Like 'Tis Said Of Karma

The seed of a thistle to a rose tree does not grow
And like 'tis said of karma we receive what we sow
And what goes round does come around those words ring ever true
The karma we receive in life is the karma we are due
My neighbour Pete's a poor man but he is very kind
And a more helpful man than him one could not wish to find
To help out poor old people he goes out of his way
The good karma he's sowing for himself will come to him one day
On the Universal karma i am one who does believe
The karma we pay into is the karma we receive
For good or for bad karma the choice is ours to make
We cannot expect to receive if we only take and take
The Universal Karma seems real enough to me
Though many with what i do say would surely disagree.

We Are What We Think We Are

One with low self esteem in that i am not rare
So many like me in the big World out there
We build our mental walls by putting ourselves down
Our obstacles to success that lead to renown.

For one with low self esteem look no further than me
Of my inhibitions i will never be free
We are what we think we are does seem so true
And we receive from life what is only our due.

The king of the lion pride has the biggest roar
And the turkey with the mighty eagle can't soar
We create our reality by the words that we say
We are what we think we are life is that way.

My thoughts on self started in Primary School
Where i often sat upon the dunce's stool
Perhaps the start for me of low self esteem
For sense of self there is a trigger 'twould seem.

Of any form of success us our thoughts can deny
And we are what we think we are to all does apply
Self doubt for me in Primary School did begin
And with negative thinking one cannot hope to win.

For Just To Be Happy

I've bred and raced greyhounds played Junior Gaelic Football
And any success in life i have not known at all
I have daydreamed a lot and I've penned doggerel
Is there such a place as the Poetasters Hell?

But it does not bother me that I"ve not enjoyed success
Since my greatest desire is to know of happiness
Of fame and wealth i am sure i would tire
Just to be fairly happy is all i desire.

It"s been awhile now since I"ve heard the old rill
Babbling by the hedgerow in the field by the hill
The past may be gone but the memories remain
And in fancy i visit home places again.

It doesn"t bother me that little of my life I"ve made
And for just to be happy my memories I"d trade
The boy of the fifties is now looking gray
And the clock on my life it is ticking away.

From Some Of The People You Love

From some of the people you love do you live far away
And have you not seen them for many a day
Many of them still live in or near your Hometown
Whilst distant roads and highways you drive up and down
The bigger World out there they have no wish to see
Or they don't daydream of great cities far beyond the sea
Your best mate has two pretty young daugthers and a lovely wife
And he is quite happy with his lot in life
Your old friends and Hometown you've not seen for ten years
Yet for the past you do not have any tears
Without a wife or children of cares you are free
And so many more places that you wish to see
No tears for what was since the past it is gone
And the lust of the wander keeps you moving on.

The Ice Bear

Global warming is claiming the great white ice bear
Due to less ice to hunt on they are becoming rare
Seals for them becoming harder to catch so of hunger they die
Global Warming is for real and that's not a lie.

Global Warming is for real and seems out of control
The burning of fossil fuels on the environment is taking toll
We are making the World for ourselves difficult to live in
Our abuse of the Planet for us could prove a fatal sin.

For our pollution of our environment the price huge to pay
We could be the instigators of our demise that does seem sad to say
The sky o'er the city with smog clouds are gray
The fate of the polar bear could be our fate one day.

With the onset of Global Warming changes are happening fast
The great Arctic ice bear may soon be of the past
What we do to our environment to ourselves we do
We create our reality so happens to be true.

That Humans Can Be Cruel

That humans can be cruel is fact not a lie
Some men they shoot creatures just to watch them die
They lack in compassion and in empathy
Quite callous in their ways it does seem to me
Such ordinary people of them one can say
That they do not do a good deed every day
They shoot to kill life forms that run, hop or fly
Why are they so cruel i do ask myself why?
The creatures they kill few of them they do eat
They leave them for blow fly maggots as rotting meat
That the animals they shoot at happen to be rare
Does not seem to bother them they do not care
About the wild-born creatures that run hop or fly
They shoot them on the ground and shoot them from the sky.

I Do Have My Worries

I do have my worries know of inner strife
But i want to live to be old for i do love life
And in feeling this way i know I'm not alone
A lifeless human body as lifeless as a stone
'Tis the thought of death i fear of that why should i lie
And i want to live on why should i wish to die
The fact i do have to die i wish i could change
Oh you in love with death i do find you quite strange
I want to live on but not in poverty
Your talk of success does mean nothing to me
I'd feel happy to live in a small house by the sea
Near where the waves of saltwater rumble ceaselessly
Why should i care who remembers me when the life from me gone
And though i do have my worries i want to live on.

The Great Gift Of Youth

The great gift of youth is a thing to enjoy
And the crimes of the man are not the crimes of the boy
That all children are innocent to all children apply
And why we lose our innocence don't ask me why?

That time changes us as people does seem sad to say
We lose our youthful innocence as we grow old and gray
And some even become more hardened with the passing of time
Lose respect for self and others and turn to crime.

Any crime against children cannot be seen as small
And the abuse of a child one of the greatest crimes of all
Any crime against a child a hard crime to forgive
Those who commit such crimes with their sins have to live.

It's praises the singers and Songwriters sing
For the great gift of youth is a marvellous thing
And sad to say some children at a young age have their innocent stole
From them by damaged adults who lack in self control.

Love Has Many Faces

Love has many faces as we all know well
And love is a thing you cannot buy or sell
The love that grows between a woman and man
Though sometimes such love does have a brief time span
The love of a mother for her daughter and son
Of all the great loves doubtless the greratest one
She remains as their mentor and their greatest friend
And their character and honour at all times she defend
Love in the animal and bird World even than human more strong
For love of his family and borders the bird sings his song
The animal mother for her young will die
Those who tell animal love is not strong are broadcasting a lie
Of all of the great stories we wish to recall
Perhaps stories of love are the greatest of all.

Moonlit Bealac Hill

I fancy i can hear again the babble of the rill
And the wild cry of the red fox on moonlit Bealac Hill
At night upon the high ground where the het and bracken grow
A landscape that never seems to change though the Seasons come and go.

To the ancient Boggeragh Ranges near where i lived in years long gone
And though people like the Seasons come and go life as usual goes on
In fancy i hear the blackbird with the musical yellow bill
In Spring as the moon begins to rise above old Bealac Hill.

I often think of places far north of this Southern Shore
The ancient Boggeragh Mountains between Millstreet and Rathmore
And the harsh scream of the barn owl where the winds of night blow chill
Above the moonlit high road of lonely Bealac Hill.

The high road up to Bealac i may never climb again
And hear the old rill babble in the wind and in the rain
As it flows to meet the river with a tongue that's never still
Down through the gorse and bracken of moonlit Bealac Hill.

You Are Not Alone In Your Thinking

You are not one alone in thinking that living life is scarce worthwhile
That Lady Luck she is not with you and on you she never does smile
Sometimes you are even suicidal in that you are also not rare
There are many who think like you do in the bigger World out there.

You are not alone in your thinking that life can be very unfair
So many like you for to live on must battle their ghosts of despair
The crosses of life can be heavy for some far too heavy to bear
And many so many grow poorer for every proclaimed millionaire.

You often feel very despondent you are not alone in feeling that way
There are many so many like you that does seem a sad thing to say
You find life is such a hard battle with your problems you struggle to cope
And you can only hope for better that is all you can do is hope.

You feel life for you is too hard a battle and you silently wish you were dead
And every day for you a struggle and you fear for what may be ahead
But the tiny voice that's within at such times does grow to a roar
And shouts at you that you must hang in there and you have to fight on some more.

Immortality Is Not For Mortals

I am not well known wealthy and famous though i thought i might be a poet
But it looks like for me that too won't happen I'll never be worthy of note
But in the end does it really matter since we are life forms born to die
The sparrow who chirps on the hedgerow is no less a mortal than i.

Immortality is not for mortals human too made of flesh, blood, water and bone
You will not find life in a dead person like you will not find life in a stone
The people we see as important are not even important at all
Just like the giant tree of the forest they too to the Reaper must fall.

The longest human life is not a long life our span of time is a short span
The only advice i have for you is live for as long as you can
Of years few live to be a century that's something worthy of a boast
The gift of life is most important and to life we should all drink a toast.

Only Nature herself is immortal that's how at least 'twould seem to me
I'd love to live for to be quite old at least a few years with the century
I wish you joy in your existence and make the most of every day
For the clock on our lives it is ticking and ticking and ticking away.

If In My Life Only

If in my life only one poem i did write
That at a Poetry Reading someone would recite
One short poem worth reciting credited to my name
For one like me that would be sufficent fame.

One might say I've written a whole heap of stuff
Just old fashioned rhyme though not quite good enough
For in the changing World of the twenty first century
No fool like an old fool the old fool is me.

My better days in life sad to say are long gone
But i am addictive i keep penning on
I am not a poet of that why should i lie
But I'll be penning rhymes till the day that i die.

Call me an ordinary rhymer or a man of song
The rhymes from my pen just keep jingling along
I penned my first verses in seventy three
And that my best days are behind me does not worry me.

The Noble Old Man

His ninety first birthday in june is quite near
And his memory not good and his thinking not clear
He survived World War 2 and by a decade has outlived his wife
And he could not tell you of an easy life
Their only child died as a very young man
He never came home from the war in Vietnam
Suppose such is life but life's not always fair
And he now spends his days sitting in a wheelchair
A Nursing Home Sister pushes his wheelchair around
Within the confines of the Nursing Home Ground
He fought in a war and knew of happy years
Though he and his wife grieved for their loss in tears
He sits in his wheelchair the noble old man
And he will live on for as long as he can.

Crickets Singing

In the warm evenings in the Fall of the year
The song of the crickets one always does hear
'Tis the time of year when they do copulate
The dark male in song he does woo his dark mate.

From their homes in the walls they do venture out
And in search of a mate they go on hop about
From nightfall to daybreak they sing all night long
The voices of the crickets you cannot get wrong.

My wonder of Nature only seems to grow
So little about them i can claim to know
They sing out for love in the warm nights of the Fall
When they venture out from their homes in the wall

In shady dark places or in the moonlight
They sing out for love in the still of the night
Until the birds chirp in the gray of daybreak
The songs of the crickets one cannot mistake.

Spring In Duhallow

In Spring perhaps i never more will hear the songbirds at dawn
Sing on the green hedgerows of old Tooreenbawn
And see the hawthorns in their white blooms of May
I've not seen the old Land for many a day.

The robin singing in the Spring wind and rain
As a memory with me now only remain
And the song of the dipper i fancy i hear
I've not been in Duhallow for twenty and one year.

Of green old Duhallow I've penned many a rhyme
But twenty one years seems a very long time
One might say a quarter of the human life span
The baby back then is now a full grown man.

The rill from the foothill to the river flow
And in the rank rushes the shy cock pheasant crow
Whilst his plainer brown mate sits on her grass nest
With her clutch of green eggs warm beneath her breast.

To Live In A Poor Place Or Suburb

To live in a poor Place or Suburb as bad as a punishable crime
That's how it is and always will be 'tis something that won't change in time
On the road that leads from the poor Suburb it is a long hike to success
Condemned by the street that you live on and condemned by your postal address
Condemned by the judgements of the judgemental to spend their lives in Earthly Hell
Few very few from the poor Suburb in life ever seem to do well
The judgemental arrogant talk of life choices but never of birth circumstance
The homeless youth of Poverty Street of success have such a slim chance
For them life is such a hard battle a tough steep climb all of the way
Where many are doomed for to die young and few live to be old and gray
Where so many do become outlaws and spend most of their lives in jail
They follow in parental footsteps from birth they are doomed for to fail
Those born and raised in the poor Place or Suburb have little hope of happiness
Their life journey is such a tough road with so little chance of success.

A Beautiful Evening

A Beautiful evening in March in the early Fall
The magpies are fluting the corellas call
And the red wattlebirds on the blossoming trees
Their loud cacklings carrying in the freshening breeze.

And a voice that's familiar all day until dark
The mudlark sings pee wee in the old town park
And brown leaves on the path off of the deciduous trees
Are blowing to and fro in the freshening breeze.

A Beautiful end to a perfect March day
In the children's playground children laugh and play
And the little house sparrows in feathers of brown
Chirp on the hedgerow in the park of the town.

A beautiful evening the birds chirp and sing
The wonders of Nature is a magical thing
The sun going down red in the western sky
And the roost bound starlings wheel and turn as they fly.

If You Can't Love Yourself

Though many with what i say may not agree
I cannot love others if i cannot love me
If you can't love yourself you can't love anyone
That applies to all and that is barring none
The worst of crime born from the seed of self hate
But those with true self love such good can create
Mother Therese one example her self love was great
And she is a person we should celebrate
If you cannot love self  love you cannot give
That must be a sad way for someone to live
Those who know self love can be generous and kind
In the one who loves self a good person you'll find
If you cannot love self you can't love anyone
That applies to all and that is barring none.

I Have My Opinions

I have my opinions but pay no heed to me
For i am as powerless as powerless can be
Though things would be different if i had my way
No nuclear weapons or stealth bombers in the World of today.

You have your opinions and that suits me fine
Though your views on life are quite different to mine
On what's just and fair we could never agree
One might say we look at things quite differently.

From your way of thinking apart i have grown
Don't need power over others but my thoughts are my own
Your right to express your opinions is only your right
It well may be me who does not see the light.

You have your opinions i find that okay
We all look at life in a different way
You live far away you i never will know
And the karma that's ours is the karma we sow.

A Modern Poetic Legend

He was a modern major poet with many an imitater
And many literary experts claim that than him not one greater
His legend even growing in death his life was one great story
And he received the accolades and he knew of the glory
Once heard him interviewed on radio his poetic views interesting
Though quite opinionated one must feel some would find him quite testing
He referred to Lawson and Paterson as doggerel poets two of Australia's most celebrated
In his opinion these great poets were highly over-rated
He said Judith Wright is Australia's greatest poet his praises her did flatter
Though some would disagree with that i won't dwell on the matter
Who is Australia's greatest poet a matter worth debating
One could name one hundred or more and all worth celebrating
His views on poetry and on poets he felt like freely airing
And his interview interesting though he did seem over-bearing.

Are You Okay There Mister

Are you okay there mister you do look very sad
You are not short of money life cannot be that bad
A tiny problem you've had to a big problem did grow
In life you've been so lucky yet unhappiness you know

Your lover she has left you the cause of your heartache
The thought of she making love to another man for you so hard to take
What to you is a big problem to some would feel quite small
But everyone is different and that applies to all

For a brief time your lover she'd never have been your wife
There are pretty single young women out there one would have you in her life
Whilst you for weeks have been pining for one who from you has gone
Your problem not a big one and life it does go on.

Are you okay there mister you seem so close to tears
The ache one feels for lost love it can go on for years
She does not even think about you she is in another's bed
And love-ache does not resurrect a love that is long dead.

It Has Been Awhile Since

It has been awhile since in the old fields i saw wildflowers in bloom
And from the bog in windy May scented the natural perfume
Wafting in the breeze on a beautiful day
The hawthorns white in their blossoms of May
Many Seasons have gone by since i heard the robin sing
In a Duhallow grove in the prime of the Spring
And the dipper sung his scratchy notes in the rill
That babbled on down from the foot of the hill
From old father time there is nowhere to hide
The clock is against me time's not on my side
Since i left the home fields twenty one years have gone
But the birds sing without me and life there goes on
It has been twenty one years and many a day
Since i heard the birds sing in the groves far away.

Each Time He Bends

Each time he bends his bones do creak the years on him now tell
Yet for one in his early seventies he physically looks well
Yet even the fittest of ageing men they show life's wear and tear
A dark toupe to hide his baldness upon his head he wear
His ageing wife in a blond wig she hides time's natural gray
Only the very down to earth age in the natural way
Yet despite hair dyes and anti ageing creams the wear of time does show
The young one from the ageing one is not that hard to know
Each time he bends his bones do creak he's four decades past life's prime
And sad to say there is no turning back the hands of time
We may wear wigs, use hair dyes and anti ageing creams and jog miles every day
But father time ticks on and on and youth ages to decay
Each time he bends in his aching bones a little creak he hear
And he feels stiffer than he did around this time last year.

A Young Woman Trying To Save The Whales

A Young woman trying to save the Whales in old Port Fairy Town
A volunteer for Greenpeace she did not seek Earthly Renown
She asked me to become a Greenpeace Member for a dollar a day
But a dollar a day i could not afford that does seem sad to say.

She is trying to save the great Whales from the worst possible fate
I could not afford to help her though her cause is surely great
Not every day of my life one like her i do meet
So brave and faithful to her cause and one without conceit.

More than six billion people on the Planet that does seem a lot to me
And so close to extinction the great mammals of the sea
Which makes the young woman i met in Port Fairy a special one indeed
In her fight to save the great Whales i hope she does succeed.

A dark haired beauty in her late twenties she said she had a son
I could not help her cause in a financial way only say to her well done
For such a great and worthy cause she gives of her time unselfishly
And in my memory she is one who will remain with me.

A Form Of Control

A form of control is all i have to say
To try to change people from their natural way
We took from them their Country take more than we give
And want to control them tell them how to live
They are right to think we do not own the land
And our way of life they do not understand
To love and understand Nature is their great claim to fame
And our treatment of them to us a sense of shame
For two centuries of occupation what do we have to show
Our rivers polluted to the great ocean flow
Of the ways of the Country's first people so little we know
Our Government stole from them their children up to two decades ago
This far Southern Country has got a black soul
But the Nation's first people we want to control.

Of The Secrets Of Nature

The pollen blown out from the blossoming trees
And the thistledown flying in the freshening breeze
Above the bare paddock wind driven they fly
A good place to take root to them doesn't apply
To former thistle free areas they arrive by air
The seeds of the thistle they grow everywhere
The farmers look on them as a noxious weed
But to stop them from spreading they do not succeed
They arrive in the Fall when the freshening winds blow
And hundreds of metres from their mother thistles without effort self sow
The wonders of Nature an amazing thing
Their fluffy bits to the dry grass seem to cling
A tiny black seed to a big thistle grow
Of the secrets of Nature we will never know.

Why Take Yourself So Seriously

Why take yourself so seriously of humor you seem broke
I've yet to hear you laugh aloud at the punchline of a joke
And if you forced yourself to smile i fear your face might crack
You are what's known to many as a regular sad sack
With a nice wife and schoolgoing daughter and son in a well paying work career
You ought to be a happy man and full of bubbling cheer
But you act as if you are penniless, sleeping in a draughty shed
Without hope for the future and wishing you were dead
Remember you can laugh a bit and to your God still pray
But living life is serious business at least you see it that way
I can't say I've yet seen you with a big smile on your face
Though laughter in so many lives does seem to have a place
You do take life too seriously that does seem sad to say
For life can be quite boring without a laugh a day.

Brown Paddocks Of Macarthur

Brown paddocks of Macarthur are looking dry and bare
With scarce enough of grass around for to fatten a hare
The sheep are looking scrawny the cattle looking thin
As they stand munching old and dry hay from steel circular hay bin.

Old paddocks of Macarthur are looking bare and brown
And little much is happening in Macarthur Country Town
The white backed magpie piping on sunlit wattle tree
Though it is not his time of year to sing for territory.

In the Township of Macarthur the roadside drains are dry
And there is not any sign of rain in the sultry Autumn sky
It is a very sweaty day of 34 degrees
Of very high humidity with hardly any breeze

Brown paddocks of Macarthur are looking dry today
And cattle around the feed bins are munching old dry hay
Another poor year for the farmers the financial pinch they feel
But droughts brought on by climate change are Worldwide and sad to say for real.

Australia The Land Of The Dreamtime

Australia the Land of the Dreamtime the home of the wombat and roo
The home of Koala and emu and the black and the white cockatoo
Where kookaburra welcomes the dawning and magpie often heard in the night
And the mopoke call of the brown boobook can be heard in the calm moonlight.

The descendants of the oldest Indigenous race of people live in Australia their history is very old
By tribal elders around bush camp fires their stories and legends are told
They lived in this Southern Country for this Land they had their own name
Long before the southern mountains they coughed up their rivers of flame.

Australia the Land of the Dreamtime the Land where the old Murray flow
From New South wales into Victoria and into a huge water-way grow
Winding on down through South Australia through the flat, bare and brown countryside
In the depths of the murky waters the rare Murray cod live and hide.

Australia the Land of the Dreamtime renowned for it's varying scenery
The brown and untameable outback that stretches inland from the sea
Of tropical and temperate climates of 20 to 40 plus degrees
The home of the marsupial possums and the Land of the tallest gum trees.

I Only Fear The Thought Of Death

I do not fear death it is the thought of it i do fear
And of the death of one i know when i read of or hear
I think of my mortality and time on us doesn't wait
For with the dreaded Reaper i too do have a date
When the Reaper claims the life from me i hope it will be quick
I hope that i won't suffer on for weeks on end feeling very sick
I hope that in a slow painful death Karma will not punish me
I only can live in the now what's ahead i cannot see
It is the thought of death i only fear and that may apply to most
But to the Grim Reaper perhaps we ought to drink a toast
Since he does not differentiate any life he does not spare
He takes the life of the pauper and the monarch and of the billionaire
And though only a small percentage of people of years reach the five score
I only fear the thought of death just that and nothing more.

For Winners There Have To Be Losers

For winners there have to be losers that's life as some are known to say
That's how it is and always will be for it always has been this way
For one to feel success elation many disappointment do know
Compared to the delighted winner disappointment on the losers faces show,
For winners there have to be losers and that's not saying anything new
And sad to say losers are many and winners as always are few
In the Human World where failure is frowned on the desire in most is to succeed
And the desire to be wealthy and famous is the desire that does lead one to greed
For winners there have to be losers that's how it is and will always be
And whilst the losers may be many the winners a minority
Not everyone can be successful and only the few can be great
The losers by most are forgotten and the winners we all celebrate
The have nots are always forgotten in life it is always that way
And for winners there have to be losers that does seem a sad thing to say.

The World Is Not Short Of Poetasters

The World is not short of poetasters their numbers grow and grow
And don't ask me what is or is not poetry since i would hardly know
And poets are in the minority and poets are as always are rare
Not many true poets in the World of which i am aware.

That the World is not short of poetasters so happens to be true
But every writer contributes to literature for to give them their due
If there never were any writers to practice the Wordsmith trade
We could not say that poets are born and poets cannot be made

But the Poetasters who feel that they are poets are entitled to feel that way
It only does seem natural kind things of self to say
Suppose one never does get anywhere by running one self down
By so doing they would build against themselves a barrier to renown.

The World is not short of poetasters not everyone's a poet
And not every writer can hope to become a literary person of note
Without poetasters there would not be poets that's how 'twill always be
And every writer contributes to the Wordsmith trade that's how it would seem to me.

I've Never Said I Was A Poet

I've never said i was a poet though I've written a whole heap of stuff
I am just an old fashioned rhymer my rhymes at the best of times rough
I suffer a penning addiction my penance for my Earthly Hell
Until The Reaper claims the life from me i will be penning doggerel
Far north in the fields of my young years in Claraghatlea by Millstreet Town
I thought that i might become famous i daydreamed of literary renown
But daydreams always will be daydreams and daydreams do seldom come true
And the reality of the matter is we receive from life what we are due,
I do love the Goddess of Nature and of my love for her I'd never lie
I've loved her since i was a young fellow and i will till the day that i die
The only God that i do know of her beauty is all around me
Her beauty changes with the Seasons her beauty that's for all to see
I am just your average poetaster but in saying that i am all too aware
That this does not afford me any status as my type have never been rare.

A Beautiful To Look At Woman

A beautiful to look at woman with blond hair and pretty blue eyes
That many young males are attracted to her does not at all seem a surprise
But male admirers swell the female ego of her beauty she is aware
She is a very vain young woman though people like her are not rare.

Known as 'The Local Pin Up Girl' the one who stands out in the crowd
As she walks the street her head held high she does look so snobbish and proud
In her mid twenties in her prime and single perhaps none for her seems good enough
She is waiting for Mr Perfect the one not in any way rough.

But for Mr Perfect she'll be waiting or she will have to move to elsewhere
To find one who does seem quite special in the bigger World out there
The local young males that she knows of do not seem to interest her at all
She sees them as rough around the edges their interests in booze and football

 She is such a beautiful woman but of her beauty she is aware
For her type it is hard to be humble the unconceited beauties seem rare
The single young local males not to her liking though many of them fancy her in a big way
Her dream man not anywhere local that's life as some are known to say.

Some Of Our Life

Some of our life spent working and some of our life we spend in bed
And some of our life socializing and the body too has to be fed
And like all life forms we do not live forever we are born one day for to die
The same for the sheep, goat and donkey as it is for you and for i.

Of life after death do not ask me or of after life heaven and hell
Of such places deceased people i knew to me never came back to tell
Each to their own that's how it does seem or at least that is how it should be
That's as much positive thought as you will get from some one as negative as me.

Some of our time with pub mates drinking and waffling, the sporting greats we do recall
The greats of boxing, cricket and tennis and our favorite codes of football
For to meet those who bask in the glory of others one does not have to travel far
Perhaps just a short walk from where you live there surely is a Public Bar.

 Some of our life trying to impart knowledge we may think we are very wise
But that we are not that enlightened is something we do not realize
The more we know the less we know we do know a fact of life that with us remain
And the self serving and egotistical die as egotistical and vain.

Not Everyone

Not everyone is born to life to become a millionaire
If that were so there would be no poverty in the bigger World out there
No Stateless or Homeless people living rough on the street
And everyone would have enough more than enough to eat.

Up to 30 million refugees in refugee camps Worldwide
And the poor keep getting poorer in the great social divide
For every ten in Earthly Heaven and for themselves doing well
At least one hundred doing it very hard in their own Earthly Hell.

The Stateless and the Homeless they never have been rare
So many only live their lives on the brink of despair
By circumstance of birth condemned to live as paupers till they die
Those who believe everyone are equal are those who believe a lie.

Not everyone who are born to life will win Olympic Gold
And not everyone on Planet Earth their life's story will be told
The wealthy keep getting wealthier and their fortune grows and grows
And the poor keep getting poorer that's life one must suppose.

Lady Luck

If Lady Luck she is not with you 'tis hard for you to be happy 'twould seem
For she is one that you do need with you for your self worth and self esteem
She is the Goddess of mixed emotions the Goddess of joy and of tears
She can change your life in a moment and bring on your happier years
If Lady luck she is not with you then life for you is far from okay
It is hard for you for to be happy if she is not smiling your way
In your life she is a necessity you need for to have her on side
So many far too many by her of happiness have been denied
You need her at all times to like you even each time your car you do drive
You do need her for to be with you without her you may not survive
For to tell the story of your day out the lady herself you did need
Many stories of tragic accidents of people without Luck we hear of and read
Even the racehorse and greyhound do need luck in running for without the good Lady on side
For their owners they will not win money of a top three place they will be denied.

They Are War Damaged People

They are war damaged people the poor people of Iraq
By night and day they live in fear of terrorist attack
Terrorism that war has brought to their Country that could go on for years
Division drawn by tribal Warlords in Land of blood and tears
Of the autocratic rule of Saddam Hussein Iraqis may be free
But the war has left them far worse off and deeper in poverty
Than even under Saddam Iraqis know less freedom afraid to walk the street
A terrorist at anytime they live in fear to meet
Like Palestine peace in Iraq may not be anywhere near
From there it does seem sad to say tragic stories we do hear
For the crimes of the unworthy the innocents must die
That war gives rise to liberty and peace is just another lie
Spread by Superpower Imperialists who trade human blood for oil
And civil war now in Iraq where tribal anger boil.

What Care I How Some feel About me

What care i how some feel about me what care i of me what they say
As long as their words are not lies or defamatory their ideas of me to me seem okay
I accept praise and criticism though praise better than criticism any day
I'm not a knowledgeable or a wise person though time has left me looking gray.

What care i what some say about me since I'm getting too old for to care
I know that i am a flawed person but of my shortcomings i am aware
Yet the most imperfect think they are perfect that is how it does seem to me
One thing humanity not lacking in and that is spiritual poverty.

What care i how some feel about me with their words some can be very cruel
The usage of put down words make some people happy for the callousness in them the fuel
The judgemental are only masking their poor sense of low self esteem
Spiritually they are very poor people to me that is how they do seem

What care i what some say about me in fifty years who will recall
That i ever even existed to me it won't matter at all
I have lived a year with six decades and time has left me gray but not wise
And i can live with criticism of me but of me do never spread lies.

On Hearing A Common Bronzewing

The humming coo of the common bronzewing i hear in the woodland nearby
Somewhere in the undergrowth hidden of human kind they seem quite shy
Yet his low humming coo unmistakeable to his whereabouts a give away
They are birds that i do hear often though i don't see them every day
Common bronzewings not common to look at on their brown wings they have a bronze sheen
And they are quite attractive looking when in the sunlight they are seen
Yet they like the quiet shady places away from the noise of the town
Inconspicuous by their shyness they are strangers to bird renown
They are birds that i don't see often and little of them i do know
They hide away in shady places in woods where the rank scrub do grow
Yet i do love them for their soft cooing a sound very pleasant to hear
They are very wary of humans they fly off if to them you are near
The soft humming coo of a common bronzewing i hear in the woodland nearby
But i know if i venture near him with loud clap of wings off he'll fly.

To Be Born And Raised In Claraghatlea

To be born and raised in Claraghatlea my only claim to fame
Though few back there now would remember my name
For i left that old Townland more than two decades ago
When the old hill of Clara wore his hat of snow
Back there now i would feel a stranger today
And the young generation who live there would say
Who is that old fellow he does look rather gray
Has he flown in here from some place far away
But their parents though aging of course i would know
And i would know the fields where the old rivers flow
Time did not wait for me and though my better days gone
Some things never change though the clock it ticks on
And the boy of the fifties is long past his prime
He too is a victim of old father time.

The Young Set Dancers Of Millstreet

They were not found to be wanting when they were put to the test
The Millstreet Schoolgirls set dancers All Ireland's very best
In Athlone Town at dancing Ireland's best they did beat
One might say of the Millstreet girls they danced them off their feet.

The young set dancers of Millstreet danced their way into renown
The Pipers Band was out to greet them back home in Millstreet Town
The people of Millstreet and Duhallow were in mood to celebrate
And bonfires blazed to greet the dancing champs of 08.

Allanah Barry, Leanne Daly, Kayleigh Sheahan, Aideen Buckley their names we will recall
They did Millstreet and Duhallow proud in their greatest night of all
Emer Twomey, Muirean Murphy, Orla Kiely, Regina Lane all of their surnames ring a bell
Perhaps i know their parents and some of them quite well.

The team Coach Breeda Cremin in her prime the dancer supreme
In Irish dancing circles one held in high esteem
Paddy Riordan's daughter of Kilcorney a woman born to dance
Any team that has one like her as a Coach of winning always a good chance.

As well as the young dancers of Millstreet The Instrumental Music Group from Boherbue
In the All ireland Finals in Athlone had a great victory
A great night for Duhallow for Boherbue and Millstreet
Two All Ireland's for Duhallow in the one night a remarkable feat.

The young set dancers of Millstreet and the Boherbue musicians have done Duhallow proud
And the Duhallow Poets and Songwriters do sing their praises loud
The bonfires by now have burnt out but the memory we'll retain
Of a great night for Duhallow when we visit memory lane.

The Moderns

To many reading modern poetry more interesting the meaning in the metaphors they seek to find
They feel it makes their brains work that much harder that it is good exercise for the mind
Rhyme for their great brains seems that bit too simple it does not test their thinking power at all
'Tis not a poem to them if it seems simple and the meaning in it easy to recall,
Yes rhyme for them it does seem that bit simple and deciphering it to them is not a test
The hidden meaning in the metaphors is something that does seem to try them best
Rhyme poetry to them is too simple and far too easy for to understand
It has to be blank verse with dozens of metaphors for their interest for to command
They look on rhyme and bush poets as inferior their preference in poets and poetry they make known
On literature they air their opinions like it is said to each their own
Their poetry evenings do seem quite exclusive rhyme poets to read they never do invite
Their unmusical lines that are laced with metaphors to each other they do recite
They do not like rhyme or they do not like bush poetry to them it is of another time
And in their poetry evenings there is no place for the men and the women of rhyme.

You Have Your God

You have your God well that does suit me fine
But your God is so different to mine
The God you pray to you never do see
And my Goddess her beauty surrounds me.

My Goddess is around me everywhere
And beautiful the colours she does wear
For to feed all life forms her great claim to fame
And Goddess Mother Nature is her name.

I know i will return to her one day
And in her earthy bosom my remains will lay
Our Earth Mother off of her we all do live
And her Reaper takes the life that she does give

You believe your God has a Kingdom in the sky to him you pray
And you will go to join him there one day
On the true God we never do agree
We look at life one might say differently.

You May Feel The Whole World Is Against You

You may feel the whole World is against you but few things in life do seem fair
But hope for a better tomorrow of the future one should not despair
And may today it be your worst day the toughest times for you may have gone
Just like every other survivor you hang in there and keep on keeping on
You've bought your ticket for the lotto jackpot tonight could be the night that you will win
The ten million dollars in the first division tonight may be the night your luck is in
You are not the only one going through the hard times there are millions like you in the World out there
People down in their luck to be found in every Country your type does seem quite common everywhere
Only the privileged can afford to live in the wealthy Suburb the gap between the haves and the have nots is growing ever wide
One can only live in hope to be successful if Lady Luck does not seem on your side
You hang in there through your suicidal moments you may be one of those to beat the odds
You have a ticket for tonight's tattslotto who knows when Lady luck will smile your way
And tomorrow you may well be celebrating and you will not want to recall today.

The Little Country Town

The creek down to a trickle and the paddocks looking brown
And not much ever seems to happen in the Little Country Town
lived in by the descendants of the early settlers who settled here a century ago
Of the bigger World out there few of them wish to know.

At night the recent happenings discussed in the local pub
News of the local cricketers or the local football club
Where the personal lives of those they know to them never taboo
What is happenning in the town of late who is having sex with who?

The visual or the literary arts never discussed at all
It has to be a local scandal that or bowls cricket or football
In little country towns one might say that creative types are rare
They are looked on with suspicion the culturally aware.

The creek down to a trickle and bone dry every drain
And in the local church on sunday the Reverend prays for rain
In the Main Street all is so quiet and few cars pass up and down
And life goes on as usual in the Little Country Town.

Everyone For Him Or Herself

Everyone for him or herself and it"s God for us all
Those wise words from my Boyhood years i do recall
The one who told me that he was an old man
One who was in the late twilight of his life span
For fifty years that old bloke is with the dead
And nothing about him now written or said
Yet the words everyone for herself or himself with me does remain
Old sayings such as this in memory we retain
Everyone for himself or herself and God for us all
From one who was old and gray
His words have lived on with me i remember them today
It surely is a hard old World the bigger World out there
Where many do grow poorer for every new millionaire
Everyone for him or herself and God for us all
I remember the old man and his words i do recall.

Seanie Murphy

Seanie died in mid life unexpectedly and young
He was a nice and gentle fellow who had a civil tongue
For his mother Margaret and his siblings and his nephews and nieces this a sorrowed cross
And his many friends too they will grieve at his loss.

In Cloghoulabeg never to be seen again
But in all of those who knew him fond memories will remain
Of a likeable fellow untainted by conceit
He now is at rest amongst the dead of Millstreet.

A credit to Cloghoulabeg his beloved Homeplace
At the Murphy family gatherings his will be a missed face
But if there is a hereafter no need for him to pray
His soul will be up there in heaven today.

He was such a good person in every way
And respect to his memory we ought to pay
To the scythe of the Reaper we are destined to fall
And death is a certainty for one and all.

Of Ghosts And Ghost Stories

Of ghosts and ghosts stories i read of and hear
But i don't fear the dead it is the living i fear
It is only the living can take human life
By bomb or steel bar or by bullet or knife.

That the dead cannot harm one does seem true to me
Such an accurate statement one would have to agree
In any graveyard even in dead of night
You will find all in there is peaceful and quiet.

The dead cannot harm you despite what some might say
They are as harmless at night as they are in the day
Respect to the dead is all one has to pay
And they will not harm you at peace where they lay.

Of stories of ghosts I've heard more than my share
But the dead cannot harm me of that I'm aware
Of any deceased person why should one live in dread
It is the living i fear why should i fear the dead?

I Already Know

There's no need to tell me i already know
That money on trees never blossoms or grow
Forty thousand in poverty for every millionaire
It is a rat race in the big World out there.

A long road to financial success and renown
For those who are born in the poor side of town
Condemned to be poor by their postal address
Without the right postal code the highbrows you won't impress.

It is common knowledge most will tell you so
'Tis not how clever you are it is who you do know
A wealthy person to you can be a good friend
A poor one has little money for to give or to lend.

In life I've been lucky quite lucky enough
I've never been hungry or had to sleep rough
I've never been Homeless or a Stateless refugee
Though i am aware of others poverty.

 I already know you don't have to tell me
That money does not grow on a bush or a tree
Yet whilst some are worth millions and billions in money it seems sad to say
That many are dying of hunger every day.

Denis Galvin

He did not live to grow old, frail and gray
So sad to know that Denis passed away
In St Mary's Cemetery his last remains now lay
He was a decent man in every way.

News of Denis Galvin's passing came with sorrow and regret
And those who knew him never will forget
A gentle person down to earth and kind
His equal would be very hard to find.

Still only in his fifties when he died
He will be missed from Duhallow's countryside
He never had children or never had a wife
And he was one who led a simple life.

As nice a person as one would wish to meet
He will be sadly missed from Duhallow and Millstreet
From his life's cares he has found a release
And Denis Galvin may he rest in peace.

The Clock On My Life

The clock on my life it ticks on ceaselessly
How much more of time will the reaper grant me?
Since the day i was born sixty one years gone by
On looking back the decades how time it did fly
Sixty one years of life does seem a lengthy span
But I'd like to live on to be quite an old man
To die in my sleep in peace and painlessly
An aged old fellow of one hundred and three
I never did wish to die famous and young
I would rather die old with my praises unsung
The marvellous gift of life than it no gift as great
It is something that we all should celebrate
The best days of my life may well be long gone
But i am determined to keep living on.

Our Ideas Of Life Are So Different

I do not dislike him as a person it is what he does stand for i hate
Our ideas of life are so different i do not see him as a mate
He does not smoke pot or cigarettes or drink alcohol and he says he lives by the laws of God
But for one who does claim to be perfect his behavior at times rather odd
For one who does seem free of vices he is lacking in light in the soul
In all of his dealings with others he does want to be in control
Few humans can claim to be near perfect though many to their God do pray
But the God within seems to have left them or with them it does seem that way
They pass judgement on those they see as different their World it does seem so small
They believe on a fair go for their own type but not on a fair go for all
I do not dislike him as a person it is the negativity in him i do see
And i can't say that i am too concerned what he has to say about me
A controlling person by Nature his type sad to say are not rare
There are many too many like him in the bigger World out there.

It Is Easy To Be Nice To Others

It is easy to be nice to others when things are going your way
And 'tis easy for to smile at them and for to wish them a good day
Life it is treating you kindly and you are a very lucky one
A reason for you to be happy when all is said and all is done.

It is not easy to be nice to others if you are down on your luck
And you are financially embarrassed and in a financial hole stuck
If you feel the whole World is against you 'tis hard to smile and say hello
To people that you often do see or to people that you do know.

It is easy to be nice to others if financially you are doing well
And only of your great success stories to others you do have to tell
The kind lady luck smiling on you 'tis easy in passing to say
To someone you know or do not know i wish you a very nice day.

It is easy to be nice to others when life is going so well for you
We reap the fruits of our own karma that so happens for to be true
You are on your way to your first billion and life for you surely worthwhile
Compared to the out of work battler you have every reason to smile.

Compared To Many Others

Though a few career advancement opportunities i blew
Compared to many others my troubles seem few
My health is good though my head balding and gray
And i enjoy a laugh or two a day
I can't complain a good life i have had
I might have been born in Kabul or Baghdad
Or in Palestine in a war ravaged town
Where gun men on the streets drive up and down
Compared to many others I'm a lucky man
I'm in my sixty first year of life not a bad span
So many younger than me to the reaper gone
I'm reasonably happy and healthy and i am living on
There are many doing it far tougher than me
I am not a Homeless, Stateless refugee.

That Day In June In 68

That day in June in 68 i do remember well
At the sad news from Los Angeles and the Ambassador Hotel
Where the badly wounded Robert Kennedy in agony lay
He may have done well for the U S of A.

Some twenty six hours later Robert Kennedy died
His chance of becoming President to him was denied
By one still in prison an unstable man
Who goes by the name of Sirhan B Sirhan.

Since that sad day for America four decades ago
In death the legend of the great Robert Kennedy grow
For fame and for glory a huge price he did pay
He did not deserve to die in such a way.

He did not live on for to grow old and gray
He would have been in his early eighties today
He was a great person his praises were sung
His life taken from him when he was still young.

Quite A Beautiful Day

The dry looking paddocks the color of hay
Though it is indeed quite a beautiful day
With a forecast high of 24 degrees
And there is a refreshing coolness in the afternoon breeze.

Three days left in February the Summer nears an end
And Autumn is waiting around the next bend
The Seasons come and go and time ticking away
And i wish every day could be just like today.

The familiar pee wee call of the magpie lark
And bush flies are buzzing around the Town Park
And the welcome swallows are high in the sky
As they chase flying insects they chirp as they fly.

Three days left in February and Autumn is near
It is such a beautiful time of the year
The magpie is piping on the tall gum tree
And Nature's great beauty is all around me.

The Son Of The Hero

That he is not a Nationalist or Patriot he will not deny
Such tags he will tell you to him do not apply
He is never there to watch the war parade pass by
Nor the flag of his Nation in his front yard he doesn't fly.

His father died brave few were noble as he
In the prime of his life he was just twenty three
When he himself was a baby sixty five years ago
The hero his father he never did know.

To follow in his dad's footsteps he had no desire
As the heroes of war he could never admire
But at every local peace rally you will find him there
The son of the hero with silvery hair.

So To The Mr Reaper

Our desire for recognition gives rise in us the need
That to be considered worthy in life we must succeed
For promotion in our place of work with others we compete
Failure is hard to swallow and success does taste sweet
But i ask myself the question what is success anyway
When for each and everyone of us a final night and day
The successful and the failures seem equal at the end
Since we are only mortals why otherwise pretend
We are born to live and then to die and when the life from us has gone
Life in the World of Planet Earth without us will go on
We are conditioned to compete with each other that's how it would seem to me
And only in the cemeteries you will find equality
So to the Mr Reaper my toasting glass I'll raise
He is a true egalitarian and well worthy of praise.

In A Century From Now

In a century from now to me it will not matter my bones will be in decay
Then none will remember and none of me will say
That fellow was a loser of the judgemental I'll be free
There does come a time when everyone is lost to memory
To the deadly scythe of the reaper all life forms must fall
What's known as the life's journey must end for us all
We are like motor engines we rust out with time's wear
Those who live for a century to say the least are rare
In a century from now I will be long forgotten
My bones will be white with decay my flesh will be long rotten
The Human World will have changed by then perhaps a more enlightened generation
Of leaders will live in every Land and bring peace to every Nation
I will be long forgotten by then even by Big Brother's judges
And none will mention me in praise and against me hold any grudges.

To Hell With Every Despot

To hell with every despot of them we've had enough
On the poor of their own Country they make life far more tough
To the downfall of every Autocrat let's drink the toast of cheer
Karma shows little sympathy for those who rule by fear
Their people better off without them though it does seem sad to say
That the ousting of one dictator for another one makes way
To hell with every despot to death and suffering they give rise
The very mention of Democracy they do seem to despise
Narcissistic cruel hearted people who live for their own fame
The mass graves of their Country left to cover their shame
To hell with every despot the dregs of Humankind
In the soul of everyone of them a monster you will find
The poor people of their Countries before their armies cower
The World's worst mass murderers they kill for sake of power.

In His Lifetime Patrick Kavanagh

In his Lifetime Patrick Kavanagh was a literary man of note
And in the mid twentieth century some critics claimed him to be Ireland's finest poet
In the forties to the sixties he was lauded as a poetic great
But nowadays he is not the poet the masses celebrate.

Though long dead he's not forgotten many of his poems live on
The mantle of true greatness Patrick Kavanagh did don
In his Lifetime he was one of those who did enjoy great fame
And his was celebrated as a major literary name.

Patrick Kavanagh was a poetic legend going back a few decades ago
At least in his own Lifetime fame and recognition he did know
Recognition and fame to a dead person is worthless after all
If his or her contribution to human history the masses do recall.

His fame did spread far distant from his home country-side
In his Lifetime Patrick Kavanagh he became known Worldwide
Claimed by many to be Ireland's greatest poet when i was a Schoolboy
And he left behind his verses for others to enjoy.

Our Humble Boy Next Door

You are the darling of the masses the one they celebrate
And many call you brilliant and many call you great
Your ego fully inflated and the praise gone to your head
That fame can be the ruination of humility truer words have not been said.

Without the approval of the masses you will never know renown
But the masses who create legends too drag tall poppies down
He has gone from us forever our humble boy next door
His new found fame gone to his head and us he now ignore

Down to earth as a teenager that is how he did seem
But he became changed overnight when he realized his dream
It can inflate the ego when others your praises sing
He ignores his former neighbors now that does seem a sad thing.

Our once humble Neighborhood boy now the darling of the crowd
Has grown into a cocky young man quite arrogant and proud
He has bought a twenty million dollar home in the leafy side of town
But those who gave him wealth and fame can also drag him down.

It May Not Be By Cashman's Hill

It may not be by Cashman's Hill far north and far away
From this far southern Country my bones will forever lay
But to me it will not matter when the life from me has gone
Until the Reaper's scythe i cannot avoid i will keep living on.

What happens to my last remains i can't say i much care
Of where they lay forever more the dead are not aware
My parents lay by Cashman's Hill the family grave is there
Though it won't cause me loss of sleep to think i might lay elsewhere.

It may not be by Cashman's Hill myself i do repeat
That i will lay forever more in the Tanyard of Millstreet
I hope i have a peaceful end that's all i wish for me
And the rest of my life enjoy, death's for eternity.

It may not be by Cashman's Hill i will rest forever more
It may be in this Southern Land far south of Hibernia's shore
And whether i am cremated or buried to decay
What happens to my last remains will not matter either way.

She Said

She said when do you have your time of rest from penning
Since Goddess poesy can do without you
You never make a penny from your scribbles
A rest by now you must be overdue.

I could not say to her i have a penning addiction
For i knew she would only laugh at me
I only said to her we all are different
And we all look at life quite differently.

She said you must have penned thousands of doggerels
Before i answered i thought of my reply
I said I've written heaps but that's my business
And though I'll never be a poet at least i try

For to improve myself as a writer
Not everyone can be the best in town
Her parting words to me you are a dreamer
A dreamer who will never know of renown.

So Many To My Life

So many to my life have come and have gone
But who comes or goes life as usual goes on
Until the Grim Reaper a visit to me pay
On some future night or on some future day
Some i thought were friends were not friends at all
They just flattered to deceive as i can recall
And some who were friends in my life did not stay
We drifted apart and we went our own way
Although they do live on in my memory
So many old friends i will never more see
Their bones rest in cemeteries from here far away
In Nature's earthy bosom forever to lay
So many to my life have come and have gone
But for me as for everyone life does go on.

Without A Few Good Laughs A Day

Success is only really what does matter if you go by with what most people do say
But life it would surely be very boring without a few good laughs a day
If you cannot laugh you're in trouble some even find it hard to smile
There are people with heaps of money who feel living life scarce worth-while
One has to feel sympathy for them their gift of life they don't enjoy
When they buy presents for their young child they buy the most expensive toy
Yet their money cannot make them happy they live their lives burdened by care
It doesn't mean you will be happy when you become a millionaire
The praises of the rich and famous so many feel happy to sing
But if money could make people happy then money would buy everything
Unhappiness some people are born with and 'tis something money cannot cure
But I'd rather be wealthy and unhappy than being poor and miserable though the choice is a poor one for sure
If money could solve all of our problems then our biggest problem would be small
But money cannot buy you happiness and that's the greatest gift of all.

On The Passing Of Donie Murphy

'Tis sad to think that he is gone forever with the deceased of Milllstreet he now lay
That he will never more be seen at West End does seem a very sad thing for to say
Pre-deceased by his devoted wife Nora his family left to bear their heavy cross
To them he was a kind and loving father and his passing to them is such a sad loss
Donie Murphy was an honest and hard work fellow he went through life without harming anyone
Loved by his wife and children and by all who knew him his mum and dad raised in him a good son
But fond memories of him will live on in those who knew him and I'll remember until my dying day
One who smoked his pipe and always talked before speaking and never hurted anyone in any way
I recall i last spoke to Donie Murphy at the river bridge by the Town Hill of Millstreet Town
The Finnow in the old fields bank high flowing through Inchaleigh in flood waters of brown
The old Finnow must have carried many big floods since that November day twenty one years ago
But that i was never more to meet again the great man was something then i was not meant to know
It was with feelings of regret and sorrow that the news of Donie's passing i did read
He will be missed from Millstreet Town and Parish in the field of good example he did lead.

If I Told You Differently

I've been cursed at kicked and my face punched but all of this i did survive
And in my sixty first year perhaps lucky to be alive
I never had a glory hour my better days long gone
Life for me seems a battle and still i battle on.

Many I've met on my life's journey have only wished me well
Whilst a few less complimentary wish me an Earthly Hell
The derogatory words of the cruel hearted can feel hurtful to one's pride
But the good and not so good in life one must take in one's stride.

Of any successes in my life i do not have to tell
I am just your average poetaster one who pens doggerel
The jingles living in my brain keep jingling all the time
I've written reams and reams of stuff since i was in my prime.

There are millions worse off than me in the bigger World out there
Where millions do grow poorer for every new millionaire
Compared to them I'm lucky so many much worse off than me
'Tis a hard road from Poverty Street for those in poverty.

For to be a slipshod rhymer is not a claim to fame
And in the World of Literature mine is an unknown name
But I'll be penning doggerel until the day i die
For if i told you differently then that would be a lie.

The Singing Birds Of Annagloor

Though in material things lacking spiritually never poor
And i felt joy just listening to the birds of Annagloor
Sing in the groves and hedgerows when Spring was in her prime
The happy memories with me despite the toll of time,
The singing birds of Annagloor would make for a nice song
From latter March to early June they sing from dawn till dusk all day long
And the little dark brown dipper with the breast as white as snow
On rock sang in the river rapids where the Cails waters flow
On it's journey to the Finnow by many a hedgerow
Through grassy fields and rushy meadows where the shy cock pheasant crow
Even in my flights of fancy i still feel a sense of joy
At the wonderment of Nature in the heart of the schoolboy
And from the fields of Annagloor the voices come to me
Of Nature's feathered minstrels on every bush and tree.

Though With What I Have To Say

Though with what i have to say many may disagree
I can make the World a better place to live in by becoming a better me
By becoming more tolerant of those different in knowing them better we do find
That despite their human frailties they too are quite good and kind.

In following the advice of divisive leaders far too many seem inclined
On the worth of another person you should make up your own mind
Everyone is an individual despite religion, culture and race
It is the good we see in others that we all ought to embrace.

Make myself a better person make the World to live in a better place
To many this must seem strange thinking but for it there must be a case
It's up to every individual for to do the best they can
To make the World a better place to live in every woman every man.

Make yourself a better person make the World better i look at life that way
Though some i know would not agree with what i have to say
To make Planet Earth a better World to live in for in self awareness we come to know
That empathy and compassion on negativity cannot grow

We All End Up As Losers

You should not judge a person unless you've lived in that person's shoes
And there comes a time for everyone when the winners even lose
We live awhile and breathe awhile and then for us no more
Though some without knowing tell us of an afterlife beyond this Earthly shore.

All of the money in the World will not bring back to life the dead
Though the next of kin of the materially wealthy may benefit death too for them lay ahead
The wealthy, the middle class and poor and that applies to all
To the sharp scythe of the reaper eventually must fall.

The one born to the monarch no different to you or i
For he or she mere mortals and like us born to die
Mother Nature's scythe the reaper the wealthy few doesn't spare
He claims the life of the pauper and of the billionaire.

Death is for the celebrities as well as those in poverty
We all end up as losers or so 'twould seem to me
Though many with what i do say will surely disagree
We all return to Nature like the giant forest tree.

The Women Of The World

The women of the World as people they are great
They give birth to the children and in so doing life create
In every woman ever born a nurturing soul you'll find
The mothers and the aunties a credit to Humankind.

All mothers and non mothers we ought to celebrate
The women of the World we tend to under-rate
Get rid of Patriarchy as such we do not need
History tells us that only to war the male kind us do lead.

The women of the World their praises we should sing
They have the gift of dialogue and that's a marvelous thing
It is not to give his life in war a mother raises her son
You seldom hear a woman sing of battles fought and won.

To the women of the World the toasting glass we'll raise
As the glue that binds humanity they are worthy of our praise
They are the unsung heroines of our World of today
The respect to them that is overdue to them we ought to pay.

A Grudge I Will Not Harbor

It was his choice that he chose to become my enemy
But I've chosen to forgive him i hope he forgives me
I do not wish to spend my twilight years nursing a worthless grudge
His opinions of me scarce does matter and I'm not to be his judge
Let the one who is without sin be the first to cast the stone
And it won't be me in any case who will point the karmic bone
At one that i do not like who will never be a friend
I am not one without blemish of that i won't pretend
I wish to grow old gracefully to forget and forgive
Any perceived wrongs against me, to live and to let live
A grudge i will not harbor to cause me inner strife
I just wish to feel happier and get on with my life
If he wishes to harbor a grudge against me that has to be his choice
The cost to pay for disagreements comes at a forbidding price.

A Storyteller, A Lover And A Traveler

He doesn't know if he has fathered children though he has had many lovers in his life
He has made love to at least five hundred women though none to him ever became a wife
A storyteller and a lover and a traveler so many places he's been in and seen
His life one might say is one great adventure since he has left Moree when he was nineteen
He is middle aged now in his early forties perhaps a decade  past his physical prime
He says his best years were in his mid twenties though one can't turn back the hands of time
He has been to South and North America and Europe he has lived and worked in distant Germany
Traveled in Asia lived for awhile in Russia a long way north of his Hometown of Moree
The lust for wander it is always in him he never can stay long in any place
In any city, town or sea side village his never will be a familiar face
He has not been to Moree for a few years his mother and his father still live there
He has worked and driven all around Australia he says he'd like to visit everywhere
A storyteller and a lover and a traveler from his Hometown he has traveled a long way
The lust for wander it is always in him the far off hills are green as some do say.

It Is Indeed A Marvellous Achievement

It is indeed a marvelous achievement to go through life without making a foe
At sometime as you go on your life's journey you will meet one that you wish you did not know
In the World out there are many toxic people who want to win in their every business deal
Who find it okay to rip off other people fair play to them does not seem to appeal.

It is indeed a marvelous achievement that everyone you know remains your friend
Since many quite good friendships we have heard of have come to quite an acrimonious end
Not every good and kind and caring person as we know does become a millionaire
Amongst the World's six billion plus people quite toxic people sad to say not rare.

For you it is such a marvellous achievement that you do not have an enemy or two
That you can remain friends with all you have dealings with says more than glowing words can say about you
What can one say but you are a special person and to people like you we should drink a toast
You've never made an enemy in your life that's not something of which many can boast.

It is indeed a marvelous achievement that everyone you know as a friend remain
For people like you the World is much the better we should sing your praises over and again
Compared to you i do seem very ordinary as people to my life do come and go
And I've made a few friends just a few friends only and I'm not one who is without a foe.

In Many Ways

Of elite athletes, celebrities and the rich and famous the praises you will hear so many sing
But they are mortals they don't live forever for human life is a temporary thing
All i ask of life is to be happy just for the remainder of my life span
It would be nice to grow old free of sadness and die painless in my sleep a happy man
In many ways i do feel very lucky when my lot in life with others i compare
So many people poor, hungry and Homeless and Stateless in the bigger World out there
What they would give to be lucky as i am at least i have a roof above my head
So many poor and hungry and sad people who sad to say feel envious of the dead
So many poor people in refugee camps they are the people of no fixed abode
The victims of Warlords and droughts and famines their life journey has been a hard old road
'Tis sad to think of the sadness all around us the Homeless children of poverty street
Who search in rubbish bins in the dark alleys for food that others have refused to eat
In many ways i do feel very lucky so many people far worse off than me
In the bigger World out there much want and sadness and many people live in poverty.

I Do Not Know Me

I've lived for eleven years with half of a century
And yet i cannot say that i know me
I know i need a huge boost to my self esteem
But to myself I'm a stranger it does seem
Can't say I've ever harmed anyone in any way
Though billions of people of themselves have that to say
With the passing of time i have seen many a change
And even those i see as friends to me at times seem strange
How can i know others if myself i do not know
People to my life they seem to come and go
I feel that to me myself is my greatest foe
And apart from others i do seem to grow
Into my soul i cannot even see
And how can i know others when i do not know me.

Nobody Ever Has Come Back

Nobody ever has come back to tell us
That there is a life beyond the grave of death
That we will live again in some place distant
When the body is forsaken by life's breath.

The Atheist says this is the only life we will live
Those with the gift of Faith say differently
Just live as long as you can this the only life we know of
That's the only advice you will get from me.

Nobody ever has come back for to tell us
Of this promised Kingdom somewhere in the sky
This is the only life i can feel sure of
Though many claim the soul has wings to fly.

Nobody ever has come back to tell us
That we are destined for to live again
But as for me i am a Doubting Thomas
And the benefit of doubt i do retain.

Those With The Biggest Egos

Those with the biggest egos i pity most of all
To them the wise words do apply pride comes before a fall
At every financial setback their egos do deflate
The very thought of failure with them seems far more great
Than those with lesser egos who take things in their stride
The thought of failure to them not a great loss of pride
Their egos not over-inflated so with failure they can cope
With them hope springs eternal and they always live in hope
Those with the biggest egos at lack of success feel down
When things are going against them they are not seen in the town
When their egos are deflated they feel in suicidal mood
They wallow in self pity as in silence they do brood
'Twould seem they only can cope with success and with fame
The bigger is the ego the greater the sense of shame.

On The Apology To The Stolen Generation

P M Kevin Rudd's apology to Australia's Indigenous Stolen Generation was so long overdue
Those who will tell you otherwise to a fair go not true
Children forcibly removed from their parents just because of their race
The wounds still only healing of an Australian disgrace
Australia's first people have suffered more than most
Why not we celebrate them and to them drink a toast
They had lived in this Country for sixty thousand years
Till Captain Cook's arrival brought them death and tears,
Successive Australian Governments have sinned against them
robbed them of their cultural soul
Treated them as second class citizens in their Homeland their children from them stole
For their overdue apology to them two centuries they had to wait
Australia's children of the children of the Dreamtime we ought to celebrate,
At the Rudd and Nelson apology to them emotive tears did flow
Something that should have taken place two centuries ago.

No Southern Right Whales

No southern right whales at Warrnambool last year
Due to oil exploration near Logan's Beach we hear
For to give birth the females went elsewhere
At Logan's Beach for them too noisy there.

Whether or not they do return next Spring
To Warrnambool when the nesting birds do sing
Or will they swim by Warrnambool and not decide to stay
Time can only tell as some are known to say.

For to give birth they need a quiet place
For to insure the survival of their dwindling race
Where they and their young can stay for a month or more
Where human beings for oil do not explore.

Will southern right whales give birth at Warrnambool again
Or will Warrnambool's loss be another coastal town's gain?
Breaching whale mothers and their calves an amazing sight to see
And of such i retain the memory.

The Townland I Was Raised In

The Townland i was raised in is far inland from the sea
And everyone in Claraghatlea i knew and they knew me
But the wander bug was in me for places far away
And i left home when the old fields with December frost were gray.

In fancy i see the Finnow bank high in flood of brown
Racing on towards the Blackwater through the fields near Millstreet Town
And the dipper sings in Claraghatlea in view of Clara hill
On rock amidst the rapids where the stream receives the rill

Born near the Town of Millstreet childhood years i did enjoy
And i fell in love with Nature when i was a school going boy
And i got to know the wild birds by sight or their chirp or song
So distinctive from each other one could never get them wrong.

I've lived in this Southern Country for two decades and a year
The place i was born and raised in is thousands of miles north of here
Yet in my flights of fancy i can hear the wild birds sing
In the leafy groves and hedgerows of my Homeland in the Spring.

Goodbye To You Dear Megan Gale

Goodbye to you dear Megan Gale you have got your fortune made
For being Queen of the Catwalk you have been more than well paid
You retire in your life's prime you won't die in poverty
Still young and very beautiful and set up for life financially,
Goodbye to you dear Megan Gale you are the Catwalk Queen
One of the finest models the Modelling World has ever seen
So beautiful to look at you modeled the most expensive clothes
But modelling will survive without you it has to i suppose
Goodbye to you Megan Gale in the evening news i did hear
That from modelling you're retiring though i did not shed a tear
Why should i shed a tear at the news of your retiral you a multi millionaire
When people are dying of hunger in the bigger World out there,
Goodbye to you dear Megan Gale but it would be fair to say
That in your modelling career you've done better than financially okay.

A Fair Go For All People

A fair go for all people to such i can relate
Whatever be their culture their race, beliefs or faith
Down with rank and class distinction and here's to the fair go
In an egalatarian society peace and harmony would grow
A fair go for all people how marvellous that would be
Outlaw discrimination and hunger and poverty
Outlaw rank and class distinction of them remove all trace
Make human rights a sacred thing as well as equality of race
The equality of humanity i may not live to see
Amongst Nations and different cultures it would lead to harmony
Egalatarianism amongst human kind of such we cannot boast
But a fair go for all people to that i will drink a toast
We cannot expect those different to respect us if respect to them we do not show
Here's to peace, justice,freedom and equality and to all a fair go.

Don't Tell Me

Don't tell me how i ought to live since one day i must die
When you say that all God fearing kind are good such talk based on a lie
That all God fearing kind are good to all does not apply
The few Atheists that i do know they would not harm a fly.

Don't tell me how i ought to live since my life it is my own
You are of the controlling type and your kind to me known
I never harm anyone and man's laws i obey
Don't tell me how i ought to live and to what God i should pray.

When you try to make me feel bad about myself i do not wish to hear
I may fear the very thought of dying but God i do not fear
To your beliefs and to your God you will not convert me
I believe in the great Goddess of Mother Earth there is none as great as she.

Since i never give you advice leave me to my own way
My God is an immortal she but to her i never pray
The lives of other people your type like to control
But 'tis up to every individual to nourish his or her own soul.

So You Tell Me

So you tell me that your life has no meaning though you are doing well in a financial way
You feel the light in your soul is growing dimmer pity poor you is all that i can say
Financially well off but mentally unhappy that indeed does seem a sad thing to hear
Wealthy in one way and poor in another that's how it does seem or it does appear
You became wealthy by stealing from Nature for to build your houses your workers removed many trees
And in so doing rendered homeless many creatures Nature's own karma you hardly do please
You are not one who does make Nature happy and your price to karma in unhappiness you pay
You've stolen from the great Goddess of Nature and unhappiness your reward for your spiritual decay
Stealing from Nature you do not see it that way in removal of trees you do not see wrong
You've made homeless marsupials and tree dwelling creatures
you have made homeless the wild birds of song
How would you feel if someone with a huge bulldozer arrived at your house at the top end of town
Evicted you and rendered you homeless and had the cheek for to bulldoze your house down
So you tell me that your life has no meaning though you are many times a millionaire
For yourself you have sown the seeds of bad karma yet of any wrongdoings you do not seem aware.

For Many Years

For many years i have loved Mother Nature she is the one who so amazes me
She is the one who feeds all living life forms the Goddess of the Land and of the Sea
The mystery of her presence all around me her beauty in every flowering bush and tree
She outlives all of her life forms and her Seasons she is not destined for mortality.
For many years and Seasons i have loved her the beauty of her Summer and her Spring
Her Autumnal hues and snow capped hills of Winter of her praises poets are inspired to sing
For many years I've marvelled at her beauty a beauty that will live forever more
The river that flows down from the high country that babbles it's way to the ocean shore
This is just one of her many creations she is the only God i claim to know
I loved her even when i was a school boy and that's going back some fifty years ago,
For many years she has filled my heart with wonder her beauty is around me everywhere
She is the only God i claim to know of with her none ever can hope to compare
She changes colors with the passing Seasons for her never a final night and day
I've loved her as a Primary school going fellow and i love her more now though i am aged and gray.

Nearly everyone suffers from some form of addiction nearly everyone is addictive in some way
As for me i suffer a penning addiction i pen a few more doggerels every day
The urge to write in me is so addictive the inspiration of the muse it does transcend
Though i am one who should know from experience that your addiction to you never is your friend
The urge to write it always is upon me it does seem like an incurable disease
Yes i should know as i am quite addictive that the addictive urge can be so hard to please
An addiction can prove very masochistic as i should know of the fact i won't lie
For decades I've been an addictive rhymer and I'll be a rhymer till the day i die
Perhaps i have said all that i have to say but the urge in me it keeps me penning on
Though i have lived a year with three score years and my better years by now are long gone
You tell me you do not have an addiction people like you one might say very rare
You are indeed a very endangered species not many like you in the big World out there,
I am one who was born with an addiction an addictive doggerel writer one might say
And if there is a cure for addictive rhymers for the cure i cannot afford to pay

I Do Not Understand

I'd like to be financially well off of that why should i lie
And I'd love to live forever i don't want to die
But like all things of life on me a terminal span
Though i hope to live for as long as i can.

So many young cyber poets with addresses Worldwide
They write their sad poems about death and suicide
They do look at life in a sad jaundiced way
They seem such sad cases that seems sad to say.

So willing to die even by their own hand
Though i am not hard hearted i do not understand
With an overdose of tablets a rope, gun or knife
Why anyone would wish to take their own life.

With their ideas of life and death i do not agree
Their sad poems of suicide disturbing to me
Apart from Mother Nature death is for all
And to the scythe of the reaper too soon we must fall.

The Only Thing I Fear

My thoughts on an afterlife are never clear
The thought of dying is the only thing i fear
But to the reaper's scythe i too must fall
The journey through life does end for us all
Each day we live each day the end for us more near
And of those who died brave we often read of and hear
But it matters none to them now how they died
Or if their fame has travelled far and wide
Why weep for me i am not worth a tear
But if you respect me respect what i loved dear
To immortal Mother Nature respect show
She is the only God i claim to know
There will be life long after we are gone
And Mother Nature will be living on.

The Little Road To Somewhere

The little road to Somewhere it winds along the hill
The home of the shy brown hare and the clear mountain rill
That flows down to the river to the great ocean shore
It has been babbling for none knows how long and will forever more.

It takes you from the highway from the busy City street
On the little road to Somewhere so few cars one does meet
Above the scrub of the foothills the brown lark upwards fly
To carol in the morning in the unpolluted sky.

Far from the noisy traffic of the big urban town
The little road to Somewhere it winds on up and down
Above the distant mountain the sun is rising red
Near the little Town of Somewhere that is somewhere on ahead.

In the wood by the little road to Somewhere the birds sing all day long
And each bird is distinctive by it's territorial song
A lovely road to drive on in a near to perfect day
Far from the noisy City to Somewhere far away.

Our Humble Local Poet

He never will be famous in the bigger World out there
Since he is not seen as special and his type are not rare
Of every local success he has been blessed to sing
And he in turn is applauded for him such a good thing.

In the confines of the Parish one seen as worthy of note
And he is one referred to as our 'Humble Local Poet'
Of his book of 'Local Verses' three hundred copies he did sell
Yet the pompous literary critics dismiss his poems as doggerel.

In the local pub one in the limelight every saturday night
The poems that made him famous to his fans he does recite
At the end of his performance the applause for him is loud
He will always be the darling of the local bar-room crowd.

For to be a World known writer of such he does not day-dream
Though to be known as the Parish Poet Laureate is good for his self esteem
To the pompous literary critics a poet he will never be
But to the people of the Parish no other Wordsmith as great as he.

They Insult The Name Of Freedom Fighters

Mentally unbalanced people that does seem very clear
It gives them a false sense of power to know others them do fear
They insult the name of freedom fighters those with honour to their name
To kill people deliberately is always an act of shame
Disrespect for the lives of the innocent they only seem to pay
To right their perceived wrongs against them they go about it the wrong way
Those who support them in what they do are as unworthy as they
Not worthy to be called human beings is all of them that i can say
They are such Godless people with darkness of the soul
Compassion and empathy for others seem beyond their control
The causes that they do espouse by their actions are destroyed
At the murdering and maiming of others they do feel gratified
For them never a memorial in any village or town
Such twisted and worthless people will never know of renown.

A Fringe Dweller

Don't have a church for to go to don't even bother to vote
Not in a writers group or in a book club or never said i was a poet
Don't have a god to worship don't believe in a heaven or hell
I am just another poetaster and i only pen doggerel.

I do not honour war heroes or weep at the graves of the dead
An ageing and ordinary fellow with little hair left on the head
A stranger on the street i live in few there even know of me
Not what one would call gregarious and anti social maybe.

A sort of self imposed fringe dweller we make our life choices some say
Though that does not apply to everybody it applies to me anyway
I do not go to community socials i sit at home and watch the t v
And as i sit there on the sofa my black cat comes and sits on my knee.

For many years a fringe dweller the way i live i do choose
Don't even fear the grim reaper in death what have i to lose
But is the town's wealthiest and most famous person that much more better than i
After all we are mere mortals we are all born to die.

Arrogant Old Men

They have not grown wiser though they are growing old
And they are famous and their life stories told
They take good care of the Me, Myself and I
But life will go on the day that they will die
Responsible for bloodshed, war and hate
Are these the people we should celebrate?
Though physically they have known a better day
In hair dye the gray that time bring they do hide away
Arrogant old war men full of patriotic pride
Because of them far too many have died
For lives lost due to them a price they have not paid
And they never admit that mistakes they have made
Arrogant old men conceited and proud
And sad to think many sing their praises loud.

Were I A Lion King

Were i a lion king of the pride how proud a lion I'd be
To think that other lions for miles around are very scared of me
In the stillness of the African night i would roar aggressively
I would not be kind to other lions or in ways act neighbourly
Of the prey the lionesses did kill i would be first to eat
The other members of the pride would have to wait for their share of the meat
The male lion who has compassion will never rule a pride
Of any honour in his life by his attitude self denied
If i were a lion king of the pride the lionesses for me would kill the prey
But if's an obstacle that always does get in the way
Human beings need some aggression in life for to succeed
The timid like the timid lion are not destined to lead
Were i a lion king in the African night I'd give a mighty roar
That would be heard by other lions for two miles distant or more.

Each Thing Of Life In Nature

Each thing of life in Nature has a duty to fulfil
In Spring the skylark leaves the ground and soars above the hill
'Tis hardly for the love of song that upwards he does fly
And carols his way upwards towards the gray clouds of the sky.

The red earth worm who lives in the ground sheltered from the sun, rain and storm
Though to us quite insignificant has a duty to perform
It aerates the surface soil which helps crops for to grow
To Nature's little earth worm respect we ought to show.

Each life form serves some purpose in Nature of which we are aware
The mouse the rat the lizard and the rabbit and the hare
Are preyed upon by predators the small by the bigger eat
For every herbivore born there's one born to eat meat.

In Nature every life form serves some purpose that's how it does seem to me
But with what i say i know too well that not all would agree
In Nature each life form serves some purpose from the great to the small
And that applies to human beings as well as things that swim, fly walk and crawl.

My God Is Mother Nature

My God is Mother Nature of that why should i lie
And my remains will return to her when life's breath in me die
A bloke who lives across the street he talks and prays to his God in the sky
Though love thy newighbour it would seem to him does not apply.

A few weeks back in a fit of rage he punched the bloke next door
But his neighbour in the District Court will even up the score
His neighbour from the brutal assault received a broken jaw
Not even God will help him out when he face the court of law.

In that second verse i have strayed from the point that my God is out there
My God is an immortal she her presence is everywhere
I see the beauty she create in every flower and rose
Though others have a different God that's life one must suppose.

In parks and gardens her birds sing on every bush and tree
The Immortral Mother Nature the one true God to me
Us humans like all of her life forms are mere mortals after all
To the scythe of her reaper we eventually must fall.

Archibald

His roads of life have been so hard and rough
But he hung in there though the going was tough
He raised his children Joe and Kate without Kate his wife
To cancer she lost her battle for life
To him and their children her's was a huge loss
Her passing on them such a heavy cross
With child raising Archibald learned to cope
He is one who never gives up on hope
In tests of character great courage he has shown
He never re-married raised his children on his own
A sixty years old Grandfather the years have left him gray
That he has not had an easy life would seem quite fair to say
Through life's hard days Archibald hung in there
One might say he has earned his gray hair.

Born For To Be Travellers

Born for to be travellers of them one can say
The lust of the wander still in them today
Their ancestors roamed the road from town to town
And the restless gene to their descendants passed down
The travellers are born to music and song
They drink and play music sing and dance all night long
Some them in their ways of life don't understand
And they have been sinned against in every Land
Yet they are survivors and their culture lives on
And they retain the links to Seasons long gone
The wanderlust in them until their dying day
They are at their happiest on the roadway
That winds through the countryside uphill and down
As they travel on to the next country town.