Welcome Swallows

The fastest on natural wings of the southern sky
On pursuit of flying insects how fast they do fly
Above cities and towns and the countryside
The dark and brown welcome swallows travel far and wide
With the sun on their dark wings when in full flight
These aerial speedsters make for a beautiful sight
The aerial nomads who are known to travel far
Their aerial speed matches that of a motor car
Not bound by borders or range or State
In late Autumn to the northern sub tropics and tropics they do migrate
That they are masters of flying there can be no denying
They spend most of their lives chasing insects whilst flying
Wedged in verandah timbers their cup shaped mud nest one sometimes does see
Welcome swallows are birds familiar to many and familiar to me.

The Artist

His biggest achievement to many in life may seem small
When he has nothing to say he says nothing at all
At the local pub on a Saturday evening where noise does abound
He sits and drinks his beer without uttering a sound
He does not take part in sport or football with the local club play
And many young locals his age say he is strange in his way
Those who are different to them they do not understand
The flames of suspicion by difference can be fanned
As a young emerging artist he is making his mark
At the weekend he is often seen sketching at the leisure park
In his early twenties close to his physical prime
With his casual girlfriend he sometimes spends leisure time
Quietly spoken he has never played a game of football
When he has nothing to say he says nothing at all.

Only Memories Remain

The past it has gone and only memories remain
Of the what used to be but will not be again
Your friends of the past are not your friends today
In life as you have done they have gone their own way

They once were your friends but as your friends did not stay
Time, absence and separation on this had a say
They have forged new friendships as you have as well
How long any friendship last only time does tell

Friendships are built on personal interests is how it seems to be
But many with this may well not agree
But a friendship between a pauper and a billionaire
In truth one can say is something rarer than rare

Though you no longer feel close to a former friend
It may not have been a personal dispute brought your friendship to an end
It is just that in ways apart you had grown
It is from similar interests the seeds of friendship are sown

Another day dawns and yesterday has gone
And the clock on our lives ever keeps ticking on
All that you have left are memories of the past
And friends that you once knew that time did outlast.

In Koroit Today

The sun it is shining in the sky blue and gray
And in the park playground children laugh as they play
In late September the prime of Spring not far away
And the blackbirds are singing in Koroit today
After the recent rain the parks and paddocks quite green
And Nature at her finest is to be seen
A weather forecast high for the day of a pleasant eighteen degrees
And the songs of the birds carrying in the freshening breeze
That blow through the park from the ocean shore
In near perfect weather who could ask for more
The sun it is shining without one sign of rain
With such pleasant weather how could one complain
And Earthly Utopia cannot be far away
From where the blackbirds are singing in Koroit today.

When All That You Have Left

When all that you have left is your sense of pride
And you are old and frail and time not on your side
Your better days in life are in the long gone
And only the fear of death makes you want to live on
A last Winter, Spring and Summer And Fall
And a last day and night is ahead of us all
If luck is on our side and good health with us stay
Eventually in time we will fade away
The longest lived human life in real time not a long span
On average a few years more for a woman than it is for a man
Us humans are mortals why otherwise pretend
The life journey we are on does come to an end
Due to your fear of death you cling on to life though time not on your side
And all you have left is your sense of pride.

A Port Fairy Beauty

Her Shoulder length golden hair tossing in the breeze
On a nice sunny September evening of eighteen degrees
With the lilt of joy in her lovely eyes of brown
And a smile on her face in old Port Fairy Town

In the park by Bank St green and lush near the prime of the Spring
The wildborn nesting songbirds did whistle and sing
A Port Fairy beauty free of conceit and guile
Did greet me a stranger to her with a beautiful smile

In a brown cardigan and blue dress wearing summery clothes
A Port Fairy beauty she bloomed like a rose
For her youthful beauty her i could not help but admire
One of the very finest in the coastal Moyne Shire

The sun shining bright in a sky blue ands gray
She did bring a flutter of joy to my day
The nesting magpie larks were singing peewee
And Nature in her full bloom was all around me

The nesting birds singing on the sunlit bushes and trees
And her wavy golden hair tossing in the breeze
The warmth in her smile brought some joy to my day
As with a spring in her walk she went on her way.

A Winners World After All

Those seen to be as successful and the never do well
Of their journeys in life do have stories to tell
Though only a few have their stories published in book form to be sold
One may say of this the same story of old
Never a biography of the poor of any town
For few do wish to read of the financially down
In a Human World where millions of people are smitten by fame
Few wish to know of any pauper by name
The impressionable masses big egos create
It is they who decide who is famous and great
Yet life's so called losers those of few wish to know
In numbers Worldwide every day does grow
Those whose names never appear on a memorial wall
As it always was it remains a winners World after all.

It Does Seem Way Beyond Me

It does seem way beyond me for to explain
Why people are lauded by many for their material gain
Human greed for money is out of control
And on our Earth Mother has been taking it's toll
It should not be a cause for celebration or a sense of pride
That for her resources by greedy people our Earth Mother is being destroyed
The one who feeds us we abuse every day
But future generations of people for our mistakes will pay
Everyday Worldwide old growth trees are cut down
For to build more polluting factories in every city and town
We pollute earth's waterways and for her resources dig up her ground
And due to human destruction of their natural habitat wildlife in numbers no longer abound
And it seems way beyond me for to explain
Why we keep abusing the one who does feed us for financial gain.

Jack And Ann

Old Jack has grown tired of Ann his old wife
He says that love has gone out of their life
They did love each other back when they were young
Long before she developed the nagging tongue

It has been awhile since they have had their last kiss
Six decades of marriage and not all of it bliss
Ann is no longer lovely to behold
Women lose their beauty as they grow old

Sleeping in separate beds under the one roof
That love is dead between them seems enough of proof
Of each other no longer with nice things to say
When love it dies it is always this way

Jack with his aged divorcee drinks in the local pub
And Ann with her old lover dines in the bowling club
Years ago between them love it did glow
Until apart in their ways eventually they did grow.

Sixty years under the one roof in time quite a span
But love is long dead between Jack and Ann
In their mid eighties their best days long gone
And time on their lives ever keeps ticking on.

Who Your True Friends Are

When survival for you has become an uphill fight
And nothing in your life for you is going right
One of those doing it tough on the poor side of the town
You come to know who your friends are when you are feeling down
Those you thought were your frirends from you have turned away
But your true friend as your friend in your tough times does stay
When you had plenty money you were not short of friends in the local public bar
But only now you realize who your true friends are
Wealthy people though their admirers in numbers do grow
Who their true friends are they will never know
That money speaks every language only true for to say
And never more so than in the Human World of today
And now that you are down you have come to realize
Who your true friends are this is not a surprise.

How It Seems To Me

Through different eyes difference we do see
And with what i believe in many may disagree
Where i live today is where i am meant to be
Since i am one who believes on life's destiny
In Illowa in September near the prime of the Spring
Such greenery to the countryside Nature does bring
The wildborn nesting birds sing all day long
And most of them quite distinctive in their chirpings and song
The breeding frogs singing in pond, dam and drain
And the paddocks looking so green after the recent rain
Between the showers the sun it does shine out again
With such pleasant weather how can one complain
Illowa in the Moyne Shire is where i am meant to be
At least anyway is how it seems to me.

The Powlett River

From the hills above Kilcunda it meandes it's way down
Through the scrubland near the Pacific in it's babbling tongue of brown
As old as the land it flows in close to Wonthaggi Town
It's strong links to the Dreamtime one of it's claims to renown

On warm Summer days centuries ago in the shade of the trees
By the river now known as Powlett South Gippsland's first people had their corroborees
They had their social evenings of dancing and of song
The ancient tribe of people known as the Bunurong

They enjoyed their social gatherings and played their didgeridoos
And in the scrublands with their dingos they hunted kangaroos
But time brings with it changes and nothing seems to last
Though they live in oral history from cednturies of the past

To the Powlett countryside the Seasons come and go
And time that is never ending becomes everybody's foe
But the river from the high ground will babble on forever more
Through the scrublands of Kilcunda to the brown Pacific shore.

Poor James Clarence Mangan

With rich people he never did wine and dine
On his forty sixth year he died in Dublin in eighteen forty nine
It is said of consumption and in dire poverty
That he was Ireland's greatest poet some would agree

In his lifetime poor James Clarence Mangan was not widely known
But in death in literary circles his legend has grown
His best poems are read and recited today
That he was a genius in truth one can say

Few happy days in life by him were seen
The poet of A Vision Of Connacht, A Woman Of Three Cows and Dark Rosaleen
The leading poet of the Ireland of his time
He died rather young in his poetic prime

In his lifetime a stranger to wealth and to fame
But his today is a great literary name
A poor man who knew only of hard times and died rather young
And surely his praises deserve to be sung

One who deserves to be remembered as a great Irish poet
James Clarence Mangan his life to poetry did devote
And though he breathed his last in his poetic prime
His poems have outlived him by one hundred and sixty eight years of time.

Leave It To Others

That self praise is no praise happens to be true
Leave it to others to praise you if praise is your due
In the twenty first century self promotion with many is an in thing
The self centered their own praises do love to sing

So many willing to tell you of how successful they are
Of their recent job promotion or the size of their brand new car
In truth they are prisoners of their own self conceit
Than their sort a down to earth person much preferable to meet

On saying the quiet achievers nowadays are of the few
Is not saying anything that is in anyway new
Whilst many of their own success stories with others only too willing to share
The narcissistic inclined are no longer rare

At social gatherings and wherever people do meet
Many for attention with each other compete
In the twenty first century self promotion is an in thing
So many their own praises only too willing to sing.

The More You Learn From Life

The more you learn from life the more you realize
That you do know so little this not a surprise
You learn as you live something new every day
We never stop learning life is this way
You have been learning from life before you learned how to crawl
And they have no more to learn those who think they know it all
But ignorance can be bliss one does have to suppose
And knowledge it does seem does have many foes
Life's lessons as is said are not in the few
And every day from it we learn something new
To say knowledge is endless is not a lie
We never stop learning until the day we do die
We have been learning from life before we learned how to crawl
And the know all is one who knows little at all.

You Are As Old As You Feel You Are

You are as old as you feel you are seems true to say
Some feel old in their twenties since they think in this way
With each individual age is a relative thing
And eternal youth is only a dream that many to does cling
Yet i know an old fellow he is eighty five
A wrinkled though healthy old bloke not lacking in sexual drive
Since his partner in her mid fifties to her friends does confide
That in her sexual life she is well satisfied
He keeps himself fit jogs for an hour every day
Though the hair on his balding head is silver gray
And though some of him does say he is on his life's final page
He is in better physical shape than many nen half of his age
You are as old as you feel you are is how it seems to be
Though many with this would choose to disagree.

The River Of Three Names

Home of brown trout, wild duck, otters, moorhens and the shy and elusive water rails
The River of three names Annagloor, Kales or Cails
From it's birthplace in the high Lake of Kippagh it journeys on down
To join the Finnow just west of Millstreet Town
From the high Lake of Kippagh the old waterway
On foot i followed it's course on a sunny Summer's day
The sun on their wings as upwards they did fly
The brown larks were carolling in the blue and gray sky
With a chestnut brown tongue that is never still
Through the knee high bracken it babbles downhill
And swollen by field drains in Ballydaly into a bigger waterway grow
Where the dark brown dippers are singing the waterbirds of breasts white as snow
When i was fit and younger long before time became my foe
I followed it's course from Kippagh to Claraghatlea many decades ago.

If You Trust Politicians

If you trust politicians then your trust will be betrayed
Since most of them have broken most of the promises they have made
Most of them are ineffective though they do draw a huge pay
They behave like unruly children in Parliament every sitting day
For what is wrong in the Country each other they do blame
They taunt and tease each other in their name calling game
So few politicians honorable or decent in any way
Yet they are our reflective mirrors which does seem sad to say
Most politicians to a straight forward question give an ambiguous reply
And if the truth does hurt them the truth they will deny
Every sitting day in Parliamwent at each other they do shout
One would expect more of a member of Parliament than behave like a lout
If you trust a politician more than likely your trust will be betrayed
Since most of them have broken most of the promises they have made.

Their Business Not Mine

The negative opinions of me by others does suit me fine
Since this is their business and their business not mine
No shortage of opinionated people in any town
Some people find pleasure in their words putting others down
With the opinionated their opinions on others is a power thing
And though their negative opinions to them may have a mental sting
It does take all kinds one does have to suppose
And those bad at making friends are good at making foes
To the negative opinions on me of others i pay little heed
If such things bothered me i would be in mental trouble indeed
Since these people do not support me in any sort of a way
I am not going to lose any sleep on negative things that others of me does say
And their negative opinions on me does suit me fine
Since this is their business and their business not mine.

You Are Only As Good

You only can live to be the best you can be
And do your own little bit for humanity
And be kind to others and be willing to give
You are only as good as how you choose how to live
Some live for self only and sadly their sort not rare
Perhaps as children they were never learned on how for to share
Of more of compassionate and kind people humanity is in need
The source of the pollution of our Earth Mother comes from human greed
The way you choose to live your life says more about you
Than the written or spoken word can ever hope to do
Be kind to other people and creatures and to our Earth Mother respect show
Since she is the one that food for us does grow
Those who are generous in giving in return can expect to receive
On such a life philosophy i for one does believe.

You Who Believe

You who believe you are better than others will come to realize that this is not so
Though you are young now time that rusts iron as it is to all others will become your foe
Time that eventually makes everyone equal on how long you will live will have the final say
There is no difference between lifeless bodies everyone is equal where dead people lay
What use now to the deceased celebrities though buildings and streets in their honor have their name
Their deceased bones than the bones of a deceased pauper no better only the living reap the rewards of money and fame
They were celebrated but time than them far greater time that renders the fittest and strongest as weak
With every tick of the clock we do grow older you and i even do age as we speak
Eternal youth is a myth little else more though of youth and beauty songs are written and sung
Everything of life in time is aging any life form does not remain young
Sooner or later death it will claim us the longer you live the sooner you will die
Only the most deluded believe they will live forever immortal life for the body is based on a lie
You who believe you are better than others when death approaches will come to realize
That you were so misguided in your thinking and this in itself is not any surprise.

Big Andy And Kate

Big Andy a fellow who drinks at the local he carries his pride in the national flag
With five or six beers in his loud voice grows louder of his love of country he does love to brag
He does not like migrants says they do not fit in their own countries how come they did not stay?
Though his mother and father happen to be migrants They were born and raised in a land far away
A tall dark haired broad shouldered fellow in his early twenties his partner the talkative well built brunette Kate
Of similar interest they share much in common in her he surely has found a soulmate
She too talks loudly when she has a few beers in and his mistrust of migrants she also does share
She says the most of them are social spongers enjoy the good life and live off of welfare
Keep their neighbors awake playing their loud foreign music and get drunk on cheap wine their sort no longer rare
Big Andy and kate plan to marry and have children each to their own as the wise one does say
Their offsprings most likely will grow to mistrust migrants and never mix with people who are gay
At the local pub on a Saturday evening Big Andy and Kate with their friends socialize
That their friends to them in their thinking are not any different this in itself is not any surprise.

Your Greatest Gift

Many people desire great riches and fame
And that people Worldwide should know them by name
The yearn for recognition in many it does seem
The admiration of others is known to boost self esteem

But what success in itself does entail does seem hard to define
Your views on this would be different to mine
On some things most people for to differ agree
The one who is successful to you may not be so to me

There is more to living of life than for the me, myself and i
Those who believe on such do believe their own lie
Millions of people you well may impress
But the greatest gift you have is not personal success

You may be quite wealthy and one of the widely known
And many great houses and properties you well may own
The impressionable people you well may impress
But your life is the greatest gift that you possess.

In Park Lake Pertobe

A windsy day in Park Lake Pertobe in September near the prime of the Spring
The nesting songbirds on the trees do chirp whistle and sing
Some of the moorhens, swamphens, coots and little grebes that in or near the lake do breed
Already have their Spring's first young to care for and to feed
September in Park Lake Pertobe is a lovely time of year
The warbling songs of the magpies always a joy to hear
The yellow billed male glossy black birds with the distinctive song
Once seen and once heard these familiar birds one never again could get wrong
The silver gulls above the lake are mewing as they fly
In Middle Island bordered by the sea and the Merri river they breed to Park Lake Pertobe nearby
And the magpie larks building their cup shaped nest of mud on fork of branch of tree
Do live up to their known nickname by their song of pee wee
On a sunless September day in Lake Pertobe of a pleasant seventeen degrees
The pleasant songs of the nesting birds carrying in the freshening breeze
The weather for the time of year quite typical though windy not too cool
On a nice place for to visit near the City of Warnambool.

But At Least He Inspired Me

He said to me you are just a rhyming buff
A poetaster at best you write terrible stuff
Do yourself a favor by giving penning of doggerel away
Not everyone of me has nice things for to say
But to him i did make it obviously clear
That his sort of advice i did not wish to hear
Just one i do know who is lacking in ruth
But what caused hurt to my feelings to him was his truth
People like he is with their words are never discreet
He is one of those people i would rather not meet
His type before thinking always speak twice
And are arrogant and verbally hurtful and not very nice
Conversing with his sort just a waste of time
But at least he inspired me for to pen this rhyme.

In History They Live On

It will not matter to you if you are remembered or not
So many good people in death are forgot
The names of some very bad people have lived on in time
Though they have been the perpetrators of many a bad crime
That very bad people are remembered for their crimes seems all wrong to me
Their names ought to be wiped from human history
That many good people in death are forgotten seems a sad thing to say
It is far worse to be forgotten than remembered even though not in a good way
So many good deceased people who in life never committed a crime
Have been lost to memory in the decades of time
Whoever does tell you that crime does not pay
Bad criminals are not forgotten when from life they do pass away
The World's worst criminals though life's breath from them long gone
Are remembered today in history they live on.

Trust From Once Broken

Like the balloon that bursts as it floats in the air
Trust from once broken seems beyond repair
The one you lose trust in is no longer your friend
This often does happen when friendships does end
On those you do not trust you will never confide
These are the people you wish to avoid
With them you do not have anything for to share
And to converse with them does not have time to spare
There cannot be bonding where there is lack of trust
In any friendship trust is a must
To those you do not trust respect you find hard to show
These are the people you would rather not know
Like the balloon that bursts as it floats in the air
Trust from once broken seems beyond repair.

Kenny

His yearn for the wander did bring him far south
Of the fields of the badger and waterways of the brown trout
And his better days in life he surely has seen
Kenny from the countryside north of Aberdeen
One who never did have children or a wife
Though last year he lost Jane to cancer she was the love of his life
They had been together for twenty five years
He cared for her in her illness and farwelled her in tears
In his life's seventy eight year his balding head silver gray
He retains the accent he brought with him from far away
An amiable fellow well liked and well known
Without the woman he loved growing old on his own
Though good memories of his younger years he does retain
Kenny will never see Scotland again.

Who We Look Up To

Those that you admire says more about you
Than any words could ever hope for to do
The one you admire most you wish to emulate
Our own mortal gods in our minds we create
Admiration can cloud human flaws in our eyes
We learn as we live most do come to realize
Those we look up to mere mortals just like you and i
We are born to life to eventually die
We all need our heroes or heroines one has to suppose
But the poor person looks wealthy dressed in expensive clothes
As has often been said appearance can deceive
But what our eyes tell us we only wish to believe
Most of us have our heroes and heroines it does seem this way
And who we look up to of us says more than words can say.

In Green Old Lisnaboy

Good memories live on in us and remain as a source of joy
I often think of happy Summer days in green old Lisnaboy
When i was a primary schoolgoing lad more than a decade from my physical prime
This now seems many years ago some six decades of time

From the sunlit Summer meadows the sweet scent of grass mowed for hay
Come wafting to my memory from Duhallow far away
With the sun on their dark wings chasing flying insects in the sky
The migratory barn swallows did chirp as they did fly

On looking back the Seasons time seems to hurry by
The young birds in the hedges chirped in the warmth of July
The wildborn brown honeybees were buzzing gathering nectar from Nature's flowers
In the old fields looking lush and green after recent Summer showers

Good memories of our younger years a lifetime with us stay
In the shade of the leafy trees the cud chewing cattle lay
Such scenes of rural beauty in memory does remain
And on my flights of fancy i go back home again

Us people like the Seasons come and go but the old fields look much the same
And most of them i do recall had their own given name
Old memories last a lifetime and are mine to enjoy
Of my many happy Summer days in green old Lisnaboy.

The Autocrat

Though the majority of the Nation's people his praises will not sing
The old man loves power and to power he does cling
And he hopes to cling to power until the day he does die
That power does corrupt is not a lie

Those who oppose him too scared to speak out
His soldiers and police quite ruthless does not leave anyone in doubt
That if they do oppose him and in public any negative things of him say
That imprisonment or worse death is the price they will pay

No protests against him held in any city or town
Since people realize that any public demonstration against him would be ruthlessly put down
By his soldiers and police who would shoot to kill
The main reason for a public revolt against him there is not any will

Those who oppose him in public against him dare not speak
To keep your silence in fear of your life does not prove in any way that you are weak
To resign as leader he does not have any plan
Until he dies he hopes without any pain as a very old man.

After The Recent Heavy Rain

The countryside looking lush and green after the recent heavy rain
And brown stormwater overflowing in creek, river and drain
And flooding the paddocks by every waterway
For the past month it has rained every night and almost every day
The crop growing farmers for to plant their seed
For the ground to dry out of dry weather in need
But the long range weather forecast for the coming week says it will not be dry
That there will be more precepitation from the clouds of the sky
In coastal south west Victoria it has been a very wet Spring
But how pleasant for to hear the nesting birds sing
Of recent Springs the weather has been acting strange
But then we are in the age of Climate Change
In the ponds, dams and drains the singing frogs one does hear
Spring it is their breeding time of the year.

Sheila Becker

In Claraghatlea west of Millstreet Town her journey in life began
She was born and raised as Julia O' Sullivan
Married to the late Gay Becker a successful and honorable man
Nine decades of memories Dr Sheila Becker does span

A good mother to her family and to Gay Becker a good wife
Her life story tells of a very successful life
From the green countryside where the waterways meet
One can truly say of her the best of Millstreet

Nothing in life to Sheila ever came easily
She did work so hard for to achieve her doctorate degree
With the great gift of hope she is one who keeps faith
It is true that all things in life come to those who do wait

Her life story in book form it has been told
One can say of Sheila she has a heart of gold
She does speak her mind and is not one to pretend
And to those she does love she remains a good friend

To me it remains as a sense of regret
That in the flesh she is one i have never met
She and i were born and raised in the same countryside
And knowing of her achievements to me is a source for pride

In Michigan her own opportunities in life she did create
And recently her ninetieth birthday she did celebrate
Her family and friends did sing happy birthday
To the woman who came from a place far away.

Not Supposed To Rhyme

Most who fancy themselves as of literary note
Will tell you that a rhymer is not a poet
That twenty first century poetry is not supposed to rhyme
And rhymers are out of date by decades of time
The literary dons say blank verse is the in thing
The praises of non rhyming poets they do like to sing
The humorless writers they only promote
And rhymers to the status of poetasters they do demote
Rhyme nowadays by literary critics considered a thing of the past
But few things over time ever does seem to last
That they have the power to create literary celebrities of the literary critics it can be said
They dismiss rhymers and rhyme as of the literary dead
Who is or is not a poet the literary critics decide
And that their written words carry power of them cannot be denied.

To Your Higher Self You Cannot Be True

To your higher self you cannot be true
If you do not give to others the respect they are due
Those whom in their words put honest and good living people down
Are never the most popular people of the town
Treat other people as you would like them to treat you
To belittle others in your words is not hards for to do
The words of a wise person i do recall
If you do not have something nice to say about someone say nothing at all
There are two sides to respect as everyone know
The one you disrespect any respect to you will not show
Of the praises of niceness i feel happy to sing
To be nice to others does not cost one a thing
To your higher self you cannot be true
If you do not give to others the respect they are due.

Since You Never Harm Anyone

Since you never harm anyone in any way
Why worry what some others of you have to say
Wise words of wisdom today i recall
That you well may win many but you will not win them all
On saying this i am not saying anything that is new
That our unpaid judges are not of the few
For being opinionated and judgmental they are quite well known
One wonders if their sort does have lives of their own
Some people in their words find pleasure on putting down
The nicest and kindest people of the town
Humanity is comprised of all sorts i suppose
They become short of friends those who like to make foes
Though good things for others you have been known to do
Not everyone will have nice things for to say about you.

A Long Way From Here

A long way from here to where the waterways meet
Near the County Cork Duhallow Town of Millstreet
But in fancy i can hear a male song thrush sing
On a tree by Finnow on an evening in Spring

For as long as i live good memories i will retain
Of what was for me but will not be again
When the old fields were decked in their wildflowers of May
And the nesting birds whistled and sang all the day

The dark barn swallows chirped as they did fly
In pursuit of flying insects in the blue and gray sky
And the familiar song of the migratory cuckoo distinctive and clear
From late Spring to late Summer quite pleasant to hear

We only have memories of the what used to be
But the now is what matters as most would agree
The clocks on our lives ever keep ticking fast
At the stroke of midnight today will be of the past

In Claraghatlea in life my first homeplace
Mine to many there today would be a stranger's face
Time that rusts iron is now telling on me
And i only have memories of the what used to be.

Poet John

His inspiration well has dried his best days long gone
Though his best poems will outlive him the old poet John
Unmarried and childless in his mid eighties Ann the woman to be his wife
In her mid twenties in a motor car accident lost her life
On grieving her passing he discovered poetry
In his best poems he has created his own history
For many years he was the region's leading poet
And by the literary critics one seen as of literary note
But it looks like that time has become the poet's foe
His last poem by him written a few years ago
A nice man by many well liked and well known
As a poet he was once in a class of his own
He wrote his last poem a few years ago
It does look like time has become Poet John's foe.

John Twomey The Poet Of Ivale

When i was a boy he was in his physical prime
But this is going back many decades in time
With words he was one who did have a way
And many of his poems and songs are living today

Beyond the green borders of the Duhallow countryside
John Twomey The Poet Of Ivale was known far and wide
In song and verse Duhallow and it's people by him glorified
To know of a poet of his stature to many was a sense of pride

But sadly in Kilcorney he did not stay
And if living he would be an old man today
Duhallow's bard of the people when i was a boy
His poems and songs to many remain as a source of joy

Though in the flesh him i never did meet
He was famous when i was a boy in Millstreet
His poems by many recited and his songs often sung
Time leaves all feeling older but memories remain young

The poems and songs have withstood the test of time
Of John Twomey Duhallow's last laureate of rhyme
There is none in Duhallow quite like him today
With words he was one who did have a way.

Your Past May Be Gone

Your past may be gone but memories of it with you will remain
And the mental images you do retain
Of people you knew in the long ago
When you were far younger long before time became your foe
The people you knew in your teen years and physical prime
Whom in physical appearance would have changed over the Seasons of time
Today them if you did meet them you may not recognize
That most people change as they age is not any surprise
Tomorrow will dawn and yesterday has gone
And the clocks on our lives ever keep ticking on
Live in the present as the wise one does say
Make the most of the now and the now is today
Good and bad memories are all we retain of the past
And our biological clocks ever keep ticking fast.

The People You Wish That You Never Had Met

The people you wish that you never had met
Yet they are the people that you cannot forget
Though their wrongs against you in the past you forgive
Memories of them until death with you will live
People to you who have been cruel and unkind
For as long as you live may linger in your mind
Though the now is what matter and the past it has gone
Bad memories like good memories with you live on
Not every good friendship a lifetime does last
But we only can learn from our mistakes of the past
The wrongs that others do unto you
In the workings of Karma unto themselves they do
The people you wish that you never had met
For all the wrong reasons you will never forget.

A Life Of Enduring Love

A life of enduring love and happiness is based on a lie
We grow too old to love though not quite ready to die
Love as is said is not always young of heart
And few stay in love until death does them part

The rose quick to bloom also quick to decay
The one you love now you may not love until your life's final day
Together for at least fifty years of their life
They have grown tired of each other the old bloke and his wife

With many grandchildren their genes to carry on
Though love between them in the forever gone
That they loved each other truly happened to be so
But this for them ended a long time ago

Not saying anything that happens to be new
Those who love each other until death are only in the few
For love that is unconditional you can only depend
On your dog who does remain as your lifetime friend

On love between human beings there is a use by date
And so few fifty years of marriage do celebrate
Of the praises of love the romantic may like to sing
But enduring love between people is a very rare thing.

In Yarpturk Today

The sun behind gray clouds is hidden away
But a Blackbird is singing in Yarpturk today
His plain brown mate well camouflaged from the predator eye
Sits hatching her green brown spotted eggs in her nest in a bush nearby
A showery September day in the Moyne Shire in the wind and the rain
The breeding frogs are singing in every pond, dam and drain
From long dry spells to weeks of wind and rain the weather of late years acting strange
Perhaps these are the true symptons of climate change
Though the nest building wild birds chirp, whistle and sing
Weatherwise a hark back to Winter in the early Spring
In climate change the weather can change quickly as climate scientists do say
Yesterday sun and clear skies and wind and rain today
Perched on top of a bare branch a male blackbird does sing
In the wind and the rain of Yarpturk in Spring.

The Good You Do For Others

Live and let live as the wise one does say
And from those in need of your help never turn away
The good you do for others says more about you
Than material achievements can ever do
So many poor people in life doing it tough
Homeless and hungry living and sleeping rough
Poverty can be of varying degrees
In the refugee camps of the World millions of refugees
I do feel lucky quite lucky indeed
Of any of life's necessities i am never in need
The majority of the material wealth of the World is owned by the greedy few
But this is not saying anything that is new
There is more to life than living for i, myself and me
The self centered does little for humanity.

A Good Rhyming Day

I leave it to those who feel worthy of literary note
To lay claim to the honorable title of poet
Since a rhymer at best is the best i can be
It was my love of rhyme made a rhymer of me

On this blustery and showery September Spring day
The sun behind gray clouds is hidden away
A male blackbird is singing whilst his brown mate sits in her cup shaped nest
With the black birds of the future in the warm eggs neath her feathery breast

The birds due to their song known to many as pee wee
The magpie larks build their nest of mud on fork of branch of a tree
Dainty black and white birds with the familiar song
Once seen and once heard one can never agin get them wrong

The warbling flute like notes of the magpies always pleasant to hear
On weather typical enough for the time of year
But far warmer weather and sky sunny and clear
To the southern Country with each passing day near

Though my worth as a rhymer i have reason to doubt
In Nature plenty of things for to write rhymes about
The wild birds are singing in the park by the bay
And despite the showery weather this is a good rhyming day.

When Compared To Jim

I feel rather lucky when compared to Jim
Of late things have not been going well for him
A grandfather in his mid seventies healthwise not feeling well
The years on him clearly beginning to tell

His now ex wife of four decades in her late sixties Jan
Of late did forsake him for a younger man
To her he was devoted but with him she did not stay
Love can have it's heartaches it is always this way

A religious man he goes to church every day
To worship his god and with head bowed kneel to pray
And though for her leaving him Jan he does forgive
Without her life for him much harder to live

He feels very lonely living on his own
And it can be said of him better days he has known
The short clipped hair on his balding head is silver gray
In the park one i see often though not every day

With type one diabetes his health on the fail
He looks rather weary and wrinkled and frail
He does have his worries and time is his foe
Though he always does greet me with a friendly hello.

Many People Could Tell You

Many people could tell you of their good and bad years
And of their days of laughter and their days of tears
In life there is many an up and a down
For most of the people who live in your town

The Seasons pass quickly beyond our lives prime
And eventually we all become victims of time
We are born as mortals ands mortals must die
The same for the celebrity as for you and i

So many poor people in the World of today
Who only know of life in the toughest way
In refugee camps millions of refugees
Even poverty does come at varying degrees

The drought ravaged regions and war zones they have fled
For them no four course dinners or comfortable bed
With little hope of happiness of them ahead
Not surprising many of them feel they would be better off dead

Of life many people have stories to tell
Of their days of laughter and their days of hell
And eventually time does take care of us all
Like the golden grain of Autumn to life's reaper we do fall.

By the Merri In September

The sky overcast looks like rain on the way
In the parks by the Merri on this September day
The warbling songs so pleasant to hear
Of the magpies who sing every day of the year
Near where the dark waters of the Merri from it's source far away
Enters the Pacific by Middle Island at Lady Bay
Near the south west Victoria's coastal City of Warrnambool
Where the weather though not warm is also not too cool
Though the weather can be changeable in the early Spring
It is nice for to hear the nest building birds sing
The breeding frogs singing in every pond and drain
And the coastal parks and paddocks looking quite green after the recent rain
On a weather high temperature of a very pleasant seventeen
Such beauty in Nature every day to be seen.

Some Of Them

I know that some of them in Duhallow did stay
And like me the years are showing on them today
And some of them with the deceased now does lay
That time does take it's toll only true to say

Some of them from Duhallow are aging far away
From where they first looked on the bright lamp of day
With only the memories of the what used to be
Until death of nostalgia will set them free

For some our journeys in life took us to Lands elsewhere
To places and towns and cities in the big World out there
And to live in the now is the best one can do
On this respect what applies to me also applies to you

Some of them in Duhallow did choose to remain
And some of them will never see the Boggeraghs again
From their villages and towns they are aging far
And some at peace forever where dead people are.

Blackbirds

Their kind are seen in fields and woods and parks and gardens of the town
Yellow billed male blackbird is a glossy bird his female partner is plain and brown
Through her lifetime she is a silent one and he sings in the Spring
The blackbird's distinctive melodious song to hear is always a pleasant thing
Familiar Eurasian thrushes they have been introduced Worldwide
They like to live near hedgerows and bushy trees where from predators they do hide
Three to five green brown spotted eggs the female bird does lay
In a cup shaped nest that is bound with mud and often lined with moss, dried grass or hay
Birds quite familiar in their range that one sees every day
Near where human dwellings and houses are they often like to stay
Distinctive in appearance and in the male's beautiful song
Familiar in parks and gardens to the thrush family they belong
The melodious song of the male blackbird in the Spring of the year
At dawn and in the twilight after sundown so pleasant for to hear.

A Better World To Live In

Olympic gold medals and World Championship medals you well may win
But on doing so you are not making the World a better World to live in
These are personal achievements despite of what many may say
You are not helping those doing it tough in your Country in any financial way
A National hero or heroine and so much of you made
And in your honor in your hometown a huge street parade
But personal achievements though great does nothing for those doing it tough
Who are hungry and homeless living and sleeping rough
For those who help the homeless, stateless and hungry bands never do play
And they are never honored as the woman or man of the day
Yet for a better World for the poorest to live in they are true friends indeed
And of kindness and compassion they are planting the seed
Olympic or World Champiuonship medals they never do win
But for many they are helping to make the World a better World to live in.

Young Johnny

Young Johnny devastated his feelings he could not disguise
He finished last in the school race tears flowed from his eyes
But his father James hugged him saying i am proud of you son
I could not feel any prouder even if you had won
Remember this is not the worst things to have happened to you in your young life
This is nothing compared to the loss of your mother Ann my beautiful young wife
I feel from our lives she is not far away
And i know that she would feel proud of you today
Remember Johnny winning in life is only a small part
They are far better people those who are kind of heart
Than the so called greedy winners who do not know how to share
Who for self and self only ever seem to care
With his arms around Johnny his dad James did say
Your mum would be so proud of you if she were with us today.

What You Dislike In Others

Years ago a wise woman did say to me
What you dislike in others is what you dislike in yourself you see
With her intuitive insight i could only agree
Other people can be our reflective mirrors is how it seems to be
That there are none of us perfect happens to be so
And your best friend of today may become your future foe
The wrongs we do to others return to haunt us one day
What goes around comes around life is this way
Though you have no reason to dislike them since they have never done to you any wrong
There are people with whom you cannot get along
What the wise woman told me years ago was right
She left me with quite an amazing insight
That what we dislike in others in our own selves we do see
And what applies to others too applies to me.

It Has Been Many Years Ago

It has been many years ago since her hair was chestnut brown
Since she pedalled on her bicycle on the streets of Millstreet Town
She left the Town in view of Clara Hill a few years short of her life's prime
More than half of a century from then to now she is showing the wear of time

A seventy six years old widowed grandmother she has known of a better day
All she has left are the memories of her first home far away
Where she attended the convent school and into a beautiful young woman grew
One of the great beauties of the town her equals only few

But the yearn for wander in her in Millstreet she did not stay
She left the old Duhallow Town on a Spring morning in May
She has not been home for many years and doubtful she ever again will
See the gray fog that tell of rain creep across Clara Hill

Far from Millstreet in Duhallow she is clearly showing her years
In a retirement housing estate with other old gents and dears
Her thinning hair now silver gray it used to be chestnut brown
On the days she rode her bicycle on the streets of Millstreet Town.

The Longest Lived Human Life

The longest lived human life in time not a long span
So you ought to live for as long as you possibly can
And always fear danger for a long life quite a good plan
And hopefully die without pain as a very old woman or man

Always try to live as honest and treat others well
In case of an afterlife of a heaven or hell
For death is forever for the body anyway
And for a heavenly existence for your soul in hope you can only pray

Among the recipe for a short life are worry and stress
A breeding source of cancer and heart problems is unhappiness
A good hearty laugh four or five times a day
Has been known for to keep cares and worries at bay

Though the passage of time on your body does show
This is the only life for sure of you do know
So live for as long as you possibly can
And hopefully die without pain as a very old woman or man.

Some People Only Live For Themselves

Some people only live for themselves until the day they do die
But there is more to living life than living for me, myself and i
Those who gain at the expense of others should not be for them any reason for joy
Something i learned from a wise one when i was a boy
In a Human World where many grow poorer for every new millionaire
The truly compassionate are sad to say rare
As is said of poverty it can be of varying degrees
And human greed that leads to war gives rise to refugees
In a World where some are materially very wealthy some are doing it tough
Millions are homeless, stateless and hungry and living and sleeping rough
It is not anyone's choice to live in dire poverty
To live as homeless or stateless or as a refugee
For a better World to live in the kind and compassionate help to plant the seed
There is more to living of life than living for one's own need.

A Flutter Of Joy

The weather blustery and showery the sky looking gray
And behind the clouds the sun hiding away
But in the park playground the laughter of children at play
A flutter of joy does bring to my day
Takes me back in time to the far away town
As a carefree young boy when my hair was dark brown
At the mid day break laughter did abound
On our noisy children's games in the school ground
In early September in the calendar Spring
The magpies are warbling and the male blackbirds do sing
The weather quite changeable typical for the time of year
But warmer and sunnier days to us near
And the laughter of children in the park at their play
Help to bring a flutter of joy to my day.

The Sculptor

He sits in his workshop for hours every day
With his hammer and chisel chipping away
Not into technology he does not have a smart phone
The man who creates beautiful shapes out of stone

The creator of beauty who is widely known
He does not have many friends he always works on his own
Quite a famous sculptor his works known far and wide
On display in beautiful gardens far from his home countryside

Not into self promotion on any sort of a way
His creations says more about him than words could say
That action does speak louder than words to his sort apply
For beauty one who does have the feel of the eye

For humility one who does carry the flag
About himself he is one who never brag
A kind and generous person those who know him does say
For the sculptor there never is an easy pay

Not into self promotion though at what he does he is a great
Such beauty out of stone with his hands he does create
He sits in his workshop for hours every day
With his hammer and chisel chipping away.

Should It Matter To Others

Should it matter to others how i spend my leisure time
Or if i am a fellow who enjoys penning rhyme
Or if for my rhyming efforts i am never rewarded in money for pay
My life is my own though some do not seem to see it this way
For many years i have been a rhyming buff
I am just one of those who has penned reams of stuff
I used to love reading rhymes as a young boy
And penning them nowadays is something i just enjoy
Suppose i will be writing rhymes until the day i do die
If i did tell you differently i would be telling you a lie
Though some people do find it hard to believe
That for my rhyming efforts cash in payment i never receive
Yet what they do with their lives does not bother me
Suppose we all look at things in our ways differently.

Your True Friend

You ask me how i would define a true friend
Though on this mine is just one opinion why otherwise pretend
Your friend as a friend for a lifetime does stay
And when you are in need of helping from you will not turn away
Feel lucky to have one true friend in your town
One who to others in words would never put you down
One who will stand by you in your times of greatest need
If you have such a friend you are lucky indeed
Appreciate your true friends as they are in the few
And this is not saying anything that is new
The wealthy and famous their friends in numbers may grow
But who their true friends are they will never know
Feel lucky to have one good friend in the town
The one who will stand by you when you are down.

Jim Used To Say

Your word is your bond Jim Used to say
But on this he feels very different today
For renovations to his home to a bogus builder thousands of dollara as a deposit he did pay
For trusting he did lose out in a big way
What has happened to Jim does not seem very nice
But some of our lessons in life can come at a financial price
He is financially poorer but wiser his lesson came at a cost
He was one who trusted and for trusting he lost
Thousands of dollars to a sweet talking crook
Who did have about him quite an honest look
But you cannot judge the book by the cover as a truism remain
And for Jim in his lesson great financial pain
Your word is your bond Jim used to say
He was one who did trust but for trusting did pay.

Uranium It Ought To Be Left In The Ground

The thought of it is not a reason for joy
That there are enough of nuclear weapons in the World humanity to destroy
For the usage of nuclear weaponry excuses do abound
But uranium it ought to be left in the ground
The nuclear powers who claim North Korea should not have nuclear bombs by example should lead
But of they themselves getting rid of their nuclear weapons we never hear of or read
On who should or not have nuclear weapons they should not have any say
Since they themselves are among the nuclear powers of today
On the dropping of one nuclear bomb millions of people would instantly die
That nuclear weapons are a deterrent to war the facts do belie
If you believe all you read and hear bigger fool then you are
We are nearer now than we have ever been to a nuclear war
Among nuclear powers excuses for their possession of nuclear weapons abound
But uranium it ought to be left in the ground.

The Instigators Of Change

On their political way of thinking they have a narrow range
They are never the instigators of political change
On election after election for the same political party they do vote
Their entire lives to sameness they seem to devote
Those who do not stick with the same political party are those who cause change to come about
That they are not narrow in their ways of thinking they leave none in doubt
Of who they will vote for never a guarantee
In their political thinking of ties to any party they are completely free
It is they who change governments since to party loyalty they are not tied
The unattached voters the politicians try to woo to their side
Since on them for their votes they cannot depend
They are the voters the politicians do wish to befriend
That they break up political monopoly they leave none in doubt
Since with their votes they always bring change about.

Have You Ever Asked Yourself

In your moments of self reflection and self doubt
Have you ever asked yourself what life is about?
We are born to life for to eventually die
The same for the materially wealthy and famous celebrities as for you and i

Though the praises of the wealthy and famous the gullible masses does sing
That it makes everyone equal of death one good thing
The reaper of lives is reaping night and day
And later if not sooner will come reaping your way

The more you learn of life the more you come to realize
That of it you know little this not a surprise
It is humbling to me to realize how little i do know
Yet my wonderment of knowledge it only does grow

That we are born to mortality why otherwise pretend
And our journeys through life it does have an end
And in your moments of self reflection and self doubt
Have you ever asked yourself what life is about?

For As Long As They Live

For as long as they live until they run out of time
True to their calling rhymers never run out of rhyme
Without hope of fame or of monetary pay
For their own enjoyment they write rhymes every day
The people with rhyming words who love to play
Their need to rhyme until death in them will stay
The literary critics them tend to ignore
As scribblers of doggerel little else more
Though their sort do not write for material gain and literary renown
There are rhymers in every village and city and town
As poetasters in highbrow literary circles they are known
The literary in crowd all rhymers do tend to disown
The days of rhyme it seems is in the long gone
But the twenty first century rhymers keep on rhyming on.

The Years Seem To Go Quickly

The years seem to go quickly beyond our physical prime
And eventually everyone runs out of time
The fact is we are born as mortals and fact never lie
And the longer you live the sooner you will die
Eventually it will happen some night or day
That the reaper of lives will come reaping your way
Death is a thing that cannot be denied
From the reaper of lives there is nowhere to hide
The average human life span of years three score and ten
A bit longer for women than it is for men
The years go by quickly and time ticks away
Make the most of the now and the now is today
Each day we live one day nearer to our last
And at the stroke of midnight today will be of the past.

From The Village Of Conna

Her shoulder length wavy hair a light chestnut brown
Tossing in the coastal winds in Port Fairy Town
On a blustery day in September in the early Spring
In the park on Bank Street the magpies did sing

The sort who inspire the writers of song, story and rhyme
A beautiful young woman in her physical prime
From the Village of Conna on the banks of the Bride
A long way south of her home in the east Cork countryside

She told me she has been in Melbourne for less than a year
But of her plans for the future she did seem quite clear
That in Australia her's would not be a long stay
As she felt homesick for her family and friends in Conna far away

A charming young beauty of beautiful sloe blue eyes
Her distinctive east Cork accent easy to recognize
In the seaside Town of Port Fairy for a weekend holiday
She says she will be home in Conna by May

A young woman of great beauty i may never more meet
She smiled on parting in the park of Bank Street
From the Village of Conna in east Cork far away
Just talking to her brought some joy to my day.

Of Life's Losers

Of life's losers i do feel happy to sing
The people who to hope for the better does cling
They are born as the children of the lesser gods
And just to survive have to battle the odds
It is those known as winners that others of wish to know
Like the alfa roosters of the fowl shed of their success they can crow
But my admiration is for the poor of the poor side of the town
Who do not give up on life though financially down
Many believe that between success and failure everyone has a choice
But to life's destiny i am one who lends my voice
Many people in life of success do not stand a chance
They are robbed of a successful future by their birth circumstance
I can only admire those of the lesser gods
Who though financially down do keep on battling the odds.

Illowa In Early September

The green paddocks of Illowa wearing their Nature's flowers
In early September in the blustery Spring showers
The breeding frogs singing in every pond, dam and drain
Full of life giving water after the recent rain
Proclaiming their breeding borders of the Spring
The magpies are warbling and the male blackbirds sing
And in pursuit of flying insects in the blue and gray sky
The dark welcome swallows does chirp as they fly
In early September the natural beauty of Spring does abound
In the lush paddocks the black cows are grazing whilst their black calves sport around
As they seemingly race with each other full of the joys of Spring
The great gift of youth is a wonderful thing
The mud nesting magpie larks singing pee wee
And Nature's beauty is everywhere all around me.

As Game As Ned Kelly

As game as Ned Kelly as the Aussies does say
For those that courage and bravery are known to display
And those as game as Ned Kelly songs and stories inspire
For their courage they are people others look up to and admire
Though Ned Kelly's in his lifetime was a notorious name
It can be truly said of him that he did die game
Shot down through the legs in a gunfight in Glenrowan and hung in Melbourne jail
Even in death courage him never did fail
To be called as game as Ned Kelly in Australia is a compliment indeed
To those who to danger never do pay any heed
Though not one without flaws in Ned Kelly there was much to admire
Though outnumbered he was quite brave under heavy gunfire
As game as Ned Kelly a compliment people pay
To one who is quite brave in the Australia of today.

Ask One Other Than Me

Since theologians and some uni dons on this one always do not agree
Of a life for the soul after bodily death ask one other than me
This well may be so or it may not be
I can only believe on what my eyes do see
And any deceased person i have known have not returned to me to tell
Of a life after bodily death or of a heaven or hell
Or of a paradise for the good somewhere beyond the sky
Where good souls post bodily death with wings to does fly
To any universal god i never kneel to for to pray
But this does not make me a bad or a good person in any way
I only believe on a god of the mind
Some atheists in their ways too are generous and kind
Of a life for the soul after bodily death ask one other than me
Since many well educated people on this question cannot seem to agree.

To Those Who Ask Me

To those who ask me how much money i receive for penning rhyme my only reply
Is such a nice day though rain clouds in the sky
And the wild birds are singing on the bushes and trees
Their pleasant notes carrying in the freshening breeze
That blow up the hill from the saltwater bay
How nice to be living on such a nice day
On replying to their question i find this a better way
Than being to the point and having to say
You mimd your own business what i receive for my rhyme
As it is up to me what i do with my spare time
By deliberately not answering the question this is my way of trying not to be rude
To the one on what is my business is trying to intrude
By not answering her or his question i am only trying to say
It is not of your business if for my rhymes i do or do not receive pay.

On Clara In July

The air it is warm without the least sign of chill
As i stand by the steel cross on old Clara Hill
As entranced by the beauty on i am gazing down
On the fields and houses of Millstreet Town

To the taste buds of the mouth such an appetizing treat
Whortleberries the tiny blue fruits of the heather delicious to eat
Of how happy i feel the words i do not have to say
Of the beauty around me on this sunny Summer's day

To my left Kippagh, Toorbonia, Caherbarnagh and Gortavehy with the face of stone
And Anu's breasts in Sliabh Luachra the sister Paps of Shrone
On a clear day from Clara the scenic views far and wide
Of the Cork Kerry border's scenic countryside

Such amazing scenery i feel privileged to see
Cullen, Kiskeam, Boherbue and Derrinagree
Rathmore, Barraduff, Gneeveguilla and beyond Knocknagree
Such natural beauty to live for a lifetime in the memory

A musical speck in the blue and gray sky
A brown lark is singing as upwards he does fly
His mate quietly sitting on her ground nest
With the larks of the future in the eggs neath her breast

From Clara in Millstreet in miles far away
I awoke from sleep in the dawning gray
A magpie was warbling and a blackbird did sing
In early September in Illowa in Spring.

Those Who Have A Dream

Most people have their dream in life to pursue
But only a minority see their dream come true
So many feel disappointed at their lack of success
Which give rise to the feelings of inferiority and unhappiness
People for success with each other compete every day
And for some to win others must lose life is this way
Without losers there would not be winners as a truism remain
And always somebody's loss becomes somebody's gain
The winner is the one everyone wishes of to know
And his or her fans in numbers does grow
Those without a dream are lacking in hope
And find life a battle as they struggle to cope
Just to survive in life from day to day
But those who have a dream see better times on the way.

To Her I Dedicate

Though we do not own her and to her we belong
She is one to whom we have done many a wrong
My love and admiration of her remains ever strong
And to her i do dedicate this simple song
She grows food for us for as long as we live
But in return to her little we ever give
For our survival on our Earth Mother we do depend
And when we abuse her we abuse our greatest friend
For material greed more of her trees every day are cut down
By the workers of billionaire developers in the big and heavily polluted town
From the biggest land and sea mammals to the tiniest life forms that fly, swim, run and crawl
Mother Earth is the one who does support us all
Many of us may think we own her but to her we belong
And to her i do dedicate this simple song.

Not The Best You Can Be

A common weed never does bloom like a rose
And though a thug can dress in a gentleman's clothes
This does not make him a gentleman in any way
Clothes does not make the man only true for to say
You are what you are though what you are may not be the best you can be
Of this you will not have disagreement from me
Even in the best of people some room for self improvement does remain
It is from recognition of your own personality flaws that one self improvement does attain
Material greed of corruption as ever the bane of humanity
And the selfless as always just a tiny minority
But to live as a better person is all up to you
Good people for others good things always do
A good person may never be one of the admired of the town
But is always willing to help the one who is down.

Unlike Us Other Creatures

Unlike us other creatures do not have a sense of guilt or shame
Innocence for this may seem an apt name
And though like us they are born to die eventually
They do not have a sense of mortality

Us humans lose our innocence at a young age
Many years before we reach the adult stage
But other life forms with their innocence die
On saying in some ways they are superior to us would not be a lie

On science, maths, chemistry, engineering and technology we may have come far
But we are not as great as many of us think that we are
In our greed for things material the Earth that does feed us we try to destroy
And this should not be a cause for celebration or joy

Unlike us to survive other creatures smaller creatures must kill
And they only weed out the frail and the ill
To them we may feel superior but we are not superior to them in every way
They are more Earth friendly than most of us are in truth one can say.

Reverend Paedophile

He has been in prison now for quite awhile
The man better known as Reverend Paedophile
For one who to his god does regularly pray
In his past he behaved in an obnoxious way
His surviving victims women and men past their physical prime
Have mentally not healed despite the passing of time
And some of his victims have tragically died
Sadly at their own hands in the act of suicide
His father and mother in him did not raise a good son
For he cannot undo the damage to children he has done
Only one of his low moral values his actions would condone
But leave it to the one without sin for to cast the first stone
Prayer did not make the octogenarian priest humble, loving and kind
But then he never did have the god of the mind.

Boring For Us

We all look at life in our ways differently
From different eyes difference we do see
Suppose if we all thought in the same way how boring we would be
With this sort of an assumption would you not agree?
Those different in their thinking from most others many may look on as strange
But such people can be the instigators of change
As such for the betterment of humanity
In the conservative mind never any new idea
It is a truism one does have to suppose
That we learn less about ourselves from our friends than we do from our foes
It is each to their own as some like to say
But you can make out of this whatever you may
Boring for us would seem quite an apt name
If in our ways and our thinking we all were the same.

For You It Has Been

For you it has been just another bad day
The boss knocked you back for a raise in pay
The year for you rather badly began
When your wife left and took with her your three years old daughter to live with another man
Though you treated her well as a good man treats his wife
With another she choose for to start a new life
That lady luck is not on your side is obviously clear
For you this has not been a very good year
With the trials of life you are struggling to cope
But you are a person who is not without hope
Of better times in the days ahead
Despair only invades the mind of where all hope is dead
There is nothing in your life for you to celebrate
Lady luck has not been on your side of late.

There I Used To Live

There i used to live when my hair was dark brown
Claraghatlea in the countryside near Millstreet Town
From where i first looked on the bright lamp of day
Time that rusts iron has me far away
The mentors of my younger years i will never more see
But i owe them for life's insights that they passed on to me
Happy with their lot they never yearned for wealth and renown
The life's knowledge they had to the young they passed down
In reality the old fields i may not walk on again
But such wonderful memories of them i retain
I knew some of them by their given name
Today as they were perhaps they would look the same
Where i grew to love Nature when i was a boy
And learning of her ways today i enjoy.

Jack Sorensen

Jack Sorensen who was born in Kalgoorlie was a boxer, shearer, soldier and a poet
And he was one who truly lived his verses and deserve to be one of great literary note
But in his prime years in the early twentieth century blank verse the literary critics did promote
And dismissed every rhymer as a mere poetaster and rhyme as a form of poetry did demote
In World War 2 he fought in bloody battles of his home Country Australia far away
But he came home a mentally diminished person a price of war that most soldiers have to pay
In nineteen forty nine he committed suicide on a ship that from Sydney to Perth was bound
He did not make it back home again for to grow old on his homeground

He had been in war and was mentally scarred by where many of his brave young comrades fell
The war experience on him greatly impacted and like many ex war soldiers he became mentally unwell
Jack Sorensen wrote some quite amazing poetry his verse in beauty and inspiration does not lack
The great Western Australia poetess Mary Durack was one who did admire the poems of Jack
One who lived a nomadic and a rough existence and life to him it was not very fair
He had survived war but in his forties he lost out to the black moods of despair
The talented Jack Sorensen was an amazing person with rhyming words he loved to play
One of the great rhyming poets he was quite underrated and this does seem a sad thing to say
He choose to die young in his early forties and did not live on to grow old and frail and gray
For those who are fans of good rhyming poetry his verses can be read online today.

Johnny The Champion

The best athlete in the Country when in his physical prime
Old Johnny the Champion has lost out to time
The years on the best of them eventually does show
And Johnny by time had been left walkng slow
At the height of his glory so quick on his feet
Against the best in the Country with success he did compete
In hundreds of track races he seldom knew of defeat
And everytime he competed he was the one to beat
Of his big athletic wins stories written and told
But even the best becomes slower as they grow old
The onset of age is beyond our control
And time on the body eventually takes it's toll
Johnny the Champion at peace now does lay
The once great athlete he was buried today.

Gene Sheehan

Not many people born and raised in Duhallow can speak five languages though i know of one who can
Yet strangely enough in the Barony of Duhallow in north Cork he is not a celebrated man
Far south of Kilcorney and Hibernia's windswept shore
He is the only dentist who can speak Chineses mandarin in Singapore

Gene Sheehan of Kilcorney a fellow who has travelled far and wide
Beyond the borders of Duhallow's green countryside
Is one who has made a name for himself in sky miles far away
From where he first looked on the bright lamp of day

Though any fame or recognition for himself he does not seek
To be Singapore's only mandarin speaking dentist does make him unique
Yet to many today his is a stranger's face
In Duhallow and Kilcorney his original homeplace

One in life who has become the best person he possibly can be
That his achievements does speak for themselves one does have to agree
Though in Duhallow he will never be named as the man of the day
And the Millstreet and Cullen pipers bands for him will never play

A migrant of Kilcorney in a class of his own
As Singapore's only mandarin speaking dentist he has become widely known
To be the best person he can be Gene Sheehan remains true
And credit to the unsung one is only his due.

Human Fidelity

A wrinkled old lady over eighty in years
At the thought of her long deceased husband she feels moved to tears
The father and grandfather of her family as a great man in her words she portray
Though few who knew him does agree with what of him she does say

That he used to beat her after going home from the pub at night
Often leaving her with bruises on her boday and a face that looked a sorry sight
Yet she did remain with him until his life's end
Her fidelity is that of a four legged friend

Not the type of man a widow should remember with pride
But the person he really was in her words she tries to hide
Those who knew him and the type of person he was quite well
Of him have quite a different story to tell

Call this repressed memory or call it what you may
But of the husband who often bashed her she only has nice things to say
And in her words she will praise him for as long as she will live
In truth she cannot forgive if she feels she has nothing to forgive

Every time she talks of her dead husband there are tears in her eyes
And this to those who knew the man will never cease to surprise
Such fidelity for their masters in dogs one always does find
But it is quite a rare trait in the human kind.

On The Twenty Ninth Of August

The first of September and the southern calendar Spring only two sleeps away
In the sunlit park such a beautiful day
Not too warm or cool with a gentle breeze
In near to perfect weather temperatures of around sixteen degrees
The nesting wild born birds chirp, whistle and sing
In their natural instincts they sense the coming of Spring
To pass on their genes in them there is the need
The natural urge it has come upon them for to breed
In Nature no shortage of things about for to write
In hearts of yellow and petals of white
The perennial daisies in full bloom are all around me
In Nature there is always great beauty to see
On the twenty ninth of August such a beautiful day
And Spring to the southern shore on her way.

It Is The Literary Critics

She has won big poetry prizes and in important literary circles is well respected and known
And her reputation as a poet it has grown
One who writes in blank verse but on reading her in truth i can say
That she did not bring the joy of laughter to my day
Her poems those who advise us not to or to celebrate
Many of the literary critics do proclaim her to be a great
Her poems lacking in humor and to read seemed quite dry
Why critics applaud colorless writers one has to wonder why
In those the literary critics promote it does seem true to say
That it is not surprising that poetry is not popular today
The literary critics and literary dons of the unis from the people have taken it away
The works of contemporary colorful writers are left to decay
I find it hard to understand why she is considered to be a major poet
But then it is the literary critics who decide those who are worthy of literary note.

You May Think You Are

You may think you are unexpendable but so many thought this way
Who are now among the deceased but in truth one can say
That themselves they overvalued since life as usual does go on
And the World did not come to an end when the last breath of life from them had gone
If you feel you are better than others to yourself you only lie
Since you are just a mere mortal you too have been born to die
On this respect you are no different to the poorest of the town
Since the one who does reap all lives does not respect wealth or renown
The one known as the life's reaper does not differentiate
Between the lives of the forgotten and those we does Celebrate
We are born to life as mortals why even otherwise pretend
And every day from the beginning one day nearer to the end
You are not unexpendable though you well may feel this way
Since to the scythe of the life's reaper you too will fall one day.

I Am Of The Fields

I am of the fields where the rank rushes grow
And where the stream from the mountain to the big river flow
That flows to the bigger river to the ocean shore
In a babbling voice that is forever more
Where i grew to love Nature when i was a boy
And learning of her ways today i enjoy
Of Nature we learn something new every day
We never stop learning it does seem this way
In memory i can hear the male pink breasted chaffinch sing
On a leafy birch tree in the prime of the Spring
When the hawthorns are cloaked in their blooms of white to gray
In the calm of sundown on an evening in May
I am of the fields where the badger at night
Is searching for slugs in the faint nocturnal light.

In The Wealthy Cities

In the wealthy cities where the aspirational for success compete
From ill fitting shoes poor people walk on sore and blistered feet
Just to survive from day to day their challenge in life to meet
They have lost their dreams of greatness the poor homeless of the street

Some of them won't see tomorrow from their ghosts nowhere to hide
In the dark and dingy alley they will end life in suicide
Things may have been better for them if lady luck was on their side
In life you lose your will for living when you lose your sense of pride

Many of them were born into bad family circumstance
And of success in life does stand little chance
Following in the bad example of their parents who for drug taking have spent much time in jail
It is hard to succeed in life for those who are doomed to fail

In the big and wealthy city there too is poverty
For winners there are losers this is how life seems to be
Those who say we choose how we live in their words themselves deceive
I am one who on individual life destiny happen to believe

To every wealthy city there is a poorer side
In the dark and grimy alleys where poverty hide
Are the homeless and friendless in life doing it tough
The hungry and drug addicted who live and sleep rough.

Rocky

He puffs on his cigarette and blows out some smoke
Rocky he is quite a cocky young bloke
Small in physical stature but arrogant of mind
He believes he is god's gift to the female kind
Rocky the type to himself who would propose a toast
Of the young women he has made love to he likes for to boast
Not the humblest of people of him one can say
Though his sort not rare in the World of today
For one of his size he does talk rather loud
And of his sexual conquests he feels rather proud
He has a small man's complex and it is not a surprise
That he has a big ego for one of his size.
In his early twenties one who likes to brag
Dark haired rocky chews gum as he puffs on his fag.

The Young Women Of His Younger Years

Young in his memory they are living today
The young women of his younger years in the town far away
In his mental images of them young they do stay
Though where the deceased are some of them now lay
That time ticks on fast only true for to say
His first crush in life went to live in the U S of A
Though young in his memory today they remain
He realizes he may not recognize them if he see them again
He knew them before they had reached their physical prime
And faces can change over decades of time
A grandfather ten times divorced from his wife
In memory he often goes back the decades of his life
To the girls of his youth in the town far away
He often wonders about them where they might be today.

What His Dad Used To Say

His long deceased father's influence it is with him today
And he likes to repeat what his dad used to say
The racism of the father in the son does remain
The infleuence of our mentors until death we retain
Long after the life's breath from the father has gone
His racist ways and thinking in his aging son does live on
A chip off of the old block as some like to say
His dad talking to him from his grave today
In life most people mimic their childhood mentors is how it seems to be
Though long deceased the parental influence lives on in the offspring's memory
The long deceased dad was a racist as his son is today
And in his children and grandchildren his influence will stay
The children of racist parents are now the racist parents of the town
From generation to generation it is passed on down.