Grey Butcherbirds

Grey butcherbirds in their range one see and hear often though not every day

With hooked tip on their bills and dark brown and grey

Known as butcherbirds because on spikes and forks on branches they hang their small prey

To hunt to kill for survival in life is their way

Medium sized birds that in courage and fierceness does not lack

In their breeding Season humans they even attack

Their nesting tree and territory they vigorously defend

Even their own kind they do not treat as a friend

In untidy cup shaped nest of twigs high on fork of tree

The female lay green speckled eggs of five, four or three

Once seen and once heard you never again get them wrong

As they do have a beautiful bubbling sort of song

The few times into their nesting territory i happened to stray

They angrily mobbed me to send me on my way.

We Never Stop Learning

We never stop learning only true to say

And of life and Nature we learn something new every day

And the more we learn about them the more we come to realize

That of them we know little this not a surprise

Of life and nature there is not one living who knows everything

There is more to the bird than the song it does sing

The accumulation of knowledge many does pursue

And that nature and life are our greatest teachers happen to be true

In a way those who believe they know everything are lucky indeed

Of any more knowledge they do not feel in need

It is a known fact that the dunce of the school

In life has turned out to be nobody's fool

In general knowledge the uni professor lags behind his wife

Though she has spent far less time than he has in school in her life.

On Most Things

On most things we all have our own points of view

And those who agree on all things are of the few

And to say the compassionate are not many and the judgmental are not rare

Is perhaps not telling you of what you are already not aware

In this age of the promotion of the self it only seems true

That some truly believe that praise should be their due

But in the words of a wise one from a long bygone day

Those nearest to the needs of the self from their higher selves furthest away

So many their own praises do love to sing

Self obsession nowadays is not a rare thing

In a Human World where billions do crave wealth and fame

So many do wish for to become a great name

It is not seen as an asset in the twenty first century

For those who are known for their humility.

They Grieve For Their Offsprings

They have been bellowing all night and are bellowing today

Their six month old calves by the farmer from them have been taken away

Cows like human mothers too miss their young and for them do grieve

And that they too have feelings not hard to believe

They have bellowed themselves hoarse which is so sad to hear

That they are in shock and grief does seem obviously clear

I found it hard to sleep listening to them last night

Their bellows so loud in the calm of the moonlight

They grieve for the offsprings they loved from them forever gone

But their grief will subside as time does tick on

Those who say only humans have feelings have got it all wrong

Feelings to most life forms are known to belong

They bellow for their young they will never more see

A lifetime together for them was not meant to be.

We Reap What We Sow

For your sins and crimes against others on some future day

If not to the law to karma you will pay

What goes around comes around as some do say

We reap what we sow life works in this way

You may be the wealthiest person in your side of the town

But if because of your actions some are left financially down

To future bad karma for yourself you are giving rise

Though the reason for your down turn in luck you may not even realize

What we do to others to our own selves we do

This applies to everyone as well as to me and to you

If you are one who does regularly sow karma's good seed

Karma will reward you in a good way for your every good deed

But if you are one who to gain does deceive

Then from karma good things do not expect to receive.

Eventually We All

Eventually we all fall victim to time

But the rhymer in death only run out of rhyme

Though in literature as in all things changes happen fast

And literary critics dismiss rhyme as a thing of the past

Yet no shortage of rhymers in the World of today

Though rhyme is not poetry the literary modernists say

But true rhymers write for love of rhyme only not for fame or pay

And true to their literary calling they do stay

There are rhymers in every village and city and town

Who write rhymes for love only not for fame or renown

Though millions of rhymers there are only a few

Who earn a living from writing of rhymes this is not saying what is new

The glory days of rhyming verse  may be in the long gone

But the twenty first century rhymers do keep on rhyming on.

Tom Barrett

As nice a person as one could wish to meet

Tom Barrett was born and raised in the Town of Millstreet

In his younger years quite handsome athletic and tall

For the Millstreet G A A Club he played Gaelic Football

But in Castlegar County Galway from Millstreet Town far away

With his wife and his family he lived his last night and day

Perhaps in his sixties this seems young to die

But that death is not ageist is not a lie

Though his love of his first Hometown he did retain

His loss to Millstreet became Castlegar's gain

One who for himself did make many a friend

And sadly his journey has come to an end

It was by good example in life he did lead

And the news of his passing of so sad to read.

Praise Can Go To Our Head

It is not saying anything that is in anyway that is new

That the humble materially successful of the World are few

When you are the object of admiration humble it is hard to stay 

Praise can go to our head with us humans it is this way

In a Human World where so many with each other for success compete

On your way to the top many challenges to meet

And for those who do reach the pinnacle of fame

It is hard to stay humble when your's has become a great name

Hard to blame the celebrities with their success for getting carried away

That us humans are beings of ego does seem true to say

So many dream of being famous but for so few such dreams come true

Suppose we receive from life what is only our due

That the humble high achievers of the World are rare

Perhaps is not telling you of anything you are not already aware.

A Good Man

He is such a decent person loves his children and his wife

Looking contented always smiling he is a man who loves life

Gets on well with all of his neighbours quite a good person to know

He is one of those kind people who does have the inner glow

We hear stories of wife beating by violent men every day

But thankfully they are only a minority not all men treat their wives and children in this way

He happens to be one of the male majority this in itself a good thing

Of the praises of good men like he is do feel happy for to sing

Men who abuse and beat their wives and children bring upon their gender shame

For the sins of the minority all men should not take the blame

To human male kind he is a credit many like him Worldwide

A hard working decent fellow without any sins to hide

He is one of the good living male majority though some men leave their gender down

Men who beat their wives and children never become the heroes of the town.

A True Sense Of Love Of Self

Those who have a true sense of love of self in them always have plenty of love with others to share

And for those doing it tough in life genuinely care

Narcissism is different it is love of self gone wrong

To a warped form of  infatuation with self it does belong

The narcissists of the needs of others are never aware

And sadly their sort in the World are not rare

From publicity their sort never do hide

They are in every village and town and city Worldwide

The typical narcissists of their own needs only see

And believe you must be a bad person if you do not like me

But those with a genuine love of self different from the narcissist in every way

In that they perform a good deed or more every day

A true sense of love of self a wise sage once said

Like the ripples in a stream from it's source does spread.

Sorry To Come

For many years he owned a pub on Main Street Millstreet Town

His nickname perhaps his best claim to local renown

One of more than a few who was a stranger to local fame

Sorry To Come and Jeremiah O' Keeffee were one of the same

Perhaps the reason for his nickname was he was one who found it hard to smile

But he was one who was free of conceit or guile

And honest in his dealings for to give him his due

And to his higher self he was one who was true

He lived in Millstreet Town for most of  if not all of his life

As one unattached he did not have a wife

From selling of alcohol little profit he made

Since his pub it never did do a brisk trade

Yet he was a memorable person of him one can say

Since he seemed different to most in his own quiet way

Though any excitement to Millstreet Town he never did bring

He was a man who always done his own thing

Memories of the past from Millstreet Town only remain

In visualizations for to visit again

Most of Jeremiah O' Keeffee's contemporaries are not living today

And those who remember him are showing their years in grey

Time that ages everything becomes everyone's foe

Jeremiah O' Keeffee better known as Sorry To Come died many years ago

Not one of the well remembered in Millstreet today

In one of the local cemeteries his last remains lay.

So Many Young People

So many young people daydream of wealth and fame

That one day their's will become a Worldwide known name

But for so few sad to say their dreams do come true

Though good things in life should be everyone's due

Not everyone can become famous and a multi millionaire 

For their sort as always remain ever rare

But for a young person to have a dream is only a good thing

As hope for the future with it does never fail to bring

But in life for one to win big so many do have to lose

Though losing is a thing that anyone does not choose

Their dreams give young people in their tough times struggling to cope

For better times ahead it does give them some hope

When hope from their lives it all but has gone

It helps them in hard times to keep on keeping on.

Not Environmentally Friendly

Cats are not environmentally friendly in any sort of a way

Though the vermin rat and mouse are among their prey

A small bird though endangered to their taste buds taste nice

Cats do not confine their choice of prey alone to rats and mice

Between small or endangered species of wildlife they do not differentiate

To hunt and kill is in their nature for this them one ought not hate

Your beloved pet feline who purrs on your knee

Is not quite as harmless as it seems to be

Cats domestic and feral as well as foxes kill many small endangered wild species every year

That they are not environmentally friendly is obviouisly clear

But neither are most of us humans in truth one can say

On wildlife extinction a huge part we do play

That cats are not environmentally friendly happens to be true

But unlike us humans they are innocent killers for to give them their due.

Not In Need

Of racists humanity is not in need

Of hatred and division they only plant the seed

And since red is the blood we all shed when we bleed

Without any racist the Human World would be much the better indeed

Racism does not have a colour to it or a nationality

And only leads to resentment and disharmony

Racists do not belong to one race or Country they are Worldwide

And racism only does lead to people divide

The racists among us are not of the few

And this is not saying anything that is new

But one important truth they cannot embrace

Is that there is no such a thing as a superior race

There is no inequality where dead people lay

And racists they too are born to die one day.

On Boobook Owls

Out there on a gum tree in the calm of the night

A boobook owl is calling in the moonlight

A bird seldom seen in the bright lamp of day

Mopoke mopoke is all it has to say

A small brown owl with green yellowish eyes

That at night hunt for insects and birds up to half of it's size

The female lay white eggs two or sometimes three

In her nest well hidden from view in hollow of old tree

In leafy trees they roost by day

And if discovered by crows or magpies from their territory they drive them away

Most birds mob aerial predators roosting in their territory

So to move them on harass them quite aggressively

At night their book book or mopoke call one often does hear

They render on tall trees to where you are somewhere near.

Not Many Poets Nowadays

Not many poets nowadays like the Helpston poet John Clare

Since Nature poets of his calibre are rather rare

But who would wish to swap the lifetime he lived for his enduring fame

His was a huge price to pay for becoming a great literary name

The story of Clare's life is a story of tears

He died in Northampton Mental asylum where he had lived for many years

Though his poems are loved, read and recited by many today

His price for fame was a huge price to pay

Today he is arguably England's greatest Nature poet

Yet in his lifetime he was not seen as worthy of literary note

He was one who lived and died in poverty

But he was one who made his own history

His poetic legend has grown over time

And he lives today in his memorable rhyme.

In Quiet Old Yambuk

In quiet old Yambuk overlooking the saltwater bay

The often noisy wind turbines are spinning slowly today

Much noisier they get as the freshening winds blow

As people who live nearby of this too well know

Many environmentally minded people the praises of wind turbines do sing

But to most who does live near them joy they do not bring

They do find it hard to sleep on a windy night

And wake rather tired for to  greet the daylight

And some remind us that in their spinning blades migrating birds die

A fact that is proven and fact not a lie 

A calm June evening in Yambuk of a low ten degrees

And the wind turbine blades slowly turning  in the  gentle breeze

And wisdom from the past on hindsight to recall

That what is good to many is not good to all.

What We Look For In Others

What we look for in others we usually see

This is how it is would you not agree?

Too often we judge people only by sight

And often our judgments do not prove us right

What we want our eyes to tell us we only believe

But based on such judgments ourselves we only deceive

And judgment by sight on the judged one is hardly just

It only proves the judgmental one does lack in trust

Those who judge by sight are not of the few

And this is not saying any thing that is new

Those who judge by sight on their ways do seem small

Since they do not believe on a fair go for all

But you are what you are only happens to be

And your eyes only tell you what you want them to see.

Koroit

Not far from the ocean in the Moyne Shire countryside

Koroit is a Town that is known far and wide

For it's Irish and it's Indigenous history it is widely known

One can say it does have a charm of it's own

So many likeable people live in Koroit Town

So many say hello to strangers on commercial road that walk up and down

Koroit Town near Tower Hill of the Peek Wurrong

Is also home to the Lake School and the Irish Festival of Celtic music and song

Many who visit Koroit do return to there again

For their holidays and this not hard to explain

As in Koroit Town they meet many a friendly face

It has become known as a welcoming place

Even most of those who have visited for a brief stay

Return to Koroit for their holiday.

For Your Crimes And Sins

For your crimes and sins against others always some price to pay

If the law does not catch up with you Karma will one day

For our actions in the present we sow our future karmic seed

On what goes around comes around there is truth indeed

On how you treat others in your life every day

Far more than your personal achievements can do of you always does say

This too goes for some of  the wealthiesst people in the town

Who achieved their position by dragging others down

The good things you do for others says more about you

Than the good things for yourself that you choose to do

A truism of humanity when all is said and done

If you cannot love yourself you cannot love anyone

And those with a genuine love of self have love for to share

And of the rights of others are always aware.

In The Small Country Town

Where everyone knows everyone in the small country town

To be known to be wealthy or good at sports your ticket to local renown

Everyone wants to know everyone else's private business but their own private business they wish none of to know

And the less they know about you the more their curiousity about you does grow

If you never attend their community gatherings they do wonder why

Could it be you are hiding some secret from them is the reason you seem so shy

The less they know about you the more interested in you they seem to be

Of their small town mentality death will only set them free

For most of them the weekend sports or political party or social gatherings is what life is mostly about

And they believe anyone who is not interested on what they are interested in are somehow losing out

On the things in life that matter most of all

Politics and making money and sports especially football

Yet among the sameness there are the few

Who do their own thing this is not saying what is new.

June In The Moyne Shire

The flames of bush fires by the wind never fanned

In Winter in June in this southern Land

For Winter is not the fire time of the year

This is only stating the obviously clear

A weather temperature high for the day of thirteen degrees

Without any warmth in the freshening breeze

The often wet and windy weather far superior to drought

At least for property owners no bushfires to worry about

And the Moyne Shire in Winter always looking green 

People's biggest worries nowadays is COVID 19

Though last Summer luck did seem with the Moyne Shire

As there was not any recorded major bushfire

Though the sun shone for awhile it was a cool and windy day

And going by the weather forecast more rain is on the way.

Joe Sad

Joe Sad is the saddest looking person in the town

He always looks one who is mentally down

He has yet to be seen with a smile on his face

His sort never does bring joy to any place

Joe an only child lives with his mother Jane his father Stan

Died years ago in his mid thirties as a young man

Of a massive heart attack just past his life's prime

Of life he was not granted very much time

Joe in his mid twenties may well go through life

Without having a partner to love or a wife

And it is looking like he may never become a dad

Few would like to spend their life with one who looks looks eternally sad

It does seem that Joe lives up to his nickname

As a spreader of joy he will never know of fame.

A June Evening At Pickering Point

I feel lucky in life is all i can say

In the beauty i see around me every day

Not materially wealthy but lucky just the same

What i feel in my mind could not be bought by money or fame

Just after sundown in day's fading light

At Pickering Point the rolling of the white waves an amazing sight

As they splash on the volcanic rocks guarding the shore

In Nature a scene that is forever more

How nice for to be where the land meets the sea

In Nature every day great beauty to see

Above the ocean shore in the darkening sky

The silver gulls give their mew call as they fly

There is so much in Nature for one to admire

And of singing her praises it seems hard to tire.

Most Of Us Have Our Dreams

Though your dreams in life for you may not come true

Most of us need a dream for to pursue

Those happy without a dream are quite lucky indeed

As they have all in life they could wish for or need

In the twenty first century poverty is not a stranger to anywhere

There are so many doing it tough in the big World out there

In a Human World where most opf the material wealth is owned by the few

That most people need some dream to cling to is not saying anything new

Most doing it tough dream of a financially better and a happier life

As lack of  freedom from poverty the cause of their inner strife

Whilst some dream of celebrity status and great wealth and fame

No two dreams it would seem are exactly the same

That most of us have our dreams happen to be so

Though eventually time becomes everyone's foe.

Eurasian Wrens

Grey freckled brown birds with a huge song for their size

Stories of the Eurasian wrens to legend gives rise

The male bird builds many nests as he has many wives

Though the cold and wet of Winter many of them do not survive

The females line the domed nest the male build and five to eight white brown dotted eggs lay

The young they are fully fledged and flying by May

With cocked brown tails dark eyes restless in their way

People who live in their range do see them every day

They spend hours every day searching for insects to eat

And berries to them are a delicious treat

The tiny males have such a loud and distinctive song

Once seen and once heard one never again get them wrong

Endearing little birds of them one can say

In gardens and backyards they can be seen every day.

A June Day In The Moyne Shire

The sun behind grey clouds is hidden away

It is cool and windy in the Moyne Shire today

Yet the birds who do sing every day of the year

The warbling of the magpies is pleasant to hear

A weather temperature high for the day of thirteen degrees

And the freshening wind soughing in the eucalypt trees

In early June at the start of the Winter three months from the Spring

A day without rain is quite a good thing

The coastal countryside green after the recent rain

And this of course only to Mother Earth's gain

Yesterday it did rain for a few hours or more

And the wind roared up hill from the Pacific shore

But today more pleasant though a bit windy at least it is dry

Though the sun does not shine through grey clouds of the sky.

According To Lee

What would be worth dying for you better ask Lee

He has lived for quite a long time he is eighty three

A great grandfather divorced from Linda his wife

He says there is never a reason for ending your life

Six years ago when Linda left him he felt sad for a while

But about this nowadays he only can smile

She has found love and happiness with another man

But as for himself for partnering or marriage he does not have a plan

Lee is quite a character on a Saturday night

Bare grey haired and balding head at the local pub his face a familiar sight

Always feeling happy in the pub hour of song

With a big smile on his face singing in the sing along

Nothing is worth dying for according to Lee

He still loves life though he is eighty three.

A June Evening In Port Fairy

Where the Moyne waters crawl deep and silent to the Pacific shore

In an unbroken journey that is forever more

On the tall norfolk pine trees beneath a sky of grey

The little ravens are cawing in Port Fairy today

The harsh calls of the ibis settling in for the night

Nature's diurnal birds most vocal in the fading twilight

On a June evening by Griffith  Island Winter is in the breeze

The weather temperature down to a cool six degrees

By the ocean bound river near Port Fairy Town

On most Winter evenings you will not see a sundown

As the ravens and the ibis grow silent on the trees

The only sound one hear is the soughing of the breeze

And the nocturnal creatures that sleep in daylight

Come out from their hiding places for the night.

Do Not Tell Me

Do not tell me what i do is a waste of time

Since i get so much enjoyment out of penning rhyme

Though for doing it i never receive any pay

I add to my numbers of rhymes every day

Rhyme was quite popular up to half  of a century ago

But like most things it does seem time has become it's foe

By the literary critics a rhymer of today is not looked on as a poet

Or not seen to be as one worthy of literary note

And since i feel no desire for literary success

Any literary purist i have no desire to impress

But to those who enjoy reading my rhymes i feel grateful indeed

Recognition is something everyone of is in need

But to those who tell me i ought to give rhyming away

They are entitled to their opinions is all i can say.

Joan From Macroom

In the gardens in the mid Cork Town of Macroom

The roses on the rose trees are in full bloom

The Town where Joan first saw the light of day

From where she now lives in distance far away

A widowed great grandmother in her eighty fourth year of life

To her late husband Aussie Jim she was a good wife

Jim died of stomach cancer to many a lethal foe

He breathed his last in March eight years ago

One ageing with grace shoulder length wavy grey hair

For her years she is one who has beauty rare

One thing of the past that she does retain

The distinctive accent of mid Cork with her does remain

Though into her eight decade she does not look that old

For one of her years quite attractive to behold

So down to earth and friendly in her there is nothing that is vain

A great loss to Macroom has been south west Victoria's gain

In June in mid Cork it is a lovely time of year

The voice of the cuckoo such a joy for to hear

But she feels happy today where her great grandchildren into young adulte grow

Far from where the babbling waters of Sullane does flow.

June The First 2020

The first day of June and the southern Winter a dreary and bleak day

The rain drizzling down from a sky looking grey

Behind the rain clouds the sun hidden away

Quite Seasonal weather of this one might say

A weather temperature high for the day of a cool twelve degrees

And the wintery wind is soughing in the gum trees

June and Winter have begun windy, cool and wet

And worse days of Winter ahead of us yet

But the windy and wet weather is to Mother Earth's gain

And the coastal Moyne Shire green and healthy looking in the rain

The flute like warbling so pleasant to hear

Of the magpies who sing every day of the year

In the freshening winds the rain drizzling down

On the countryside between Warrnambool and Koroit Town.

Life The Greatest Gift

Any gift we possess with others we should share

Of this one would feel most of would be aware

Some people for their gifts receive money in pay

But all gifts are not designed for to work in this way

But one special gift all other human gifts transgress

Life is the greatest gift any human being does possess

Those who tell you of a greater gift than life believe their own lie

Our greatest gift we do lose when we die

It is true everyone is gifted in some sort of a way

And there are billions of gifted people in the World of today

Life as the greatest human gift does remain

The reason for this it's own self does explain

For to every human being life is everything

So it's praises we ought to feel happy to sing.

Do Not Get Carried Away

With your successes in life do not get carried away

One has to remember wise words from a bygone day

That some of the famed high achievers have fallen from grace

And from being famous and wealthy have become an almost unknown face

Nowadays your praises your admirers does sing

But as is said of fame it can be a flickering thing

It can be a hard climb on the success hill to reach the top

But from the summit of success it can be a quick drop

There are winners and losers in life every day

And far more losers than winners in truth one can say

And though losing is a thing anyone does not choose

For one to win big many do have to lose

Though with your achievements many you do impress

Do not get carried away with your recent success.

Swamp Wallaby

Swamp wallaby are marsupials that are mostly black

Though when physically compared to kangaroos in size they do lack

And unlike kangaroos in large numbers they never abound

Though happy on dry land as their name suggest they feel at home on swampy ground

Some people call them stinker since they emit a strong smell

And their meat when cooked is not nice to eat which does serve them well

For their survival as a species since they are not hunted for their meat

Most other life forms are hunted by hunters to kill for to eat

Swamp wallabies are not popular with gardeners since they raid their gardens at night

As some green vegetables to their taste buds are a sense of delight

With ways of their own most of them of humans are shy

And though they are quite beautiful creatures one must wonder why

They are not among Australia's favourite marsupials many others better loved and known

Yet they are endearing creatures with ways of their own.

Never A Hooray

In the eyes of the big ego creators your greatest achievement may seem small

But what the gullible masses think of you should not matter to you at all

Their heroines and heroes tycoons and wealthy celebrities the creators of big ego Worldwide

The people who dismiss the poor battlers as those without a god on their side

Leave them to sing the praises of the wealthy and famous the gullible majority

Since in your own right you are a great person you help those in dire poverty

Kindness and compassion does not win many admirers their praises few bother to sing

You carry on doing what you are doing since some joy to the poor souls you bring

In a Human World where the poor are gettting poorer to the advantage of the wealthy few

That the truly good are being overlooked is not saying anything that is new

Those who ask for your acts of kindness for to show have you financial gain

That kindness has it's source in pure love why bother to them to explain

Just carry on doing what you are doing performing your good deeds every day

Though the big ego creators you are not impressing and for you never a hooray.

On Black Swans

They sing in flocks as they travel by sky

Big dark birds with their long necks outstreteched as they fly

To a shallow lake somewhere nearby

Of humans black swans never do seem that shy

In high platform nest of vegetation in shallow water lined with down that to build takes more than a day

Four to ten greenish large eggs the female bird lay

Their grey cygnets the male and the female protect and defend

And for the love of their young family they treat none as a friend

Using  their long necks from the bed of  shallow lakes with their strong bills they pull acquatic vegetation to eat

What is unpalatable to most water birds to them a tasty treat

Red bills and long necks attractive and graceful birds to behold

In their wild state they live to be ten to fifteen years old

On shallow lakes birds one often does see

In large flocks or small groups of two or three.

Deserves To Be Told

You are not a celebrity or a billionaire or have won Olympic gold

But the story of your life deserves to be told

As you are not ordinary in any way

Since an ordinary person is not living  today

You may not even be one who is widely known

But you are distinctive with ways of your own

You may not be looked on as worthy of fame

And lauded by the masses as one of a great name

But kindness and compassion to others you show

And you are one blessed of the bright inner glow

No trophies or medals on your sideboard to display

And for you there never has been a loud hooray

And though you have never known of fame and you are growing old

You too have a story that deserves to be told.

It Has Been Thirty Four Years

Where years ago to many mine was a known face

To most i would be a stranger today in my first homeplace

It has been thirty four years since i saw Clara's Hill

Or walked on the banks of the Claramore rill

In the Claraghatlea fields babbling it's way

With tongue never silent by night and by day

Nineteen eighty six seems a long time ago

And time that rusts iron has become my foe

I would be even a stranger today to most in Duhallow i used to know

Over time in our ways many of us apart seem to grow

Time does not wait for anyone and it did not wait for me

Thirteen with three score years makes seventy three

And only the memories with me now remain

Of places and faces i may not see again.

May Not Be Far away

So much natural habitat for wildlife in Australia by fire has been destroyed

And so many animals, birds, insects, amphibians, snakes and lizards have died

Though it is mostly human deaths and burnt to ash properties we read of and hear about

Of the destruction of natural habitat and the deaths of billions of life forms little is written or said of and of news worthiness loses out

The bush fires of Summer has caused death, destruction and tears

And human environmental practices has caused Global Warming and brought Climate Change forward by hundreds of years

The lives of many already endangered species in the bush fires have been lost

Short term jobs such as mining for coal have come at a huge environmental cost

With Summer weather temperatures soaring fears for the years ahead

Unless we drastically change our environmental habits for a cleaner World all hope soon will be dead

Climate Change due to Global Warming has come upon us so fast

Us humans are always so slow to learn from our mistakes of the past

Respect for our Earth Mother who feeds us we must learn to pay

Or the end of Humanity as we know it may not be that far away.

Jim Joe And Linda

Jim Joe does always seem happy but the same cannot be said of Linda his wife

Her face was not made for smiling she does not seem to be loving life

Opposites attract we are told with them it must be this way

One can say of Jim Joe and Linda they are as different as night is from day

Their twenty two year old son John lives in London they have not seen him for awhile

And their daughter Kate has just turned twenty like her dad she does not find it hard to smile

But Linda she always looks so serious though she even looks attractive in her casual clothes

She has no reason to seem unhappy but it takes all sorts one must suppose

Sometimes i meet them in the park walking Jim Joe always says hello

But Linda keeps her serious silence though to her i am not a foe

But in this there is one consolation in that she treats everyone as the same

She is just not a bubbly type of person for want for this of a better name

Jim Joe he always seems happy but the same cannot be said of Linda his wife

Yet she is what she is as has been said and this is how it is with life.

Just Leave Them To Karma

Anger and hatred mind destructive every day people other people kill

If you do not like a person do not do them any ill

If you do not like a person do not harm her or him in any way

Any wrong you do to others in bad karma you will pay

Of the person who has wronged you of them you can only say

Just leave them to their karma it will visit them one day

They may have cheated you in some way but for them do not hold a grudge

Just leave them to face their karma everybody's fairest judge

Harbouring a grudge not good for you only fills your mind with hate

Just leave them to their karma with it they have booked a date

What goes around does come around as a truism remain

Karma is not hard to understand it's workings not hard to explain

Leave them to face their own karma those who cause you so much grief

That what goes around always comes around does seem a worthwhile belief.

On Crimson Rosellas

Birds i do see often though not every day

Quite beautiful parrots of them one can say

Blue cheeks and mostly red with mottled brown on their red wings and tail blue and long

They do have a pleasant to hear soft chirping song

Mostly woodland birds of humans quite shy

Crimson rosellas the name they are known by

The female lay white eggs in a cavity in a tree

And they usually do raise a big family

The juvenile crimson rosellas are green

And in small flocks in wooded places are often seen

Beautiful to look at mental pictures of them with you will remain

Once seen and once heard you will know them again

People with bird feeders in their backyards say they become almost tame

Of these beautiful parrots who live up to their name.

On Internet Trollers

Lacking in honour and lacking in pride

These internet trollers behind their anonymity do hide

Their negative comments without their true identity on them not worth the paper it is written on

The mantle of greatness their sort never will don

No shortage of online trollers in the World of today

With the targets of their criticisms mind games they like to play

With their negative comments they may feel greatly empowered

But every anonymous internet troller is a mental coward

Any negative comment is worthless without it's author's true name

Their sort are not nice people and unworthy of any sort of fame

Those who put their true names to their negative comments at least have some pride

Behind anonymity they refuse for to hide

And though they may be internet trollers and lack in the inner glow

At least for them some respect one has to show.

Those Who Crave Attention

Those who crave attention some are known to say

From their higher selves are much further away

Than people who are known to be publicity shy

That there is truth in this seems hard to deny

Those of their own needs who seem all too aware

The look at me people are no longer rare

On a photo opportunity they never miss out

That the narcissists of the World are not endangered does go without doubt

Self promotion nowadays has become an in thing

And so many their own praises do love to sing

On saying that the egotistical are not of the few

Is not saying anything that is in any way that is new

Of the self adoring one quickly does tire

There is little about them for one to admire.

On Red Wattlebirds

Of red wattles, red eyes, yellow on breast and mostly mottled brownish grey

In parks and gardens birds one does see often though not every day

Red wattlebirds for them is their common name

Not the sort of birds that humans do capture to tame

Where flowering bushes and trees are them one often does see

These larger members of the honeyeater family

With aggression their nectar sources they do defend

Any other species of honeyeater they do not treat as a friend

With a cough like hoarse call and brief chuckling type song

From once seen and once heard you will never again get them wrong

In a flimsy saucer type of bark nest lined with grass on a bush or fork of tree

The female lay buff pink spotted eggs of two or three

Due to their nectar diet in any one place they do not stay

The red wattlebirds you see today tomorrow may be far away.

Never Too Small

For a better World for you and i to live in

For improvement in ourselves for the better we have to begin

Any improvement for the good is never too small

And in this case what applies to one does apply to all

The good things you do for others says more about you

As a person than the good things for yourself that you choose to do

The compassionate and selfless are great people indeed

And of more of their sort the Human World of is in need

If we all were kinder to others how great this would be

In the Human World there would be more harmony

Between people of different cultures and religious beliefs of every nationality

And there would be more understanding of each other and less poverty

It is true there is room for improvement in us all

And any improvement in self  is never too small.

When You Hear A Frog Sing

Do not ask me for an answer to this since many things in Nature are beyond me to explain

The reason the tiny frogs sing before rain

That frogs are far more attuned to Nature than i am is obviously clear

Since i need to listen to the weather forecast for changes in the weather of  to hear

Quite a humbling thing this it does seem to be

To realize a frog in some ways is far smarter than me

Nature's creatures are far more attuned to weather changes than we are in many a way

We learn as we live as the wise one does say

About four hours ago i heard a frog sing

And right now it has begun to rain such an amazing thing

The weather radio forecaster did not say of any rain in our area today

But the frog told me differently and respect to it for this i can only pay

Most people will tell you that of amphibian intelligence there is no such a thing

But you know it will rain when you hear a frog sing.

A Vixen Is Calling

In the chill of late Fall in the dead of the night

A vixen in heat calling in the moonlight

She needs a male partner with her for to mate

If not in a few days for her it will be too late

And she will be unable to give birth to young foxes this year 

So she hopes that a male fox her mating call will hear

Due to poisoning and shooting foxes in these parts of the countryside are rare

And of this the vixen she would be aware

She barks and listens for a few minutes for a male to reply

But there does not seem to be any male fox to her nearby

Not many foxes left in the countryside

Last year all of her cubs under hunter gunfire died

She is desperately calling with a male with to mate

Since in a few days for her it will be too late.

Cannot Blame Those

Cannot blame those by many who are glorified

If from their achievements they have an inflated sense of pride

When they laud those they admire as special and great

The admiring masses big egos create

It is hard to remain down to earth if others tell you of  how great you are

Since on the ladder of success you are one who has climbed far

It is true that lots of praise can go to the praised one's head

And that a swollen ego can lead to narcissism in truth can be said

Many of the wealthy and famous as huimble do not remain

But the reason for this is not hard to explain

Since they are written of and spoken of in the media every day

With their sense of self importance they get carried away

Humility is the victim of success and fame

And the gullible admirers for this partly to blame.

Heroes

The heroes of some do drive fast in cars

And the heroes of many strum on their guitars

And the heroes of millions good at sports or football

Though it is said of the wise they have no heroes at all

Not every hero knows of Worldwide renown

There are local heroes in every village and town

The heroes are applauded in every street parade

By the gullible masses all heroes are made

The heroes are lauded for honours they have won

But the hero to many is not a hero to everyone

That most hero statuses are temporary only true for to say

And the hero of last year may not be the hero of today

Those who do not have a hero to say the least are few

But to say it takes all sorts is not saying what is new.

Than Your Dog

She or he is one who does not not know how to pretend

Than your dog you do not have a truer friend

For a few pats and a good feed and a walk every day

Your dog as your best friend it's lifetime will stay

If you are kind to your dog in love and loyalty it will repay you

A dog to it's master it's lifetime remain true

The dog who snarls and growls when a stranger to it is near

Has a cruel and unfriendly master is obviously clear

Since the personality of the master the dog does portray

Those who know about dogs will tell you it is this way

The dog with a kind master wags it's tail to everyone it does meet

When out walking with it's boss in the park or on the street

If you are kind to your dog than it you will not have a truer friend

Since dogs do not even know how to pretend.

Of Nature

Though her secrets from us she keeps hidden away

Of Nature we learn something new every day

And the more we learn of her the more our wonder of her does grow

And we come to realize so little about her we do know

To the most knowledgeable on Nature so much about her remains as unknown

Nature is one who does have ways of her own

She changes her dress with her Seasons such beautiful colours she wear

For natural beauty none with her to compare

Her creatures that crawl, walk, swim, run and fly

Of land and of water of trees and of sky

Most of those who know so much about her only come to realize

That of her they know little this is not a surprise

Her wonders are many and her secrets not few

And every day of her we do learn something new.

On Badgers

By day they are an uncommon sight

Badgers are nocturnal animals of the night

Sturdy grey medium dog sized on their faces a large strip of white

They always leave their setts in the twilight

And replace their old bedding with clean fresh bedding for the next day

They are rather clean creatures of them one can say

By human beings kindness to them seldom shown

Years of persecution their sort of have known

Badgers scientifically classified of the weasel family

Like cattle are prone to be infected by T B

Due to government funded programs to their removal in many a countryside

Thousands of these innocent poor creature have died

On that badgers spread T B to cattle not all experts do agree

Some say it is the other way round is how it seems to be

In every countryside where badgers have been eradicated T B in cattle remain

The friends of badgers who claim they are slaughtered needlessly this in their case does explain

The World's strongest and fiercest dog would not beat a badger in a fight

In Badger the famous poem by the great Helpston poet John Clare the poet got it right

In the poem it took a village of people and all of their dogs to bring one badger's life to an end

For the survival of their species badgers are in need of their every human friend

Badgers they do have a good appetite

As well as grass and worms and tubers they dig for they have snails in their diet

Some who claim themselves to be experts say they are spreaders of  T B

Though others quite well informed with this do not agree.

He Is The Poor Bloke

The life he does live anyone would not choose

He is the poor bloke who has nothing to lose

In his late teens homeless and hungry on the poor side of the town

Down on his luck and financially down

The tougher side of life he only has seen

Due to abusive parents he left home at fifteen

Than living at home the streets for him a safer place

At such a young age life's toughest challenges he does face

Of drugs and of crime he is one who lives free

Due to his circumstances quite an achievement one has to agree

He does live in hope that lady luck will smile his way

That some employer will give him a job start one day

As is said about fortune it favours the brave

One day he will win the job start he does crave.

Teddy

There is nothing Teddy thinks he does not know about

At least he is convinced that this is beyond doubt

Though he has a good brain he too has a big mouth

And that in life there is so much to learn he has yet to find out

A father of a six yeaar old boy estranged from Kate his wife

She feels happier now with the new man in her life

She loved him for awhile but of his arrogance grew tired

And realized he was not the sort of lifetime partner for to be desired

Teddy in his early thirties may yet come to realize

That he is not as knowledgeable as he thinks he is and that he is far from wise

As one who believes he knows everything he is not one of a rare breed

And of any more knowledge he does not feel in need

And to say that the Teddys of the World are not of the few

Is not saying anything that is any way that is new.

Sometimes In Nature

Sometimes in Nature i do get it wrong

I have mistaken the bird by it's chirping or song

I used to think that male foxes call out for a mate at night

But now i have been told that one who knows better than i do that this is not right

That Nature is a great teacher it does seem this way

And of her we do learn something new every day

That we will never stop learning until the day we do die

Is a fact of life and fact never lie

The know it all people are quite lucky indeed

Since of any more knowledge they are not in need

But of Nature alone there is so much to know

And our wonderment of her it only does grow

And the more i learn of Nature the more i realize

That of her i know little this not a surprise.

An Ex Prisoner Of War

An ex prisoner of war bad things to him by his jailers were done

But for this he does not hate or blame anyone

He says time is not on my side i just live for to live

Though the past i cannot forget my abusers i forgive

In his late eighties by ten years he has outlived his wife

He says of her she was the great love of my life

Many times a great grand-dad he now lives on his own

He mostly keeps to himself and to few he is known

For to live as a better person me he does inspire

There is so much about him for one to admire

He has been physically abused but he does not harbour a grudge

And those who sinned against him he refuses to judge

Though things in his life he would rather forget

He does not harbour grudges or live with regret

A true hero who does not see himself in that way

Not many of his sort in the World of  today

As a prisoner of war one who suffered abuse

But he says for harbouring a grudge this would not be an excuse

Though the past he cannot forget his jailers he did forgive

This noble old fellow who just lives for to live.

If You Look For Flaws In Others

If you look for flaws in others what you look for you will see

You cannot see good if you do not wish to this is how it seems to be

You cannot see the good in others if your mind is closed to light

When the hill is cloaked in grey fog it's beauty is hidden from sight

Negative people in the World sad to say are not that rare

That good is there if they look for it of they do not seem aware

Those who only look for blemish the good do always overlook

They judge the book by the cover without bothering to read the book

How can you see the good in others if to the traits of goodness you are blind

When you search for flaws and weakness what you search for you will find

We are what we see in others as the wise are known to say

When for flaws you only do look the good from you is hidden away

At the dark end of the tunnel there is never any light 

When you only look for flaws in others their good traits hidden from your sight.

Big Andy And Betty

Big Andy over two metres broad shouldered and tall

Standing beside him his wife Betty seems rather small

Quite attractive looking shoulder length wavy hair of brown

One of the prettiest looking young women of the town

Their son Tim he just had his seventh Birthday

Quite tall for his age like his dad in this way

But Andy he is not the boss of their house

This honour does belong to Betty his spouse

On domestic matters she does have the final say

And she is one who always does have her way

Betty is the ruler in the family

Every man not the boss in the home is how it seems to be

A requirement of leadership is not strength and size

There is much truth in the words of the wise.

Happy Joe

Happy Joe he works hard for his every pay

The harder i work the luckier i get is what he likes to say

With a beautiful dark haired wife Linda and two lovely three year old twin daughters Brenda and Sue

Joe says that all of his dreams in life for him have come true

A handsome dark haired fellow in his twenty eight year on the right side of time

Broad shouldered strong and healthy looking in his physical prime

Two years ago on cigarettes and alcohol he called it a day

He feels happy now that he gave them away

For sadness in his mind there is not any space

He always does have a big smile on his face

During the Football Season he always looks forward to Saturday

When with trhe local Football Club he lines out to play

A down to earth and likeable fellow untainted by guile

He always does find it so easy to smile.

Many Do Have To Lose

People of malnutrition are dying in the World today

In the twenty first century this seems a sad thing to say

And the poor losing out in the social divide

As the gap between those who have and have not keep on growing ever wide

The majority of the assets and wealth of the World is owned by the few

That inequality is rife in humanity is not saying anything that is new

Thousands grow poorer every day for every new millionaire

And most of the very wealthy minority with the poor do not share

Though the Reaper of lives who treats none as a friend

Makes everyone equal at their life's journey's end

Some are very wealthy due to their birth circumstance

And some grow wealthy due to good fortune or even by chance

And though for to live as poor anyone does not choose

For one to win big many do have to lose.

One Can Only Imagine

One can only imagine a pleasant June day

The wild birds on song and the sweet scent of hay

Brought to your nostrils in the freshening breeze

On a warm sunny evening of around twenty five degrees

The voice of the migratory cuckoo so nice for to hear

In the northern Summer a green time of year

The warm air full of the buzzing of flies and of bees

And the cattle chewing their cuds as they rest in the shade of the trees

The lark above the rushy field sing as upwards he flies

Such beauty that is not hard to visualize

With the sunn on their dark wings chirping as they fly

The swallows are chasing flying insects in the sky

From the countryside in view of the northern hills on a pleasant June day

Earthly Utopia cannot be far away.

Those Of Extreme Views

Those of extreme views to those of different beliefs respect never pay

And they cannot look at life in a broad minded way

And in extreme views nothing for to celebrate

Their narrow way of thinking can lead them to crimes of hate

Those of extreme views have no love in them to share

And of the rights of others never feel aware

They think that right to them alone belong

And that those who believe differently to them have got it wrong

Since they cannot believe on a fair go for all

Extremists in their thinking are always quite small

To a more harmonious Human World to live in they never plant the seed

Of their sort humanity is not in need

Many different types of extremists in the World of today

But to peace and love they never point the way.

If Nature You Love

If Nature you love then of you one can say

That of her you will learn something new every day

For she is quite amazing and her wonders not few

And every day of her you will learn something new

And learning of Nature such joy to us bring

There is more to the bird than the song it does sing

And the more we learn of Nature the more our wonderment of her ways grow

In the realization of how so little of her ways we do know

Like all other life forms us humans are born to die

For the cow and the sheep the same as you and i

And eventually time does become our foe

But Nature lives on and her Seasons come and go

And the more we learn about Nature  the more we come to realize

That of  her we know little this not a surprise.

A War Hero

His war medals for bravery he risked his life for to win

Never more to be found he threw them in a rubbish bin

And memories of war from him refuse to fade

He never attends any war street parade

He was a young hero in a war far away

Though on this he does not have anything for to say

Nowadays he never wears his country's flag

He feels patriotism is not worth a brag

In his mid seventies his best days long gone

And of  war only bad memories in him live on

For rescuing a wounded comrade from the line of enemy fire a medal for bravery he won

He did save a mother years of grief for what would have been her dead son

Alcohol due to his war related traumas the ruination of his life

And cost him the love of the woman who was to be his wife

He conquered his alcohol addiction a decade ago

But his bad memories of war remain as his mental foe

A tall slightly stooped grey haired man to many not known

Often see him walking in the park always on his own

The horrors of war with him does stay

And in him will remain until his life's final day.

A Great Human Being

Wavy grey hair to her shoulders she is ageing with grace

She always has a smile on her beautiful face

A widowed grandmother in her seventies she looks well for her years

She is one of the town's most endearing old dears

A volunteer member of the town's Vincent De Paul

For the betterment of humanity she answers the call

Always helping the homeless and those sleeping rough

A friend to those in the town who in life are doing it tough

Of the happy and sad times of life she has known

Since her husband died five years ago she has lived on her own

A true friend of the locally financially down

She has always been helping the poor of the town

She is a great human being for to give to her what is her due 

And to her higher self in life she remains ever true

So kind, caring and compassionate in her own sweet way

One who does perform good deeds every day.

No Shortage Of Them

The judgmental are not rare in any town

It is easy in words for to put others down

But live and let live the honourable live by

And a fair go of anyone never deny

They are such good people those who believe on a fair go for all

In their way of thinking there is nothing small

They never judge anyone for their race or creed 

And far more of their sort of the Human World is in need

They always give credit to where it is due

And to their higher selves they remain ever true

They do look on others through positive  eyes

As well as being honourable people they are rather wise

But the judgmental are not endangered in any sort of a way

No shortage of them in the Human World of today.

On Foxes

Baiting, trapping and shooting on their numbers taking toll

Though to rid the World of them is beyond human control

For to make them extinct humans their very best do strive

But foxes are quite clever and they know how to survive

Many small endangered creatures they have been known to kill

And for eating small endangered wildlife many wish upon them ill

But a fox does not know the small creature that is endangered to them it is living meat

Just something to ease their hunger that they can kill to eat

As one of Nature's most adaptable survivors foxes have earned renown

Nowadays they live in every city and every village and town

They know how to open rubbish bins if hungry for a feed

As an intelligent and adaptable species at surviving they succeed

Every year they kill thousands of lambs and backyard fowl and some of them for their sins do pay

But there are no shortage of foxes in the World of today.

The Verbal Warring Bulls

Of a barbed wire fence and two elecric fences they stand on either side

And bellow loudly at each other in anger and pride

The black and white friesian bull and the black angus bull every day carry out their verbal war

They bellow themselves hoarse and no winner at bellowing thus far

Of the electrical fences they have received shocks seems obviously clear

And of  the wire that divide them they do not venture too near

The electrical fences far more than each other they does seem to fear

The only reason to each other they cannot go too near

At each other they angrily bellow and with their hooves scrape the ground

And in a show of defiance scatter clods around

In the verbal war that goes on between them every day

There is not a winner or it does seem this way

Every day they angrily bellow at each other until they run out of breath

If they could get to each other they would fight to the death

But the reason they cannot have an all out war is not hard to explain

As the fear of a shock from the electrical fences with them does remain.

The Beauty In Nature

It is all around you and it is all around me

A beauty we do not have to pay for to see

The beauty in Nature to view it is free

And it remains as unrivalled would you not agree?

Nature she is in a class of her own

And so much about her remains as unknown

Even the well informed on her  have come to realize

Of her they have much to learn this not a surprise

Of Nature we learn something new every day

We learn as we live in truth one can say

We will be learning from her until the day we do die

And of her have lots more to learn this is not a lie

Such joy to those who love her Nature does bring

She always changes colours with her Seasons  Summer, Autumn, Winter  and Spring

She helps our Earth Mother to grow the food on which we live

Yet so little in Return to Nature and Earth Mother we do give

Her wonders are many and her secrets not few

And every day of her we learn something new

Her admirers Worldwide in numbers do grow 

And she is one of there is so much to know.

On Australian Magpies

The birds who do sing every day of the year

Their warbling is always a joy for to hear

The black and white crow sized birds who do not have a lookalike

Are not related to Eurasian magpies since in reality they are piping shrike

During their breeding Season they treat none as a friend

With aggression their nesting trees they do defend

They even attack humans who to their breeding territory venture too near

To defend their borders the Australian magpies are birds without fear

In late Winter to late Spring they often sing at night

How nice to hear them warbling in the moonlight

They have a huge range Australia wide

And they live in town parks and in the countryside

Quite familiar birds with ways of their own

To every Australian they are well known.

Louis The Sheep

Mrs Mancini's wether Louis is twelve years old today

As sheep go for himself  he is doing quite okay

A hectare of ground all to himself  with plenty of grass for to eat

Unlike most sheep he was not born to be killed for his meat

As a year old wether she bought Louis from her neighbour farmer Joe

This is going back in time eleven years ago

She liked him due to his darkish brown face

Familiar to his breed of sheep of suffolk race

Mrs Mancini a widow named the sheep after Louis her grandson

Who now is the father of a young daughter at the age of thirty one

She feels so proud of her wether says he is the best lawn mower in the town

That she does not need to pay anyone money for to keep the grass down

Louis looking quite contented chewing his cud lay

It does seem that he is enjoying his birthday.

They Lie Rather Well

They know how to win votes and retain political power

But few of them could tell you a weed from a flower

And few of them could tell you a crow from a currawong

In politics a naturalist could not hope to belong

Most of them know how to bend the truth and on how to lie

There are few politicians who do not have in them a strong sense of the i

In parliament they taunt their opposing members seeking political gain

To be honest as a politician one could not remain

Most politicians are not known for their empathy

For those doing it really tough in life they feel no sympathy

That most homeless people are non voters of they have taken note

So they do not have to spend money on them for to buy their vote

To an honest question from a politician you will not get an honest reply

That they are quite deceitful seems hard to deny

There is no place in politics for the honest and just

Since politicians are people who cannot be taken on trust

Bigger fool you if the words of a politician you do believe

Since most of them are quite expert at knowing how to deceive

Though most of them could not tell you a weed from a flower

They lie rather well for to hang on to power.

I Left Claraghatlea

For flag or for Country i never would die

If i did tell you differently this would be a lie

I am just an old bloke who retains a sense of place

Though today there to many mine would be a stranger's face

Claraghatlea in Millstreet in Duhallow where i first saw light of day

Though there i was one who did not choose to stay

I have not forgotten the what used to be

The old fields i loved lived in my memory

Where i grew to love Nature when i was a boy 

And learning of her ways today i enjoy

And of Nature so much to learn it does seem this way

We never stop learning as the wise one did say

It was my yearn for wander that lured me far south

Of the fields of the badger and waterways of the brown trout

To the home of koala, echidna and wallaby and grey kangaroo

And emu, corella and yellow tailed black cockatoo

I envy those who do at home choose to stay

In the place they grew up in they grow old and grey

A rare one the migrant who does not think of his or her first home

For the Londoner it is London and for the Roman it is Rome

In my visualizations a few kilometres from the Town of  Millstreet

I walk through the fields to where the waterways meet

I left Claraghatlea but it did not leave me

Today it is living in my memory.

Who Would Believe

Such beautiful weather for the time of year

The sun brightly shining in sky blue and clear

The southern calendar Winter just a forthnight away

Weatherwise quite exceptional for the far southern May

With such beautiful weather how could one complain

The countryside looking green after the recent rain

A weather temperature high for the day of a pleasant twenty degrees

And above the paddocks in the sunlit sky white butterflies dancing in the breeze

Some will tell you that this is not natural at all

To see so many butterflies this late in the Fall

But in the twenty first century nothing in Nature seems strange

As we are in the era of Climate Change

The sun shining bright in a sky blue and clear

Who would believe the calendar Winter is near.

The Last Of The Yangery Tribe

A place in the coastal Moyne Shire named in their honour today

The last of the Yangery Tribe where do their bones lay?

Colonization it is said they did not survive

Not one of them today is known to be alive

Perhaps some of them died in massacres and most of them were wiped out by colonizers disease

It is said that some of their women lived with and raised the children of shipwrecked Portugese

The last of their tribe of the coastal countryside

None of them left today in their  history to take pride

They lived and socialized as tribal people do

And hunted the wallaby and grey kangaroo

And in Summer evenings in the shade of the trees

They danced and sung and played their didgeridoos in their corroborees

This is going back in time two hundred years or so

And the last of  of the Yangery Tribe died years ago.

In Mushera

In the mostly sunny blue sky just a few clouds of grey

For such beauty to view one does not have to pay

From the high Butter Road across Togher Bog such beauty to see

Many kilometres all around of marvellous scenery

Late Spring and early Summer by Mushera is a beautiful time of year

The voice of the cuckoo so pleasant to hear

And with the sun on their dark wings chirping as they fly

The swallows are chasing flying insects in the sky

Where ancient Mushera Mountain as ever looks down

On the undulating countryside above Millstreet Town

From the recent rain the high country looking green

Only in Nature such beauty is to be seen

In the high woods the birds they are singing today

Such beautiful memories a whole lifetime to stay.

Only For The Few

It is true in their written words beauty they create

But not everyone can become a literary great

So many live in disappointment since literary success only for the few

And this is not saying anything in any way that is new

Most writers dream of becoming a great literary name

But for the rare few only literary fame

So few writers become widely known

In their dreams of success greatness was not sown

For the writers disappointed in their unachieved dreams one must feel a bit sad

It does not mean as writers that they are bad

Is the reason as writers they do not make the grade

One too does need some luck in the wordsmith trade

Those who become wealthy and famous from writing are rare

I feel sure of this you would be aware.

On Little Ravens

Quite cautious of humans of them one can say

These dark feathered birds i does see every day

Known as little ravens some call them pale eyed crow 

They are rather clever this much of them i does know

I have seen them open rubbish bins for potato chips and scraps of fish and meat

And i have seen them dipping stale bread in water to soften to eat

If somebody told me of this i would say they were telling me lies

But believe me i have seen them do these things with my own eyes

On flat nest of sticks high on branch of tree

The female lay bluish pink spotted eggs of five four or three

Birds well known to many within their range

Who have not decreased in numbers despite human destruction of their habitat and Climate Change

In large or small flocks them one often does see

They are Nature's survivors as most would agree.

There Is No Guarantee

On how long anyone will live there is no guarantee

Some die very young and some feel well at ninety three

Death known to claim the lives of children and of those in their life's prime

It can pay anyone a visit at anytime

Of a life for the soul beyond the crematorium or the grave

To make such a prediction i cannot feel this brave

Only know each day we live one nearer to our last

And time does not wait it keeps on ticking fast

Though of the praises of death you will not hear many sing

It is in it's own way a natural thing

Live every day as if it is your last and eventually you will be proven right

For you are going to die as sure as day follows night

And of an afterlife World for the soul somewhere beyond the sky

Of what i do not know of  i cannot deny.

An Ordinary Person

An ordinary person i have yet to meet everyone is extraordinary in some sort of a way

Those considered to be ordinary are underestimated we learn as we live as the wise one does say

The people the judgmental dismiss as ordinary are not as ordinary as they seem to be

And those adjudged by many to be quite ordinary in some ways are extraordinary would you not agree?

The one you dismiss as ordinary may one day surprise you looks as is said have been known to deceive

No such a  thing as an ordinary person i am one who on this does truly believe

The materially wealthy and the celebrated no more extraordinary than those who will never know of fame

Every day i meet extraordinary people many far too many for me for to name

None of them among the wealthy and famous not the sort the masses choose to admire

Maybe the reason they are looked on as ordinary is that fame and wealth in life they do not desire

In some of their actions they are quite extraordinary they always help people of helping in need

They are quite selfless and not at all ordinary and in their kindness extraordinary indeed

Those the judgmental dismiss as the ordinary above the ordinary often does rise

No such a one as an ordinary person something i for one has come to realize

I know a lot of extraordinary people that the judgmental dismiss as quite ordinary

But the person you look upon as extraordinary may not be one worth admiring to me.

At Tower Hill

In the calm of the evening the sunlit trees standing still

The spirits of the Peek Wurrong people remain in Tower Hill

Even in pre volcanic decades this to them a meeting place

Where they used to socialize the Moyne Shire's first race

In Tower Hill home to koala, echidna, wallaby and grey kangaroo

Today you will not hear the dcrone of a didgeridoo

But today there the spirits of  the Peek Wurrong people remain

Why i can sense it here is beyond me to explain

The intermittent chirping of a honeyeater and a singing frog the only living sound

In Tower Hill this evening the silence is profound

On what is quite pleasant weather for late Autumn and May

The spirits of the Peek Wurrong are resting today

The evening is so calm and scarcely any breeze

And only the slightest of movement among the leaves of the trees.

In His Ute Every Day

In his ute every day checking his cattle and sheep his paddocks  he drives up and down

The wealthiest farmer on his side of the town

Materially wealthy his ego far from small

But of Nature he seems to know little at all

He knows quite a lot about cattle and sheep

And to hiumself such knowledge he does not keep

But of the wildlife of his fields his ignorance does show

Of Nature and her ways little he seems to know

One of many who looks at life in a regular and materialistic sort of a way

Money, farming, politics and sports his main topics of the day

His children young adults and he and his wife

Have voted for the same political party all of their life

And the political party they vote for not environmentally friendly in any sort of a way

Though in this they are not unique in truth one can say.

Your Greatest Gift

You may be one who feels proud of your success

And many with your talents you may impress

And though by the day your fans growing in numbers nonetheless

Life is the ghreatest gift you do possess

And this is a gift with everyone in the World you do share

And there are billions of people Worldwide as all would be aware

And this does not make you unique in the Human World of today

So with your successes why get carried away

You may have your name on the material success list

But without your gift of life you could not exist

And since Earthly immortality for humans is based on a lie

You too are born as a mortal one day for to die

And though you are one whose praises many like to sing

To realize that life is your greatest gift ought be a humbling thing.

To Say The Least Tough

Her criticisms of my rhymes to say the least tough

She told me my rhyming efforts not near to good enough

That i ought to try harder though i do try my best

She is just one more with my rhymes that i have not impressed

Comments like her's does not bring joy to my day

But at least her sort helps to keep my ego at bay

And at least people like her help me to realize

That above the average at writing i never will rise

The truth can feel bitter in truth one can say

But despite this i will never give rhyming away

Those unkind in their criticisms of my rhymes may do well to note

That i never refer to myself as a poet

The truth can be ego deflating is how it seems to be

But worse things by some others have been said about me.

So Few Humble People

The praises of the wealthy and famous the masses do sing

But too much praise for the human mind is not a good thing

To narcissism it has been known to give rise

Praise swells the ego as most do realize

Many with their fame do get carried away

Their sort are not rare in the World of  today

It can be inflating to the ego fame

And for being egotistical the famous one hardly can blame

In the midst of admiration humility can hardly survive

Since it is a breeding source for narcissism to thrive

Humility is a stranger amongst wealth and renown

You will not meet many humble people on the wealthy side of the town

If you are one admired by many more than likely humble you will not stay

So few humble people among the wealthy and famous in the Human World of today.

In May Far Away

The hawthorns are cloaked in their white blossoms of May

And the wildborn birds they are singing  today

And the contented cattle chewing their cuds do lay

In the green fields on view of the hills far away

And on the bed of the rippling pool stream

In the sunshine the basking brown trout their spotted skins gleam

And the song of the migratory cuckoo so pleasant to hear

On what is a beautiful time of the year

Chasing flying insects for their young in their mud nest in shed rafters nearby

The dark barn swallows do chirp as they fly

Above the old fields resplendent in their Nature's flowers

That have come to bloom in the recent Spring showers

And young lambs in the high fields around their grazing mothers play

In the warmth of the sunshine in May far away.

You Should Live On In Hope

Though financially times on you are tough

Hang on to your life you will be dead long enough

Of your troubles when you talk about dying as your way out

Of your sanity one must begin for to doubt

People they are suiciding every day

Out of their troubles this is their way

But their families and friends are left reduced to tears

And the grief at their suicide does linger for years

Some say suicide can be quite a selfish thing

Since to those who do love them grief and guilt it does bring

Your worries and stress may be causing you inner strife

But you should leave it to life's reaper to claim your gift of  life

You should live on in hope of a far better day

Only earth worms live where the deceased does lay.

The Berkshire Pig

As black as the mud that she does wallow in

Yet she is one who is untainted by sin

For her owners home for to live in too big

She lives in the shed in the backyard the old berkshire pig

She was the pet of the daughter of the farmer and his wife

The reason she has been rewarded the privilege of living a long life

Their daughter she lives and works in the city today

A three hours journey by car on the busy freeway

For a sow to become pregnant of a male pig she is in need

And the farmer has dairy cows pigs he does not breed

He bought the pig from his neighbour for his daugter as a pet

One of the things in life he has lived to regret

The damage she does in their backyard hard for him to forgive

But his absent daughter loves her pet so with this he must live

And the daughter he loves he dare not upset

As she may not forgive him if she did sell her pet

At the damage she does in the backyard the farmer not overjoyed

She roots with her nose and the flower beds by her destroyed

She roots in the yard and wallows in the mud every day

But all free range pigs do behave in this way

As black as the mud that she does wallow in

But she is a creature who lives free of sin

She sleeps in the shed in the farmers backyard

On this berkshire pig life has never been hard.