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.

I Am Just A Fellow

I am just a fellow of rhyme doggerel
And of any successes in life i do not have of to tell
Even of my own praises i feel unworthy to sing
Though i am one of those who likes doing my own thing
Just one of those who has penned pages of stuff
For many years i have been a rhyming buff
As is said rhymers they are many and poets are few
Though you may say to this do tell us what is new
It was my love of rhyme made a rhymer of me
I penned my first rhymes in nineteen seventy three
In human years this seems a long time ago
And time that rusts iron has become my foe
I am just a fellow who pens doggerel
And of any success as such i do not have of to tell.

Self Love Gone Wrong

It is said of narcissism it is self love gone wrong
To true love of self it does not or will never belong
The one who loves self has love for to share
And of the feelings and needs of others is aware
But narcissism is self love in it's most extreme
Of the egotistical absorbed in their own sense of self esteem
It is only to self to that they can relate
The successes of others they could not celebrate
Narcissistic people of the needs of others are never aware
For self and self only they only does care
People without kindness or compassion or empathy
For themselves only they can feel sympathy
Infatuation with self in every narcissist is strong
Narcissism has been described as self love gone wrong.

Some Of The Old Blokes

Some of the old blokes who drink in the local of the good times grown lazy and fat
Like to tell their dubious stories of how they have been there and done that
And true to their type they even believe their own lies
All men do grow older but only few do grow wise
In the pub for drinks every Saturday evening they meet
And of their adventures as young men in their stories compete
Of their successes in life to each other they do relate
It is true that the crave for recognition does not have a use by date
In their stories each other they try to outdo
Trying to prove to each other i am better than you
Though self praise is no praise as the wise one does say
They do not seem for to see it in this way
On Saturday evening they meet in the pub for drinks and a tongue wag
It does not cost them any money to brag.

It Cannot Be A Sense Of Pride

To us humans it cannot be a sense of pride
That many species of wildlife are facing extinction Worldwide
Due to climate change and destruction of their natural habitat many creatures on extinction brink
That children of the future may not see creatures living free sad of to think
That extinction is forever only true for to say
For human greed this is one price we must pay
We should live in the World with other creatures to share
Though many of this do not seem aware
More animaLS and birds are displaced when more trees are cut down
To build more houses and factories in the industrial town
Large animals being killed by poachers for financial gain
Us humans inflict on innocent creatures so much suffering and pain
To us it cannot be any source for pride
That we are responsible for the decline in wildlife numbers Worldwide.

A Successful Man

His mum and dad were often financially down
And he knew of poverty on the poor side of the town
One of the few children of the lesser gods
Who in his life's battle has beaten the odds
A grandfather ten times his hair silver gray
He and his wife of fifty four years live in a two storey house overlooking the bay
If living today his mum and his dad would feel proud of their son
Of how well in life for himself he has done
As a boy he was one who with hope did keep faith
And as is said every thing does come to those who do wait
In life he availed of every opportunity that came his way
And he lives as a wealthy and contented person today
With the woman he married the love of his life
The mother of his children his devoted wife.

By The Boggeraghs In May

Golden buttercups bloom by the silver tongued rill
Babbling down from the high fields by Mushera Hill
When the hawthorns are cloaked in their white blooms of the May
By the Boggeragh Ranges from here far away
Above the high wood in the twilight gray
The male woodcock is flying in his courtship display
With muffled sort of grunts that ends in a shrill sound
Perhaps as a warning to other male woodcocks that this is his breeding ground
In fancy the songs of the male songbirds i hear
In Duhallow in Spring the greenest time of year
Memories of such beauty are with me today
The past lingers with us as the wise one does say
And perhaps until death the memories with me will stay
Of the high green countryside by the Boggeraghs in May.

Tied To The Past

From life they have not learned much though they have lived for many years
The very conservative old blokes and old dears
That some only grow older but not more knowledgeable or wise
Should not be in itself in any way a surprise
Though the clocks on their lives ever keep ticking fast
They remain in their ways tied to the past
Though decades of years past their physical prime
In their opinions they seem to be frozen in time
Even change for the better in their words they oppose
But then we are what we are one does have to suppose
Their parents are lecturing them from their graves
To old ways and old thinking they remain as slaves
Not open to learning or to change of them one might say
And time on their lives ever ticking away.

Their Idea Of A Fair Go

Their idea of a fair go applies to some only but never to all
The people who differentiate between people in their opinions seem small
They set up the barriers of us against they
No shortage of racists in the Human World of today
They do not embrace difference between culture and religion and race
In their minds for tolerance there is not any space
No asset to humanity since in their words they seek to divide
The racists of the World on the increase Worldwide
That they are racist in their opinions most of them cannot see
Many a known racist when accused of being racist does answer not me
Since how they seem to others in their words they deny
They are who they think they are not to their sort does apply
Among the egalatarians of the World them one cannot include
Since on their opinions on a fair go many they do exclude.

In Koroit Today

The sun behind gray clouds is hidden away
It is humid and raining in Koroit today
But how pleasant for to hear the male blackbird sing
The golden billed feathered songster of the Spring
The parks of Koroit looking so lush and green
As beautiful one might say as they have ever been
The capeweed in their millions in petals of gold
Of natural beauty a sight to behold
Diagnosed by botanists as an environmental weed
But when in bloom beautiful to look at indeed
The warbling flute like notes as ever quite pleasant to hear
Of the magpies who sing every day of the year
In Koroit on this rainy day in November beauty all around me
And how lovely to hear the song of the pee wee.

The Ex Pride Of Dromtarriffe

She was the Pride of Dromtarriffe when in her physical prime
But this is going back many Seasons in time
An ageing grandmother her best days long gone
And only the memories with her linger on

Of when she was admired as Duhallow's Pride
The fairest by far in the green countryside
But the clock on her life does keep ticking away
There is a new Pride in Dromtarriffe today

Back in the years when her hair was light brown
She danced in the Edel Quinn Hall in Kanturk and The Star in Millstreet Town
She was one who was very popular back then
And she did have the pick of Duhallow's young men

The ex Pride of Dromtarriffe in brown hair dye cloaks her gray
Quite slim in her prime she does look plump today
She is not the beauty that she once used to be
One can say she looks every day of seventy three

Her aging husband who loved her in Seasons gone by
For women far younger has the roving eye
Like many ageing males tired of his ageing wife
Just looking at young beauty sparks some joy in his life

The ex Pride of Dromtarriffe her better days in the past
And the clock on her life ever keeps ticking fast
She was a rare beauty when in her life's prime
But this is going back many Seasons in time.

Narcissism Like A Virus

How come such publicity revolves around one man
Who as he always has done does the best he can
Do to divide people in his narcissistic way
He now is the President of the U S of A
For any Country his sort of a leader no advertisment at all
In his words he seems divisive and on his thinking quite small
On twitter one who loves for to tweet his ideas
In this way the narcissists of the World he does please
He is living proof that narcissism does pay
And has become an in thing with many in the Human World of today
The twenty first century's leading narcissist is a known billionaire
But sadly the Trumps of the World are not rare
Narcissism like a virus has spread Worldwide
And sadly the beauty in humility by it is being destroyed.

The Talk Of Millstreet

A likeable fellow unshackled by conceit
Bertie Buckley nowadays is the talk of Millstreet
Along with his namesake wood carver Bill Buckley in Millstreet Town their work on display
Two leading artists in their own fields in the Duhallow of today

The popular things in Duhallow are sports and country music and more of the same
For an artist not the ideal launch pad to wealth and to fame
Artists always seem to do better in city and big town
Though due to his hard work and talent Bertie in Duhallow is creating his own renown

Far beyond the borders of Duhallow's old green countryside
Bertie for his excellent realist paintings has become known Worldwide
True art does not have borders it travels to elsewhere
To the bigger cities of the big World out there

That he is one who loves and is inspired by Nature it does seem this way
His paintings on the landscapes and waterways and wildlife of Duhallow so much of him does say
His amazing gifts with the World Bertie Buckley does share
And sad to think that people like him nowadays are so rare

Of more realist artists the Human World is in need
And the people of Duhallow to have an artist of the calibre of Bertie Buckley are quite lucky indeed
Such a talented and likeable fellow and free of conceit
Born and raised and living in the Town of Millstreet.

It Does Seem This Way

We learn as we live as the wise one does say
And new lessons for us in life every day
But the more we do learn the more we realize
That we do know so little this is not a surprise
Those who think they know everything are lucky indeed
Since of any more knowledge they are not in need
That knowledge can give rise to enlightenment the point they do miss
But as is said of ignorance it can be bliss
That life is our lifetime teacher it does seem this way
And for our lessons from life always some price to pay
The years go by quickly beyond our life's prime
And eventually everyone runs out of time
We learn as we live as the wise one does say
And we never stop learning it does seem this way.

How Can I Respect Those

How can i respect those who on me look down
Those who do support rank the snobs of the town
How arrogant and conceited they do seem to be
I can only respect those who do respect me

Those who promote class distinction of humanity's uglier side
Communities they only seek to divide
The so called materially successful they congratulate
Rank and class distinction their sort do uphold and create

The up themselves people i meet every day
From me they always do look the other way
You are not of our class their body language to me does say
To their sort i feel no respect for to pay

Those who uphold class distinction only seek to divide
But sadly their sort on the increase Worldwide
They will never be an asset to humanity
Since they help to uphold the things that create poverty

Since they help to support class distinction and rank
For the social divide in part they are to thank
How can i respect those on me who look down
The arrogant and conceited snobs of the town

A November Day

The warm air full of the sweet scent of hay
And in the blue sky just a few clouds of gray
And warmth in the sunshine and warmth in the breeze
On a warm high for November of thirty two degrees
In the Moyne Shire the warmest day of the Spring
In the heat of the evening the birds do not sing
Above the paddocks with the sun on their wings chirping as they fly
The dark welcome swallows chase insects in the sky
The sunlit paddocks lush and green looking resplendent in their November flowers
That have been brought to bloom by the recent Spring showers
What a contrast from here to Duhallow far away
Where the cattle in the farmyard sheds are bellowing for silage or hay
No sign of the sun and the sky looking gray
And the rain drizzling down by the Boggeraghs today.

Where The Hopkins River Flows Into The Sea

On a beautiful November evening where the Hopkins flows into the sea
People on the beach with their dogs walking enjoying the sunshine before tea
It is such beautiful weather in the prime of the southern Spring
How lovely to hear a male blackbird such a beautiful song he does sing

Where the Hopkins flows into the Pacific by Moygil such a beautiful place
Sacred to the tribal people of the Dreamtime the great southern land's first race
At Moygil overlooking where the river meets the ocean they danced their corroborees
On warm evenings in Summer in the cool of the freshening breeze

The warbling flute like songs of the magpies are always a joy for to hear
The birds who sing in all weather and Seasons and every day of the year
In Nature there is so much beauty at all times of year to admire
The natural beauty i witness this evening to creativity an artist or writer would inspire

On this November evening in late Spring made cool by a freshening breeze
On weather temperatures so close to perfect a high of twenty two degrees
People on the beach their dogs are walking enjoying the sunshine before tea
When Nature she does look her finest where the Hopkins River flows into the sea.

William Cronin

Sad to learn that William Cronin an elderly citizen of Knocknakilla has lived his last day
Quite an amiable fellow of him in truth one can say
He and his late wife Eileen raised their children in Knocknakilla near the Town of Millstreet
He was quite a likeable fellow and one who was free of conceit
One who did make many friends over the decades of years
By his family and relative and friends he would have been farewelled in tears
One who to Duhallow had seen many Seasons come and go
But as is often said of time it eventually becomes everyone's foe
Though the great gift of life from his mortal body may have gone
In all who knew William good memories of him will live on
From the cares of living for us all there will be a final release
In St Mary's by Cashman's Hill in Millstreet he now is at peace
Of living time he was one who did have a good span
William Cronin will be remembered as quite a good man.

Perhaps You Should Leave It To Others

You tell me of how great that you are though greatness can be a relative thing
Perhaps you should leave it to others your praises if they wish so for to sing
Self praise is no praise as some say this only does seem to be true
If of praise others feel you are worthy they will give you the praise you are due
You are one well into self promotion in this you are not one of the few
That we are in the age of self syndrome is not saying anything that is new
In the twenty first century of advanced technology narcissism does seem to be rife
With many it is quite the in thing and has become a way of life
Those willing to help those doing it tough are truly great people indeed
But of more of their sort the kind and compassionate the Human World it is badly in need
To them there is far more to their existence than living only for me, myself and i
That empathy is one of the great human gifts is surely not stating a lie
You do tell of how great you are at least in your own mind you are great
But perhaps you should leave it to others your successes for to celebrate.

So Wise Is The One

So wise is the one who in the noisy crowd
Is not part of the noise makers or clap hard or shouts loud
For to keep one's silence with noise all around
As in itself quite unique and in ways very profound
I too like many others have too much for myself for to say
In my doggerels i do make noise every day
In words that in notebooks i have written down
In my fantasising of literary renown
Noise is a thing very different to sound
No audible pleasure where noise does abound
The one good at listening in ways is quite wise
It is a gift that to the accumulation of knowledge to does give rise
So wise indeed the one in the noisy crowd
Who is not part of the noise makers or never claps hard or shouts loud.

The Past Will Be With Me

The past will be with me until the day i do die
If i said any different this would be a lie
And for most other migrants it must be the same
Old memories cling to life like a flickering flame

And though memories of what was with me does remain
Perhaps i will never see Clara again
Or in Claraghatlea walk in the old fields where the waterways meet
In the green countryside near the Town of Millstreet

The roadways of life i have been up and down
Since i left my first home west of Millstreet Town
Where i would not be known by many today
Absence can make us strangers it does seem this way

Since i last climbed on Clara thirty one years ago
I do feel much older time has become my foe
And i never thought i would be so long away
From the place where i first looked on the lamp of day

Though memories remain with me of far away
I feel happy and content where i live today
Though sometimes in fancy my thoughts takes to wing
Suppose to feel a bit nostalgic at times can be a natural thing

Some times in fancy i hear and i see
A male robin singing on a leafy birch tree
With the warm sun of Spring on his orange breast
His partner nearby sits on her pale freckled eggs in her cup shaped nest

I only have memories of the what used to be
This is all of the past that does remain in me
But the now is what matters as the wise one does say
And i feel happy and content where i live today.

True To Yourself

Treat other people as you would like them to treat you
And to your higher self try to remain true
Out of the downfall of others never try to seek gain
And true to yourself ever try to remain
On this thing known as karma i for one believe
What we put into life in return we receive
What goes around comes around as the wise one does say
It is said of karma that it works in this way
The wrongs we do to others will return to haunt us one day
For our sins to karma some price we must pay
For an honest lived life live and let live seems a good idea
With such an assumption would you not agree
How you treat others it is all up to you
For the wrongs you do to them to your own self you do.

Politicians

It surely would be more than a mild surprise
If all politicians did cease to tell lies
To this wishful thinking of course you would say
Of the more deceptive sort of people in the Human World of today
It is true everybody are born to die
And that most politicians are born to lie
To their sort to lie is seen as okay
In fact lying for them it is known for to pay
Bigger fool you are if the words of a politician you do believe
Even the people who have given them the power they deceive
When it suits politicians the truth they disguise
Some of them even believe their own lies
Deception is a game most politicians do play
And that there are few honest politicians seems a sad thing to say.

Connie Mac

He has shorn sheep in shearing sheds in the outback
The big broad chested shearer known as Connie Mac
In his mid sixties his hair silver gray
He recently has given shearing away
He does not know if he has helped to create children but he never had a wife
One who has never been short of women in his life
Back in the days when his hair was dark brown
He did have a girl friend in every country town
One who drank hard and worked hard for his every pay
For the shearer in life there is no easy way
Brown wrinkled face that of years working under the hot sun does tell
But apart from this he is one for his years who looks healthy, strong and well
Connie Mac a top shearer in his physical prime
But for his best one has to go back in time.

Remembrance Day

November the eleventh Worldwide is known as Remembrance Day
When young men from their homes died in wars far away
We are told for freedom and peace with their lives they did pay
But the World is not at peace which does seem sad to say
They died rather young and due to circumstance
Many of them to father children did not have that chance
But sadly those who declared war lived on to die old
As wealthy aged heroes and their life stories in book form told
For flag and for country and for national pride
One must ask why so many young soldiers in wars have died
They cannot hear the last post played from where they do lay
From the dark depths of their graves on Remembrance Day
Some of them died rather young some of them lived to grow old
And they fought for our freedom or so we are told.

Pamela Joy Bruce

Pamela Joy Bruce was a poetess her poems are delightful
Of humor and pathos original and insightful
And though sadly the gift of life is no longer with her
Those who have loved her will never forget her
In her lifetime she knew love one who enjoyed living
One who knew receiving only comes from giving
And Pamela loved poetry and music, dancing and singing and laughter
Her father and mother in her raised a good daughter
Pamela Joy Bruce her friends were in the many
And of enemies one who never did have any
One who did love people and mixed with many races
And travelled the World and been to many places
A woman with the spirit of adventure and the gift of giving
And in her beautiful poetry she will go on living.

Sylvia

Sylvia a wonderful woman one who embraces every challenge in life
A loving mother to her children and to her late husband Joe she was a good wife
She has known her good and her bad days one who does know what life is about
One who knows how it feels for to be down but refuses to be counted out
On this her seventieth birthday Sylvia is healthy and strong
To a very rare breed of people she is one who does belong
Despite the knocks life did give her Sylvia does never complain
On her what has been a loss to Britain has become Australia's gain
It is said eevryone has a life story and Sylvia has a great one to tell
Of her good and of her sad days but with life she is one who copes well
Life for some does have it's struggles but where there is life there is hope
And only the bravest like Sylvia with adversity manage to cope
Her worst days in life are behind her and on this her seventieth birthday
For her there will be a big party and many a loud hip hooray.

Polluters And Noise Makers

Polluters and noise makers is all that they are
These young males driving around in their six cylinder car
On Friday evening car stereo blaring joyriding up and down
The busy streets of the big coastal town
For noise making with other hoons they do like to compete
Of who can create the most noise on the noisy street
Their six cylinder engines revving their car stereo on full blare
Sad to think their type nowadays are not even rare
So much carbon pollutiin they create every day
They are not helping the natural environment in any way
Their car engine revving their car stereo blaring loud
That they are noise and carbon polluters they seem to feel proud
They whoop in delight as they drive up and down
On a Friday evening in the noisy big town.

Oh Bury Me There

Oh bury me there in a hole in the ground
Where earthworms are the only forms of life to be found
With only the gravediggers my burial to attend
The dead they are never in need of a friend

If the law would allow it of a coffin as such i would not be in need
But if not a very cheap pine box would do me indeed
Millions of people far better than i am in mass graves do lay
Murdered because they were different and buried without coffins and left to decay

Anything good or bad of my existence i do not wish to be said
Though few ever say anything bad of the dead
That the living we only criticize i do wonder why
Since i find this quite puzzling i will not deny

The more one thinks about life the more one comes to realize
That in the end our achievements amount to little this is not a surprise
So many feel so self important and lacking in humility
But of ego life's Reaper does set them free

With earth all around me and over my head
I will be of no use to anyone when i am dead
From life's cares and worries i will have found release
Just leave me with Nature for to rest in peace.

The Ways Of Love

The ways of love can be quite fickle and can leave one in heartache and tears
And the grief of one by love jilted can linger on for years
The poets write their poems of undying love and the singers of true love does sing
But love can leave one with hurted feelings and love ache is not a nice thing
For anyone to have to experience as many have done true to say
And few fall in love in their twenties and remain in love until their dying day
On the dark side of love there is no brightness as many of love come to know
Love that does give rise to happiness and laughter can also cause tears for to flow
Love is not always happy and smiling to say so would be to pretend
It does have a joyful beginning but for many has a tearful end
And few loves does last a whole lifetime stories of undying love are few
That love has it's good days and it's bad days is not saying anything that is new
The ways of love can be quite fickle and lost love does cause tears to flow
And the dark side of love is a dark side as many of love have come to know.

With Yourself You Must Begin

If you want a better and a peaceful World with yourself you must begin
Make yourself a better person make the World better to live in
Live in peace with your neighbors never call anyone out of name
Remember in every quarrel there is more than one to blame
With your words never hurt others words are known to cause offense
Those who deliberately with their words hurt others sadly lack in common sense
Always treat others with respect if you want them to respect you
If in respect you are lacking respect will not be your due
Those who seek quarrels with others as their source of anger release
Are not doing anything for a peaceful World since with themselves they are not at peace
Ill feeling does lead to hatred and hatred does lead to crime
Those who live in peace with others are the peacemakers of our time
If you want a better and a peaceful World with yourself you must begin
Make yourself a better person make the World better to live in.

The Beautiful Flower Of Kilmeedy

The beautiful flower of Kilmeedy in Kilmeedy she did not stay
In the green valley on view of Clara where she first looked on the lamp of day
It is said she is living in Christchurch New Zealand from her first home in distance far away
Married with young children to a New Zealander this is what those in the know of her does say

With brunette wavy hair to her shoulders and eyes blue as the summer sky
The very word that is known as beauty to her sort does surely apply
But the yearn for the wander was in her on view of Clara she did not remain
And what is a loss to Kilmeedy to Christchurch is surely a gain

There is a young man in Duhallow who begged her for to become his wife
But he is a stay at home person not one for the adventurous life
And he lost his flower of Kilmeedy without her he will grow old and gray
But memories of love do not die easily he does think of her every day

One wonders does she ever think of him and remember the what used to be
The present with most only matter though the past lives on in memory
And does she remember the old fields and the leafy groves of the Spring
When the swallows are back home in Kilmeedy and the nesting birds whistle and sing

And does she in visualizations see the gray fog creep down Clara Hill
And in the calm of a gray Summer twilight hear the babbling song of the rill
The beautiful flower of Kilmeedy who lives in Christchurch far away
From the green valley by Clara Mountain where she first looked on the lamp of day.

To You Quite Scary

Physically you are not the person you once were and you know time is not on your side
And the thought of death to you quite scary but from it you have nowhere to hide
And though you fear the scythe of the life's reaper this is quite a natural fear
The bravest do not die without some fear though stories of their bravery we read of and of hear
Legend has it that Methuselah lived for more than nine centuries but eventually he too did die
But you make what you like of this story since legend it has been known for to lie
Us humands are born as mortals and death to all things of life does apply
On this respect no different to the animals or to the birds of the sky
You are one of many who fear death and on saying this you are saying what is true
The reaper of lives who claims all lives will one day come reaping for you
The one who does come uninvited who to anyone is never a friend
The one only cheated by suicide victims decides for you when life will end
I feel so happy for to be living and with joy do welcome every day
But my fate will be like all others when the reaper comes reaping my way.

A Wonderful Thing

The aging may talk of their adventures and successes of the past
But the clock on their lives ever keeps ticking fast
And time does not wait it just keeps ticking on
At the stroke of midnight today will be gone
The young talk of what for them in life will be
As they grow into adulthood like a sapling tree
Full of ambition and on the right side of time
As they do look forward to their physical prime
The aging does talk of the decades ago
And time that rusts iron has become their foe
They talk of the past and not of times ahead
And hopes for the future in them all but dead
The songs of their favorite pop star the young do sing
The great gift of youth is a wonderful thing.

The Judgments Of Others

Since any wrong to anyone you never do
Why allow the judgments of others to affect you
Just leave it to them to criticize you or your praises to sing
And get on with your life and do your own thing
It is not saying anything that to anyone is in any way new
When saying that the unpaid judges of the World are not in the few
To support you on your livelihood any of your bills they never do pay
Their kind will not help you in any sort of a way
Of any advice from their sort you are not in need
And to their negative opinions why pay any heed
With their types it is hard to make friends and easy to make foes
It does take all kinds one does have to suppose
Just leave it to them for to criticize you or your praises to sing
And live how you choose for to live and do your own thing.

Selfishness On The Rise

An old saying today that is relevant and not hard to recall
Every man and woman for himself and herself and god for us all
Words of promotion for selfishness would you not agree
At least anyhow this is how it does seems to be
It is only when you are feeling depressed and financially down
That you really know who your friends are in the town
It is then you come to realize that your true friends are few
Though to this you may say do tell us what is new
In this the age of the i, myself and me
Money is the god of the many in the twenty first century
The one without money it does seem sad to say
Is the one without friends in the Human World of today
In the age of technology selfishness is on the rise
It is every man for himself and every woman likewise.

On Melbourne Cup Day

Known as the race that stops a nation it was run today
That money speaks every language only true for to say
The Melbourne Cup run at Flemington in Victoria is known Worldwide
Where the wealthy and famous love to flaunt it and their egos make no attempt to hide

In a Human World where the gap between the wealthy and the poor ever does seem to grow
Melbourne Cup day for the wealthy and famous just an egotistical show
Of the power of money for the World to see
Which does nothing for the homeless of Melbourne who live in dire poverty

The excitement that money and fame does create
Tonight the big winners they will celebrate
But the hungry and homeless of Melbourne who only know of life as tough
Without a bed or blanket tonight as usual will sleep rough

Where multi millionaires from Australia and other Countries send their horse to compete in the big race
In a race track where humility itself would be completely out of place
Where of the poorer side of humanity there is not any trace
And among ninety thousand plus racegoers not one homeless face

At Flemington race track on the first Tuesday in November where the big wags for dress and attention with each other compete
Even one poor person you would be quite unlikely for to meet
It is ego gone viral in truth one can say
At Flemington in Victoria on Melbourne Cup Day.

The Boggeragh Ranges

Of the Cork and Kerry border on either side
The Boggeragh Ranges are known far and wide
By tourists who in Ireland have travelled this way
In Duhallow and Sliabh Luachra on their scenic holiday
Mushera and Clara, Kippagh and Gortavehy and it's face of stone
Toorbonia, Caherbarnagh and Goddess Anu's hills in East Kerry known as the Paps of Shrone
Of the Boggeragh Ranges by the story tellers and the Gaelic bards of old
Poems and songs were written and stories were told
The Boggeragh Ranges are so old in time
They were very old when Fionn was in his prime
People like the Seasons to life come and go
But the hills do remain time never becomes their foe
They have been the inspiration of song, story and rhyme
The Boggeragh Ranges that are so old in time.

A Last December

For all of us there is a last December the ripened fruit off of it's branch does fall
Each dawn we see one nearer to our last dawn life's journey has an ending for us all
The longest lived human life as time goes not a long span the clock on our lives keeps ever ticking fast
At the stroke of midnight we will be in tomorrow and today it will be of the past
For to live with honor it takes a good person to their higher selves they do remain as true
The people who always does leave it to others in their words to pay them the credit they are due
There is more to self to live for there are others and many good people live in every town
They are always quite willing to help the needy those doing it tough and financially down
Those who have a healthy love of self always love others for they have plenty of love in them for to share
There is not anybody who is more selfish than the self centered greedy millionaire
She or he to humanity of little value since they only ever does care for their own
For kindness and compassion and philantrophy their sort are not nor never will be known
Yet for them too there is a last December and for them too there is a final night and day
And for some of us and this also includes me life's journey's end is not that far away.

The Wanderlust Was In Him

One who left it to others to pursue their dreams of wealth and renown
And one different to most others in the small country town
He made love to many women and enjoyed his fun and beer
One always in a happy mood who led the barroom cheer
In the old town beside the hill he was not one to stay
The wanderlust was in him for places far away
He left one windy Autumn day when brown leaves were drifting down
From branches of their deciduous trees to the sidewalks of the town
He did not stay in the hometown his future was to be elsewhere
He went off for adventure in the bigger World out there
Going back in time four years ago none of his friends know where he is today
He is missed in the country town where at fun making he led the way
He was a happy fellow with a big smile on his face
And the local pub without him is a much duller place.

The Grumblers

They are never short of money and luck is on their side
Yet with their lot they never seem satisfied
The more they have the more they want with some it is this way
Many millions in profit after tax but not enough they say
With some greed becomes an addiction they never have enough
They are always wishing they had more as if life on them was tough
The wealthiest people in the town who are possessed by greed
They talk as if they are bankrupt and of help are in need
Some never happy in their lives find reason to complain
A pleasant day of sunshine and breeze and they do wish for rain
The more they have the more they want for self they only care
She or he suffer of poverty of mind the unhappy millionaire
They feel that they are doing it tough some of the wealthiest of the town
And they talk as if they are quite poor and financially down.

Their Own Battle

You do not need to join the army to fight in bloody wars
Life's personal battles leaves you with mental scars
Your own battles in life does go on every day
And you win some and lose some since life is this way
In a Human World where so many compete for success
Many under the pressure of living know of anxiety and stress
That the majority of the financial wealth of the World is owned by the few
Is not saying anything that is in any way new
So many must support self and family on bare award working take home pay
That life is tough on the financial battlers only true for to say
In a Human World of billions of people many homeless and hungry and sleeping rough
Mere surival itself on their sort rather tough
Many do not need to go to fight in wars far away
Since they have their own battles to fight every day.

As You Would Like Them To Treat You

Treat other people as you would like them to treat you
And pay them the respect that to them is their due
If you cannot give respect then respect do not expect to receive
A truism from the past that is not hard to believe
Some people in their thinking seem rather small
Their idea of a fair go is only a fair go for some and does not include all
The one who treats you as an equal you wish to have as a friend
That respect wins respect why otherwise pretend
Money is the main cause of inequality in the Human World of today
And this does seem a sad thing for to have to say
But death is the equalizer as is often said
We all become equal when we are dead
So you should treat other people as you would like them to treat you
And pay them the respect that to them is their due.

Monsignor Slattery

I remember Monsignor Slattery when i was a boy
His stories on life and nature were a source for joy
Memories of his visits to our classroom are with me today
And for as long as i live with me are bound for to stay

He had so many stories on the creatures of nature to us for to tell
That if published in book form they would readily sell
He advised us to animals and birds to be kind
Since in the image of god they too have been designed

A devout and friendly person free of conceit and guile
With the warmth of kindness in his beautiful smile
He does not deserve to fade from memory
Since he was everything a man of god should be

A person like he was one does never forget
And his passing in Millstreet caused widespread sorrow and regret
He lived true to his teachings of him one can say
And when it came to good example he did lead the way

Since he breathed his last many Seasons have gone
But for his compassion and kindness in memory he deserves to live on
It was by good example that he led the way
And one hopes he is remembered in the Millstreet of today.

Heroines And Heroes In The True Sense

The celebrities and sporting champions and winners of Olympic Gold
And the World famed identities and entertainers whose stories in book form are told
Admired by the gullible masses and looked up to as great
But many of them more flawed than most are the people we do celebrate
Yet so many amazing and great people not known beyond their hometown
They do not seek fame and glory and are strangers to renown
Yet are always helping other people doing their good deeds every day
Helping those in need of helping out of their kindness without pay
Yet they seem to go unnoticed perhaps they like it this way
Heroes and heroines in the true sense of them only true to say
For their good deeds and acts of kindness recognition they never seek
The true heroines and heroes of the Human World the compassionate and meek
They perform acts of kindness without wishing to impress
In a Human World where billions of people are competing for recognition and success.

Marian O' Connell

Life does have it's good times and it's moments of tears
In Murphy's Terrace Marian Galvin with her family lived her younger years
One of the pretty young women in her time in Millstreet
Quite a charming young person and unshackled by conceit
She became Mrs John O' Connell and raised her children in Derrinagree
A beloved wife and mother and grandmother in her family
She was not an old person in her mid to late sixties or early seventies maybe
For to live to die old not in her life's destiny
It is so sad to learn Marian has lived her last Fall
But the journey of life it does end for us all
Just a twenty minutes walk from Murphy's Terrace where she had lived for many a day
By Cashman's Hill in St Mary's her last remains lay
Hope her parting from life for her was not a painful release
She lived as a good person may she now rest in peace.

The Pride Of Kilcorney

From where she first looked on the bright lamp of day
The Pride of Kilcorney she lives far away
She lived in the house by the silver tongued rill
Babbling down from the high fields by Mushera Hill
With shoulder length wavy raven hair and chestnut brown eyes
Such beauty that to songs and stories gives rise
One young man in Kilcorney for lost love does grieve
That she will return to Kilcorney he no longer believe
She left Kilcorney some eight years ago
And he has not heard from her for five years or so
Rumor has it in Australia she is a mother and wife
And quite happy and content in her new way of life
A young man in Kilcorney thinks of her every day
But then such is life as some are known to say.

Friday Morning In Illowa

Friday morning in Illowa and the dawn has broken gray
And the weather wet and blustery for a November Spring day
Quite cool for Spring and November it is only twelve degrees
With the magpies and the blackbirds singing on the windblown trees

But going by the weather forecast the weather will turn fine
That the day will be breezy and sunny with long spells of sunshine
After the recent showery weather countless wildflowers to be seen
And the undulating paddocks of Illowa looking healthy lush and green

Friday morning in the Moyne Shire and the rain is pouring down
Takes me back to my first homeplace Claraghatlea by Millstreet Town
Of wet and windy weather in the greeness of the May
Rain does always bring back memories of places far away

And though the past has gone forever memories do linger still
Of when the gray rain fogs of morning slowly creep down Clara Hill
Only fleeting bits of memory of the long gone past does stay
And the now is what should matter as the wise are known to say

With cloud precipitation Nature's gift to Mother Earth one ought not to complain
How nice to hear the pee wees singing they don't seem to mind the rain
On this gray morning in Illowa the rain is pouring down
It takes me back again to Claragatlea just west of Millstreet Town.

They Are Not Dead

They are not dead though all others tell you they are since you meet and talk to them every day
They are no different to the living friends you once knew who from you nowadays does live far away
They are deceased to you in body only but in your mind as living they do remain
They have not died if in you they are living though when i tell you this you ask me please explain
In your mind they remain as young and vibrant they will be with you until the day they die
That they ceased to live with the death of their bodies your memories of them to this gives the lie
They will only die on the day your body does die in some future day whenever that may be
Until then every day you will meet them as they are living in your memory
They have not aged though physically you grow older as they were to you they do remain
Though the passing of the years are telling on you on memory road when you meet them again
They have not aged they are now as they once were whilst time itself has left it's mark on you
That since their bodily death in your mind they have not aged and the bodily living like you are aging too
They are not dead though others tell you they are since i meet them often though not every day
I know that in me they will remain living for as long as the gift of life in me will stay.

He Tells Me

He tells me that i am only wasting my time
On adding to my numbers of doggerel rhyme
But this is his opinion and this suits me fine
For what is his opinion is no business of mine
I loved reading rhymes even as a young boy
And writing them nowadays is something i do enjoy
He is one who looks at all things with a monetary view
But sadly nowadays his sort are not of the few
On what is my favorite hobby he did have his say
But on what i love doing why should i give away
If i told him i would take his advice i would be telling him a lie
So i told him i hope to be writing rhymes until the day i do die
To him doing anything for enjoyment is a waste of time
But despite his advice i will keep on writing rhyme.

For A Poor Refugee

Good people imprisoned though not guilty of any crime
Such as refugees in detention centers like prisoners serving time
People who are not criminals though from criminals of war they did flee
How tough life must be for a poor refugee
To want a safer and a better life is not breaking any law
But to many people with power compassion is a human flaw
They believe that boat asylum seekers in their home Countries should have stayed
And any sympathy for them ought not to be displayed
To escape persecution they have fled their homeland
This is something that should not be hard to understand
Like the weeds of the garden that stifle every flower
Their dreams of a safer and a better future are crushed by cruel people with power
That life is tough for many who could disagree
And none do know it tougher than a poor refugee.

Addictions

Despite what some think of themselves or do say
Many of us human beings are addictive in some sort of a way
Addicted to alcohol, nicotine or drugs or some lesser evil on the body maybe
Of the hold of an addiction it is hard to break free

To add to her or to his millions can be an addiction of the known millionaire
Those without some for of addiction are to say the least rare
Some are addicted to entertainment or to politics or to sport
Though some with extreme addictions can be in need of pschyological support

Many who have a gambling addiction become financially broke
From them their money disappear like a cloud of smoke
In the freshening wind quickly blown from view
Those with such an addiction are not of the few

There are so many people who are addictive inclined
And to overcome your addiction you would need strength of mind
Due to their addictions many people are financially and mentally destroyed
And end their own lives in the act of suicide.

It Will Not Matter

It will not matter to you anyway
When you have lived your final night and day
Your successes and failures only true to say
To you will not matter when under the ground you do lay
The longest lived human life in time not a long span
On averag a few years more for a woman than it is for a man
Life's Reaper who does not make an appointment can call on you at anytime
The one who claims the lives of the young and old and of those in their lives prime
Does not matter how wealthy and famous you are
Or of the size of your home or of the size of your car
To the Reaper of lives these things to nothing does amount
The one who wealth and fame never takes into account
It will not matter to you when your life's journey end
If you were the town's most popular or you never had a friend.

Black Faced Cuckoo Shrike

The bird known as the black faced cuckoo shrike
Is one who does not have a look alike
Dark around the face and body feathers bluish gray
They are birds i do not see every day

On flimsy stick nest on outer branch of fork of tree
The female lays her blotched green eggs of two to three
In places where trees are plentiful them one does see
And they are not restricted to a territory

Medium sized birds they are not big or small
Distinctive in their pleasant churring call
On alighting on a branch to shuffle their wings to them a familiar thing
Which gives rise to the other name they are known by of Shufflewing

The black faced cucko shrike you see today
Tomorrow may be many miles away
On small fruits and insects they do live
Just learning of birds such pleasure to me give.

We Are Told

We are told that there is a hell and heaven and we are told they are not poets those who write in rhyme
And we are told that old men are too old for love making and in fantasising only waste their time
And we are told the son of god in pre written history did walk upon the waves of Galilee
And died they tell us because of our sins nailed to a timber cross on the Hill of Calvary
We are told of Moses and his Fifth Commandment a warning to humans that thou shalt not kill
But if somebody does wish for to shorten your life they certainly can and they surely will
But if you believe everything that you are told then you must be quite gullible indeed
For people of power for to convince the masses of the easy to deceive they are in need
We are told Methuselah lived for near ten centuries people are never that hard to deceive
They are quite cynical or so they tell us the people who find it quite hard any story to believe
But some will believe anything you do tell them they may even believe you if you tel them pigs can fly
That humanity is ruled by the most deceitful of people is not hard to understand the reason why
We are told that if we pray to our god daily that we will go to heaven when we die
But many so called very devout people are quite deceptive and never find it hard to lie.

The Same For

The same for the refugee as for the voluntary migrant if they tell you it would surely be a lie
That they never do think of their first homeland and once never wish to go back home to die
Believe me for i too am a migrant one who has mixed with migrants of every race
And many of them are quite honest with their feelings when they say they often does think of their first homeplace

I have known many migrant men and women long past their prime and well advanced in years
Even at the very mention of their homeland they seem to strugle to hold back the tears
That yearn to flow for far off towns and places and family and friends of for them what used to be
In this respect it is the same for the voluntary migrant as it is for the aging refugee

Sometimes i envy those content in their surroundings who never venture far from their homeplace
The yearn to wander never came upon them happy to live and grow old where their's is a known face
The refugees are fleeing from war and famine the voluntary migrants are of the adventurous kind
But all of them does share one thing in common on that thoughts of home are often in their mind

I am a fellow from another Country from where i now live in distance far away
But i must admit at times to feel nostalgic in fancy i see old Clara Mountain every day
Or of having a pint with friends in Duhallow in one of the pubs in the town of Millstreet
And in Claraghatlea feel content in my first home walking in the fields where the waterways do meet.

Jack And Renie

In his long lived life he never harmed anyone
His mother and father in him raised a good son
Loved by all who knew him on his side of the town
Jack in word or in deed never put anyone down

He never had children or never had a wife
But in his seventies he fell in love with Renie the love of his life
For years they lived together they now rest in peace
For all of us from life a final release

To be in love in their eighties and be kind to others their claim to renown
I often see Jack in his white ute with Renie driving on the streets of the town
With his old dog Rosie a brown, white and black
Content in her old age sitting in the back

Though they were many years past their physical prime
My fond memories does remain undimmed by time
Of the people who performed good deeds every day
And to help others often went out of their way

Never more for to be seen in the flesh again
And only the memories now does remain
Of people who fell in love when they were old
And surely their story deserves to be told.

Life Works In This Way

Self improvement as a person is all up to you
For yourself and for others good things you can do
That kindness does beget kindness is not based on a lie
There is far more to living than for me, myself and i
To your higher self try to remain as true
The respect you pay to others does become your due
Those who are kind to others in their times of need
For their future good karma are planting the seed
No favor done for anyone is never too small
What goes around comes around does apply to all
Those who for their own gain does drag others down
May become the social climbers of the town
But to karma for them there will be some price to pay
What goes around comes around life works in this way.

I Pen Rhymes

I pen rhymes about people and places and about the natural beauty i do see
And of the animals and birds i do see often who have their own homes not distant from me
Of life and Nature every day we are learning we learn as we live is only true to say
The book of life is full of endless knowledge and something new to learn of every day
The dark blue male satin bowerbirds their ornamental bowers are building in the high woods above Apollo Bay
For to attract the plainer looking females for to mate with them the only part in fatherhood they do play
Why some species of birds raise their young as partners and others raise their offsprings on their own
So much of Nature ways seem rather puzzling and to one like me remain as unknown
I pen rhymes of people i knew as a young man that i may well never again meet
Erswhile friends and mentors of my first homeplace in and near the Duhallow Town of Millstreet
We do age with our fading memories of the what used to be and of the long gone past
Though the now to us should only matter and as is said of time it ticks on fast
I am just another migrant rhymer one of those who does love penning rhyme
Who is getting on in years and feeling older and in mind and body feels the wear of time.

The Welcome Swallows

The welcome swallows of the southern country they fly above the landscape all the day
They spend most of their time chasing flying insects for them it is their only source of prey
Dark shiny back and wings brown throats and dark gray unders the aerial winged speedsters of the southern sky
Hundreds of kilometers every day they do travel the birds who have been born for to fly
They build a cup shaped nest of mud mostly on verandah rafters and three to five pale freckled eggs the female does lay
They spend their Winters in the northern tropics in the cooler south where they raise their broods from early Spring to late Autumn they do stay
The fastest birds of flight in their part of the World for hours on end each day they fly at speed
Swallows,swifts and martins born for aerial speed and endurance the champion aerial speedsters indeed
The welcome swallows spend most of their days flying above parks and paddocks a familiar sight
To twist and turn at speed to them no effort to watch their aerial antics a delight
They hunt harmful flying insects such as locusts in this way they are the farmers and the gardeners friend
In their lifetimes thousands of miles they do travel on their aerial speed for their survival they depend
The welcome swallows of the southern country familiar birds to all and all does include me
They travel thousands of kilometers in their lifetimes and they are not restricted to a territory.

The Wooded Hills Above Apollo Bay

A place that is close to Earthly Utopia the wooded hills above Apollo Bay
In the coastal breeze the tall gum trees are soughing like dancers to music their branches move and sway
Where all year round the wood birds chirp and whistle how lovely on a sunlit day in Spring
To sit on a park bench near to where a creek is babbling and enjoy the peace Nature to the mind does bring
No not for me where humans are competing for fame and wealth and material success
I love to be alone with Mother Nature as it gives me a sense of inner peace and happiness
The big towns and cities of human created noise and pollution not good for health of body or of mind
I do like being alone with Mother Nature perhaps i am one of the loner kind
In the park by the creek surrounded by tall gum trees in the wooded hills above Apollo Bay
On a breezy and sunlit Sunday in late October it is indeed a beautiful Spring day
Were i a poet i would write of this natural beauty wherever i turn to look that does meet my eyes
That where humans are few Nature is at her healthiest this is something i have come to realize
One is not far from Earthly Utopia on the wooded hills above Apollo Bay
I have seldom witnessed a scene of such beauty a memory with me that is bound to stay.

Far South Of Duhallow

It has been awhile since i lived in Duhallow in the green country where Blackwater flow
In the fields of rabbit, hare and rook, fox and badger and the bird referred to by many as gray crow
The memories of the past in me are living and on my flights of fancy i do see
The gray fogs of rain creep slowly down the Boggeraghs it does seem Duhallow it has followed me
I used to have some good friends in Duhallow though some of them in peace forever lay
And some like me i feel sure have migrated and some in Duhallow are aging today
Though today to them i well may be a stranger with me in common little they may have to share
Our values change in life as we grow older of late of this i have become aware
I went to see the World beyond Duhallow my journey in life has brought me far south
Of the waterways of the white breasted dipper that too are home to otter and brown trout
For to grow old in the southern sunlit country perhaps is part of my life's destiny
Only in fancy now i see Duhallow in my memories of the what used to be
My life's journey has brought me south of Duhallow in distance from there i live far away
But in fancy i see gray fogs on the Boggeraghs old memories do die hard as some do say.

A Beautiful Memory

So happy looking and down to earth and free of guile
The beautiful young woman with the beautiful smile
She greeted me a stranger as if i were a friend
Nice people i like meeting of this i won't pretend
Behind the gray clouds the sun hidden away
But she did bring a flutter of joy to my day
A beautiful person with shoulder length wavy hair dark as a raven's wing
A flutter of joy to my day she did bring
A blackbird was singing his beautiful song
She carried joy with her whilst walking along
On a beautiful evening with a freshening breeze
Soughing in the leaves of the acacia trees
With a smile and hello she brought joy to my day
A beautiful memory with me that will stay.

In The Len Sprague Reserve

In the Len Sprague Reserve near Forrest which is on the way
To the Great Ocean Road Town of Apollo Bay
The sun it is hidden behind clouds of gray
And the blackbirds are singing on this October day
The park looking so green in the prime of the Spring
And how lovely to hear the gray shrike thrush sing
The gray and brown feathered minstrel with the flute like song
Once seen and once heard one never again get him wrong
And the birds who does sing every day of the year
The warbling notes of the magpies so pleasant to hear
In such a beautiful place surrounded by tall gum trees
On a weather temperature high for the day of a pleasant twenty degrees
And everywhere looking so green after the recent rain
This beautiful place i will visit again.