When People Ask Me

 When people ask me where i come from i say from Millstreet

From the green countryside where the waterways meet

In Duhallow in North Cork from here far away

It is there i first looked on the bright lamp of day

I have not been in Millstreet for thirty four years

But for the what used to be i have shed my last tears

To be born and raised in Claraghatlea close to Millstreet Town

Does remain as my only link to renown

Where i first grew to love Nature when i was a boy

And learning about her today i enjoy

And though my wonder of her never does cease to grow

So little of her ways i can claim of to know

I am learning every day in this Land of the south

That in life there is so much to learn about.

Time As Is Said

 Time as is said it does not stand still

But it does not age any ancient hill

That is as old as any waterway

Flowing to the ocean by night and by day

But all life forms including us humans are born to die

Immortality for us human beings is based on a lie

Whatever about the human soul not for me to say

Does it outlive the body on the body's last living day?

Does the souls have in them wings for to fly

To a World far distant beyond the great sky?

Only know the hills and the rivers in time are very old

And the story of their history will never be told

Time as is said does keep ticking away

And for all of us there is a last night and day.

To All Of Our Shame

 The disappearance of life forms from Mother Earth is to all of our shame

So many species on the endangered list far too many to name

Human created carbon emissions Global Warming induce

To say most of this is for job creation is not a good excuse

Many of the children of the future of us will say

They have made Mother Earth who does feed us almost unlivable today

Just to think about it is such a sad thing

We may not be that distant from the first silent Spring

The very thought of this joy with it does not bring

Since already few songbirds left to chirp and sing

Mother Earth who feeds all life forms is being abused Worldwide

And in this for us humans there is no sense of pride

For the Earth they will inherit the future generations of people will have us to blame

And sadly this is to all of our shame.

Since For Doing It

 Since for doing it i never do receive any money in pay

I have been advised by some to give rhyming away

And though perhaps in their advice they are not wrong

The urge to write rhymes in me remains strong

They have their opinions and this suits me fine

But what they think of me is their business and no business of mine

I have been penning rhymes since my physical prime

And this is going back many Seasons in time.

The rhymes keep on coming and in notebook i pen them down down

But never for money or literary renown

It is just my addiction and as the wise one does say

Any addiction is the hardest thing for to give away

To be one of the admired is just not my thing

And it does not bother me if others my praises never sing

But if anything i have written brings to someone's face a smile

My effort at writing it will have been worth my while

There are rhymers in every village and city and town

Who write rhymes for enjoyment not for literary renown

But for as long as i enjoy writing rhymes as a rhymer i will stay

And for the rhymer a last rhyme and for us all a last day

The Drummers Of Peace

 As the shades of late evening are darkening the sky

The drummers are drumming in the parkland nearby

The drummers of peace meet every Saturday in the coastal town

To drum for a few hours just after sundown

Every Saturday evening that is dry every Season of the year

The drums of the drummers of peace in the park one does hear

Carrying in the breeze for some distance around

Their drumming does make for quite a pleasant sound

The drummers of peace on guitars never strum

It is only for peace that they beat on their drums

Unlike the drummers of war they drum in a gentle way

The drummers who drum in the park Saturday

By many locals admired and known

The drummers of peace are in a class of their own

On Saturday evenings in day's fading light

They drum for a few hours into the night.

On The High Trees Nearby

 On the high trees  nearby in the stillness of the night

A boobook owl is calling in the moonlight

A bird who does hide from the bright light of day

Out hunting for the night for smaller prey

If discovered resting in their territory by magpies or crows in the day they are forced to flee

To safer surroundings to another tree

To other birds all birds of prey are recognized as a threat

Since they are the birds who cause injury and death

To smaller birds and birds that are old and frail

That other birds always mob birds of prey in their territory does go without fail

At night in the countryside the mopoke call of the boobook owl one often does hear

Which instil in the resting nearby small birds fear

They know the mottled brown owl has death in it's cry

So to safer surroundings they quickly do fly.

A True Friend

 A true friend as your friend true to you does stay

And your trust in her or him never betray

And you in their words or deeds never deceive

That such people are rare one does have to believe

If you have one true friend you are lucky indeed

Who will stand by you in your times of need

That most people have fairweather friends is not saying what is new

But true friends as ever only of the few

To your true friends remain ever true

And give them the respect that they give to you

It is when you are financially or mentally down

And one of those doing it tough on your side of the town

It is then who your true friend is you will come to realize

And who this person is may even come to you as a surprise.