a hardy breed
Environmentalists define agapanthus as an invasive weed
With a strong root system that goes deep in the ground
They grow in thick clusters and in numbers abound
Some gardeners love them for their beautiful flowers
In Spring and Summer they bloom in the sunshine after the recent showers
To say that they are plants for all types of weather conditions would not be telling a lie
In drought conditions one of the few plants who refuse to die
Though environmentalists define them as non native and an invasive weed
Of them it can be said they are a hardy breed.

It Is Sad To Think

It is so sad to think that he is dead
He used to talk of days ahead
And holidays with his aging wife
He did love her and he loved life
They shared the same nationality
He was older than her by a few years two or maybe three
They met as migrants but were back home to stay
She is left for to grieve for him today
One who never did wave the national flag
Of patriotism he never did brag
He was quite a likeable man
Sadly he died in his sixties his was not a long span
Life's journey for him has come to an end
To so many he was a good friend.

Enjoy The Now

Enjoy the now this the best you can do
There is so much beauty everywhere around you
The wild birds are singing on bushes and trees
Their pleasant notes floating in the freshening breeze
Enjoy the moment for time does not stand still
The sun it is rising above the brown hill
Such beauty to inspire song, story and rhyme
To live in your memory through decades of time
A memory to cherish and for to retain
In times of nostalgia to visit again
The beauty in Nature to view it is free
It is all around you and it is all around me
Live in the now this the best you can do
And enjoy the beauty that is all around you.

Of Hope It Is Said

The judgmental may dismiss you as a never do well
But you too have your stories of life for to tell
Though your stories may never be published in book form to sell
As they do go unnoticed those of Earthly Hell
You do work so hard for your low take home pay
And your struggles in life you do face every day
Without your sort there would never be a billionaire
That human rank is built on inequality is not at all fair
You may be one of the tribe of the lesser gods
But credit to you since you keep battling the odds
And with your hard life you have managed to cope
And you are one of those who keeps faith in hope
Of a change of luck for you for the better in the days ahead
Those who stick by it eventually succeed of hope it is said.

Suppose He Will Live As Unhappy

In his prime years a champion athlete and now as a top businessman widely known
The seeds of success in his life he has sown
Yet he is not one of the happier kind
Since worry and stress does weigh on his mind

Divorced in his late forties with a teenage daughter and son
And among the unhappy of the town he happens to be one
His ex wife who put up with his moods for an eighteen year time span
Fell in love and now lives with a younger and poorer though far happier man

In his mind for happiness there is no space
I have yet to see him with a smile on his face
One would swear that financially he was doing bad
He always does look so despondent and sad

Suppose he will live as unhappy until the day he does die
That money cannot buy happiness is not a lie
Looked up to as a big success of the town
But mentally one who does always feel down.

The Ancient Brown Faced Hill

Memories can last a lifetime but time does not stand still
And so many years have come and gone to the ageless old brown hill
At the stroke of midnight today it will have gone
And tomorrow will not dawn for some but life it will go on
For millions of years the old brown hill with views that stretch far and wide
Has stood there like a silent sentinel above the countryside
It was so old when people came to build houses and create a town
It has been there forever and forever will look down
On the town and the countryside for many kilometers around
It has stood there an ancient monarch of the higher ground
The subject of song and story and of legends, myths and lore
Above the town and countryside it will stand forever more
Though people do age quickly and time does not stand still
It does not age in centuries the ancient brown faced hill.

Halls Gap

Surrounded by treed hills and millions of trees
Halls Gap of the Geriwerd a Town full of great memories
For people who have been there for a holiday
And many of them hope to return to there for a longer stay
Home to many smaller parrots and larger species of cockatoos
And emus, koalas, echidnas, wallabies and gray kangaroos
A place that inspires the artists and the writers of song, story and rhyme
That retains some of it's historical links to the people of the Dreamtime
Long before the first Europeans built houses there Halls Gap was a meeting place
For the people of the Dreamtime Australia's first race
In the warmth of the Summer evenings they had their corroborees
To their didgeridoos in the shade of the trees
Among the treed hills in hidden graves their bones does lay
Overlooking the Town known as Halls Gap today.

On This Sunlit November Day

The sweet scent of frshly mowed grass for silage or for hay
Come wafting in the freshening breeze on this sunlit November day
And the weather temperature for the day of a high of twenty degrees
The warm air full of the buzzing of bush flies and of bees
Of singing Nature's praises it does seem hard to tire
The artists and the writers she never fail to inspire
To sketch her and of her write poems and stories she never ceases to amaze
The beauty of our Earth Mother is worthy of our praise
How pleasant in the sunshine to hear the blackbird sing
And the gray shrike thrushes whistling the feathered minstrels of the Spring
And the silver billed black and white birds who sing all through the year
The warbling of the magpies always pleasant for to hear
And there is no mistaking the song of the pee wee
With Nature at her finest everywhere around me.

The Only Gift I Own

A stranger to many people one of the not well known
The gift of life my parents gave to me the only gift i own
The wealthy and the famous of the Human World of today
I do not envy them their lot in any sort of way
They are well known to many in every city and town
And though many do look up to them there are some would like to drag them down
Nature's beauty all around us we do not have to pay to see
Today red roses blooming on their sunlit mother tree
And the wildborn birds of Nature does chirp, whistle and sing
In the warmth of November near the end of the Spring
I feel no desire for wealth and fame and material success
And life the greatest gift of all the only gift i possess
I do not feel any desire others for to impress
I just wish to know of contentment and a life free of stress.

The Church Bell At The West End

Distance to memory is not a barrier as the wise are known to say
The church bell at the West End i hear it toll today
For another one departed a heart forever still
On a farewell to the cemetery for to lay by Cashman's Hill

It often rang for the long departed and it rings for their descendants today
The church bell at the West End ring the faithful in to pray
To treat all people equal it's great claim to renown
And it can be heard some distance from it's home in Millstreet Town

For joyous occasions as well as for parting tears
The church bell at the West End has been ringing for years
In my nostalgic moments it is ringing in my mind
For those from life departed too deep for winds to find

It well may be another not the Millstreet Town church bell
That will send me on my journey on a final farewell
It tolls for joy and sorrow and to summon the faithful in to pray
And so many it has tolled for in eternal rest does lay

It is true what is said of memory it can make distance disappear
The church bell at the West End in fancy i often hear
In moments of nostalgia it peals in my memory
But it well may be another bell that will ring farewell to me.

The More Ordinary

Some of the young males in the pub like to crow
Of the women they have made love to they want others to know
On boasting in public of their virility they are not very wise
Since on doing so the reputation of local women they demoralize

If there was a competition for the town's most honorable men none of them would win a prize
There is truth in the saying a shut mouth never swallows any flies
Of their false idea of manhood they feel far too proud
And like young barnyard roosters they crow far too loud

They are going the wrong way about it if respect they wish to win
At the local on a Saturday evening with a few beers in
Of local women they have made love to in public they talk about
With them it seems the brain cannot control the mouth

Their aging dads boast of their sexual conquests today
Like father like son as the wise one does say
Like their dads as they age they will not grow wise
How an honorable man should behave their sort will never realize

In the pub the more they do drink the louder their voices grow
Of their virility and manhood they do like to crow
Of women they made love to as they swill their beer down
The more ordinary of the ordinary young men of the town.

A Little Pride

A little pride is useful for one it does seem
But not healthy for the mind when in the extreme
For a strong sense of pride in the words of the wise
To feelings of self conceit of has been known to give rise
It is almost impossible for you not to feel proud
When others they are singing your praises loud
Too much praise can cause the ego to swell
And in the flattered mind for humility there is no space to dwell
Pride in moderation it is quite okay
But this applies to most things in truth one can say
But some with praise do get carried away
And on their human feelings the flatterers do prey
A little pride can be useful for one it does seem
But not healthy for the mind when in the extreme.

By The Boggeraghs Today

It is windy, cold and raining by the Boggeraghs today
In Duhallow and Sliabh Luachra from here far away
The sun is well hidden behind clouds of gray
And in the farmyard sheds cattle are bellowing for silage or hay

Brown rain water flowing high in every river, stream and drain
And the Boggeraghs cloaked in the gray fogs of rain
In latter November a cold and wet time of year
The Winter and even worse weather is near

To the Cork and Kerry Border countryside
When smaller birds and animals have fewer places to shelter in and hide
From predators when the deciduous trees and many hedgerwows are bare
And places for to rest and sleep in comfort and safety for them are quite rare

A month before Christmas the nights cold and long
And in the gray of the dawn one does not hear bird song
In the farmyard sheds cattle are bellowing for silage or hay
It is cold windy and raining by the Boggeraghs today.

The Answer Does Seem Beyond Me

The answer does seem beyond me to explain
Why somebody's loss becomes somebody else's gain
That human society is structured in this way
For the winners successes it is the losers who pay
To call someone a loser is not a nice thing
In the context they are used in such words can have a verbal sting
The winner takes all of the glory and fame
And the loser does become a forgotten name
But it is surely true of the poor of the town
That they do know who their friends are since they are financially down
The wealthy looked up to and by many admired
And others to be like them by them feel inspired
Human life is mostly about the power of money and winning and fame
And every loser does become a forgotten name.

With Some Of Your Opinions

With some of your opinions i could never agree
When you say you cannot feel any sympathy for a refugee
Your idea of a fair go all does not include
Those most in need of helping you wish to exclude

Of those who fled their homelands of their lives in fear
Stories of their sorrows you do not wish to hear
Save for circumstance of birth you and i may be Stateless as well
Among those who were forced to flee from their earthly hell

It does sadden me more than a bit when you say
That all boats carrying asylum seekers from our shores should be turned away
It is people like you of their human rights many deny
Since your idea of a fair go to some only does apply

You may be my friend but as a person you i cannot admire
Since in some of your opinions the idea of a better World for all of any hope you do not inspire
And it is sad to think that many with you would agree
When you say there should not be a welcome for a boat refugee.

Big Luke

Big Luke he believes his own stories in his own mind he is in sporting renown
And he is worthy of the dubious title of the most self deluded man in the town
As a young man he was a track athlete though he never did win a race
In the low grade races he took part in he never once did run a place
Though none at the pub do believe him with his stories they go along
They tell him how great he must have been he ought to be honored in song
And he being a sucker for flattery believe them when to him they do say
That he must have been a great athlete way back there when in his prime day
Luke a grand dad in his early sixties his wife Kate left him years ago
It is said that she could not put up with his bragging what it is said well may be so
Just one of many who like to sing his own praises his problem he believes his own lies
Every story of his sporting achievements to another one always gives rise
He is number one at self praising in the local bar and the football club
The big Luke types nowadays are not unusual there are a few in every pub.

John

In a car accident John lost his two young daughters Lisa and Bella and Ann his lovely wife
He is one who knows of the hard knocks of life
Now in his early fifties he never married again
Yet of his sorrows in life he never does complain
John believes that life is the greatest gift any human being does possess
Money can buy you an expensive home at a fashionable address
But that money cannot buy you life only true for to say
Very wealthy people are losing their gift of life every day
John who has known of happy time and of times of tears
Hopes that life's Reaper will ignore him for many more years
His three nearest and dearest in his life died twenty years ago
He says to love life and live happy to his deceased children and wife he does owe
Always with a smile on his face a nice person to meet
Sometimes i see John walking his jack russell dog on the street.

When Trust Is Betrayed

Once friends can become bitter enemies when trust is betrayed
This is how the worst of enemies are quite often made
Or the unfaithfulness of a friend with a husband or partner or wife
On this way the best of friends can become the worst of enemies for life
When trust is betrayed there can be hell for to pay
and hatred is a thing that can grow by the day
And sometimes hatred known to lead to violent crime
That can cause the offending one to serve years of prison time
Some of the best of friends are the worst of enemies today
Their friendship came to an end in the bitterest way
You cannot have a worse enemy than a former friend
This is what often does happen when once good friendships does end
Out of the best of friendships the worst of enemies are often made
This is what often happens when trust is betrayed.

At Thunder Point

The old bloke and his wife enjoying their cake and tea
At Thunder Point overlooking the Pacific sea
Sitting in their car in the evening sunshine
How nice to be out of doors on weather so fine
The day it was warm though the evening is cool
At Thunder point by the coastal City of Warrnambool
What a nice place to be on a sunny November day
Overlooking the ocean along by Stingray Bay
At Thunder Point the old bloke and his old wife one often does see
Sitting in their car enjoying the ocean scenery
Just before the sun sets such a nice place to be
White surf waves are rolling as far as the eyes does see
Where the old bloke and his wife enjoy their cake and tea
As they sit in their car overlooking the sea.

Old Memories Die Hard

For old Claraghatlea and the long gone years
And the what used to be i have shed my last tears
My better years are in the forever gone
And life all around me as usual goes on

At the stroke of midnight the past will be today
The now is all that does matter as the wise one does say
The past just a memory of the what used to be
And time that does not wait for anyone did not wait for me

Yet on my flights of fancy i sometimes do hear and see
A male robin singing on a silver birch tree
Just before sundown on an evening in Spring
The great gift of memory is such a beautiful thing

Though old memories die hard only true for to say
I feel happy enough in my life today
In the home of echidna, wallaby, emu, koala and gray kangaroo
And the big dark brown parrot known as yellow tailed black cockatoo

Yet i often do think of a Summer sundown
In an old rushy field just west of Millstreet Town
In the calm of the evening the soft lowing of a cow
As she calls to her calf by the River Finnow

And as the shades of night sloqwly darken the sky
The male snipe for to proclaim his borders does fly
And with his tail feathers makes a drumming sound
Well into the night above his breeding ground

The past it has gone and only the memories remain
Of what used to be but will not be again
Of when i was younger before time became my foe
Far north in Duhallow in the long ago.

Contented At Home

One can only admire those of a sense of place
Life challenges in their original homeplace they do face
From home never wishing to travel elsewhere
For to seek adventure in the big World out there
Quite happy to live and age where they are known
Where they are referred to as of our own
Happy to live near where they first saw light of day
They never do yearn for lands far away
One can only envy them their contentment of mind
Free of the bug of wander the stay at home kind
The world's great cities they have no wish for to see
So lucky in many ways they seem to be
They have no wish to see New York or London or Paris or Rome
The people who do feel contented at home.

His Own Thing

Not religious in any way
To any god he does not pray
And friends he does not seek to win
The fellow who does not fit in

Not a member of any community club
Or never seen in the local pub
One who is not tribal in any way
A fringe dweller of him one might say

Politics and sports and talking of football
Does not interest him in any way at all
The praises of heroines and heroes he never sing
He is one who does his own thing

By the judgmental condemned to fail
Yet he has never been in jail
Or wronged any one in any way
For being different there is some price to pay

In his thirties without a wife
Or any children in his life
One who enjoys the casual sexual fling
The fellow who does his own thing.

With Rhyming Words

With rhyming words i am one who does love to play
An addiction for me too hard to give away
Forty four years ago when in my life's prime
In the Autumn of seventy three i penned my first rhyme

Though my worth as a rhymer i feel reason to doubt
So many things for me for to write rhymes about
On life and on Nature things to write of each day
Though very few writers for their written words receive pay

Quite easy to learn and memorize and recite
Rhyme is a thing that is easy to write
Not a hard thing to do you can have it from me
As i have penned many since nineteen seventy three

Those who tell you that rhymers are many and poets are few
Are not telling you anything that is new
Though some can see as much beauty in a weed as in a rose
We all look at things differently one does have to suppose

I never refer to myself as a poet
Nor am i one worthy of literary note
I am just one of those who enjoys penning rhyme
Something i have been doing for quite a long time.

On This Warm Day in Spring

In the mostly blue sky just a few clouds of gray
For November and Spring quite a bright sunny day
A forecast high for the afternoon of thirty degrees
And the warm air full of the buzzing of flies and bees
A calm afternoon with only a slight breeze
To gently stir the leaves on the bushes and trees
The countryside looking so green after the recent showers
And colorful and resplendent in nature's flowers
The dark welcome swallows do chirp as they fly
In pursuit of flying insects in the sunny sky
And white butterflies quite a beautiful sight
Are flitting about seemingly enjoying the sunlight
And the cattle lay chewing their cuds in the shade of the trees
On this warm day in Spring of some thirty degrees.

In Some Way To Explain

It is true that learning to knowledge does give rise
But the more i do learn the more i realize
That i am one who does know little at all
Just a tiny brick in the great knowledge wall
On our journeys in life our dreams we pursue
And that we learn as we live happens for to be true
Some do learn fast and some do learn slow
And near the end of our lives journey we realize of how little we do know
About life and nature and it seems true to say
That we learn as we live until our last night and day
Some knowledge we acquire we do not retain
Which one must suppose goes in some way to explain
That the more we do learn the more we realize
That we do know so little this not a surprise.

To Eventually Die

We are born to life to eventually die
The same for the wealthy celebrities as you and i
Life has a beginning and also has an end
Since we are born as mortals why otherwise pretend
A date with Life's Reaper we all eventually must face
The one who does not differentiate between age rank and race
But in your lifetime how you treat others says more about you
Than your money or material successes can ever hope to do
Those with kindness and compassion are great people indeed
And of more of their sort the Human World is in need
They are a credit to their nationality, race gender and creed
And for their future good Karma they keep planting the seed
We are born into life for to eventually die
The same for the millionaire as for you and i.

They Too Create Millionaires

They will not grow healthy and wealthy and wise
Those who live on a diet of burgers and french fries
In expensive restaurants their sort cannot afford for to dine
On their income they can only afford fast food and cheap wine
Yet on helping the MacDonald owner in becoming a multi millionaire
One can say of them that they do their own share
They too create millionaires those of the poor side of the town
Whilst they themselves do age without good health or wealth or renown
For every materially wealthy person many in poverty
In a fair and just World this never would be
They do work hard enough for poor take home pay
And they survive on the cheapest of food every day
Those who know how it feels to be financially down
Who have to live and survive on the poor side of the town.

Ordinary People

Ordinary men and their ordinary wives
Believe that they live extraordinary lives
In their huge back garden an Olympic sized swimming pool
On warm Summer days to swim in and keep cool
Ordinary people without one poor friend
Their children an exclusive private school attend
Aspire to becoming the wealthiest people of the town
This is their ordinary desire for renown
The ordinary man and his ordinary wife
Crave the material success in life
Up the social ladder they have climbed far
Each of them drives an expensive new car
Mother Earth suffering because of their material greed
Ordinary people are ordinary indeed
With their ordinary neighbors they do compete
For to live in and own the best house in their street.

A Stranger In Millstreet

If ever again i return to Millstreet
Many i knew there i know i will not meet
For many are deceased or like me live far away
From the Town and countryside in view of Clara today
A stranger in Millstreet in Duhallow where to many i was once known
Where today most there would not see me as one of their own
I have not seen Duhallow for thirty one years
And for there i have shed my last nostalgic tears
Yet i often think of the Town and the fields near Millstreet
In the green countryside where the waterways meet
Though the now only matter and the now is today
Old memories die hard as the wise one does say
Absence makes us strangers is how it seems to be
And in Millstreet today many would not know me.

To Be Flawed Is To Be Human

It is true to be flawed is to be human the near to perfect to say the least rare
Many observe the unwritten commandment of your own self you always take care
In the Human World the real god is money despite what the religious do say
Since they too deal in paper banknotes though to their gods of the Universe they do pray
Money is the main cause of corruption many to come by it others have been known to deceive
That their gods will forgive them for their sins of embezzlement at least this is what they believe
Fraud and theft and corruption are rife in the twenty first century though any of these have always been a common thing
Many applauding a crook in disguise when a millionaire's praises they do sing
In this the age of the internet scammers those doing online business have come to be aware
That on the World Wide Web fraud is prevalent and crooks in disguise are not rare
That some people are far more flawed than others is not saying anything that is new
In these times of internet scammers the crooks in disguise are not few
It is true to be flawed is to be human gullible people by criminals are deceived every day
For them to become poorer financaially the price for their life lessons they do pay.