His Loves Of The Past

 Few things in life ever does seem to last

He only has memories of his loves of the past

That is all that he has over time that survives

Of the young women he loved who became other mens wives

The woman he married with him did not stay

A grandad in his sixties he is single today

Any of the women he loved in the past he has not seen for years

They too are victims of time and have become ageing dears

Of physically better years of in life he has known

Twelve times a grandfather he lives on his own

His ex wife has remarried and single he remain

He may never more have a partner or remarry again

And nowadays only the memories in him does last

Of the young women he loved in the past.

Macroom In May

 Today in the fields by the Town of Macroom

The wildflowers of Nature are in their full bloom

And on the green bank where Sullane does flow

The dark brown water bird dipper of breast white as snow

His head ever bobbing as he sings his metallic sounding song

Once seen and once heard one you never again will get wrong

Macroom it is at it's green finest in May

With the swallows back home to breed from far away

The sun on their dark wings chirping as they fly

Chasing flying insects to and fro in the sky

On a leafy birch tree a pink breasted male chaffinch sing

It is said song with birds is mostly a territorial thing

Since at breeding time they have borders to defend

And even their own kind to them not a friend.

Born To Mortality

 A fact of our human existence and fact never lie

The longer you live the sooner you will die

With the one that nobody ever celebrate 

Known as the Grim Reaper we all have a date

The fittest and strongest in their physical prime

Eventually  destined to lose out to time

For everyone there is a last night and day

But for death who claims all lives never a hooray

Of a life for the soul after bodily death is not for me to say

Only know that only earth worms live where dead people lay

Whether we are cremated or buried to naturally decay

To the earth that does feed us we return to one day

We are born to mortality and this not a lie

And the longer we live the sooner we will die.

Cristin Ni Chonchubhair

 An honest well educated and intelligent person of her one can say

In Shannaknock she first looked on the light of day

In Cork City she breathed her last from her childhood home sixty kilometres away

Near the end of the Spring in the greeness of May

An honourable person compassionate and kind

Cristin Ni  Conchubhair was a woman of a brilliant mind

Among Irish speaking circles many friends she did gain

And a strong love of the Irish language to her end she did retain

As a child the pipe of the curlew in the bog she did hear

In the prime of the May in the Spring of the year

Before she went to live in the big World out there

And her journey in life did take her to elsewhere

She died in her sixties not that old in years

Her passing from life would not have gone without tears

To many she was a good and trusting friend

But our journey in life for us all has an end

Cristin Ni Conchubhair she now is at peace

Hope her parting from life for her was a painless release

To her higher self she was one who was true

She lived as a good person for to give her what is only her due.

To Me She Said

 To me she said that she has had it with all men

That she gets more loyalty and love out of her faithful border collie Ben

Than her two cruel former husbands to her ever did show

Of a faithful and loving man she is one who never did know

A grandmother in her fifties due to her former husbands who abused her all men she does blame

But the sins of some of the male kind ought not to be my shame

Still bad experiences cause people for to generalize

And to gender discrimination has been known to give rise

Walking her black and white border collie in the park she is one i sometimes meet

And on her opinions of the male kind she is not discreet

Her bad experiences with two men has left her believing that all men are bad

And for her and all like her one can only feel sad

For those who feel aggrieved by love the gift of receiving love in them deny

And they never do give love another try.

A Day In Late May

 For the dying days of the Fall of the far southern May

Weatherwise it is truly a beautiful day

In the full sun close to twenty degrees

With a certain warmth in the gentle breeze

That blow up the hill from the nearby bay

Who would believe in time Winter not far away

But such pleasant weather may not have a long stay

On the workings of Nature us humans does have little say

The morning on the side of chilly before the sun lit the sky

And the day has turned out to be nice, warm and dry

In the mostly blue sky just a few clouds of grey

Though the weather forecast has some rain on the way

But in the dying days of Autumn with Winter quite near

Such beautiful weather for the time of year.

On Tawny Frogmouths

 Tawny frogmouths in Australia are becoming rare

As ornithologists of these nocturnal birds are well aware

Spraying of weeds fed on by insects on which frogmouths prey

Are slowly poisoning these birds never seen out by day

They also fall victims of cats when taking prey on the ground

In large numbers frogmouths no longer abound

Some of them also die on the roadways at night

On chasing flying insects when dazzled by car or truck headlight

Mottled grey birds related to nightjars with large yellow eyes

They do take their prey by the element of surprise

In flat nest of sticks high on branch of tree

The female lay white eggs of one to three

Due to their camouflage as they roost on branch by day they are hard to see

By night their low humming calls will live on in your memory.

Where Mine Years Ago

 Where mine years ago was a well known face

Today i would be a stranger to many in Claraghatlea my first homeplace

Around two kilometres from the Town of Millstreet

In the green countryside where the waterways meet

Where i grew to love Nature when i was a boy

And learning of her ways today i enjoy

Here in Gundijtmara country far south of where i went to school

In the coastal Moyne Shire between Koroit and Warrnambool

It has been thirty four years and time does not stand still

Since i last climbed on the high fields up to Clara Hill

And on the scenic views in amazement gazed down

On the green countryside far west of Millstreet Town

On going back the Seasons this seems long ago

And since time that ages has become my foe.

It Is Not Saying Anything

 It is not saying anything on any way that is new

That the living near saints of humanity are even rarer than a few

In a Human World where many every day with each other for attention and success compete

This is what happens everywhere when people do meet

In the twenty first century arrogance and narcissism are thriving and living on

And humility belongs to decades long gone

With many the promotion of the self  does seem the in thing

Their own praises the self centered do love to sing

Though self praise is no praise as the wise does say

So many do not see it in this way 

To them any humble person is one of low self esteem

They are not well informed in human behaviour is how they do seem

In the Human World we live in today

Many into the promotion of the self in quite a big way.

By Old Finnow In May

 In fancy i can hear a silver back crow

Cawing on a beech tree near where Finnow waters flow

In a field near Millstreet Town on an evening in May

Just after sundown in the fading light of day

The pipe of the curlew so pleasant to hear

In May by the Finnow a nice time of year

And as the shades of night does darken the sky

The male snipe above the bogland does fly

And with his wings and tail makes a quick drumming sound

As above his breeding territory he flies around and around

Though time on our lives keeps on ticking away

Such beautiful memories a lifetime does stay

In the calm before dark the soft lowing of a cow

To her calf in a field by old River Finnow.

The World's Fringe Dwellers

 If some did not have to lose for others to win

The World for all would be better to live in

But humanity is not designed for to work in this way

There are winners and losers in the World every day

Those who talk of life choices for all the truth only deny

Since to a huge percentage of the Worldwide human population life choices does not apply

Those with life choices are never victims of bad circumstance

Children born into extreme poverty of any success in life does stand little chance

Millions of young people in the World of today a career choice cannot choose

Since they have been condemned by their circumstance of birth in life for to lose

They will never study for a university degree

And are destined for to live their lives in extreme poverty

Homeless and hungry many of them die young

The World's fringe dwellers unwashed and unsung.

What We See In Others

 The flaws or good we see in others in our own selves we do see

Since they are our reflective mirrors would you not agree

We do not associate with those in their ways to us who think differently

In the Human World those who do not belong to some tribe are in the minority

To those who think in similar ways to us we tend to gravitate

Similarity in interests a friendship can create

What you dislike in others is what you dislike in you

For the flaws that you see in them are flaws that you have too

The good or bad we see in others are in ourselves as well

What you like or dislike in yourself  in your inner eyes does dwell

What you dislike in others in your own self you see

Most experts on human behaviour on this seem to agree

What i like or dislike in others is what i like or dislike in me

Though many others in their thinking would see it differently.

Some People Will Tell You

 Some people will tell you that true poets are few

But others on this have a different view

Many do like to refer to themselves as a poet

And lay claim to the title of literary note

Though not everyone with them on this may agree

Each to their own opinions is how it seems to be

In the twenty first century self prmotion is the in thing

Their own praises many do love for to sing

Who is or is not a poet is not for me to say

I leave it to those who for doing so receive a good pay

The opinionated literary critics Worldwide

On who is or is not a poet to decide

Only know that the self proclaimed title of poet by many is used

Suppose overconfidence in one's own ability can be excused.

On Nature

 So little of her ways i can claim of to know

And the more i learn of her the more my wonder grow

Of the beauty she helps Mother Earth to create

Nature for her greatness everyone ought to celebrate

Every day in my walks her beauty i do see

Everywhere i turn to look it is all around me

Of Nature so much of her remains to be known

She surely is one who has ways of her own

Even those who on natural science have a university degree

That of Nature they have so much to learn would readily agree

In her angry moods her own beauty she even destroy

And when she is at peace she is a source for joy

Nature who helps Mother Earth to supply food for all

Humans and all life forms from the great to the small.

Black Shouldered Kites

 Small red eyed black shouldered grey raptors they hover as they fly

Like kites for many minutes hanging in the one spot in the sky

Black shouldered kites for them seems an apt name

As their cousins the nocturnal letter winged kites in appearance much the same

When hovering with dangling legs always scanning the ground

For small life forms such as mice that are moving around

On flat nest of sticks lined with grass or soft material high on the canopy of a tree

The female lay blotched eggs of four or three

They can be aggressive with young to defend

And they do not treat other birds and humans in their territory as a friend

They are birds one sees often though not every day

Like a kite with legs dangling scanning the ground for prey

Quite distinctive from other raptors with ways of their own

To most country people they are quite well known.

It Has Been Many Years

 It has been many years since i last walked up and down

The streets of Millstreet in Duhallow my first Hometown

Where to many i would be a stranger today

Since from there i have been many Seasons away

From the Town in view of  Clara the ancient hill

That time does not age or never will

Old memories live in me as a source of joy

Of Claraghatlea where i lived as a boy

And of the people i know there some of them sad to say

Of where the deceased are forever do lay

Perhaps i may not live out my life span

Where i grew from a boy into a man

But fond memories live with me of the Town of Millstreet

In the green countryside where the waterways meet.

That It Speaks Every Language

 No matter your skin colour white, black or brown

You will never be a heroine or hero of the town

If you are short of money and financially down

You do live as a stranger to even local renown

Though you are a good living person in every way

And work very hard for your below award wages pay

You are not the type of  person that the vast majority admire

Or to be like you feel any desire

Entertainers, celebrities and very wealthy people in the news every day

It is a Human World for winners and has always been this way

How good a living person you are to little seems to amount

By the majority of people this not taken into account

Money in social standing a huge part does play

That it speaks every language in truth one can say.

Since She Or He

 Since she or he does have the bright inner glow

The happy person everyone wishes to know 

Wherever they are at joy is to be found

As they carry it with them and share it around

The sad sour faced people when walking the street

Are strangers to everyone that they do meet

Even those who know of them of their moods aware

No happiness in them with others to share

Of the happy people in truth one can say

That they win for themselves new friends every day

They carry joy with them in a smiling face

Their neighbourhood with them in it a happier place

As is said of a smile it does not cost one a thing

And a flutter of happiness with it does bring.

Those Without A Dream

 Though few ever live to see their dreams come true

Most people do have their  own dreams to pursue

You may never be among the financially rich of the town

But you too have your dreams of wealth and renown

When you are financially down and feeling not good enough

Your dreams bring you hope when life on you is tough

Your dreams bring you comfort in your times of need

And to hope in the mind it can be the seed

Most people have their moments of self doubt it does seem

And lack of material success can give rise to low self esteem

But in those with a dream hope is not dead

As they believe better days of them may be ahead

Those without a dream in tough times struggle to cope

And of a better future do not live in hope.

Only True To Say

For you it has been just another bad day 

But that hope springs eternal only true to say

No hope for times better if hope in you is dead

Of the positive one better times may be ahead

Self pity is such a self defeatist thing

And any joy to the mind with it never does bring

If you believe you were born to lose then you never can win

The will to do better does come from within

No use in public on giving your feelings air

By telling others life on you is not fair

Since they do have troubles in life of their own

And of many tough days they themselves too have known

Self pity for anyone is not a good thing

And any joy to one it never does bring.

On Powerful Owls

 Brown bars on grey breast and back and wings of dark brown

To be Australia's largest owls their claim to renown

Their loud hoo hoo calls echoing in the night

Cause nearby sleeping  birds to wake and take to flight

Birds that hide on the high trees from the lamp of day

On ringtail and brush tail possums they regularly prey

Rare members of Australia's hawk owl family

The female lay one to two white eggs high in hollow of old tree

In some woods of south east Australia mostly in pairs they reside

On wintery nights their loud calls in the breeze does carry far and wide

That their numbers are on the decline there can be little doubt

To bushfires and destruction of their natural habitat powerful owls are losing out

Australia's largest owls have become quite rare

A fact that environmentalists have become aware.

On The Passing of D J McCarthy

 D J McCarthy as a young man was handsome fair haired and tall

And all who knew and knew of him good memories will recall

Of a kind hearted fellow who never harmed anyone

His late parents Elizabeth and Denis in him raised a good son

Survived by Breda his devoted wife

And his sisters Maureen and Theresa and nephews and nieces in his three sore and ten years of life

D J was one who made many a friend

And sad to learn his life journey for him has come to an end

In Pound Hill in Millstreet Town he first saw light of day

But he spent most of his life in Killarney where as a chef he earned his living pay

His passing from life would not have gone without tears

But good memories of him will outlive him by decades of years

He lived as a good person in truth one can say

And death is a thing we must all face one day.

Positive People

 Though in their thinking not always right

Positive people in darkness see light

Than negative people in tough situations they are better to cope

And though down in their luck they are never down in hope

Though some of them born into life for to battle the odds

They never say they are of the lesser gods

From others they never do seek sympathy

You never hear them utter words like poor me

They retain a positive attitude though financially down

And though they may never become the celebrities of the town

To negative feelings they never give in

They never give up on their will for to win

The negative person in tough times see all hope as gone

But the positive person always keeps hoping on.

On Mother Earth

 It is more environmentally conscious people the Earth of is in need

And far less of those of financial greed

Who seem to be on the increase every day

Who take and take from the one who does feed us and respect to her never pay

What we do to Mother Earth is to all of our shame

Future generations of people for this will have us to blame

From Mother Earth we owe for our existence and depend on for to live

We take and we take and in return nothing give

Due to our greed for her resources we dig huge holes in the ground

Where her precious things we exchange for money are to be found

What we do to our Earth Mother to our own selves we do

This is how i do see it whatever about you

Mother Earth the one on our existence we do depend

Is the one who is in need of every human friend.

The One Who Can Smile

 The one who can smile though mentally down

And greet everyone when walking in the town

Of her or his sort humanity of more in need

Since of a happier World they help plant the seed

Of any sadness in them they do not show a trace

Since they always do have a big smile on their face

When talking to them you do not hear them say

That things for them of late are not going their way

Since they do not use self pity as a friend

Any dark mood in them quickly comes to an end

Self pity with them cannot have a win

In their saddest  times their happy gene lives within

For their character one them can only admire

And of singing their praises it does seem hard to tire.

His Only True Mate

 He used to be one the local football fans did celebrate

But he is not even close to popular of late

Since in the grand final he left the club down

No longer among the admired of the town

In the grand final he had a poor game

And for the club's loss he has taken some blame

The hero up to recently is not so today

One might say for him he may have heard his last hooray

No longer remembered for the many great games he did play

Since he left the side down on football's big day

But one friend to him remains ever true

And pays him the love and respect that is his due

Every evening after work he welcomes him home at the gate

His dog after all is his only true mate.

A Tough World For Many To Live In

 A tough World for many to live in after all it does seem

Where lack of money guarantees you low public esteem

Where the greedy and self centered are lauded and prized

And people for their kindness and compassion are not recognized

So many for attention with each other compete

In an age when the humble seem harder to meet

So many are obsessed with money and fame

If you are poor few do wish for to know of you by name

A sad World to live in for many when material wealth says more about you

Than how good living a person that you are can do

In a Human World where many of us lack in empathy

There should be far more to life than living for the me

But sadly the kindest and most compassionate people of every town

Live their lives as even strangers to local renown.

Australian Magpies

 In the grey dawning them warbling one hear

The birds who do sing every day of the year

Winter and Summer and Autumn and Spring

Australia's black and white feathered minstrels are born to sing

Birds of city and town parks and of the countryside

Australian magpies live Australia wide

of them many stories are written and told

They are aggressive, territorial and bold

Fear is a thing that they do not seem to lack

At nesting time humans they even attack

They do not even treat their own kind as a friend

When they have young in their nest to defend

Known to most as magpies but in fact piping shrike

Musical birds without a lookalike.

The Willy Wagtail

 The willy wagtail or black and white fantail

Once seen and heard to recognize you will never again fail

Of human kind they never do seem shy

Out of sight they never quickly fly

To flush out flies some bird experts say so

Their tails are ever switching to and fro

With some white on the eyebrows and white unders but mostly black

Small fly catching birds of courage not in lack

Against the odds great courage they do show

I have seen them mob bigger magpie and crow

Quite brave birds for their size of them one can say

In defense of their territory great courage they display

In cup shaped nest in fork of branch of tree

The female lay brown dotted pale eggs of two or sometimes three

To be quiet and shy in life is not their thing

They often sing at night during the Spring

To sing they do not have a marvellous song

But from once seen and heard one can never again get them wrong

The willy wagtails with ways of their own

Of fly catching birds Australia's best known.

On Hearing A Southern Boobook Owl

 In the nearby wood in the still of the night

A boobook owl is calling in the moonlight

A bird never seen out in the light of day

Mopoke mopoke is all it has to say

One of the grey mottled brown hawk owls of the Australian countryside

Their loud distinct calls on a calm night can be heard far and wide

By their mopoke call once heard you will recognize them again

A familiar voice of the night that with you will remain

Hidden from view in the hollow of an old tree

The female lay white eggs of two or three

On smaller birds and other small life forms they are known to prey

Hidden from view on a leafy tree they rest by day

Birds of the night with ways of their own

To most rural people they are well known.

The Club's Greatest Footballer

 Time that ages all life has become his foe

He is not the man he was decades ago

Many Seasons have passed since his hair was dark brown

When he was the club's greatest footballer and best in the town

He was best on the ground the day the club won the premiership flag

Yet for his achievements he is one who is not known to brag

He does not have any children and as for his ex wife

She does have a younger man in her life

A motor car accident has left him in a wheelchair

But he is not one to say life is unfair

Balding and grey haired in his early sixties in a one bedroom ground flat he lives on his own

And of far better days in life of he has known

Not a shadow of the man that he used to be

Yet quite a friendly sort and of cares seeminly free.

On Australia's Disappearing Barn Owls

The controlling of rodent populations due to baiting does come at a huge price

Australia's barn owls are becoming endangered due to their killing and eating of dying poisoned rats and mice

That for the control of rodents barn owls with their lives do pay

To even think of does make one feel sad true to say

In areas of cropping and grain growing rodent numbers out of control

And poisoning of it's natural prey on barn owls taking it's toll

The barn owl who kills a dying poisoned rat or mouse does seal it's own fate

To save the barn owls of Australia from extinction it may well be too late

Mice and rats to the barn owl are it's natural prey

But sadly the white owls of the night seldom seen out by day

Their numbers are dwindling and they are becoming quite rare

As fans of the barn owls are now all too aware

Of late country people at night the hoarse cry of the barn owl seldom hear

That they are on the decrease is obviously clear.

As One Of The Town's Working Poor

 The hard work you do it is not matched by pay

At work for you it has been another quite stressful day

You would quit your job but job vacancies are few

And that being unemployed is worse than working for low wages is not saying anything that is new

With a wife and two young daughters to support financially you are doing it tough

And your weekly take home pay only barely enough

To pay off your bills in life for you no cheer

After work you cannot afford to call to the pub for a stress breaking beer

Last week when you asked your boss for a pay rise

His answer to your request did not come to you as a surprise

He said i have people applying for a job start every day

And if you are not happy with your wages here you do not have to stay

You must keep working hard for low wages to support your children and wife

As one of the town's working poor for you no joy in life.

Rhymers Like All People

 Rhymers like all people run out of time

But it is true that rhymers only run out of rhyme

When death is upon them on their life's final day

Until then with rhyming words they just love for to play

Twenty first century literary critics dismiss every rhymer as a non poet

As scribblers quite unworthy of any literary note

Of the praises of blank verse poets they only sing

In twenty first century poetry rhyme is not an in thing

It does seem that time has become the foe

Of what used to be popular in the long ago

Rhymers are out of favour with the literary critics of today

That time with it brings changes only true to say

Though nowadays no shortage of rhymers in any village or city or town

They have become strangers to literary renown.

A Harboured Grudge

 A harboured grudge often does lead one to crime

And has been known to one serving a long term of prison time

For physical assault or far worse murder for settling an old score

When their grudge in the mind became a festering sore

Life cannot be pleasant for those with a grudge with  for to live

Bitterness does consume one who cannot forgive

Many who do harbour grudges does spend time in jail

Of the power that come from forgiveness they are unable of to avail

Those who harbour grudges by darkness of mind possessed

And eventually they become revenge obsessed

No room for love in the mind where a grudge does live

It is not a recipe for future happiness in those who cannot forgive

To harbour a grudge for anyone is not a good thing

Since thoughts of revenge to the mind it only does bring.

Without Even One Thought Of

 The longest lived human life in real time not that long a span

On average supposed to be a few more years for a woman than it is for a man

Life on you is tough and you are financially down

Out of work and out of luck on the poor side of the town

With a wife and three children to support two young girls and a boy

In life for you at present there is not any joy

At times you do feel in a suicidal mood

Due to the fact that on your low income for your family you struggle to buy food

And though only in your mid thirties you feel your best days are gone 

The love you have for your family keeps you keeping on

And though out of work and looking for a job start you feel better days are ahead

Hope for times better in you are not dead

You daydream of a job start and being able to support your family

And of eventually climbing out of poverty

Having a home of your own and growing old with your wife

Without even one thought of suicide and loving your life.

On The Passing Of John Corkery

 Such sad news out of Millstreet in the prime of the May

John Corkery of Clarabeg from life has passed away

One for his generosity and kindness who was well loved and well known

In him Millstreet it has lost one of it's own

His passing so sad for his many friends and family

In his sixties death did come to him suddenly

Millstreet for his passing is a much poorer place

But death is a thing that we all have to face

The great gift of life from his body may have gone

But in all who did know him good memories of him will live on

In St Mary's in Millstreet his last remains lay

Around four kilometres from where he first saw light of day

In Clarabeg he grew to a man from a boy

And in life like most he had his moments of sadness and joy

One who did make for himself many a friend

But sadly his life's journey for him has come to an end

Among some of the deceased of Millstreet he now is at peace

Hope his passing from life for him was a painless release

His heart that beat with kindness is forever still

Not far from his birthplace by Clarabeg Hill.

In Nature No Shortage Of Things

 Though your worth as a writer you feel reason to doubt

In Nature no shortage of things for to write about

The flora and fauna you see every day

That we learn as we live only true for to say

Of Nature every day something new of to write

A story a song or a poem to read or recite

And the more you learn of her the more you come to realize

That of her you know little this not a surprise

For to see Nature's beauty you need not travel to elsewhere

In the park near where you live you will see it there

To all people something that is monetary free

The beauty that Nature creates one does not pay to see

Every day in Nature to write of for you something new

And on saying this you are not one of a few.

Death

 The one who treats everyone as the same

But to many even cause fear at the mention of it's name

The life of anyone it does not spare

And treats as equal the pauper and the billionaire

Every day it claims the lives of people Worldwide

And from it for anyone no place for to hide

It does not differentiate between the young and the old

And it is part of Nature as we are told

Grief and sorrow every day to people it does bring

And it's praises you never hear anyone sing

The existence of everyone it brings to an end

And it never does treat anyone as a friend

From everyone eventually it claims the living breath

The one who is known to everybody as death.

Would You Not Agree

 Greatness is relative would you not agree

The one great to you may not be so to me

The most celebrated of flaws to say the least not free

Quite narcissistic in ways and lacking in empathy

The admiring masses big egos create

But one wealthy and famous as a person may not be great

Most of the best and compassionate people in every town

Are even known to be strangers to local renown

To be kind in their ways in life is their thing

Yet their praises you will not hear many sing

The love they have in them with others they share

But sadly their sort in the World are rare

In different eyes difference we do see

And we all look at life in our ways differently.

Those With Love Of Self In Them

 Those with love of self in them have love for to share

And of the needs of others are always aware

Unkind things of anyone they never do say

And they perform a good deed or two every day

Though never the heroines or the heroes on their side of the town

In word or deed they never drag anyone down

Though some joy in their kindness to others they bring

Their own praises you will never hear them sing

Their love of self leads to acts of kindness and generosity

Yet on any memorial wall their names you will not see

Every day for their future good Karma they plant the good seed

By helping people of their help in need

It does seem a pity their sort does seem rare

Since the love they have in them with others they share.

Mountleader In May

 The hawthorns are cloaked in their blossoms of white to grey

In Mountleader in Millstreet in the greeness of May

On a pleasant sunny morning of close to twenty degrees

The songbirds are singing on the bushes and trees

The old fields resplendent in their Nature's flowers

That have come to bloom in the recent Spring showers

With the sun on their dark wings chirping as they fly

The swallows are chasing flying insects in the sky

Nature at her finest to view joy with it does bring

Mountleader is such a beautiful place in the Spring

Young frolicsome lambs around their mothers play 

For to describe such beauty no words for to say

Earthly Utopia cannot be far away

From this place of great beauty Mountleader in May.

If The Dead Could Only Speak

 If the dead could only speak many of them would say

We have had it with life dead we would rather stay

No more having to live with financial stress

Or being judged by the judgmental for our lack of material success

Being judged by your lack of a good home or a car

By those who never see you for the person you are

No longer wishing for a big home on a leafy street

Or with others for success having to compete

You realize your fear of death was an unfounded fear

That it has freed you of all living cares now obviously clear

The dead are not judged by their postal address

And anyone they do not have to impress

If the dead could only speak many of them would say

We would not wish to be born to life today

Of cares and worries death has set us free

And in where we are now there is equality.

Pied Currawong

 Crow sized black birds with thick pointy bill a little white on rump, wing tips and tail

And yellow eyes once seen and heard to recognize again one does not fail

They sing in large flocks their familiar karrawang song

The birds known to many as the pied currawong

High on tree in flat nest of sticks lined with soft material the female bird lay

Two to three brown dotted eggs from sight fairly well hidden away

They eat wild fruits including mistletoe berries and on the young of small birds prey

Due to their predatory habits not the most popular of them one can say

Out of their breeding Season in large flocks they congregate

And from the high woods to the lowlands migrate

Of humankind wary though not all that shy

That they are Nature's survivors none of them can deny

They are at their most vocal before and during rain

And once seen and once heard you will recognize them again.

Most Of Those

 Most of those who try to make the World better to live in

Any prizes or honours never do win

They just love helping people who of help are in need

And for their future good Karma keep sowing the good seed

To be wealthy and famous they feel no desire

The good people that so few ever do admire

Yet they never forsake the financially down

And they do so much good work on their side of the town

In any town of their sort not many at all

And their names never on a memorial wall

They just love helping people who are doing it tough

This for them in life is success enough

The love that is in them with others they share

And sadly their sort are becoming quite rare.

Those Who Have In Them

 Those who have in them the narcissistic streak

Look on the kind and the humble as mentally weak

Apart from their own needs the self obsessed

With the egotistical wealthy and famous feel only impressed

On talk back radio one them often does hear

That they highly value their own opinions is obviously clear

To on air live discussion programs they ring in every day

On most things they do like for to have their say

When referring to the self the word i by them is regularly used

One can say to the point of being abused

Their own praises they surely do love to sing

To live for the self only in life is their thing

The kind and the humble dismissed as of low self esteem

They are on the endangered list it does seem.

The Now Is What Matter

 The past is the past and the future ahead

And the now is what matter as the wise one has said

At the stroke of midnight today will have gone

And the clocks on our lives ever keep ticking on

The Seasons pass quickly beyond our lives prime

And eventually we all become victims of time

And only the memories we do retain

Of the what used to be but will not be again

But what you do for others says more about you

Than the good things for yourself that you choose to do

Three score and ten years the average human lifetime span

A few years more for a woman than it is for a man

What goes around comes around Karma works on this way

And that kindness begets kindness does seem true to say.

Far Superior To Me

 One of kindness, compassion and empathy

And the goodness in others she only does see

Of any trace of narcissism she is totally free

As a person she is far superior to me

Of any moodyness in her not the slightest trace

She always does have a big smile on her face

Even to strangers she meet she smiles and says good day

Just a privilege to know of her in truth one can say

A widowed grandmother nurse in her in her late fifties five years ago her husband in a work accident died

He was one who did not have luck on his side

For thirty years happily married as man and wife

Her grief it was deep for the loss of the love of her life

She never ignores anyone of helping in need

And every day she is one who performs some good deed.

Paul Kelleher

 In all who knew him good memories of him will remain

And sadly he will not walk the fields of Kilmeedy again

Or on a Spring evening just after sundown

Hear the birds singing in the leafy groves near Millstreet Town

Paul Kelleher a man who had many a friend

His journey in life for him has come to an end

He drew his life's final breath in the prime of the May

And in St Mary's in Millstreet his last remains lay

Though the passing of a good person leave family and friends with grief

Death of suffering of any sort is a forever relief

Every human and life form from the great to the small

Share one thing in common a last day for all

And though the last breath of life from Paul Kelleher has gone

In his family and many friends good memories of him will live on.

On The Passing Of Breeda Kelleher

 To her children a good mother and to her late husband Den Joe a good wife

In Millstreet Breeda Kelleher nee Vaughan spent many years of her life 

An octogenarian one kind in her own way

And Millstreet the poorer for her passing today

One who over the years did make many a friend

Sadly her life's journey for her has come to an end

But only her gift of life from her has gone

In the memories of all who knew her she will live on

She lived a successful life of her one can say

In the old cemetery at Drishane her last remains lay

A sad sound the slow tolling of  the funeral bell

For all of us from life a final farewell

In her long life by her many friends were won

And she will be remembered for the good things she done.

A Familiar Sound

 A familiar sound of the southern night

The bookbook call of  a boobook owl in the southern night

In the nearby woodland out hunting for prey

A creature who hides from the bright lamp of day

A well known member of the southern hawk owl family

The female lay white eggs of two or three

High in the hollow of an old tree 

Out hunting by day one i have yet to see

Mottled brown owls with yellow eyes

Their loud mopoke cries to legendary stories give rise

That they are the ghosts of Australia's first people crying in the night

In the nearby woodland hidden from sight

Bookbook cries the bird hidden from the lamp of day

In the nearby woodland out hunting for prey.

It Is Not

 It is not for money or any sort of literary renown

That the rhymes that come to me in notebook i write down 

And post them online to a literary site

It is only for the enjoyment of doing it that rhymes i do write

The dunce of my classroom in the far away town

As a young man i daydreamed of literary renown

But wealth and fame in life was not to be my due

And daydreams as is said for few do come true

Though my worth as a rhymer i feel reason to doubt

No shortage of subject material for to write rhymes about

With rhyming words i am one who does just love to play

One reason that i do write rhymes every day

As a young man i hoped i would become a poet

But now i realize i am not one of literary note

I used to love reading rhymes as a young boy

And writing them nowadays is a thing i enjoy.

Old Cross Dresser Dan

 What does it take to look like a real man

If you ask the octogenarian old bald headed Dan

He will tell you the admirers of the muscular young males of  twenty twenty two or twenty  three

Far more than those who admire the likes of me

Those and they are many who view manhood in this way

That dismiss me as an old has been with balding head of silver gray

Unlike them behind a false ego i am not one to hide

I do not allow my true feelings to stifle my pride

Twenty times a great grand-dad twenty five years ago divorced by Linda his wife

Since his cross dressing habits only brought embarrassment to her life

Whenever he feels like it in public he wears a woman' s dress

Nowadays with her real man lover she feels some happiness

Dan is not seeking attention or others wish to impress

It  is just when the mood takes him in public he wears a female dress

His wrinkly thin legs aged and male like but lady like in another way

He is his own man of him one can say

Among the town whisperers the word is he is gay

But there is no proof of this on any sort of a way

He does not have a male or a female lover he lives on his own

And sexually of a heterosexual lifestyle he only has known

That the idea of manhood is relevant to every individual one can only agree

He is not young and handsome he looks his age of eighty three

But of any male inhibitions he is totally free

And he certainly is not one of the ordinary.

Musk Lorikeet

 Light blue on head and neck and and red band across the face

They follow the flowering gums from place to place

Black and red on hooked bill, dark green unders with some yellow as well

Apart from other lorikeets not that hard to tell

Long green tail with pinkish feet and dark yellow eyes

Not often seen but more plentiful than many seem to realize

Whilst taking nectar from eucalypt blossoms they do not seem shy

And do not take any notice of humans watching nearby

Quite vocal when feeding they chirp ceaselessly

Nomadic in their ways without a territory

Two white eggs high in cavity of old tree the female bird lay

Musk lorikeet are interesting birds one of them  can say

Among the fastest fliers of the parrot family

Though not rare they are birds one does not often see.

Of Nature

 Of Nature so much of to learn of and know

And her fans they are many and in numbers do grow

She is one who never does cease to surprise

And the more you learn of her the more you come to realize

That her wonders are many and her secrets not few

And this is not saying anything that is new

So much beauty in Nature for one to admire

And of singing her praises her fans never tire

The power to grow food to Mother Earth she supply

That she is quite amazing none cannot deny

Human greed for humanity not a sense of joy

Those who for financial gain abuse Mother Earth Nature's beauty destroy

In time we may not be that distant from the first silent Spring

And even this to think of is such a sad thing

The beauty Nature creates to view it is free

She is quite amazing would you not agree.

Not Quite Good Enough

 In this  competitive Human World to live in for many it can be tough

And it can be mentally hurtful to realize you are not good enough

To impress your boss to give you a raise in pay

This is not helpful to your sense of self esteem one might say

On your request for a pay rise your boss does tell you

There are plenty for to do the job that you do

But you cannot afford to quit since jobs are so few

And that many people are looking for a job start is not saying what is new

With the feeling of not being quite good enough you struggle to cope

And for a financially better off future you do live in hope

This feeling of not being quite good enough to live with not a nice thing

And any joy with it to you does not bring

But there are many others like you in the town

Who at their lack of financial success feel mentally down.

On The Passing Of John Murphy

 Always sad to learn of  the death of a good person of the past

Of life John Murphy of Rathduane House has breathed his last

He lived as an honourable fellow good and kind in every way

But death takes no prisoners in truth one can say

A giant of a man broad shouldered and tall

In his young years he was a champion weight thrower and played Gaelic Football

At weight throwing one of Ireland's best in his physical prime

Though this is going back many Seasons in time

Predeceased by his sister Freda and survived by his sister Margaret and his brother Tim

Both of them just a few years younger than him

John was an unassuming man in some ways rather shy

And the tag of gentle giant to him did apply

Perhaps in his mid seventies when he died not that old in years

His passing from life would not have gone without tears

In his lifetime many friends by him won

His late parents Paddy and Julia Mary in him raised a good son

For his passing Ballydaly and Rathduane much the poorer today

In view of Cashman's Hill in St Mary's in Millstreet his last remains lay

One can only hope that his parting from life was not a painful release

John Murphy of Rathduane House may he now rest in peace.

You Lie When You Say

 You lie when you say you are successful to others the truth you do hide

You know that the truth would lower their oipinions of you the reason to them that you lied

You could not bring yourself to tell them that you are a financial failure since them you wished for to impress

You curried favour with the impressionable by telling them of your recent financial success

People who would not admire people for their kindness and compassion but only of how wealthy you are

Their heroines and heroes are not those who help others and drive a second hand car

You crave the admiration of the impressionable so the truth to them you dare not tell

In this you are not unusual when you told them you are doing financially well

Though not among the town's financially successful your own financial praises to others you sing

The truth would not be good for your big ego and for you this would not be a good thing

The people you readily lie to are not very hard to deceive

They only admire the financially successful so you feel happy your lies they believe

You crave the admiration of the financially impressionable so the truth from them you do hide

The things some people do to gain admirers and to satisfy their sense of pride.

Happy With Their Lot

 One can only admire the people in life who are happy with their lot

Who never envy other people for how much possessions and money they have got

Who for worldly success with others never wish to compete

Though sadly their sort getting harder to meet

They feel no desire to be admired and widely known

One can say of them they have lives of their own

Of the admiration of others they are not in need

As well as being different they are a rare breed indeed

Of the self they never do talk much about

That their egos are not huge there can be little doubt

With what they have got they are quite satisfied

So blessed to have humility on their side

Of envy and jealousy they do seem free

They are a rare breed would you not agree.

It Is Not Saying Anything

 It is not saying anything in any way that is new

That in the twenty first century the unassuming are of the few

The promotion of the self is now the in thing

Their own praises many does happily sing

The humble of mind getting harder to meet

For this thing known as success people Worldwide compete

The wealthy and famous the millions admire

And just to be like them in life their desire

Sport celebrities, entertainers, celebrated people and every money billionaire

Of gobsmacked admirers attract their own share

But that greatness can be relative only true to say

And not everyone see others in the same way

Though those seen as successful the impressionable masses celebrate

Between being famous and living as a good person the difference is great.

Bilbies

 Bilbies nicknamed the rabbit eared bandicoot are Australian marsupials that have become rare

Which is the case for many species of wildlife as many of would be aware

Named from an indigenous tribe of northern New South Wales known as the Yuwaalaaray

Not many bilbies left in the Australia of today

Like bandicoots they have long pointed snouts and they dig with their strong claws for insects and slugs on the ground

Years ago in large numbers they used to abound

But due to the destruction of their natural habitat and the introduction of the fox and the cat

Bilbies have become rare and it seems sad to say that

Their numbers in the wild state are nowadays of the few

Like the dwindling numbers of some other wild species and this is not saying what is new

With long ears quite beautiful animals with ways of their own

For their burrowing abilities they are widely known

To try to save them from extinction captive breeding programs are in place

And sad to think that bilbies are a dying race.

The Financially Down

 The people who never seem to have a win

For them it is not a nice World to live in

Born into life in the poor side of the town

Out of work out of hope and financially down

Their parents from drug trafficing serving time in jail

In life it does seem they are destined to fail

Their predicament in life of it's making is not of their own

Homeless and hungry as teenagers and to the law known

Their lack of postal address job opportunities of them deny

Life choices to their sort does never apply

No success in life for those born into an Earthly Hell

Like their parents they will spend time in a prison cell

Many of them it does seem are destined to die young

And sadly their praises will never be sung.

The Past Gone Forever

 The past gone forever the now is today

And the now is all that does matter as the wise one does say

The years go so quickly past our physical prime

And eventually we all become victims of time

That the future is unknowable in truth can be said

Can anyone say of what of them lay ahead

Three score and ten years the average human life span

A few years more for a woman than it is for a man

Can anyone say of what of them lay ahead

The wealthy and poor eventually end up dead

The celebrity and billionaire may know of great fame

But as the pauper they end up as the same

The reaper of lives to egalatarianism remains ever true

And though one we do fear our respect surely due.

Some Do Tend To Wonder

 Some do tend to wonder what living life is all about

And of a life for the soul beyond death they do live in doubt

Every atheist believe that the soul with the body die

And that life after bodily death is based on a lie

Apart of not having a god for to kneel to for to pray

Most atheists are good living people in every way

Though many religious people any goodness in them cannot see

At least of any religious hypocrisy every atheist is free

But is is not hard to believe in a god of the mind

Who lives in everyone who is loving and kind

The people who perform good deeds every day

And from those in need of help never turn away

But the good you do for others as a person says more about you

Than the good things for yourself that you choose to do.

The Claramore Rill

With babbling silvery tongue that is never still

It flows from the high fields by old Clara's Hill

To join the Cails River it flows with a will

The waterway known as the Claramore Rill

In Claraghatlea fields it does babble along

It was old when the first bird from Nature received the gift of song

Of the true age of the waterways not one who does know

Through the centuries of time to the oceans they flow

In the Claramore Rill in the prime of Spring 

The water bird dipper has his song to sing

Of snowy white breast and mostly dark brown

As he sings on the bank his head bobs up and down

It flows night and day with ever babbling tongue

I first grew to love it when i was very young

Through Claraghatlea to the Cails from high Claramore

At the start of it's journey to the Atlantic Shore.

Only In Dreams Now

 Since i last walked on the street of far off Millstreet Town

Many highways and byways i have been up and down 

Going back the Seasons this now seems long ago

And time that ages everyone has become my foe

I would feel a stranger in Millstreet today

Who is this old fellow many young locals would say

To their parents and grandparents i used to be known

Back when they did see me as one of their own

It is only saying something that most of are aware

That eventually time of everyone does take care

The young of the nineteen fifties showing their years in grey

And where the deceased are some of them do lay

I may never again see an Irish sunrise

Though the Boggeragh Mountains i can visualize

And in Spring in the leafy groves near Millstreet Town

Hear the birds singing just after sundown

Only the memories today i retain

Of faces and places i may not see again

Like all others time for me did not stand still

And only in dreams now i climb Clara's Hill.

Ballydaly In May

 A beautiful place Ballydaly in May

The songbirds are singing in the dawning grey

On young grass far more nutritious than silage or hay

The contented cattle they are gaining weight by the day

Brought into bloom by recent Spring showers

The green fields of Ballydaly resplendent in their Nature flowers

With the sun on their dark wings chirping as they fly

The barn swallows are chasing flying insects in the sky

May in Ballydaly is a nice time of year

The voice of the cuckoo so pleasant to hear

The hawthorns cloaked in white blossoms an amazing sight

The beauty in Nature a source for delight

Such beauty to inspire the writers of song, story and rhyme

In May by the Boggeraghs with Spring in her prime

The male chaffinches singing on leaf laden trees

The sound of their music carrying in the breeze

In Ballydaly in May many shades of green

Such natural beauty for to be seen

The warmer days of Summer with each passing day near

And the songs of the nesting birds so pleasant to hear.

An Election This Year

 Good news from the federal government of late we do hear

Perhaps they are planning an election this year?

They have opened the purse strings and are on a big money splash

They realize that for to cling to power they cannot skimp on cash

In politics money is a vote getter why otherwise pretend

As in all other things it can buy you a friend

And in politics winning power is what it is all about

Of this any politician never leaves one in doubt

There well may be an election before the year end

The government of the day they are on a big spend

The oddsmakers claim an election is near

Big spending of late by the government makes this obviously clear

To government they are trying to buy their way back in

And to govern the Country is a huge prize to win.

Baited Dead Rats And Mice

 To the sense of scent not very nice

The strong odour of decaying dead  baited rats and mice

It is such a horrible smell

And even can leave the non squeamish feeling unwell

Though compared to the smell of decaying fish not as hard on the nose

All things become relative one does have to suppose

The wind always seems to spread about

The odours that we would feel better without

In the rubbish tip of the town where hidden among the rubbish the dead baited rats and mice decay

The strong stench seems to get stronger by the day

For to have to put up with the stench of the smell one can truly say

The people who work there do earn their pay

A rather foul odour to the nostrils not nice

The decaying bodies of baited dead rats and mice.

Love Is Not Ageist

 Beauty is in the eyes of those who behold

And to fall in love one is never too old

They have fallen madly in love Davy and Lee

He is seventy seven and she is seventy three

Both divorced grandparents in each other true love they have found

For them it has happened second time around

Lately they have become husband and wife

This time with them it will be love for life

Many years beyond their physical prime

Love it can come to one at anytime

That love is not ageist not hard to believe

Those who tell you differently not hard to deceive

In the park or on the street they walk hand in hand

That love is not ageist is not hard to understand.

Black Faced Cuckoo Shrike

 With black face and breast and mostly grey the black faced cuckoo shrike

Among similar species they do not have a look alike

Of wooded places and treed countryside

Nomadic birds they travel Australia wide

It is a pleasant churring like song they have to sing

Some people refer to them as shufflewing

Since on alighting on branch of tree

They do shuffle their wings momentarily

Arboreal birds which is common of their kind

They live on fruit and insects on the trees they do find

On flat nest of twigs lined with grass from the ground easily seen

The female lay two to three pink spotted eggs of green

By their distinctive appearance and familiar churring song

Once seen and once heard you will never again get them wrong.

Life Is A Great Teacher

 Life is a great teacher in truth one can say

And we learn as we live something new every day

In a long lived life good luck and good health some part does play

And for our every mistake always some price to pay

It is a truism of life that your true friends are few

And this is not saying any thing that is new

It only does happen for to be so

That the one with many friends is not without a foe

Those who live an honourable life pay to others their due

And to their higher selves they try to live as true

The good things you do for others says more about you

Than the good things for yourself that you choose to do

Live and let live as a truism remain

The meaning in this it's own self does explain.

Your Love Of Place

 A feeling that transcends love of nation and race

This is known to many as love of  place

A love that lives in every migrant woman and man

Of where the journey in life for them began

No matter your skin pigment black, white or brown

It lives in your memory the far away town

Where you grew to an adult as a girl or a boy

Fond memories of your homeplace ring your bells of joy

Memories of your young friends and the children games with them you did play

For as long as you live in you will stay

Though time has left you balding and your hair is grey

And you may be a stranger among them today

Your love of place in you does remain

In your moments of nostalgia for to visit again.

On Nature

 That her wonders are in the many she does leave none in doubt

There is so much in Nature for any writer to write about

And though in their writing of her they have many stories to tell

The writers who claim to know of her do not know her that well

And though the praises of Nature those who love her may sing

There is not one person living who of her knows every thing

That she is quite amazing is not saying what is new

Her wonders are in the many and her secrets are not in the few

The colours of her Seasons Mother Earth does wear

The beauty that she does create with everyone she share

What we do to Mother Earth we do to Nature too

And what we do to those who feed us to our own selves we do

We ought to thank Mother Nature for the joy to us she bring

And those who truly love her happily her praises sing.

On The Passing Of Mick Kissane

 It is only very recently that i have become aware

That he has drawn his life's final breath Mick Kissane from Kenmare

In Perth in Western Australia in kilometres far away

From that place in County Kerry where he first saw light of day

For many years he lived in Mt Evelyn in Victoria where after work he often drank in the Bayswater Pub

Where his favourite topics were Kerry Gaelic Football and Hawthorn an Australian Rules Football Club

One who worked hard for his livelihood as a self employed builder by trade

In those he befriended and had dealings with good memories of him will not fade

A few years ago he left Victoria to live near his Perth based family

Sad to think that in the flesh him we never more will see

In his late seventies in him a great loss to Ireland became Australia's gain

The accent he brought with him to his end he did retain

Quite a memorable character of him one can say

Far from his first home in County Kerry in Perth he lived his last day.