Nearly

Nearly did not win the race
And even failed to run a place
No luck on my side he said
Better days of me ahead
Nearly says he should not have lost
Interference in the race victory to him cost
For his every loss bad luck he blame
After each loss with him the same
Always complain luck not on his side
Of a clear run he was denied
The better man  won you never hear him say
He cannot lose in a graceful way
Nearly it is his nickname
For his every loss bad luck he blame.

I Feel Lucky

I feel lucky in the scenic places to i have been
And the beauty in my travels that i have seen
And the people i have met that i write of in rhyme
Something i have been doing over decade of time
I cannot say i have been there and done that
Though i have  worked on pipelines in and near Ballarat
And in cold and damp weather in the wintery chill
I have felled tall pine trees by Mushera hill
I have worked on e p v vehicles trimming over powerlines dangerous trees
And on building sites in temperatures of close to forty degrees
As a migrant worker in this Land of the south
Though these are things scarcely worth talking about
But i feel lucky in the good people i have met and the memorable places to i have been
And the natural beauty in my travels i have seen.

Many Into Self Promotion

In the age of self promotion extreme love of self is an in thing
And it has become as normal that people their own praises sing
At social gatherings and parties and wherever people meet
For attention with each other many does like to compete
In the early twenty first century narcissism it is rife
Many see this as quite natural an evolving part of human life
It is those with monstrous egos that the masses celebrate
Those who are humble in their ways nowadays seen as out of date
Many into self promotion narcissistic in their own way
That most of them lack in compassion only does seem true to say
Only think of their own careers they seem narcissistic indeed
In a World of many poor and homeless people humanity of their sort not in need
In the age of self promotion many their own praises sing
People pumping their own egos nowadays seen as in thing.

By The Name Of Willy Wagtail

Some birds by their appearance or chirping or song
Once seen and once heard you never again does get wrong
The willy wagtails or black and white fantails are such birds and are widely known
And of them one can say they have ways of their own
They are birds who sometimes can be heard at night
Their chattering song a give away to their identity though  they are out of sight
In a neat cup of bark felted with spider webs on low branch of tree
The female lay brown spotted white eggs of two sometimes three
Small black and white fantails their long black tails wagging to and fro
In defense of their territory all other birds to them a foe
Fear is a thing of they do not seem to know
I have seen them mob much bigger birds such as a magpie or a crow
Small black and white flycatchers with ways of their own
By the name of willy wagtail they are better known.

That Poor Sad Faced Bloke

That poor sad faced bloke known as never do well
Of life he does have his own stories to tell
He does have a reason for looking so sad
Some tearful and tough days in life he has had
Luck in life it has not been on his side
When their home it caught fire his wife and his young son and his young daughter died
Whilst he worked on the night shift in the factory his family he lost
A lifetime of grief for his loss is his cost
In his late sixties his hair silver gray
A poor alcoholic he is homeless today
Life to the poor bloke it has not been kind
For his grief some form of solace in alcohol he does find
He may be known to many as never do well
But of life he does have his own stories to tell.

For Living A Good Life

For living a good life credit to you is due
And to your higher self you try to stay true
For to try to help people you often go out of your way
Without ever expecting the rewards of pay
Not what others expect you to do
You are right to live the way that you feel is right for you
For following the mob you will never be known
You are one who has a mind of your own
You are not one who does follow the mob
Or boast in the pub of your excellent job
Tell people about your most recent success
Others you have no wish for to impress
Your praises in public you never does sing
You are a person who does your own thing.

It Is A Big World

In a lifetime of travel you could not visit everywhere
It is not a small World the World out there
If the most well travelled person you know of did say to you
she or he had been to everywhere this would be untrue
The World is too big in one lifetime to see
To visit everywhere in six or seven decades of travelling would be impossible would you not agree
There is no truth in the saying it is a small World after all
The Planet we live on it is far from small
I have visited a few Countries but i have come to realize
That i am not a well travelled fellow a fact i cannot disguise
I do know of a few who have travelled far and wide
But they have not been to every town in every countryside
It is a big World the World out there
And not one in truth who could tell you they have been to everywhere.

December In Duhallow

I was of the countryside west of Millstreet
A half an hour walk through the fields to where the waterways meet
But what was for everyone also for me
And the past just a memory of what used to be

It is cold, wet and windy in Duhallow today
And behind the gray clouds the sun hidden away
Brown stormwater flowing bank high in every field and roadside drain
And the Boggeraghs cloaked in the gray fogs of rain

December in Duhallow the sky gloomy and gray
And cattle in the farmyard sheds bellowing for silage or hay
The swallows have long since departed for warmer lands of the south
Far from the fields of the badger and waterways of the brown trout

In Duhallow in December a cold and wet time of year
The songbirds of Nature one seldom does hear
The freshening gales soughing in bare deciduous trees
In weather temperatures quite close to zero degrees

We are the sum total of our life's experience some are known to say
Though others they do not see it in this way
Good memories of our better times as we age we retain
But physically we cannot return to the good days again

In Duhallow in December the weather seldom fine and dry
And the sun seldom seen in the overcast sky
But each day one day nearer to the northern Spring
When the swallows return and the nesting birds sing.

For Our Very Existence

For our very existence some price for to pay
We age as we live a little by the day
Every year on us shows beyond our physical prime
Eventually even the fittest and strongest does lose out to time
The praises of youthful beauty are so often sung
But the aged of the future today are the young
The champion of the past is an ex champion today
On all living things time does have the last say
Tomorrow will dawn when this day is done
But sad as it may seem not for everyone
For all of us from life a final farewell
Though the dead never do hear the funeral bell
For our very existence some price for to pay
We age as we live a little by the day.

In Their Thinking Quite Small

Those who claim to have god on their side in their thinking quite small
For if there is a god this god is for all
They are arrogant people those who believe they have god on their side
In their words they only cause a religious divide
Their arrogance does show them to be of the religious extreme
Not near to nice people in their religious opinions it does seem
A war on his behalf of a true god would not approve
Those who claim to have god on their side are stuck in a religious groove
Not spirtitually enlightened on any sort of a way
Not in any way near to a nice god the one to whom they does pray
God is for people of all religions and for atheists too
And god is for me as well as for you
And this goes for every good living person Worldwide
Religious or not she or he has god on their side.

Far From The Streets

Far from the noisy traffic of the street
In the wood near where the creek and river meet
In feathers of light brown and palish gray
The bird known as gray shrike thrush is whistling today
Bird in busy town never heard or seen
He lives where the World is quiet and green
Searching for slugs and flies and bees
At home in the place of many trees
Known best for the beautiful flute like song
That to his kind only belong
His type never does venture far and wide
Beyond the quiet treed countryside
Far from the streets of the noisy town
He is whistling as the sun goes down.

In Your Visualizations

In your visualizations do  you ever walk up and down
The familiar streets of your old first hometown
And meet some old friends from the decades ago
Long before time it did become your foe

The old town that you love from here far away
Where you did first look on the bright lamp of day
And your young friends from school you have not seen for years
Such old memories are known for to give rise to tears

The childhood games with your young friends in the schoolyard you did play
In your visualizations you remember today
Such happy memories of childhood a lifetime to enjoy
Of when you were a young girl or a young boy

Your better memories of childhood when you visualize
To moments of happiness always gives rise
Of the old town and friends for years you have not met
Good memories you never do wish to forget

We All Need Some Ego

We all need some ego in life to survive
To follow our dreams it helps our mental drive
And though the praises of the wealthy celebrities the masses may sing
An over-inflated ego for the mind is not a  good thing
Praise it can go to the praised one's head
Something that you would have often have heard said
That down to earth materially wealthy people are in the few
To anyone this is not anything that is new
And an over-inflated ego there can be no denying
To the higher feelings can be self destroying
As it can crowd from the mind compassion and empathy
Two of Nature's gifts to humanity
But it is true we all need some ego in life to survive
To follow our dreams it helps our mental drive.

The Pride Of Yarpturk

Her sort the inspiration of the writers of song,story and rhyme
The pride of Yarpturk in her physical prime
One of the finest in the coastal Moyne Shire countryside
Where stories of her beauty have travelled far and wide
The young men stare at her in admiration as she walks up and down
The sidewalks of Commercial Road in Koroit Town
Wavy dark hair to her shoulders and eyes of brown
Of the female beauties of Koroit she deserves the crown
The Pride of Yarpturk she is graceful and tall
And nothing conceited about her at all
Of the great beauty she possesses she does not seem aware
To meet so down to earth and friendly her sort does seem rare
In her early twenties with time on her side
One of the Moyne Shire's finest and old Yarpturk's pride.

The Windbag

The braggart for ego may carry the flag
But few of his sort can live up to their brag
As is said empty vessels does make the most noise
There is far more substance in the one who has poise
A saying from the past that is relevant today
Actions speak louder than words as the wise one does say
Braggarts are not rare in any village, city and town
But when put to the test most of them leave themselves down
The quiet man is one who leaves his actions for him speak
When put to the test braggarts are often found to be weak
Their type in the World sad to say not in the few
 But this is not saying anything that is new
For ego he only does carry the flag
The one known to many as the windbag.

Only The Memories Now Does Remain

Their sort often honoured in story and song
Those men who worked for Cunningham and Kelleher on the pipeline in Buninyong
Back in the late eighties a long time ago
Since then time on them has become their foe

There are far easier ways of earning one's pay
Than laying heavy pipes every working day
But they were fit and strong and work hardened men
And physically quite able for hard work back then

But time on all things as is said has it's way
Some of the Buninyong pipeline workers among the deceased now lay
And those living now are showing time's decay
And clearly have known of a far better day

They worked hard and drunk hard and in the Buninyong Crown Hotel
Many stories and yarns they had of to tell
Many of the young men of the nineteen eighties are grandparents today
Time does not stand still and things as they were does not stay

Since then so many years have come and have gone
But life as ever as usual goes on
And only the memories now does remain
Of what used to be but will not be again.

A Duhallow Character

Mick Punk or  Michael Murphy which was his birth name
To be a well known Duhallow character his main claim to fame
An amiable fellow when i was a boy
As one inhis ways who spread laughter and joy

A sturdily built fellow though not very tall
A Duhallow chimney sweep his face black from sootfall
He had fought in and survived World War One from Duhallow far away
But few are left for to remember him today

From Laught in Rathcoole he grew old in Millstreet Town
But no monument there to honour his renown
Though he had survived where many in had died
Like all young Irishmen who fought in the great war one never honoured in his home countryside

As  quite a character of sorts he was known best
With tattoos  on his big arms and on his broad chest
To say he was a natty dresser would be telling a lie
I never did see him  in a suit and a tie

A generous man in his own kindly way
He cleaned many people's chimneys for so little pay
Though with the long deceased he does forever lay
There is not one quite like he was in Duhallow today

He did not have children or a partner or wife
And in the Town of Millstreet he spent his last years of life
A good and a likeable fellow of him one can say
As a young man he fought in a war far away.

Climbing Mushera Today

In the sunny blue sky just a few clouds of gray
And in the parkland nearby children laugh at their play
But in wintery Duhallow from here far away
The young and the ageing climbing Mushera today

Christmas Day in Mushera can be windy, damp and cold
In latter December the old year very old
But climbing the steep slopes of Mushera in weather temperatures near zero degrees
Through the damp bracken and wet to their knees

The local Christmas Day climbers the cold and wet to them hold no fear
Climb to Mushera's summit as they do every year
For to climb in depths of Winter on the roughest of terrain
When brown storm water is bank high in every drain

Does take courage that one can only admire
On a day when it is comfortable to sit by a warm fire
And with a wine or a beer wash the rich food down
In the high coutryside above Millstreet Town

In the sunny blue sky just a few clouds of gray
And in the parkland nearby children laugh at their play
Far north of here in farmyard sheds cattle are bellowing for silage or hay
And the climbers are climbing on Mushera today.

The Mancinis

Claudia Mancini of her son Guiseppe feels proud
She says he is one who stands out from the crowd
A motor car accident had him in a wheelchair
But he is not one to say life is unfair
His doctor is stuck for words to explain
That Guiseppe is walking when he said he would never walk again
Though only in his early thirties he is visibly lame
And physically he will never again be quite the same
The woman Guiseppe was to marry did not become his wife
With a physically impaired man she would not spend her life
His father Giovanni ten years ago of cancer died
It does seem luck in life is not on Guiseppe's side
But his mother Claudia of him does feel so proud
She says he is one who stands out from the crowd.

Last Year She Said

Last year she said i have the ideal lover so handsome and caring and tall
Of all of the town's lucky young women i must be the luckiest of all
When in the park walking hand in hand together the love in my mind glowing bright
I am in love and feeling happy i feel i have met Mr Right

But a year in one's life can be a long time on looking back it can seem this way
And about the great love of her life she feels very different today
He left her in tears for another to raise their baby daughter on her own
And of the handsome young man that she had loved his real self she never had known

Love is not all sunshine and roses of this there can be little doubt
The man that she thought who had loved her without him she must live without
In truth he is a womanizer who to the higher form of love cannot be true
But there are so many men like him and this is to give them their due

He left her when she was quite pregnant and for himself found someone new
She just happened to be one of his lovers he is one who has had more than a few
Of women that he has made love to with their feeling like a toy he does play
And when children weary of their toys they break them or throw them away

By love she has been disappointed and the mental hurt of love with her remain
Her trust in men it is broken she well may never love again
But not all men are unfaithful though this she may never realize
Since people of love who have had a bad experience does often tend to generalize

Alone in the park pushing her baby's pram she looks for to say the least sad
She has known of love's joy and disappointment and happier days she has had
A years ago she was in love and quite happy but most things in life does not last
And there is much truth in the saying that we only can learn from the past.

An In Thing

Self promotion in the twenty first century is an in thing
So many nowadays their own praises does sing
Though self praise is no praise the wise one does say
So many nowadays does not see it this way
The humble of mind does seem harder to meet
In a Human World where so many for success and attention compete
To your higher self you cannot hope to be true
If you feel there is nobody greater than you
The self obsessed i do find hard to admire
Of them and their boasting so easy to tire
In such a competitive Human World the down to earth are few
And this is not saying any thing that is new
This is how it is in the Human World of today
And this in itself seems a sad thing to say

A Good Friend In Hope

Financially down and struggling to cope
But all is not lost for the people with hope
For in hope there is not a more positive thing
The future for you better things may bring
For those who give up on hope one can only feel sad
The future for them one might say looking bad
Things not looking good for them in times ahead
If hope in their minds it is already dead
Hope is a positive feeling seems true for to say
You have been having another bad day
But hope through the hard times help you to keep on keeping on
All is lost for those that hope from them has gone
In your life you may be struggling to cope
But you have a good friend on your side in hope.

Are You One

On the ladder of success you may have climbed far
But this does not tell us of the person you are
It just tells us that of money you are not of in need
But nothing else off you as a person indeed
With those doing it tough are you one who does care
And some of your money with them are you willing to share
To your higher self you cannot be true
If you feel those doing it tough are not equal to you
The egotistical and narcissistic in truth one can say
Are far from being good people in any way
You may be one of the wealthy and famous people of the town
But if on those doing it tough you choose to look down
Then in your mind you are one who is quite small
And not in any way near to a good person at all.

It Is The Literary Critics

Why ask me who is or who is not a poet
Or who should be worthy of literary note
The literary critics for this receive a good pay
And on who is a good writer they do have their say
Who is or is not a good writer not for me to decide
Only know that not all good writers are  known Worldwide
Many good writers do not have a great literary name
And die without knowing of great wealth and fame
On saying that World famed writers in numbers are few
Is not saying anything that is in any way new
But who is a great writer to you may not be so to me
We all have our opinions is how it seems to be
But it is the literary critics who in their words promote
Writers to the status of novelist or playwright or poet.

I No Longer To Aspire

For to be wealthy and famous i no longer to aspire
Just to live as a good person is all i now desire
To helping anyone of my helping in need
And whenever i can do plant karma's good seed
For attention with othhers i no longer wish to compete
And the materially ambitious i no longer wish to meet
Recently i have had an epiphany or call it what you may
That i will help those in need of helping if i can in some way
I have changed from the man that i once used to be
Who did spend too much time thinking of only me
Truer to my higher self i will try to stay
By performing a good deed or two every day
And be willing to give without expecting to receive
That i have changed for the better i do believe.

Everyone's Master

Time does not wait for the saint or the sinner
Or for the celebrity or the billionaire
In a World where everybody wants to be a winner
Losers are many and winners are rare

Today is the only time that we can live in
And yesterday a memory of what has been and gone
Tomorrow will dawn but not for everybody
And the clock on our lives ever keeps ticking on

Time it does weaken the strong and the healthy
Rusts steel and iron and causes decay
Cannot be bribed by the influential and wealthy
And on every life does have the final say

Time it goes on and it will be forever
People to life come and life from them go
All mortals must die and humans are mortals
And eventually time becomes everyone's foe

Time that rusts iron is everyone's master
And does not respect people for their wealth and fame
It has been and it will be forever
And it treats everyone and all things as the same.

Not Of The Few

That self obsessed people are not of the few
Is not saying anything that is in any way new
Quite narcissistic in their own self absorbed way
Walking in the park one sees them every day
Some of them in pairs and some of them alone
Taking selfies or texting or talking on their mobile phone
In the age of technology narcissism is rife
Self obsession it has become a way of life
Those with an extreme love of self would you not agree
Are not or will never be an asset to humanity
In a World where millions of people live in dire poverty
We need more people of love, kindness, compassion and empathy
Those who live for self only are selfish indeed
And of more of their sort the Human World is not in need.

My Journey Out Of Millstreet

My journey in life led me from Millstreet Town
But not on the roadway to wealth and renown
If i ever return to there in truth to anyone i cannot tell
That in life i have done financially well
Telling people i have written thousands of rhymes to nothing of significance to would amount
Since the most of people are only impressed by the amount of cash you have in your bank account
But having this said Worldwide most people are the same
In that they only link money to success and fame
Of the fields of the badger and waterways of the brown trout
My journey out of Millstreet has brought me far south
To the home of echidna, koala and gray kangaroo
And long billed corella and crimson rosella and white and black cockatoo
But to anyone i know in Duhallow today i could not talk about
Of how i made lots of money in this Land of the south.

Are We The Sum Total

Are we the sum total of our lives experiences as some educated people do say
Or are they right those who see human destiny in a different way
Though without  memory it is true we would not have a link to the past
And we learn from our gift of memory for as long as with us it does last
Some people though not many have been known to rise above poverty
But with those who say that the majority of those who are born poor will die poor seems hard to disagree
For most people their circumstance of birth their future define
That poverty in generations of most poor families remain an unbroken line
That a poor person with will power that her or his poverty can transgress
And on so doing turn  disadvantage into huge success
But like as is often said it is  far easier said than done
For out of talk achievements in life are never won
Are we the sum total of our lives experiences ask one other than me
Suppose we all look at life in our ways differently.

Old Dick

The roadways of life he has been up and down
The travel worn old bloke from the far away town
He does not know if he has fathered children since he never had a long term partner or wife
Though he has had many women in his life
Too old for to travel in the retirement home he will die
That time eventually catches up on everyone is not a lie
Old Dick with the balding head and hair of silver gray
Has physically known of a far better day
As a younger man as a shearer he travelled far and wide
From shearing shed to shearing shed in the brown countryside
Back in the days when his hair was light brown
He drank in pubs and had a lover in every town
In the grounds of the retirement home with a walking cane he is shuffling slow
Physically of a far better day he is one who did know.

Perhaps The Greatest

Perhaps the greatest songwriter of the U S of A
Where many of his songs are national treasures today 
For a while wealthy and famous he died in poverty 
Fame can have it's price is how it seems to be 

Many of the songs he did write of the people without a god on their side
At parties and concerts in pubs today sung Worldwide
Though in the world of entertainment his is an enduring fame
He was one who died without a penny to his name

For humanity a legacy of beauty he did create
Stephen Collins Foster deserves the title of a songwriting great
Though songwriting greatness he cannot be denied
Poor and of alcoholic poisoning it is said that he died

As a songwriter none greater in the U S of A
And this is a big thing of him for to say
And the beauty he created in life does live on
Though since his time the last living breath from billions of people has gone.

Even For Those

In life you make friends and in life you make foes
You cannot be everything to everybody one suppose
There are winners and losers in life every day
For one to win others lose it is this way
Worldwide there are  people in every town
The wealthy and famous in their words trying to drag down
The wealthy and famous you may think enjoy their material success
But as is said about money it cannot buy happiness
Though they may be people that many look up to and admire
And of singing their praises never seem to  tire
And though they may seem more than a brick in the famous human wall
Like everyone else in life they do not have it all
In life there are many an up and a down
Even for those who does know of great wealth and renown.

On Narcissism

Narcissism as is known is self love gone wrong
And to real love of self it does not belong
Since those with real love for others does care
And the love they have in them they are willing to share
On helping anyone of their help in need
For their future good karma they are planting the seed
Narcissism has nothing to do with love in any way
And that  narcissists are not rare does seem sad to say
With only thought of self the narcissist is possessed
One can say of them that they are self obsessed
Narcissists are not endangered in the Human World of today
They are not generous or kind or helpful in any way
Those who believe that narcissism is too much love of self have got it all wrong
Since to any form of love it does not belong.

Does Not Matter To Me Now

Does not matter to me now of my every life's loss and gain 
And of what was only memories with me now remain 
Far north of this countryside near Warrnambool 
Where i was a dunce of the primary school 

In Duhallow in north Cork in Millstreet Town 
Where old Clara mountain as ever looks down 
On Duhallow and Sliabh Luachra's green countryside 
For it's scenic beauty that is known far and wide 

Too old now for regrets or of what might  have been to feel sad 
In life we must take the good times with the bad 
It is said from life we receive what is only our due 
Though on many instances this is not true 

In cemeteries near or in Millstreet or from there far away 
Some i went to school with among the deceased does lay  
Some from  Duhallow migrated and some at home did stay 
The girls and boys of the fifties have known of a far better day 

Does not matter to me now of the what used to be 
In a place where today few would know of me 
The now is what matters and of the past only memories not dead 
And who is to say of us what lay ahead.  

How Utterly Boring

Through different eyes a different World  we does see
And what is marvellous to you may not be so to me
But then if on all things we did agree
How boring so boring indeed we would be
In some ways we are similar but difference between us too
What is beautiful to me is not so to you
One person's weed is another's rose
In thinking not all quite the same one suppose
With each other we do play mind games every day
This is how it is to be human in truth one can say
The real you to me will never be known
We are all individuals with ways of our own
But how utterly boring indeed we would be
If on anything we never could disagree.

Whatever Happens To The Soul

The longest lived human life is not long in time
People in their forties are well past their physical prime
Those who live for a century of years in the few
And this is not saying anything that is new
Whatever happens to the soul when the body does die
If i said that i knew it would be telling a lie
I leave this to those with a theology degree 
Who claim to know far more about this than me 
Any deceased person i have known or known of have not come back to me to tell 
Of an afterlife for the soul or of a heaven or a hell 
Of what does seem an unknown of some do claim to know  
But of a life for the human soul after bodily death the mystery only does grow 
I only wish to live for as long as i can 
And die without pain as a very old man.

Life Has It's Sob Stories

On my own in a cafe eating a piece of fruit cake
And washing it down with an orange milk shake
On the verandah overlooking the bay
Around four thirty p m a quiet time of day

At a nearby table quite close to me
With rather posh accents sipping from their cups of coffee
Talking of their troubles and quite close to tears
Their best years behind them two aged old dears

Five metres from me in distance quite near
What they were on about i could not help but overhear
Talking of their husbands who in the cemetery lay
Life has it's sob stories it can be this way

With them healthwise things not at all well
Of their recent doctors visits they had stories to tell
One with a heart complaint and feeling quite ill
For this her doctor had prescribed a pill

One on cancer remission to her friend did complain
That she was losing out to sleep due to stomach pain
For them i only could feel a bit sad
Better days in life they surely have had

In their early eighties of them one might say
With brown hair dyes they had cloaked time's natural gray
compared to them i feel lucky since healthwise i feel well
And i do not have such sad stories to tell.

Yangery In Late November

The sun behind gray clouds is hiding away
But the magpies are  fluting in Yangery today
In late November quite close to the end of the southern Spring
The sights and sounds of Nature is such a beautiful thing
The blackbirds are singing and Summer is near
In quite typical weather for the time of year
The Moyne Shire is looking so lush and so green
And Nature at her finest is to be seen
On nutritious young grass gaining weight by the day
The contented cattle chewing their cuds do lay
And everywhere looking green after the recent rain
With such weather you will not hear many complain
The sun behind gray clouds is hiding away
But in Yangery the magpies are singing today.

At Tower Hill Cemetery

Trucks, buses and cars passing on the highway
But they do not hear any noise where they lay
And their eyes that see Nature's beauty closed to light of day
In Tower Hill Cemetery under the earth and clay

Some of them lived to die old and some died young in years
And by friends and by families were farewelled in tears
In Koroit and surrounds where from children to adults they had grown
Many of them had lived and were well loved and well known

With death we all have an appointment to keep
But the dead never hear those who for them do weep
For many of the living the thoughts consoling good souls have wings to fly
To a better World somewhere beyond the sky

The praises of the so  called successful the living may sing
But a visit to a cemetery can be quite a humbling thing
Whether you are wealthy and successful or live in poverty
Death is a reality for you and for me

In Tower Hill Cemetery  a few hectares of ground
By the concrete pathways the headstones in numbers abound
Where some of the dead of the Moyne Shire do lay
Ears deaf to the traffic noise on the Prince's Highway.

You Are Being Quite Tough

On your feelings of self worth you are being quite tough
When you tell yourself that you are not good enough
No need in words for you to put yourself down
Since there are plenty to do this for you in the town
To verbally put you down the local judgmental do not need your help in any way
Since on your lack of success they will have their say
Your own praises you do not need for to sing
But self criticism can become a self esteem destroying thing
Lack of confidence in self always leads to self doubt
And sadly their sort always seems to lose out
To verbally put yourself down is not helpful to you
Why help the judgmental on what they love to do
They need no help from you the judgmental of the town
Who do derive pleasure on verbally putting you down.

The Winners Are Smiling

The winners are smiling on election night
And their supporters are cheering aloud in delight
In politics as in all things in humanity only winning seems to count
And losing to sadness only seems to amount
That winning is most important there can be little doubt
It truly is what all things are mostly about
And though losing is a thing anyone does not choose
For some for to win others do  have to lose
On the election night the winners and their supporters have won the right to cheer
And their cheering grows louder with every wine and beer
The feeling of Joy for the winners is a wonderful thing
They have won the right for to celebrate and sing
The winners and their supporters are celebrating on election night
To brag one can say that they have won the right.

Far South Of The

The roadways of life i have been up and down
And i have been in many a village and town
Since i left my first home by the Town of Millstreet
In the green countryside where the waterways meet

To see some of the World used to be my desire
But the stay at home people nowadays i admire
Those who never wish to grow old from their first home elsewhere
As migrants in the bigger World out there

In the coastal Moyne Shire in distance far south
Of the fields of the badger and waterways of the brown trout
Time has left me looking older and balding and gray
I am one who has known of a far better day

Far south of where i went to primary school
In Illowa between Koroit and Warrnambool
From Duhallow a different countryside in every way
As different indeed as night is from day

I am learning about Nature every day of the year
Where the flutes of the magpies i often does hear
In the undulating country by the Pacific shore
Far south of the roadway that leads to Rathmore

In the home of emu, echidna, koala, white corella and black cockatoo
And crimson rosella, wallaby and gray kangaroo
In memory time for me only stands still
Far south of the countryside near Clara's hill.

The Old Rhyming Buffs

In writing no wealth or fame for every old rhyming buff
Who every day add to their growing numbers of rhyming stuff
The people who write reams of rhymes by the score
That the literary critics do choose to ignore
There are rhymers in every village and town
Who do age with their dreams of literary renown
But literary wealth and fame sadly for them not their due
And such dreams for the few only ever come true
But the old rhyming buffs do keep rhyming away
And add to  their numbers of rhymes every day
They never grow wealthy and famous only old and gray
Old habits die hard as the wise one does say
The old rhyming buffs years beyond their lives prime
Will never lose their strong addiction to rhyme.

Fred

Feeling dejected and lovesick and mentally down
Fred one of the saddest young men of the town
He will remember in the future years
The downside of love and it's loveache and tears

June the one he dreamed would become his wife
Does have another young man  in her life
True human feelings so hard to explain
Unrequited love the cause of mental pain

June of the shoulder length wavy brown hair
In her mid twenties than her none so fair
To Fred she never even once tried to pretend
That to her he was more than a platonic friend

She has fallen in love with twenty eight years old Tim
And is often seen in the park walking hand in hand with him
To Fred's disappointment in truth one can say
What many need most in life never does come their way

It is not true  what we never had we never should miss
She never loved Fred her he never even did kiss
But mentally Fred he is hurting quite bad
And sadly for him missing what he never had

The loveache in his mind it has grown and grown
And he sits in the pub drinking beer on his own
But the loveache in Fred will slowly fade away
As time is the healer the wise one does say.

Linked To Human Greed

Quite an old adage but a truism indeed
That among the super wealthy minority there is no shortage of greed
Thousands of very poor people for every billionaire
Among the wealthiest of people generosity is rare
If every wealthy  person was generous there would be far less in poverty
Since human greed it does give birth to inequality
In a Human World where for one to win big  many do have to lose
Though to live poor and forgotten anyone does not choose
As the gap keeps on growing in the social divide
The poor getting poorer in Countries Worldwide
There is nothing good in this would you not agree
In a fair Human World this never would be
Extreme poverty can be linked to human greed
Of far more generous wealthy people humanity is in need.

We Cannot Change The Past

We cannot change the past what is done is done
And tomorrow will dawn but not for everyone
Yesterday just a memory of the forever gone
And we live in the now and life does go on
Life for you can be an unpredictable thing
Who knows what the future to anyone will bring
Of the poor person today good times may be ahead
The future of the unknown as the wise one has said
That the past has it's lessons no need to explain
That we can only learn from it as a truism remain
The clock on our lives ever ticking away
We can only live in the now and the now is today
At the stroke of midnight today will have gone
And tomorrow will dawn and life will go on.

The River Of Three Names

From high Kippagh Lake downhill it does flow
And in Ballydaly to a bigger waterway grow
In fields green and fertile and fields rushy and poor
The river of three names Cails, Kales or Annagloor

Through Feirm, Annagloor, Shannaknock and Liscreagh it ever flows onwards by night and by day
And on through Claraghatlea to the Finnow it babbles it's way
It has been flowing long before the first people to the Barony now known as Duhallow to live in came
As an old waterway that did not have  a name

On going back the Seasons to many decades ago
Long before time itself had become my foe
I remember in late Spring on a pleasant evening in May
On the river's green bank i watched the dark otters at play

Such a beautiful sight for a ten year old boy
To live in his memory a lifetime  to enjoy
From the river of three names so ancient in time
The inspiration of the makers of song and of story and rhyme

At a spot called the Lyre not far from the Town of Millstreet
The river of three names with the Finnow river meet
Then on to nearby Drishane and into the Blackwater flow
And into a far bigger waterway grow.

Big Joe

Big Joe is the big achiever in the town
And he boasts that his claim  to fame is not tied to local renown
In his late twenties in the prime of his life
The father of twin year old daughters he has a beautiful wife
Big Joe is the captain of the local football club
He often sings the club anthem with his mates in the pub
Tall dark haired with broad shoulders a burly young man
Who is not short on ego and is full of youthful elan
his worth as a footballer he overrate
In his own mind he is a football great
But locals who know of sports say he is not that good at all
That he will never make the top grade at football
It is all in the mind with him one might say
One does meet the big Joes in life every day.

Blond Tracy

She dyes her hair blond for to cover her gray
Blond Tracy she walks in the park every day
A grandmother in her late fifties divorced from her husband Ted
Who with a younger woman now shares a bed
Though Tracy to him she was quite a good wife
He walked out on her for his new love in life
Some five years ago she has remained single since then
One of the many divorcees who has had it with men
Blond Tracy she bloomed like a rose in her prime
Though she has lost some of her beauty to time
She still looks quite well though when her hair was natural brown
She was the most beautiful young woman in the town
Blond Tracy with blond hair dye she cloaks her gray
And she walks on her own in the park every day.

Different Ideas On Success

People compete for success every day
But different people look at success in many a different way
Though the praises of money and material possesions many may sing
And to young aspirational people this is now an in thing
But some with their views on success do not agree
People who look at life in ways differently
Though on the ladder of success you may not have climbed far
Some see you as successful for the person you are
For your generosity and kindness and compassion some see you as a success
Such traits that amount to love of others the generosity inclined does impress
The wealthy and famous those on the right side of the social divide
Are never short of admirers there are millions of them Worldwide
But the wealthy and celebrated some people fail to impress
There are many with different ideas on success.

God Is For Everyone

If there is a god this god is for everyone
And not for the billionaires and their daughter and son
And not for the christian or muslim or jew
A true god is for everyone and not for the few
Some of the criminal minded with sins for to hide
Are deluded enough to believe they have god on their side
But they do not believe in the truth in the saying of live and let live
A true god the permission of taking human life to anyone would never give
In the most unlikely people god you will find
Even in the mind of an atheist who is caring and kind
God is in everyone who plant the good seed
Though of more people with god in them humanity is in need
God is not in the wealthy celebrity or the known billionaire
If with those in need of helping they refuse for to share.

Right Wingers

Far right in their opinions and their thinking seems old
Lacking in compassion and in feelings quite cold
Not generous and caring in any sort of a way
And far too many of their sort in the Human World of today
People like they are  never grow kinder they just grow old and gray
Of those doing it tough they never have a kind word to say
In their way of thinking so mean spirited and small
Their idea of a fair go does not include all
For a better Human World to live in they never plant the seed
And of more of their sort humanity is not in need
They are down on the stateless and homeless and the refugee
Callous in their opinions is how they seem to be
And sad to think they are not in any way rare Worldwide
These people who help to uphold the social divide.

The Ordinary Donny

In the park  the Ordinary Donny  i met him today
As per usual he did not have that much to say
I said hello to him on passing him by
But an inaudible grunt was his only reply

The Ordinary Donny lives an ordinary life
He does not have children or a partner or wife
In his early twenties he lives on his own
And little if anything of him is known

To form friendships as such does not seem his way
He works hard as a boilermaker for his take home pay
His own or the praises of anyone he never sing
The Ordinary Donny he does his own thing

He is not interested in sport or a fan of football
And socializing does not interest him at all
Some of the town's judgmental will tell you he is gay
Though what would they know of the man anyway?

Not one to admire those of great wealth and fame
The Ordinary Donny treats all as the same
In the park today i said hello to him on passing him by
An inaudible grunt was his only reply.

Not Even True

That we receive from life what is only our due
In so many instances not even true
So many worthy people living in poverty
From life they deserve better would you not agree
The journey in life for so many is rough
Those who know how it feels like for to do it tough
They face a new challenge in life every day
Life is not meant to be easy for them anyway
That for one to win big many must lose it's own self does explain
In a Human World where somebody's loss becomes another's gain
So many good people struggling to survive
Whilst in material ways the greedy do thrive
That from life we receive what is only our due
In so many instances not even true.

Your Worries Are Small

If you worry what others think of you your worries are small
Since this is their business and not yours at all
They never does help or support you in any way
You buy your own food and your own bills does pay
To negative comments on you by others why pay any heed
Since they will not be helping you if of help you ever become in need
There are plenty of their sort in every town
Who in their words enjoy putting others down
Ignore negative comments is your best idea
When commenting on you in negative ways they are leaving others alone is how it seems to be
Just ignore them for their lack of common sense
Why give them the satisfaction of taking offense
Since they never help you in any way
Why waste time on worrying on what of you they does say.

I Will Always Remember

I will always remember where my life's journey began
Where i grew from a boy into a man
Claraghatlea in Duhallow just west of Millstreet Town
Where old Clara Mountain forever looks down

On green Duhallow and Sliabh Luachra that are so old in time
That have been the inspiration of song, story and rhyme
Of long deceased writers who lived years ago
That their literary legacy may live forever well may be so

When people ask me where i come from i tell them from Millstreet
From the old rushy fields where the waterways meet
And where is this Millstreet to me they does say
I tell them in Duhallow from here far away

It was the yearn for travel that lured me far south
Of the fields of the badger and waterways of the brown trout
To the home of emu, echidna, koala and gray kangaroo
And the big dark brown parrot yellow tailed black cockatoo

Yet on my flights of fancy i hear a male chaffinch sing
In a leafy grove in the prime of the Spring
When the hawthorns are cloaked in their blooms of white to gray
And the old fields are wearing their wildflowers of  May.

For Want Of A Better Name

How boring we would be for want of a better name
If in our interests and ways of thinking we all were the same
And on anything we could not disagree
How utterly boring indeed we would be

That variety is the spice of life only true for to say
From the mind of a wise one of a long gone day
It is from different ideas that changes are sown
We are all individuals with thoughts of our own

Though the like minded enjoy each others company
And on many subjects are known to agree
Sameness can become quite a boring thing
It is those with new ideas that changes does bring

Variety is the spice of life as a truism remain
The meaning of this it's own self does explain
How boring we would be for want of a better name
If in our ways and our tthinking we all were the same.

Somebody's Loss

It was and it is and will always remain
That somebody's loss is another's gain
If you wish to know why this should be
You better ask someone more knowledgeable than me
And though losing is something anyone does not choose
For one to win big many have to lose
That the majority of the wealth of the World is owned by the greedy few
Is not saying anything that is in any way new
The praises of the reaper of lives anyone does not sing
Though the one who wields the scythe of death equality to humanity bring
There is no inequality where dead people lay
Death is the equalizer in truth one can say
Though among the living the fact does remain
That somebody's loss becomes another's gain.

On Henry Lawson

Henry Lawson may be in the long forever gone
But his poems and his stories today living on
Today in Australia he remains a writer of note
A wonderful writer of stories and a marvellous poet

Henry Lawson did not give himself an easy life
Due to his addiction to alcohol divorced by his wife
But even the modern literary critics of the Australia of today
Say that he was one with words who did have a way

That he lived his writing happens to be true
And credit for this it is only his due
His amazing stories and memorable rhyme
By many read and enjoyed despite the passing of time

To poverty from the heights of success and fame
Yet his today remains a great literary name
That true greatness lives on is not a lie
In his poems and his stories Lawson will never die

Far more than an average story teller or an ordinary poet
Henry Lawson he was a great wordsmith of note
His poems and his stories are widely read today
True genius lives on as the wise one does say.

On Cattle Egrets

From the warm subtropics in late Fall in May
They arrive in the coastal south for a few months stay
Their migratory instincts from home takes them far
And they are often seen where grazing cattle are

Frogs and ground  insects and grasshoppers to their taste buds taste sweet
That are disturbed from hiding by the big trampling feet
Of the grazing cattle to the white birds a tasty treat
In Nature some life forms are born for others to eat

Due to their association with cattle one can understand why
That the apt name of cattle egrets to them does apply
Around the big bovines for hours every day
Suppose Nature has designed them for to live in this way

They build their stick nest over water on the crown of a tree
Where the all white female lays bluish eggs of six, five, four or three
In their breeding plumage the males have yellow feathers on their neck, head and face
And out of their breeding season the all white males and females wander from place to place

In late Fall  and Winter in the coastal south these white birds of the egret family
With the grazing herds one sometimes does see
For their association with cattle they are widely known
And it can be said of them that they have ways of their own.

The Hypochondriac

Not short of a quid of him one can say
But he has a health complaint or two every day
A headache a toothache a pain in his back or knee
Money happiness does not guarantee
Yes money does not guarantee one happiness in life
In his early fifties without children or wife
Everyday for him a new ache or pain
Always for him a reason to complain
One sensible with his money who earns a good take home pay
And though healthy looking he worries about his health every day
His stories of his chronic pains he does love to share
Sadly his type nowadays are no longer that rare
He is never  short of an ache or a pain
To give him a reason of for to complain.

Life Does Go On

From high Claramore it flows quickly downhill
On through flatter Claraghatlea the silver tongued rill
On towards the river it flows with a will
By night and by day it's tongue is never still

Going back the years many Seasons ago
Long before time itself became my foe
I remember in the grove the wild nesting birds did sing
That bordered the rill in the prime of the Spring

But from the leafy grove just west of Millstreet Town
For road widening the council workers cut all of the trees down
And where once was a grove of trees that to Nature belong
The Springs came and went without the music of birdsong

But the silver tongued rill by night and by day
Flowed on towards the river towards the sea far away away
And though to where i live now not anywhere near
It's voice in my dreams sometimes i does hear

But the now is what matters since the past it has gone
And tomorrow will dawn and life does go on
And in a nearby  paddock birds i often hear and see
The magpie larks are singing their familiar pee wee.

On Van Gogh

His paintings are worth millions in money today
Yet he only sold one in his lifetime which seems sad to say
Though he died of wounds self inflicted he is now known Worldwide
His love of art that had made him a pauper ended for him in suicide

The Netherland's if not one of the World's greatest artists who lived without a partner or wife
For one of his greatness he deserved a far better life
Always very poor and mentally quite unwell
Life for poor Vincent Van Gogh was an earthly hell

Rated by many as a World all time great arist his art on display
On the walls of the World's great art galleries of today
An artist destined to become famous who died a young man
Nothing in his life for him seemed to go to plan

The artist who created many a millionaire
Though sad to say stories like his are not even rare
In his death of mental anguish he did set himself free
How sad very sad life for some can be.

The Man Known As Stan

Stan used to feel sad at his disappointments in life
For a wealthy younger man he was forsaken by Kate his wife
Their only offspring Jean married with children in Spain
Though of loneliness he never once did complain

Balding in his late sixties of hair silver gray
He was a nice person in his own quiet way
One i see often though not every day
For himself he never had that much to say

I last saw him in the park about a week ago
In his shy way in passing he smiled and said hello
In the town park never to be seen again
That life can be unpredictable that fact does remain

Though all thing  in life for him did not go to plan
The Stan that i knew of was quite a good man
One who did work hard and never harmed anyone
His mum and his dad in him raised a good son

A few days ago he was found by a neighbour in his kitchen dead
Of a massive heart attack it has been said
Growing old on his own and alone he did die
That life can be cruel is surely not a lie

He died on his sixty seventh year this is not very old
And his story does surely deserve to be told
In the local cemetery his last remains lay
The man known as Stan he was buried today.

I Remember With Fondness

I remember with fondness those i may never again meet
That i have not seen since i lived in Millstreet
Some of them at peace now forever does lay
And some as i am from Millstreet ageing far away
And some of them in Ireland did choose to stay
And live not far from where they first looked on the light of day  
On my flights of fancy them i often see
They  have not aged a day in my memory  
But time changes faces i have come to realize
And some of them in the flesh today i may not recognize
For the town and the countryside in view of Clara i have shed my last tears  
And though i remember with fondness people i have not seen for years
Far south of where i went to primary school
My home is where i live close to Warrnambool.

One Cannot Say Of Him

He does like to boast of his uni degrees  
And he tells us that knowledge does not grow on trees
His successes in life to him a sense of pride
This is something from anyone he does not hide  

He says to the top he is working his way
The company manager with huge take home pay  
Of his life's achievements he does love to brag
For narcissism he is one who carries the flag

He does love to tell of his lovely uni going two teenage daughters and his beautiful wife    
The marvellous people in his wonderful life  
And his grand new home and his expensive car
So many nowadaya who like to proclaim of how fabulous they are  

One cannot say of him that he is a humble man
The one who is surely his own greatest fan
Who tells you that poor people are poor by choice
He does truly love the sound of his own voice.

The People Who In Their Words

Though there are not many who live without sin
The power to do good only comes from within
Those who for others kindness, compassion and empathy show
Are people who does possess the inner glow
They may not be perfect who is anyway?
But respect to a fair go to all others they pay
And they never belittle the financially  down
That many see as losers on the poor side of the town
Non judgmental in their words is how they seem to be
The people who rise above the ordinary
It is people like them i can only admire
And of singing their praises i never could tire
Though their names never appear on a memorial wall
The people who in their words do promote a fair go for all.

You Need Not Be An Einstein

Though the praises of the wealthy and famous the masses may sing
Money and fame they can be a soul destroying thing
Greed and narcissism are two things one can name
That can often be linked to money and to fame
If you believe that humanity revolves around you
To your higher self you cannot be true
You need not be an Einstein for to be aware
That the humble of mind are becoming more rare
It is not saying anything that is in anyway new
That narcissistic people are not of the few
People who believe that admiration is their due
To their higher self can never be true
This is how it does seem to me anyway
Though few would agree with what on this i do say.

November In Duhallow

Just west of the Duhallow Town of Millstreet
In the old rushy fields where the waterways meet
Flood waters subsiding in the dawning gray
As the salmon upriver to spawn swim their way
In November in Duhallow in the late Fall of the year
The songs of the birds one not likely to hear
The cattle in the farmyard sheds are bellowing for silage or hay
And the Winter draws nearer with each passing day

The cawing of the rooks on the bare deciduous trees
Is carrying some distance in the freshening breeze
In the cold of the morning the hare in tawny brown
Between the rushes to warm it's body does run up and down
In late Fall in Duhallow in the wind and rain
Brown storm water flowing in every field drain
Only memories remain of the what used to be
And the sounds and sights of Nature we heard and did see
Under an overcast sky that was sunless and gray
In November in Duhallow from here far away.

I Do Feel Lucky In Life

I feel lucky in life in truth i can say
In the nice and caring people i meet every day
Far too many media stories of the narcissistic and of those into crime
It is sad to think that these are the headline makers of our time
So many kind and compssionate people i know or know of far too many to mention by name
Who help the less privileged of their communities yet remain strangers to fame
Every day in their acts of kindness they plant Karma's good seed
Of far more of their sort humanity is badly in need
Most of those that we hear of and read of every day
Are arrogant and self centred in their narcissistic way
Of stories of their sort i for one can do without
It is only of the kind and caring i wish to read of and hear about
And i do feel lucky in life in truth i can say
In the nice and caring people i do meet every day.

A Windy Day In Warrnambool

In Warrnambool an overcast and sunless day
The silver gulls are mewing above Stingray Bay
The dark welcome swallows speedsters of the sky
In pursuit of flying insects above the beach fly
On a November evening of around fifteen degrees
A refreshing coolness in the coastal breeze
A change from yesterday's sunny calm high of twenty three
Typical Warrnambool late Spring weather is how it seems to be
The Warrnambool coastal parks looking green after the recent rain
With a cool dry windy evening such as this one ought not to complain
On a nearby coastal tree a male blackbird sing
His is a familiar and beautiful voice of the Spring
In Warrnambool on this overcast and windy November day  
The silver gulls are mewing above Stingray Bay.

The One With Many Friends

The one with many friends is one not without foes
This is how humanity works one does have to suppose
There is no shortage of critics in any town
For to drag the wealthy and popular down

Everyone does not like you why otherwise pretend
The best friend of my enemy is not my friend
Those who do not like you may be of the few
But this is not saying anything that is new

You may be a person that many admire
And of singing your praises never seem to tire
But true to their form the knockers of the town
Find pleasure  in their words on dragging you down

Not everyone sees the beauty in a rose
The one with many friends is not one without foes
With the majority in your town not everyone does agree
This is how it is and how it always will be.

You Are Of Three People

Though you look on yourself as quite ordinary
You are more than you make yourself out to be
You are equal to the famed celebrity
Though with this comparison you do not agree
Though you do not own a grand home or a brand new car
You are not the person that others think you are
These people in their thinking to say the least small
As a person of you they know nothing at all
We are three people a wise one did say
Though you are one who does not see it in this way
And since you do not own a grand home or drive a new car
You are not the person that others think you are
You are of three people the wise one does say
You make out of this whatever you may.

We All Need Some Dream

Though few people ever see their dream come true
Most people do have a dream to pursue
But in life one must take the good with the bad
And the winner does smile and the loser looks sad
Of the one without a dream hope is not ahead
And where there is loss of hope ambition is dead
Some times the journey of life is hilly and  rough
You do need a dream when life on you is tough
Few wish to know of the sad sack of the town
The unsmiling person looking and feeling down
She or he never brings joy to anyone's day
Perhaps their life's dream they have given away
We all need some dream in life to pursue
Though dreams as is said for everyone do not come true.

So Pity Those

Oh pity those who know of inner strife  
They have their mental battles in their life
In their dark times when they are feeling down
They are the saddest people in the town
The sort of lives they live they did  not  not choose
The people who feel they were born to lose
Life in truth for them is not near to kind  
To those who have this illness of the mind
One can say of them that they are not blessed indeed
So pity pity them since of such they are in need
From their illness for them sadly nowhere to hide
And some of them end their misery in suicide
They know how it feels to be mentally down
In their dark moods the saddest in the town.

In Park Lake Pertobe

In the sunny blue sky just a few clouds of gray      
It is such a beautiful November day  
In the park playground children laughing as they play  
Earthly Utopia from here cannot be far away
The calls of the waterbirds familiar to hear
And the songs of the blackbirds melodious and clear  
And the warbling notes of the birds  who sing all through the year  
The magpies are singing on trees to me near
Nature in her good moods such joy to all bring
In Park Lake Pertobe on this beautiful evening in  Spring
The park looking so green after the recent  rain
With such beautiful weather how could one complain
The capeweed and daisies in their millions to be seen
A beautiful contrast among Nature's green.

Ageing Nostalgic Migrants

Ageing nostalgic migrants i do meet every day  
Reminiscing on their old homelands far away  
Quite close to tears at memories of the past  
And the clocks on their lives ever ticking on fast  

Some of them grandparents  well beyond their physical prime
Showing the bodily appearance  of time  
Living with their memories of long ago
Of where they lived before time it did become their foe  

Clinging to their memories of for them what used to be
Though many of them their first homeplace never more see    
Near where they live now their last remains may lay
Far from where they first looked on the lamp of day  

Whenever i am walking in the park by the street  
Ageing nostalgic migrants i always happen to meet
Reminiscing on a far away town  
Where they may never again see a sunrise or watch a sundown.

Ordinary People

Ordinary people i meet every day
Just like me quite ordinary in many a way
But most of them do not see themselves as ordinary
In that respect so very different to me

Ordinary people never instigate change
Any new ways of thinking to them rather strange
Their old ways and old thinking they feel proud to retain
Things as they are they just wish to remain

Many ordinary people does glorify war
And celebrate those who die in conflicts from their homeland afar
Yet they angrily condemn crimes of  violence and hate
And the terrorists that every war does create

Most of our political leaders seem ordinary indeed
And of more of their sort the World is not in need
As they are they only wish things  to stay
And they never disagree on a huge rise in their pay

The wealthy and influential celebrities the ordinary admire
And of singing their praises never seem to tire
And on so doing they promote the social divide
That in their own ways the ordinary can be influential cannot be denied

Ordinary people i meet every day
Just like me so ordinary in many a way
But even the ordinary on all things do not agree
This is how people are and how they always will be

In The Birdcage At Flemington

In the birdcage at Flemington racecourse on Melbourne Cup day where the wealthy and famous hang out
There are lots of multi millionaires and billionaires with big egos about
An invite only marquee that is reserved for the privileged few
That in horse racing there is so much class distinction is not saying anything  on any way that is new
The truism that money speaks every language is quite evident at Flemington on Melbourne Cup day
If you are not a multi millionaire celebrity from the Birdcage you will be turned away
Where beautifully dressed glamorous women and well dressed males for attention with each other compete
There is never a shortage of ego whenever and wherever wealthy celebrities meet
At the Flemington race track during the Spring racing carnival at the Birdcage Marquee
You will see the wealthy and egotistical showing off on t v
As they compete for the best dressed female and male of the Melbourne racing carnival Spring
One can truly say of them that humility is not their thing
At the birdcage marquee in Flemington race track on Melbourne cup day
If you are not one of the invited wealthy and famous from there you will be turned away.

If There Is A God At All

If there is a god at all god is for everyone
And not for the billionaires and their daughter and son
And not for the muslim or christian or jew
God is for everyone not the privileged few
God would be for everyone not only for those of wealth and fame
And would treat everybody as equal and the same
God between people would not differentiate
And not only those that the impressionable masses celebrate
It is human fault only and definitely not god
That in the World there are millions in extreme poverty the forgotten and downtrod
And since god would treat everyone as the same
For human inequality humans are to blame
If there is a god at all god is for everyone
And not for the billionaires and their daughter and son.

It Is Only A Hobby

I have been writing rhyme for forty five years or so
But if i was depending on this to eat of hunger i would be dead years ago
As writers rhymers are never to the literary fore
It is only a hobby and little else more

It was my love of rhyme made a rhymer of me
I wrote my first rhymes in nineteen seventy three
Back in the days when my hair was dark brown
When i was twenty seven west of Millstreet Town

It is easy to write rhyme as easy as can be
Anybody can do it you can have this from me
Mouse rhymes with louse and bee rhymes with tree
And when you add one and two it always equals three

For many years i have been a rhyming buff
Just one who has written many pages of stuff
My better days may be in the forever gone
But for as long as i can do i will keep on rhyming on.

Old Bill

Old Bill is a man who has been there and done that
He has cut cane in Queensland and worked on pipelines in Ararat
Worked for years as a shearer when in his life's prime
Though this is going back many decades in time

He does not have any children as far as he know of and he never had a wife
A lot of women have come to and have gone from his life
He used to have a woman in every town
Back when he was younger and his hair was light brown

Of far better years in life old bill has known
In his early eighties he lives on his own
When in the mood for reflection his eyes mist with tears
On relating the stories of his younger years

In Victoria, Queensland and in new South Wales
In country town pubs he enjoyed many ales
And always a nubile young woman at his side
But none of them ever did become his bride

Way back in the days when his hair was light brown
He worked on building sites in many a town
But going back the years that now seems long ago
And time that rusts iron has since become his foe

The hair on his balding head is silver gray
And one can say he has known of a far better day
But drinking beer in the pub on a Saturday night
With a smile on his face he looks happy and bright.

Before A Fall

A saying from the past well worthy of recall
That pride is a thing that comes before a fall
So many proud people who have fallen from grace
Have moved from their hometown to another place

To start a new life where nothing of their past is known
Though their sins far from bad their past they wish to disown
Proud people from past misdemeanors do hide
There is nothing more mentally fragile than a wounded pride

Pride and arrogance are similar in many a way
And proud and arrogant people are not rare in the Human World of today
But when their pride is wounded they do not socialize
Their deflated egos to a sense of shame does give rise

That there are many forms of pride only true for to say
And proud people not rare one meets them every day
And as is said of pride it can come before a fall
A saying from the past well worthy of recall.

How Marvellous Indeed

How marvellous indeed the gift of memory
It takes us back in time to the what used to be
It is all that we have to remember the past
And the clocks on our lives ever keep ticking fast
We live in the now and the future is ahead
But sadly those who lost their gift of memory are of the living dead
To live a quality life a good memory you do need
Without it you are a poor person indeed
Though a multi millionaire he does not recognize his wife
He now lives a silent and a miserable life
Bereft of  thought in his locked room he sits on his chair
Even for the materially wealthy life can be unfair
How marvellous indeed the great gift of memory
For those who lose it how very sad life can be.

For Our Mistakes In Life

For our mistakes in life always some price to pay
This is how it is life works in this way
We learn as we live in truth one can say
And life has new lessons for us every day
No point in regretting mistakes of the past since the past it has gone
Since the now is all that does matter and life does go on
Life it does have it's own lessons for us all
We learn from the past when the past we recall
Of tough days in life you are one who has known
But others too do have worries of their own
Mistakes they too have made came to them at a cost
And they too can only learn from life opportunities lost
Life has it's lessons only true to say
And for our every mistake always some price to pay.

The Words Of A Wise Person

The words of a wise person i often recall
That no act of kindness is ever too small
Though by being kind and caring you may never know of renown
And be an admired one of your side of the town
Of so many of those who are wealthy and famed and admired
There is one can say quite a lot to be desired
Though in a position for to financially help poor people of them one can say
That they are not kind and generous on any sort of way
The wealthy and famous to say the least rare
Who with those doing it tough are willing to share
You may not be famous and wealthy but you are always willing to help those of helping in need
And every day for yourself you plant karma's good seed
To be a good person you do not need to be famous and wealthy and by many admired
Since in many of their sort there can be quite a lot to be desired.

November By Mushera

In the bleakness of November in weather windy, wet, cold and gray
Perhaps young men fell pine trees by Mushera today
Gray fog cloaking the foothills gives warning of rain
And brown stormwater fast flowing in every mountain drain

November in Mushera is a bleak time of year
Where the songs of the birds one cannot expect for to hear
Where the mornings are cold close to zero degrees
And the cold breath of winter is in the northerly breeze

Without their leaves the deciduous trees do look bare
And in a high field the shy tawny hare
With little to  eat for it on the mountain at all
Has moved to the lower ground in the latter Fall

From the first breath of Spring many a cold night and day
In the farmyard sheds by Mushera cattle bellowing for silage or hay
Sparrows by every backdoor eating crumbs of swept out bread
Many a cold and wet wintery day of them ahead

Until leaves bud on the deciduous trees and nesting songbirds chirp and sing
And the swallows return to Mushera in mid Spring
And out of wintering sheds from months of eating silage and hay
Cattle on nutritious young grass are gaining weight by the day.

Something I Never Consider

For me no money or fame for writing rhyme
Though it is something i have been doing for quite a long time
As a rhymer not one to the literary fore
It is just something i love doing and little else more
Though my worth as a writer i have reason to doubt
Every day something new for to write rhymes about
My best years in life in the forever gone
But the love of just doing it keeps me rhyming on
How marvellous indeed the gift of memory
I am rather lucky is how it seems to be
In the beautiful things every day i does see
That is living in Nature everywhere around me
And lucky that i do enjoy writing rhyme
Something i never consider as a waste of time.

I Cannot Understand

I cannot understand why the clergy bless the troops for war
To fight for their governments in war zones afar
To shoot at those who to them are strangers and wish on them ill
Despite Moses fifth commandment which states thou shalt not kill
For to kill for their government interests or else for to die
The meaning of what it takes to  be a good patriot is based on a lie
Some young people's need to be heroes can be a self absorbing thing
Though not all of them return home to hear others their praises sing
And they will never again walk in a war street parade
It is out of dead war heroes more young war heroes are made
And i does find it rather puzzling nonetheless
Why the clergy God's earthly disciples does bless
The troops before they are bound for war in a far away land
I personally find this quite hard to understand.

Our Greatest Gift

Soon enough it will come to you your last night and day
And that life is your greatest gift only true for to say
It is not that long in time the human life span
So live for as long  as you possibly can
That the longer you will live the sooner you will die
Is based on fact and fact does never lie
Each day we live to our last day brings us near
And the reality of death always gives rise to thoughts of fear
The future ahead and the past it has gone
And the clocks on our lives ever keep ticking on
The great gift  of life is a wonderful thing
And of it's praises one ought to feel happy to sing
That life is our greatest gift most would agree
On this you will not have disagreement from me.

Not All Old Men

Not all olld men does feel that they are old
But that they are sexy and muscular and handsome to behold
Delusional in their thinking of them it can be said
That their thoughts of self importance is all in the head

They wear hair pieces to hide their baldness and use hair dyes to cover their gray
And anti ageing creams to smooth their time wrinkles away
Though youth with anyone does refuse for to stay
And no fool like an old fool as the wise one does say

Not all old men feel that their better days are in the past
And that the clocks on their lives are ticking too fast
Quite bored of their ageing partners or wives
Always on the lookout for younger lovers in their lives

Not all men many decades beyond their physical prime
Surrender in humility to the ravages of time
In their minds they remain young and dashing and bold
They do not grow wiser they only grow old.

In November In Spring

In the sunny blue sky just a few clouds of gray
In the Moyne Shire it is such a beautiful day
A weather temperature high of twenty four degrees
And only the slightest of a coastal breeze
Blowing above the green countryside from the Pacific shore
In near to perfect weather who could ask for more
On the lush grass contented cattle chewing their cuds lay
Earthly Utopia from here cannot be far away
The capeweed in full bloom in their bright yellow flowers
In a landscape so green after the recent showers
A great gift to Nature sunshine and rain
With such marvellous weather how could one complain
The wild birds of Nature chirp, whistle and sing
On this beautiful evening in November in Spring.

Nice People

Nice people are always a pleasure to meet
For attention with others they never compete
Of others they never have unkind words to say
The Human World in need of more of their sort today
In the Human World nice leaders are few
And this is not saying anything that is new
They are never overly assertive in their opinions and views
Nice people do never make the headline news
Of them one can say an asset to humanity indeed
Of the desire to be popular they do not feel the need
They leave it to others their praises to sing
Self promotion for them it is never their thing
Suppose i am lucky in my own way
In that i do meet a few nice people every day.

Is There Need To Explain

To your higher self try to remain as true
And always give credit to where it is due
And not to big note yourself on your side of the town
And in your words do never drag anyone down
There is an old saying that to most people is known
The  often quoted truism each to their own
Of many wealthy celebrities negative stories we often read
It is only by good example that people can lead
On the workings of karma one can only believe
Those who give out of kindness in return can expect to receive
To living as a better person this does apply
Many of the most caring of people are publicity shy
In kindness begets kindness the truism remain
Of the meaning in this is there need to explain.

An End Of Life Plan

For every ageing woman and every ageing man
These so called enlightened thinkers have drawn up this end of life plan
On your final affairs for you the final say
We are governed until death it has always been this way
Since i do not have money or property to anyone to bequeath
Until my financial situation changes for the better i will not be taking a seat
In a solicitor's office to discuss an end of life plan
Of my wordly affairs at the end of my life span
Or if i am buried or cremated or where my ashes should be spread
Since cares and worries belong to the living and not to the dead
I just wish to live for as long as i possibly can
And die without pain as a very old man
And since i am one of poverty trying to live free
An end of life plan not for the likes of me.

On A Dead Little Raven

A young little raven by the roadway hit by a car or truck had died
His very distressed parents were cawing at his side
On their behaviour the true symptons of shock and grief they did show
If humans does grieve for their dead so too does a crow
Humans are not alone on grieving for their dead
Of all creatures of life this too can be said
A dead crow not a loss the less well enlightened may say
But far too many animals, birds, amphibians and reptiles are dying on roadways today
That some people are convinced that creatures cannot grieve does beggar belief
On the behaviour of the ravens for their young dead i witnessed true grief
The baby they had worked hard to raise had just lost it's life
My sympathy was with the raven and his wife
To us humans alone grief does not belong
Those who will tell you so have got it all wrong.

Of Changes In Duhallow

There are many changes in the Duhallow of today
But some of them all for the better it does seem this way
Many different races of black, white and brown
In the Barony live in every village and town

The Duhallow of the twentieth century was a multicultural place
Where few had to go beyond Ireland their ancestry to trace
But the twenty first century brought to the Barony new people a welcome change indeed
Since of such a thing of Duhallow was badly in need

The Ireland i was raised in was a monocultural Land
And that many would like it to remain so one can understand
But changes for the better new people with them does bring
And multiculturalism can be such a wonderful  thing

I have not lived in Duhallow for many a year
And of changes for the better there such good news for to hear
Today there are many different races of black, white and brown
In every Duhallow village and every Duhallow town.

The Young Men Who Played For Killarney Road Rovers

The young men who played for Killarney Road Rovers where might they be today
Some of them living in Duhallow yet and some where the deceased are lay
And from Neily Duggan's Inch Field some of them ageing far away
Time does not wait for anyone as the wise one does say

The years go by so quickly and young men as young men does not stay
Some of the men who played for K R R are grandparents today
In the Inch Field at Claraghatlea their fans often cheered them on
And only the memories does remain of what has been and gone

Killarney Road Rovers now a defunct club just a memory of the past
But few things in life as has been said are ever known to last
On the much loved Rovers sad to say time brought the curtain down
There is no football club today just west of Millstreet Town

Nowadays no football club west of Millstreet Town which seems sad just the  same
On The Inch Field the young men who played for Killarney Road Rovers  enjoyed their Sunday game   But on looking back the Seasons this now seems long ago
And time that was then on their side has now become their foe.

Doubtless the young men who played for  Killarney Road Rovers retain the memory
Of their games on the Inch Field and of the what used to be
When they were younger, fitter and stronger and their legs did move fast
But time has become the master of the young men of the past.

Piping Shrikes Or Australian Magpies

Known as Australian magpies though in reality a piping shrike
Black and white crow sized birds they do not have a look alike
Birds of every town park and every countryside
Throughout Australia they are known far and wide

Once seen and once heard one cannot get them wrong
The piping shrikes are loved for their beautiful song
They can be heard sing every day of the year
Their beautiful flute like warbling notes always pleasant to hear

In cup shaped nest of sticks with some wire high on a tree
The females lay brownish dotted eggs mostly three
On their breeding Season in aggression they do not lack
And even human beings they have been known to attack

Piping shrikes or Australian magpies as they are widely known
Are aggressive birds with ways of their own
On mice, worms, insects, frogs and skinks and small birds they are known to prey
Often hear them singing at night and see and hear them every day.

Norrie Guerin

Sad news out of Ballydaly Norrie Guerin has passed away
Quite a nice and caring person of her one can only say
A good mother to her children and to the late John Guerin a good wife
In Duhallow and Sliabh Luachra she lived most of her long life

On the Cork and Kerry border her journey in life began
And in the honourable John Guerin she did marry a good man
Ballydaly without her one can say a poorer place
That life is not forever a sad fact we have to face

But she will be remembered though her life's gift from her has gone
And in everyone who knew her good memories of her will live on
People like her well worth knowing so much goodness in her to admire
To Ballydaly's youth a great role model goodness in life she did inspire

It is a fact of human existence and fact does never lie
That we are born as mortals and mortals are born to die
And even the very thought of death can be a humbling thing
But the praises of good people like Norrie Guerin one should feel happy to sing

Born and raised as Nora Cronin in Sliabh Luachra's mountain countryside
That she lived as a great person of her cannot be denied
In the cemetery in Millstreet of St Mary's in view of Cashman's Hill
Her heart that beat with kindness is sad to say forever still.

To Your Higher Self

To your higher self try to remain as true
And eventually karma will be kind to you
For kind acts you perform karma you will repay
Kindness begets kindness seems true for to say
There is more to life than living for me, myself and i
Since living for self is only based on a lie
Always thinking of self never makes you a better woman or man
Help anyone in need of your help if you possibly can
Since every day you does plant karma's good seed
By helping those of your helping in need
Good karma in abundance for yourself you does sow
That good does beget good everyone ought to know
As well as living for self  others with you should share
Of that kindness begets kindness one should be aware.

Magpie Larks Or Pee Wees

Magpie larks or pee wees i see and hear every day
So charming and endearing in their own familiar way
Dainty black and white birds slightly bigger than blackbirds of town parks and countryside
All over Australia they are known far and wide
In a cup shaped nest of mud mostly on fork of branch of tree
The female lay white eggs with brown dots of four, five or three
In paddocks and parks one often see them walking around
Searching for insects to eat on the ground
Once seen and once heard they live in memory
Their song does give rise to their nickname of pee wee
Though of humans wary they are not that shy
They allow you get close to them before they do fly
Dainty black and white birds i often does hear
And see more than once every day of the year.

Love

Love is not one way this much i believe
It is a thing you must give to receive
You cannot love one to you who is cruel
Lack of compassion to dislike the fuel
Love it can give rise to laughter and tears
And can live a lifetime or die in a few years
That there are many forms of love happens to be true
And if you live without love how sad life is for you
Love is a thing humanity could not exist without
And is an antidote to war there can be little doubt
Those with love in them of others do care
And their surplus of it are always willing to share
But  some are sadly lacking in love which does seem sad to say
One of the reasons for conflict in the World of today.

Old illowa

Of the coastal Moyne Shire a gem in the crown
Illowa between Warrnambool City and Koroit Town
A coastal undulating at most times green countryside
Where in all Seasons Nature's peace and beauty abide
To the descendants of the Dreamtime Australia's first race
Tower Hill in Illowa is a sacred place
To the Gundijtmara people a great sense of pride
That beyond the Moyne Shire is known far and wide
What can be said of Illowa that has not been said before
This beautiful place by the Pacific shore
Home to long billed corella and yellow tailed black cockatoo
And emu, koala, echidna and wallaby and grey kangaroo
And for it's natural beauty it is widely known
Old Illowa does have a charm of it's own.

Just One Of Those

Since for doing it i never receive any pay
I only write rhymes for enjoyment in truth i can say
A hobby i hope to never give away
That i will be doing on my life's final day

It was my love of rhyme made a rhymer of me
When i was twenty seven in nineteen seventy three
Going back the years five with four decades ago
And since time that ages has become my foe

Long before i reached my physical prime
Rhyme was quite popular this is going back in time
But rhymers not considered as poets by the literary critics of today
With time too comes change it is always this way

I used to love reading rhymes as a schoolboy
And writing them nowadays i thoroughly enjoy
Rhyme is a thing anybody can write
And easy to read, memorize and recite

I love writing rhyme and i do not pretend
That i hope to be doing it until my life's journey end
For many years i have been a rhyming buff
Just one of those who has penned pages of stuff.

Drought Times

There are no signs of rain in the blue and gray sky
For many months it has been so very dry
The cracked and bare earth it is crying out for rain
But in the long range weather forecast the drought will remain
The farm dams almost dry and the paddocks looking bare
With scarce enough of grass for to sustain a hare
A forecast high for the day of twenty nine degrees
With all of the moisture sucked from the land denuded of trees
In the drought ravaged land far from the nearest town
Top soil blowing in the wind from the earth dry and brown
Without any trees ground moisture to retain
The drought ravaged paddocks are crying out for rain
The farmer a sad looking man to behold
The last of his cattle and sheep he has sold.