To Judge By Appearance

I have seen many things in my six decades of years
I have seen women weep seen macho men in tears
But the strangest thing that I ever did see
Is this tall powerful young bloke in his life's prime twenty three
Scream aloud in fear as he ran from his house
And the cause of his fear was a tiny brown mouse
Down at the local pub he is full of masculine elan
And by his mates he's looked up to as a macho man
But if his mates knew what I know of him they'd think differently
He is not the brave fellow that he appears to be
It just goes to prove as some are known to say
That the most muscular man can be weak in some way
In life every-day for us some new surprise
And to judge by appeareance is not very wise.

He Feels Devastated

He feels that all hope in his heart it has died
And that the lady of luck she is not on his side
His wife has left him taken the children she is lover of his ex best friend
He feels devastated he's not one to pretend
He thought that she loved him but thought proved him wrong
Her love for his ex best friend than for him it is far more strong
Betrayed by his friend and betrayed by his wife
There are many hard lessons for us in life
For to go to the pub he is not in the mood
After work he drink alone at home and in silence he brood
Mere words cannot describe the way he does feel
But time will prove his friend since time it does heal
There are lessons in life to be learned every day
And even for trusting the price can seem huge for to pay.

On St Patrick

St Patrick converted the Irish to Christianity for which he's remembered today
And though I may stand condemned for posing the question it may have been best if from there he had stayed away
For Ireland a latecomer to Organized religion before Patrick converted it's people was doing okay
Some religious people as we know in Ireland respect to children never seemed to pay
One cannot blame Patrick for what's happened as a person it would seem that he was free of taint
He must have been for in Rome he was canonized by the scriptural judges as worthy to be called a Saint
As his reward for converting the Irish to Christianity for the Church of Rome a huge win
The Scot who rid Ireland of serpents did not rid old Ireland of sin
Whilst Ireland has produced many great missionaries who did great work on behalf of the poor in Lands afar
They worked for the poorest of the poor the victims of hunger and war
But some of Ireland's stay at home clergy brought upon their church and themselves Ill-fame
The abuse of children is a Crime against Humanity yet most of them went unpunished for their acts of shame
No doubt Scottish Patrick was a good and a holy man the National Saint of the Irish and Ireland
But some of the members of the Church he founded there not good people why this should be I do not understand.

In Ten Years From Now

In ten years from now I will be an old man
But I'll carry on rhyming for as long as I can
And though some tell me perhaps I should call it a day
I do hope to never give rhyming away
I've written one might say a whole heap of stuff
But to be called a poet I am not good enough
Just an average rhymer there are millions like me
You never hear me say that I write poetry
In ten years from now if I am still alive
I will have little to live for save the will to survive
For to write some more doggerels and though my best years long gone
For as long as I can I will keep penning on
To me 'tis a passion more than a past-time
I am one who enjoys penning doggerel rhyme.

So Many Streets And Roadways

So many streets and roadways I've driven up and down
Since I left Claraghatlea west of old Millstreet Town
And though I live far south of Clara Mountain today
The old fields from my thoughts are never far away
In Claraghatlea I penned my very first rhyme
In the early seventies that is going back in time
I thought then that I might grow into a poet
A writer of substance one worthy of note
Thousands of rhymes and thirty five years later and still a stranger to fame
Even on the street I live on few know me by name
But I am not unhappy as I have no reason to be
For there are billions of people who are worse off than me
I've never had to live in a refugee camp as a Stateless refugee
And I've never been Homeless and lived in poverty.

Eileen O Keeffe

Such a beautiful person her likes rare and seldom seen
And sad to think that she has gone for forever more from her old home in Dooneen
Eileen O Keeffe was a role model to her big family and in life she made many a friend
But the life journey for all of us one night or day must end.

Pre-deceased by her husband the renowned greyhound trainer Paddy O Keeffe he died somewhile ago
Eileen was loved by everyone who knew her she did not have a foe
In St Mary's Cemetery by Cashman's Hill her last remains now lay
For each and everyone of us a final night and day.

One cannot help but recall her marvellous smile that lit up her lovely face
In the hearts of friends and family there is none to take her place
Though in the lives of her many children and grandchildren her spirit will live on
'Tis only her physical remains that to St Mary's Cemetery has gone.

One can only hope that from life her's was not a painful release
As she was such a good person she deserved to die in peace
A great model to her family in life she made many a friend
But life's journey for all of us one day or night must end.

That Most Humans Crave For Glory

That most humans crave for glory is surely not a lie
And though you well may love your Country for your Country why should you die
Since dead heroes like dead cowards cannot help their Country in any way
Whilst alive you can help your Country even though you look old and gray
The dead hero cannot hear the bugler when The Last Post it is played
Though some may say his ghost is present at every war parade
The deserter is dishonoured from the fight he ran away
But to his Country he's of some use he's alive and well today
The dead hero he is honoured though to him that of no use
For to justify their recent war the war leaders use the war dead as an excuse
For another bloody battle a war they themselves will not fight in
Though in every war that ever was humanity did not win
You cannot serve your Country by dying for it so live for as long as you can
And die hopefully a painless death as a very old man.

On Mangan's Cathal Mor

When Mangan wrote of 'Cathal Mor Of The Wine Red hand'
A great ruler of Connacht in the thirteenth century Ireland
His great poem was inspired from Irish oral history
When the people of the West of Ireland knew of great prosperity
Their King Cathal Mor was the ruler supreme
A Godlike figure held in high esteem
His legend as a great leader it did grow
In Connacht seven centuries ago
The poet who glorified Cathal Mor James Clarence Mangan was born in Dublin in 1803
And in 1849 he died in extreme poverty
Ireland's National bard who penned Ireland's National Poem Dark Rosaleen
His name will live in Ireland as long as Irish fields are green
In his historical poetry a poet worthy of note
Arguably his Country's greatest ever poet.

The Outback Shearer

To a hardy breed of people he surely does belong
The man from the high woodland of the pied currawong
For many years a shearer one of no fixed abode
In his ute through the outback he has travelled on many a road
Single in his early forties he has yet to take a wife
Though he is not short of women plenty of them in his life
Says he has not fathered children not that he knows of anyway
In every Bushtown he has a woman though in every town his is a brief stay
From the hill of the pied currawong and the tall mountain ash trees
That sough and wave their branches in the freshening high country breeze
Yet he likes the wide brown outback and though the shearer never draws easy pay
He will be shearing in the shearing sheds till he grows old and gray
In the Bushtown pubs at the weekend there is women, laughter, beer and song
To the travelling life of the outback shearer he is one who does belong.

And You Never Do Stop Learning

What hair I have left on my head gray as feather of gray crow
I am in my early sixties yet so little I do know
About life and about living though I'm learning every day
And you never do stop learning though your hair is silver gray
Every day from life there's a new lesson for her and him and you and me
And you never do stop learning as long as you retain the gift of memory
Some more knowledgeable than others though not one who knows it all
From life we never do stop learning till to the Reaper's scythe we fall
The difference between knowledge and lack of such in one is not hard to discern
And those who think they know it all are those with most to learn
For one never does stop learning and the more you learn the more you come to realize
That they are not in majority the knowledgeable and wise
In the ways of life I am so naive a fact I can't deny
But that we learn every day from life to us all does apply.

The Slow Learner

He is not what you'd call a nice person and he is sadly lacking in charm
But he is trying to improve his self image and he does not wish on others harm
You will meet far worse people than him but on saying that 'twould seem fair to say
That he has plenty of room for self improvement he is not perfect in any way
He has a tendency at times to be offensive by inadvertently saying the wrong thing
Just not sensitive enough to the feelings of others though his own praises at times he does sing
His truth to others at times seems insulting he is not one that one could call wise
Above the height of the very ordinary his type never can seem to rise
There are few who are near to perfect and some more imperfect than most
And there are plenty I know of and he is one that to I never could drink a toast
Yet to give him his due he is into self improvement though he still has a long way to go
And though he is far from a young person he knows he has so much to know
On how to treat other people better he realizes words can cause offense
To be nice to others is not hard and it does make for much better sense.

The Tinanmen Tank Man

What happened to the Tinanmen Tank Man perhaps only the Chinese Authorities do know
The brave one who stared down the tanks of a powerful Nation in time back two decades ago
He stood on the pathway of the huge tanks dancing and swinging his shopping bags above his head
In his eyes the look of sheer courage against all odds he did not show any dread.

Like his identity what happened to him is a mystery and as a mystery will remain
But the story of his act of defiance will be retold again and again
A story of unbeatable courage from the massascre of Tinanmen Square
To the oppressed of the World a true hero people like him to say the least rare.

His act of courage of the highest order to the Tank man Tango Dance has given rise
In an act of defiance most would see as extremely courageous though some would not see as very wise
Alone he stood on the pathway of the tanks a Chinese Horatius in history he will live on
A moment in Human History that will be remembered when most other memories to posterity will have gone.

For his act of marvellous courage perhaps with his life he did pay
The hero for Human Rights on June the fifth 1989 from Beijing from here far away
He will always be remembered as the Tinanmen Tank Man the story of his bravery is told on every Shore
A story of courage that will live for centuries if not even forever more.

A Blokey Sort Of A Fellow

A blokey sort of a fellow a real man some might say
His wife she washes his and their four children clothes and cooks for them every day
She even has a part time job to try to make ends meet
A hard working woman of rare beauty yet untainted by conceit
A broad shouldered macho fellow he barracks for the local football club
One of the loudest voices down at the local pub
His blokey mates much like him each to their own they say
They never help around the home to them that's not the manly way
One can judge the merit of a man by the way he treats his wife
Blokey sorts they see their women as their servants in life
To them women are inferior to men they do not believe in equality
One can say of them they suffer of spiritual poverty
His wife at home is working hard and the blokey sort of a bloke
Whilst at the pub with his blokey mates he drinks and laugh and joke.

It Will Not Matter One Bit To Me

It will not matter one bit to me where my last remains will lay
Or whether I am cremated or left to naturally decay
Under the ground of some cemetery wherever that may be
My journey will be over then and all of the same to me
Even if I die tomorrow I will die satisfied
That though I never became a poet to become one my best I tried
Shackled by our limitations the winners in life are rare
And of our limitations we all should be aware
Mine is not a false modesty I mean it when I say
That I am a poetaster and though I pen stuff every day
To such I am addicted with words I love to play
Like I say no false modesty I see myself in that way
If I should die tomorrow I will have found my lasting peace
And from the cares of living my eternal release.

I Am Just One More Migrant

I am just one more migrant there are millions like me
We live far from where the lamp of day we first did see
Separated from our Homeplace by distance and sea
Though strangers back there now to many we'd be
So far from where our life journey we did begin
Many of us become citizens of the Land we live in
Whilst some of us as permanent residents do remain
And citizenship of our Home Country retain
Many far from the place of their birth live today
And the last remains of millions of deceased migrants lay
Far from their home village or city or town
And the old streets where they often walked up and down
I am just a migrant there are millions more
Who grow old far distant from their Homeland shore.

A Visualization Of Venus Bay

The silver gulls cry at the dawn of the day
Where the big surf waves rumble into Venus bay
And spend the great anger of their every surge with a mighty roar
As they crash on the beach of the Southern Shore
It has been awhile now maybe five years or more
Since I last was in Venus Bay near Tarwin Lower
The mud nest building magpie lark called out pee wee
In the Park of the Village quite close to the sea
Yet in my flights of fancy I hear and I see
The musk lorikeets on a flowering gum tree
In coastal Southern Gippsland from here far away
And in my visualization I'm back there today
Where the huge surf waves crash in the dawn of the day
Upon the white sands of old Venus Bay.

As Mortal As You Or As I

The baby who was born into life today
The biological clock on his or her life already ticking away
And though perhaps decades of birthdays ahead to celebrate
The father of time for anyone does not wait
And how quickly indeed the decades go by
On looking back in time it does seem to fly
And the Seasons they come and the Seasons they go
And the child to an adult in twenty years grow
Between our twentieth and thirtieth year we are in our life's prime
Till eventually we become victims of time
To the scythe of the Reaper we eventually do fall
There is a last day and last night for us all
The Monarch and the President are as mortal as you or as I
And the longer we live the sooner we must die.

I Am Not A Poet I Never Said I Was

I am not a poet I never said I was I just pen doggerel
The sort of stuff that few bother to read and I cannot hope to sell
I've been rhyming for many years and though my better days long gone
Until the Reaper claims the life from me I will keep penning on
I've written reams and reams of rhymes one might say more than most
But that's not something I'm proud of or of which one should boast
Though every day and every night more new rhymes come to me
I'm addicted to penning rhyme or so 'twould seem to be
When I was in my late twenties and my hair was dark brown
I penned my first rhymes years ago back home near Millstreet Town
In my many walks in the old fields I made up rhymes on my way
I was in love with Nature then and I still love her today
And if I said I'd give up rhyming I'd be telling a lie
For I will keep penning doggerel until the day I die.

In The Land Of The Pale Eyed Crow

In the bright afternoon sunshine the saltpans white as snow
Are gleaming like large saucepans where only saltbush grow
A Land of an ancient Indigenous history though little of that we can claim to know
By the salt lakes of the Coorong in the land of the pale eyed crow
The pale eyed ravens cawing on the dead and stunted trees
And the landscape looking parched and bare from the sunshine and coastal breeze
This land has inspired artists to sketch and writers to story and rhyme
It was a very old land even in the Dreaming-time
Under the salt and sand where the saltbush grow the bones of the tribal people lay
One can even sense their spirits in this Countryside today
They were the first caretakers of this great Southern Land
And their ways and their cultures beyond us to understand
Perhaps their spirits live today in the dak pale eyed crow
Who caws loudly on the dead gum tree where only saltbush grow.

We See The Flaws In Others

We see the flaws in others our own flaws we don't see
This is how it's always been with us and this is how 'twill always be
The non judgemental people are becoming more rare
It surely would not be this way if we were more self aware
Those into judging others are low in self esteem
We judge others to rate ourselves or so it does seem
But to be into self improvement it does seem fair to say
We must start to look inward there is no other way
For from judging other people arrogance and lack of compassion we only gain
You cannot become a better person if as judgemental you do remain
Lucky are those who have compassion their praises we ought to sing
They are not into judging others that is such a good thing
The words in the philosophy of live and let live are well worthy of recall
And let us raise the toasting glass to a fair go for all.

A Rainy Day In Early June

The gray sky clouded over the rain is drizzling down
And the golf course is deserted by the river near the town
An early June day in early Winter in the Southern Hemisphere
The sun in the rain clouds hidden it is that time of year
From once you hear him singing his voice with you remain
The magpie he is piping in defiance of the rain
The gray and brown red wattlebird with a hoarseness in his cry
Is calling on a flowering gum that drips of rain nearby
To the vast expanse of dark water that crawls slowly to the sea
And in the calm dampness of the drizzling rain come the song of the pee wee
On this rainy day in early Winter it seems a long way from the Spring
When most of Nature's wild born birds will build their nests and chirp and sing.

Down South In South Australia

Down south in South Australia in old Port Adelaide
A place of Indigenous history where history has often been made
Home of renowned Australian Rules Footballers men who are known Worldwide
They wore the magpie colours with a certain sense of pride.

In the beautiful Port River the dolphins sport and play
In fancy I can see them in the sunlight of the day
From the pier at Port Adelaide one them often does see
Marvelous memories of such beauty keep on coming back to me.

Those grand old Towns of South Australia by the far southern shore
Port Adelaide and West Lakes, Largs Bay and Semaphore
Fond memories of such beauty one always does retain
And in my flights of fancy I visit there again.

One can only imagine in the warm sunshine and breeze
The very first Australians had their corroborees
Long before the coming of the Europeans many centuries ago
Though little of their history or their ways we do know.

Down south in South Australia in old Port Adelaide
Of there I have great memories and great memories never fade
Of an old place that's full of history and the friendly people who live there
It's famous Football Club and renowned Australian Rules Players are well known everywhere.

A Marvelous And Beautiful Person

I'd like for to meet her more often since she never fails to make my day
A marvelous and beautiful person though the years has left her hair gray
Her smile is a thing of great beauty it lights up her beautiful face
If everyone were only like her to live in this town would be a far better place
A widow in her early seventies her son and grandchildren live in a distant town
To be kind and be helpful to others is her one just claim to renown
I've never seen her sulky or moody or out of sorts in any way
She only looks for the good in others and of anyone bad never say
She has become my inspiration a woman I greatly admire
And I cannot help but sing her praises to self betterment me she inspire
Her wisdom and her knowledge of life her type of person very rare
So down to earth, modest and humble and one spiritually aware
I do not see her very often the one I feel happy to meet
She lives near the town's shopping center but I wish that she lived on our street.

No Such A Thing As God's Chosen People

No such a thing as God's chosen people if there is a God he's for all
For a God than us would be far greater in our judgements we are so small
God would judge everyone as an equal no matter the Race or the name
The believers or the non believers a true God would treat as the same.

If there's a God he must be disappointed with many of those who to him does pray
He would see them as quite hypocritical and sinners in their own small way
He would not wish his name to be used for Nationalism, Patriotism or Racism the things that to war often lead
Many of those who swear by their bibles or sacred scriptures their own meanings into the words read.

The existence of a God of the Universe is something that remains as an unknown
Those who wage a holy war or any war in his name such people a true God would disown
Between terrorists and war men and religious bigots he would not differentiate
Such people to his Universal Heaven would not be allowed to enter at the entrance gate.

If there is a God he is for every good person the agnostic and the atheist as well as those of good faith
The loving, caring and kind and compassionate in his likeness he did create
No matter what your religion or lack of it if you do a good deed every day
And believe on a fair go for all people your God will see you as okay.

The Skylark Above Coolikerane

The skylark above Coolikerane bog is carollng as upwards he does fly
And the beautiful pipe of the curlew can be heard in the calm evening sky
And the swallows in their pursuit of flying insects are back home from Lands far away
They must travel a million miles or more in their lifetime since they do fly for hours every day
And the woodcock is back on the high ground in the wooded land by Clara Hill
And the buttercups bloom in their millions on the grassy bank of the rill
That babbles on down from the high ground through grassy fields by ditch and hedgerow
To join and swell the waters of the river that to the great ocean does flow
The years may well be telling on us but the memories with us do remain
Of places that once were familiar and in fancy we walk in the old fields again
When Summer is in the green Country and birds sing on the leafy trees
And cattle content in lush pasture sit and chew their cuds at their ease.

Ballydaly Sports And Fun Sunday

Back there in old green Ballydaly by Boggeragh hills far away
They did have their Sports and Fun Sunday on the last day of Spring and of May
From the images from there on the Millstreet Web Site not many faces I do know
Since I last lived near Ballydaly it now seems a long time ago.

Almost twenty three years since I lived near Ballydaly in the human life quite a span of time
The babes born then now young men and women and close to their physical prime
The passage of time does bring with it changes and from the images of faces from there I can say
That even in old Ballydaly I would be a stranger today.

My happy years near Ballydaly with fondness I often recall
And the old fields I loved west of Millstreet would not have changed that much at all
But people seem to age in a decade and the years on us quickly do show
We are not unlike Nature Seasons to life we come and the life from us go.

Sports and Fun Sunday in Ballydaly in the bright sunshine of the late Spring
When the hawthorns do wear their white blossoms and the nesting birds whistle and sing
Only knew six or at most seven faces from the many images from there I did see
The young generation of Ballydaly to say the least strangers to me.

One Can Only Try To Be A Better Person

One can only try to be a better person and hurtful things of or to others never do say
And never no never do make fun of others and if you can do one good deed every day
Remember you or I not the only people on this Planet there is more to life than me, myself and I
The greatest of people are born to be mortals we live for awhile and eventually die
And what is success and how does one define it a truly successful person is not easy to find
In some ways you are lacking though you may be rich and famous if to others you never are generous and kind
The Human World is far bigger than any individual and our biological clocks ever ticking away
Our life span in time does seem a brief existence for each one of us there's a last night and day
Nature is the only one I know of who will live on forever all of her life forms have on them a time span
Three decades ago I was still in my prime years and younger people now look on me as an old man
I am not one of those who is seen as successful but the judgements of others does not bother me
I only wish that I could be of more help to others for I too am sadly lacking in empathy
Who is or is not a successful person that is something that is hard so very hard to define
On such you will find many different opinions and your's is so different quite different to mine.

The Wise One Is A Man Of Few Words

The wise one is a man of few words he does not belong to a Social Club
He has a glass of wine after supper he is never at the Local Pub
Most who know him think that he is not wise since he has so little to say
Feel lucky they say that if from him you get a hello or good day
He has grown wise from mixing with wise people from wise elders insights he does gain
And he is one who is a good listener and the wisdom he has learned he retain
None ever go to him for advice they say of life what would he know
They do not believe he's a wise one they say no this cannot be so
But Joe his near neighbour who knows him better than most do with their thinking on him does not agree
He says there is more knowledge and wisdom in his mind than the combined local community
And yet he does not flaunt his wisdom or he does not crave local or widespread esteem
He appears ordinary and quiet spoken though more the pity that does seem
People like him never become leaders we follow the fool leader like sheep
But like an old saying worth remembering quiet waters do always run deep.

Where The Araglen Flows To the Blackwater

Where the Araglen flows to the Blackwater the birds sing at the dawn of the day
And the Summer approaching Duhallow on the last day of Spring and of May
A pale sun low in the horizon the nestling birds chirp in their nest
And the hare has retired to the rushes under cover by day she does rest
The cows with their fast growing calves in the lush fields resplendent in their Nature's flowers
The countryside is at it's greenest as a result of recent heavy showers
The jackdaws drawing sticks to their nest on the chimney and in the rank rushes by the hedgerow
The male pheasant his wings is clapping and he stretch his neck and cuck and crow
The dipper he sings in the Araglen his scratchy notes in fancy I hear
And the beautiful song of the song thrush melodious and pleasant and clear
And the wren is singing on the hedgerow the brown tiny one with the big bird song
His voice it cannot be mistaken from once heard you cannot get it wrong
Where the Araglen babbles on it's way to the Blackwater the great river that flows to the sea
The beauty I knew as a young man is embedded in my memory.

The Mysteries Of Nature As Mysteries Remain

The migratory bird does have a tiny brain
But it seems beyond scientists to even try to explain
How they make it to the far south of the World from the far north and then back again
The mysteries of Nature as mysteries remain.

The more about Nature we learn and know
The more that our wonderment of her does grow
About her she has a mysterious way
But there are lessons from her to be learned every day.

What seems natural in Nature seems amazing to you and to me
In my every walk a new wonder I do see
So much about her for to love and admire
And of singing her praises could one ever tire?

Her life forms of land and waterways and sea
And her mysteries to us remain a mystery
And the more we learn of her the more we realize
That to her there is far more than does meet the eyes.

A Cool But A Beautiful Evening In May

A cool But a beautiful evening in may
The silver gulls mewing in the park by the bay
The magpie is fluting on the blackwood tree
And who could mistake the song of the pee wee
The dark waters of the river to the ocean crawl
On the second last day of the Southern Fall
Gray Winter approaching the southern shore
And twilight begins just after half past four
The calls of the coots and the moorhens one cannot mistake
And the wild duck are quacking in the depths of the lake
The sights and sounds of Nature pleasant to see and hear
Most of her wild birds call and sing every day of the year
On the second last day of the Southern Fall
The wild birds of Nature do whistle and call.

In Life 'Twould Seem

In life 'twould seem of certainty there is no such a thing
And how can you say what the future to you is going to bring
Our prime years just a decade we soon grow weak and old
We are ninety per cent water or so we have been told
Our reason for having children stimulated by our sexual drive
Is our idea of mortality that our genes should survive
In the future generations our egos will live on
In others that part of us will exist when the life breath from us has gone
Why worry about the future we can only live in the now
To time the master of us all we eventually must bow
We worry what others think of us our egos built on self esteem
Though what others think of you is their business not yours at least that's how it does seem
In life there is really one true fact and fact as we know does not lie
That us humans are born as mortals and mortals are born to die.

The Legends They Come And the Legends They Go

The celebrities of the Human World of their life stories we know
But the legends they come and the legends they go
People die and babies are born every day
And the Reaper on all lives has the final say
Except for the troubled individuals who for whatever reason decide
For to end their existence in the act of suicide
It is a fact of life and facts do never lie
That what is born to life must eventually die
Many feel I look at life in a negative way
But that is their opinion and with me that is okay
On what I say on many things many may disagree
But we all are very different and we see things differently
But the one who makes all equal on us has the final call
To the scythe of the Grim Reaper we eventually must fall.

Donie Murphy Of West End

With those who knew and loved him fond memories of him will remain
For on his wonderful life journey many friends he did gain
In life he did have his crosses but hard to keep a good one down
One of the respected elder citizens of Duhallow's Millstreet Town.

Pre-deceased by his Soul-mate Mary his beloved and devoted wife
Donie Murphy was a good husband and good father to his children and a man who did love life
A well liked and respected person of Millstreet Town's West-end
In his business and dealings with others he did make many a friend.

In his young years Donie Murphy lived in the U S A
But he returned to Millstreet Town to where he first saw light of day
He owned a Cinema and had a Furniture business a good man in every way
And in St Mary's Cemetery amongst the dead of Millstreet in eternal rest he lay.

The years go by so quickly and few things seem to last
And in Millstreet Town by Clara Hill the changes are happening fast
And though the breath of life from Donie Murphy may be forever gone
In Millstreet memories of the man he was are destined to live on.

I Will Never Give Rhyming Away

I may not be seen as much of a writer though for many years now a rhyme buff
Some referred to as poets are known to write poetry I'm one of those known to pen stuff
I've written a whole heap of doggerel addictive as many might say
For as long as I retain my health and my faculties I will never give rhyming away
And always something new to write of new rhymes come to me all of the time
I commenced penning stuff in my late twenties when I was in my physical prime
Since then I have not stopped penning it has become a way of life for me
Not worthy of the title of poet but a rhymer of sort maybe
A migrant in a Southern Country thousands of miles from my Home-shore
I do not write for fame or for fortune just for love of it and nothing more
Some become wealthy and famous from writing for me there is no such renown
I penned my first rhymes in Duhallow in Claraghatlea near Millstreet Town
In the Autumn of my existence my better days may be long gone
But for as long as the life's breath is in me I surely will be penning on.

Byronic Patriotism

Not everyone loves their Homecountry Byron the English poet loved Greece
And in the Islands in the Atlantic he died and found his lasting peace
To the people of Greece a true hero in their history his legend has grown
He may have been born and raised in England but they claimed him as one of their own
So few poets in the English language with Byron could hope to compare
The leading exponent of satire the Byrons of literature rare
Childe Harold and Don Juan classics of English literature the legend of Byron lives on
In Greece where he died still a legend whilst millions to the ways of time gone
That he loved Greece far better than England many would find hard to understand
I just give you here one example of one who loved his adopted Land
You can call it Byronic Patriotism or call it whatever you may
But he was not the first or surely not the last one to love a land from his Home shore far away
Millions if not billions of migrants in Lands far from their Home shore rest in peace
And not everyone loves their Home-country Lord Byron was one who loved Greece.

About You There Is Nothing Unusual

Do you feel you do not have reason to feel unhappy though you do feel unhappy today
About you there is not anything unusual as many others too do feel this way
They too do feel they do not have a reason to feel unhappy sometimes the cares of living gets one down
Moments of sadness are even experienced by the most carefree and the happiest in the town
In a Human world of billions of people the happy and the carefree are quite rare
The human mind so many moods experience of which psychologists seem all too aware
You may not have any reason to feel unhappy though you do feel out of sorts just the same
Mood swings experienced by the sanest of people a completely happy person one I cannot name
We all have our good days and our bad days and the good and the bad moods to us come and go
I know little of life and I know little of Nature and even less about people I can claim to know
The happiest person is not always happy though some do seem in good mood most of the time
Whilst others always have a sad look about them as if to smile to them would be a great crime
You may not be poor but at the moment unhappy it is human to have moods people like you everywhere
Today there are billions of unhappy people living in the bigger World out there.

Dan O Connell Of Knocknagree

For many years he and his wife Hanna Mae owned a pub in Knocknagree
And beyond Sliabh Luachra's borders he became a well known identity
Amongst Irish music and dance lovers at the weekends to his bar
For the dancing and the sing song people came from near and far.

And Dan O Connell always led the dance he was master of the floor
He could dance on without tiring for two hours or even more
He was quite a famous dancer as a dancer he was known
Even in his early eighties with the best he held his own.

He was such a marvellous character one who was larger than life
And his passing has brought great sadness to his many friends to his family and his wife
Even in the twilight of his life as happy as a happy boy
And his pub in the old Village brought to many so much joy.

He died in his eighty eight year Dan O Connell will dance never more
In the famed pub in Knocknagree Village silent now the dancing floor
And the changes keep happening in Sliabh Luachra and the past forever gone
But fond memories of the dancing fellow in those who knew him will live on.

Nature And Her Beauty

I've written so much about Nature yet of Nature so little I do know
Yet I cannot help but sing her praises and my wonder of her only grow
The beauty that she does create we do not pay to see
And I feel we do belong to her though with that many may not agree
Her presence is in every Land from North to Southern shore
And what can anyone say of her that has not been said before
And of singing her praises how can one ever tire
Mysterious and beautiful is the one billions do admire
I have sung Nature's praises in my simple doggerel rhyme
But any sort of praise for her is not a waste of time
Her beauty and her voices I see and hear every day
The pee wee he is singing in the park across the way
And the honeyeaters chirping on the flowering wattle tree
And Nature and her beauty is always near to me.

We Are Led By The Manipulative

We are led by the manipulative of us what does this say
We must be very gullible in a naive sort of way
We vote them into office on Election Day
From our past mistakes we never learn though for our mistakes we pay
The Government we elect to power the reflective mirror of who we are
And since it is us who did give them the power to order the troops to war
The majority of the voters it does seem must see war as quite okay
But it is only the mother is left to grieve where her son the dead hero lay
In our achievements in science and technology we have something to celebrate
Yet in our self destructive environmental practices global warming we create
We worry about the Worldwide economic depression yet the thing the economy is built on we destroy
For the future of the Human Race every young girl and boy
And on our path to self destruction our Government leads the way
I only can feel sympathy for the children of today.

We Learn Until We Die

We learn something new from living and from Nature every day
And you never do stop learning though the years have left you gray
So much to learn of flora and fauna flowers, weeds, grasses, shrubs and trees
And of insects that fly and crawl and of wasps and flies and bees
Of the mammals and birds and fish of the waterways and of the lakes and seas
That live in different environments of varying climate and degrees
The birds and animals of land so many species Worldwide
A different sort of beauty to be seen in every countryside
It is hard to disagree with those who say that the wise are only few
But every day on our life's journey we learn something new
The lessons learned from the elders of our young years we retain
They are embedded in our memories and through life with us remain
It has always been a fact of life and facts do never lie
That as long as memory serves us we learn until we die.

Nature's Gift To May

Skylark rises from the rushes caroling upwards as he fly
He keeps singing whilst ascending a musical speck in the sky
Till in the gray clouds he does vanish still his music one does hear
Distant fields I do remember in the Springtime of the year
Nesting birds all day long singing on hedgerow and bush and tree
The lush fields are full of wildflowers beauty everywhere to see
Cows with their calves on sweet grass thriving tastes better than silage or hay
And the hawthorn trees they look resplendent in their white blooms of the May
Swallows home to breed for Summer all day chasing flies and bees
And the weather damp though pleasant a high of twenty degrees
Dipper in the stream is singing dark brown bird with breast white as snow
Under the bank his partner on her eggs is sitting of their ways so much to know
I live distant from my homeland though the memories with me stay
Of the beauty born in the old fields that was Nature's gift to May.

We Do Not Own The Land In A True Sense

We do not own the land in a true sense since to the land we do belong
Though most would disagree with such thinking and say what I say is all wrong
The land was long here before we came and long after the breath of life from us has gone
The land will still be in existence and life on the Planet will go on
On paper you may be the legal owner of a home but that's only for as long as you live
In your Will you may bequeath it to your children but it is only the lease of it to them you give
Since death too will also be their lot and the place where your home does now stand
In centuries from now by human law will belong to another in a true sense just another tenant of the land
We came into the World tiny and helpless and though in life we may know of wealth and fame
In death the wealthy and famous one as the deceased pauper only the same
Your property you cannot take with you your assets where they are remain
We return to the Earth that owns us what I've said I will say again
The Indigenous Elders have the right idea when they say to the land we belong
And for that I can only applaud them since most others have got it all wrong.

No Such A Thing As Free Speech In Any Country

Mine is only one opinion on saying that I'm not saying anything that's new
Though the Law of the Land does forbid us to express a certain point of view
And that is under the threat of a lengthy prison sentence we can be jailed for the things we do say
If democratically elected Governments do not allow for free speech why talk of free speech anyway.

No such a thing as free speech in any Country free speech has been throttled by fear
Of speaking the truth as you see it since the authorities your truth may not wish to hear
Your words to the authorities may seem criminally offensive and any crime for jail does not seem too small
Even your words can get you in deep trouble though words are just words after all.

Even in the most democratic of Countries free speech does seem limited and to have to say that is such a sad thing
Even the idea of free speech does seem worthy and of it's praises feel happy to sing
Words to some may feel quite offensive but words should never be seen as a crime
For speaking their minds people should not be in prison and for many years serving jail time.

Free speech should have a few exceptions if on someone's life you make a threat
Then you should forfeit your right to live as a free person one should not say that under one's breath
But when free speech it is curtailed by the Government to silence protest in any way
Then they are abusing the powers given to them and such does occur every day

The Creative Powers Of Mother Nature

The creative powers of Mother Nature too great for us to comprehend
We depend on her for our survival to us she is more than a friend
She does feed all of her life forms and that includes Humanity
The one who will live on forever she rules the World sky, land and sea
What can be said of Mother Nature that has not been said of her before
Her presence all over the World from the far north to the far southern shore
The more that we learn of her ways the less of her we know we do know
In truth she is truly amazing and our wonder of her only grow
She has the gift in her to nurture and the power to instil widespread fear
And of the victims of her natural disasters we often do read of and hear
Yet she is not answerable to human law and the life she does give in death she receive
like all other life forms we are her children and her dead children she does not grieve
Her beauty it is all around us and such we do not pay to see
Her house sparrows in the back garden are chirping on her mirror bush tree.

If I Die Tomorrow A few Of Me Might Say

If I die tomorrow a few of me might say
He seemed to love Nature in his own strange way
His rhymes like wild rabbits through his life multiplied
As a poetaster he lived and as a poetaster he died.

If I die tomorrow I will die satisfied
That though I failed as a writer my very best I tried
Only of the best writers we hear of and read
And so many must fail for just one to succeed.

I've had a good life of that why should I lie
And it will not be of hunger that I will die
I'd rather die quickly than linger for years
And for one more worthy save all of your tears.

If I die tomorrow I will have found my peace
And all I ask of life is a painless release
I do not need a headstone to tell of where I lay
Though I do hope that this for me not my last day.

I've Travelled A Bit

I've travelled a bit south of place I call home
But I've not been to Rio or Paris or Rome
Or I've not been to L A or Kabul In Afghanistan
No I'm not what you might call a well travelled man
The great Wall of China I can't say I've seen
But by my old home on the ditch of the bohreen
The primroses, bluebells and snowdrops bloomed in the prime of May
A memory of beauty that's with me today
And in Mt Eccles in Victoria where at night the brown boobook owl cries
On the wooded volcanic cliffs above old Lake Surprise
I heard a male koala on a manna gum nearby
Call out for a mate beneath a starry sky
I've not been to Moscow, Montreal or Bombay
Though from my old Hometown I live far away.

If We All Looked The Same

If we all looked the same and believed in the same God and any Country did not have a border
There would be peace on Planet Earth and there would be law and order
And we all spoke the one language and the World was one big Nation
We would not have nationalism and we would not have discrimination
We would not have the things in our lives that always causes schism
Those awful things that even rhyme patriotism and racism
Though some will tell you I am one that difference does make us interesting
To many difference it does seem to their reasoning can be testing
No war men or terrorists for to fight for God and flag of Nation
But sad to think of what I say here is born of imagination
Since negativity rules the Human World we lack trust in each other
We wage war on those different and we wage war on our Earth Mother
If we all looked the same and had the one God and the World was one Nation
The flower of peace would be in full bloom a cause for joy and celebration.

Mary Healy

In her younger years her hair was a darker shade of brown
She was born Mary Duggan in Claraghatlea close to Millstreet Town
Like many before and after at home she did not stay
She went to live in New York where she still lives today.

She married John Healy he was her soul mate
Though deceased he will be with her in spirit her birthday to celebrate
Her son John is the proud dad of a lovely baby boy
Her young Grandchild is Mary Healy's pride and joy.

A beautiful person so down to earth and kind
And her very equal would be hard to find
And so very honest what she does think she does say
And such a very good person in every way.

Far from her old home in Millstreet County Cork in New York U S A
She will celebrate what will be her seventieth birthday
A role model to many on her journey through life
She performed her role well of the good mother and wife.

Begrudging People

Begrudging People I don't have the time for the misfortunes of others they do celebrate
As people they are really not worth knowing though I have come across a few of late
Of others successes they seem very envious though suppose they cannot help it since that is their way
With them I cannot hold a conversation such people never make anyone's day
Begrudging people grow older but not wiser though suppose they cannot help the way they are
And sad to think for me to meet one I need not have to travel very far
I do my very best to avoid him since he is one I'd prefer not to meet
He has earned himself the worthless reputation as the most begrudging person on the street
Suppose on every street there is one like him one who suffers of a low sense of self esteem
Though any of us are not anywhere near to perfect some are more flawed than others it does seem
And begrudging people are more flawed than most are to the higher self they never can be true
And if you cannot pay due respect to others then respect it will never be your due
I live quite close to one begrudging fellow though of his type I know of at least a few
And to say the least I find them uninteresting and in that I'm not saying anything that's new.

Davy Hopeful

A family and wife to support and he has been re-trenched today for him another no good day
With jobs so few and job seekers so many his chances of finding work are slim or so it would seem that way
Yet he refuses for to let it get to him you ask him how are things he says okay
The times may be bad but me and mine will get by and to worry I will not be turning gray
He lives up to his name of Davy Hopeful like it is said cannot keep a good one down
He says the future surely will be better there are many worse off than me in this town
My wife and children are healthy and happy I do not have a reason to complain
Things could be worse I am one of the lucky and better times we'll surely see again
His search for work has not brought him any success the unemployed now are many and the jobs are few
But tomorrow again for work he'll be searching life's challenges to him are nothing new
He laughs and says being unemployed is a mixed blessing since I have had to cut back on the beer
The licensee of the local pub I pity financially for him it is a disastrous year
He lives up to his name of Davy Hopeful he always has a big smile on his face
He won't be losing any sleep to worry and laughter is a thing he does embrace.

Freda Du Faur (1882-1935)

The first woman to climb Mt Cook in New Zealand on the third of December in the year of nineteen hundred and ten
Freda Du Faur the Sydney born mountain climber as good a climber as the best of men
And yet her life it was so very tragic her long time lover Muriel Cadogan at a young age died
And Freda herself who had developed a mental illness five days before her fifty third birthday comited suicide
For decades of years her remains lay in an unmaked grave in a Manly cemetery 'til friends of her memory erected a gravestone
One of the great mountaineers of human history her legend through the decades it has grown
When it was seen as unfashionable for women to be mountain climbers she was a pioneer for woman kind
Freda Du Faur was a woman of courage and her very equal would be hard to find
With Muriel Cadogan for years she lived in England but in her Hometown of Sydney she lived her final day
At a time when women were in need of heroines in mountaineering the one who led the way
The weight of grief at the loss of her partner for her in the end that bit too much to bear
But in her lifetime she had her years of glory and people like her always have been rare
Her story is one for the ages and she became known far beyond her own Hometown
On the day with Peter and Alec Graham that she climbed to the summit of Mt Cook she too climbed her way into renown.

In Fancy I'm Back In Old Birdsland Today

In fancy I walk around the lakes today
Of Birdsland from here many road miles away
The squawking of the white cockatoos high on the gum trees
And the harsh calls of the kookaburras floating in the breeze
The loud quacks of the duck and the softer calls of the drake
And the cormorants fishing in the center of the lake
And the tiny grebe for food diving when person nearby
They swim to deep water of Human kind shy
Where the red crimson rosellas and their juveniles of green
And their cousins the multicolored eastern rosellas in numbers are seen
And in the high wood above Birdsland every day of the year
The pleasant tinkling songs of the bell miners so pleasant to hear
From where I live now it may seem far away
But in fancy I'm back in old Birdsland today.

The East Timorese

His accent not local it is from far away
Where the bones of his dead wife and their four children lay
In a mass grave with hundreds of other East Timorese
In that beautiful Land by the Southern Seas.

Short and slightly built in his early fifties his hair silver gray
He said I would feel a stranger in East Timor today
My family dead and most of my friends as well
Mine is not a very nice story to tell.

Yet he does not feel bitter about his tragic loss
And with graceful acceptance he shoulders his cross
The cross that has been given to him for to bear
Yet you will not hear him say that life is unfair.

He always has a happy smile on his face
A credit to his Country his Clan and his Race
With his tragic past he has learned how to live
Those who have sinned against him in his mind he forgive.

One I do see often though not every day
About him he does have a beautiful way
He knows he cannot change the past the past forever gone
He's a man who loves life and life must go on.

The Beauty Of Nature Will Be Living On

The beauty of Nature is all around me
And her sights and her sounds pleasant to hear and see
Wildflowers bloom in the park and on a wattle tree
A magpie is fluting his flute like melody
Though some in their lack of wisdom may say differently
The best things in life are absolutely free
The beauty of Nature is for all to enjoy
For every man and woman and every girl and boy
There is so much in Nature to love and admire
And of singing her praises could one ever tire
In Winter her mountains often capped in snow
And her Seasons they come and her Seasons they go
And countless Seasons after the gift of life from me has gone
The beauty of Nature will be living on.

Our Past It Seems To Follow Us

Our past it seems to follow us to wherever to we go
And though in the town you still call home few of you now would know
To you it is still your Hometown and fond memories of it you retain
And in your flights of fancy you walk on old streets again
The years went by so quickly and left you looking gray
Time does not wait for anyone it ticks and ticks away
The wanderlust was in you for the bigger World out there
You left the town you loved so well your future to be elsewhere
Your grandchildren in their late teens the years ticked on so fast
And your best years long behind you seem in the distant past
You are happy where you now live with your ever devoted wife
On meeting her the best thing that did happen in your life
But in your flights of fancy your thoughts are far away
And you marvel at the hawthorns in their white blooms of the May.

Pink Eared Duck

Not classified as rare birds though let me hereby say
That on your lakeside walks pink eared ducks you don't see every day
With barred unders and fleshy lobe under front of bill and mostly brown to gray
Quite distinctive from other ducks in their coloring and their way
With a pink patch around either ear which gives rise to their name
Yet in the World of birds it does seem that they are strangers to fame
In log cavities they lay their eggs their nests are hard to find
But then again such can be said of most waterbird kind
I was talking to an old birdwatcher a couple of days ago
Pink eared duck are his favorite birds and of them much he does know
He said after heavy rains in remote shallow lakes they congregate
He has studied them for many years and he has even seen them mate
Birds that are not seen often though not classified as rare
And many with little interest in waterbirds of their existence unaware.

For You And Me One Day It Will Not matter

For you and me one day it will not matter we will only remain as a memory
In the minds of those who knew or who knew of us humans are born to mortality
It is only Nature herself lives forever that is a fact and facts does never lie
All of her life forms on them have a time span and she alone the one who will not die

We ought to make the most of our existence for time on our lives ticks and ticks away
The birds will sing though you and I won't hear them for to greet the dawning of a calm Spring day
The Human World it will go on without us we are small grains in the great sands of time
Each rhyme I write I know is one rhyme closer to the night or day I'll write my final rhyme.

Her Reaper he is Nature's equalizer with his scythe equality he create
He is the one who makes all people equal and yet the one none wish to celebrate
We fear him yet it is the fear of him we do fear our egos cannot seem to cope with fear
But to survive suppose we all do need some ego and feel happy for to live another year.

For you and me one day it will not matter a fact of life in which we do not have a say
Life for us it will not go on forever so try to make the most of every day
The birds will sing but you and I won't hear them and the swallows will return in early Spring
To mate and breed in the place where they were born in the thread of life is a never ending thing.

I've Yet To Meet One Who Is Perfect

I've yet to meet one who is perfect most of us are flawed in some way
Though some of us more flawed than others of what is obvious I only do say
Suppose we are not meant to be perfect a perfect one would be a living saint
Most of us corrupted in some way even most of the good have some character taint
The Human World is success driven to greatness so many to do aspire
Suppose it says something about us the people we choose to admire
Truly great people devote their lives to helping others without thought of self or renown
Such people are not looked on as heroes not even in their own Hometown
True heroes work in refugees camps helping those of the lesser god
The war victims of drought ravaged Lands the Stateless and Homeless and down-trod
The people who help them great people they work for them without honor or pay
Yet they remain as the unsung heroes of our Human World of today
I've yet to meet one who is perfect though a minority less flawed than most
Yet the true heroes remain as unsung and to them I do propose a toast.

Aging Though Not Gracefully

He is aging though not gracefully at the Fall of his life span
He wears a hairpiece and he uses anti aging creams he is quite a proud old man
His once massive chest and shoulders drooped and shrunken in his prime he was quite strong
But those who say age mellows and brings wisdom by his type often have been proven wrong
He still does have a big ego some egos with age do not deflate
Though hair pieces, face lifts and anti aging creams a second youth cannot create
Any talk of eternal youth is a fallacy as we have come to know
It is a myth that came from myths of Ireland many centuries ago
A woman is as old as she looks and a man is old when he stops looking to him has to apply
When talking to younger women he is anything but shy
Though eight times a great grandfather and divorced from his fourth wife
In his seventy years old body there is still a lot of life
As a younger person I thought wisdom did come with age till I came to realize
That everybody does grow older but few ever do grow wise.

My Hero Is Not A Sportsperson

If you are an elite sportsperson you are seen as worthy of fame
And many want to talk about you and many know of you by name
They don't ask of the values that you hold or of what sort of person you are
Though some of the unknowns who live in their neighborhood than you as people better by far
The Human World one might say sports-mad at least that is how it does seem
And elite sportsmen and women looked up to and held in the highest of esteem
Not surprising their egos are swollen superior in their conceit
My hero is not a sportsperson but I feel proud that she lives on our street
She helps out poor elderly people and she helps out the boat refugees
People held in detention centers after fleeing from warlords overseas
Even on our street she is not seen as famous and that does seem a sad thing to say
Our heroes does say much about us that's how it does seem anyway
Our big heroes celebrities and elite sportspeople of singing their praises many never do tire
Though they may not be necessarily good people and little in them to admire.

From Nature There's So Much To Learn

From Nature there's so much to learn we learn from her every day
Yet even from those with their degrees in natural sciences her secrets she keeps hidden away
The artists as well as the writers she never does cease to inspire
Of singing our Earth Mother's praises those who love her never do tire
Her colors does change with her Seasons her Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall
The mysteries of our Earth Mother are the greatest mysteries of all
Us humans to her are abusive we pollute her Waterways and her Land
What we do to her we do to our own selves that we don't seem for to understand
We drill in her oceans for crude oil we dig in her ground for her precious metals and coal
We cut down her mature trees for land development our greed for money out of control
Global Warming melting the Polar ice caps and sea levels beginning to rise
The forecast of millions of environmental refugees within decades does not come as any surprise
The beauty of Nature around us the beauty we are trying to destroy
I pity the adults of the future every baby and young girl and boy.

Nothing To Say

He doesn't talk to anybody not even a hello or good day
And his neighbors who know him by sight only refer to him as 'Nothing To Say'
In a one bedroom basement flat he lives on his own and he does not have friends or so it would appear
But old Mrs Lats his near neighbor of one bad word against him will not hear.

The day the teenage thug broke into her flat she wish it was all a bad dream
He punched her whilst demanding money as for help she so loudly did scream
'Nothing To Say' rushed to her assistance and her young assailant from the flat fled
Without him she feels she'd not be here for to tell the story she would be in the place of the dead.

He does not socialize or drink alcohol he is never at the local pub
He is not into sports as many his age are or has never played football for the local club
He just likes to have walks in Nature and he is always on his own
A shy unassuming young person and about him so little is known.

In the prime of life in his mid twenties his handicap is he is shy
But he is an honest and good person one who would not harm a fly
When an elderly widow was in trouble he was the one who came to her aid
For which he did not seek any honor and honor to him was not paid.

Why Talk To Me About Good Or Bad writers

Why talk to me about good or bad writers I'm sure those paid to judge on such do have their say
And some say with some foundation literary critics themselves are not good writers anyway
Every writer started to write as an amateur and some through their writing prosper financially
Good luck to them I say and may they prosper and may their names live on in literary history
Not everyone can become a wealthy and a famous writer many from publishers keep getting rejection letters in their mail
In the literary trade like most things that we know of for one to succeed many have to fail
Why dismiss those not known to be successful when to their eternal credit they did try
Why is success looked on as all important to so many one has to wonder why
As for myself I'm looked on as a failure but I live fairly happy just the same
I only write because I do like writing I never crave for money or for fame
I am not paid for to judge another writer judge not and thou shalt not be judged too does apply to me
What's good to me may not seem good to your eyes we all do look at things quite differently
So why talk to me of good and of bad writers since literary critics for such do get paid
I only know without amateur writers that there would not be any wordsmith trade.

Those In Positions Of Power

Those in positions of power have friends and quite a few
But to say they too have enemies is not saying anything that's new
Enemies through jealousy or enemies otherwise
That power does bring to one friends and enemies does come as no surprise
Those with power in the first place have this great desire to lead
You cannot be a leader if power you do not need
Nothing wrong with those who have power if they use it in the proper way
Though abuse of power we hear of and read of every day
Crimes against humanity in the Human World have never been rare
Even in recent human history of such we are aware
The despotic perpetrators we know of why mention them by name
Since their names not worthy of mention due to their despicable acts of shame
And yes those in positions of power are only there because there they wish to be
Such is obvious to everyone and that includes you and me.

You Like To Tell The World

You never seem to question what's living life's about
And on your own abilities you never cast a doubt
And you are quick to judge others though them you do not know
People like you are many and their numbers grow and grow
You do like to tell others of your beautiful new car
And of the marvelous person you do think that you are
You drive your car around the block just like a little boy
Displaying to all of the neighborhood his marvelous birthday toy
Showing off your material gains to you quite a big thing
You do not leave it to others your praises for to sing
Well into self promotion at such you do quite well
And of your latest successes others you like to tell
You like to tell the World of your successful life
Of your very special children and your beautiful young wife.

In A Fair World It Should Never Be

In a fair World it should never be one must lose for one to gain
That out of one's misfortunes another does prosper is beyond me to explain
This is the capitalist society it always works this way
In the Human World few things are fair as some are known to say
Big Company C E O's are paid millions in annual salaries whilst most work for union award pay
That for one to grow mega wealthy many grow poorer does seem all wrong anyway
The hard working men and women of village, city and town
No avenue of honor for to honor their renown,
That for a minority to financially prosper many grow poorer one has to wonder why
Survival of the fittest to human greed apply
Of the super rich celebrities we read of and we hear
Whilst the gap between the haves and the have nots keeps widening by the year
Free trade the boon for capitalism does not seem fair at all
In a Human World where for a minority to rise so many have to fall.

An Aging Golfer's Dream

His great dream in his fifties is to emulate his son
Who was lucky enough to score a hole in one
Which is something in golf that is quite rare indeed
Where many do fail few can hope to succeed
A far better golfer than his son it is said
By those in the know who rate the aging golfer ahead
Of anyone else in the local golf club
I only say here what I hear in the pub
From the local amateur golfers who enjoy their weekend game
Who play for the love of it not for the fame
As a golfer the young man in his twenties with his dad can't compare
For the father indeed is a far better player
But the father has yet to hit a hole in one
And on that score alone it is one up for the son.

Lucky I Was Born A Human

Tired in the Autumn of my existence though many like me in the town
Were I a horse to be processed for pet meat like most aging horses I'd have been put down
Lucky I was born a human though I look aging and gray
On life's journey I struggle onwards though for me a last night and day
I do envy younger people for their marvelous gift of youth
Though father time never stops ticking and he is one not known for ruth
Time it puts rust into iron and even bones to dust decay
And our biological clocks never stop ticking till our end they keep ticking away
Just another aging migrant plenty like me everywhere
I left the old fields I knew well for to live in the big World out there
Were I a horse, dog or cow I'd be put down since my better days are long gone
So towards the end of my life's journey I'll just keep plodding along.

The Things Some Men Do

Another blood pressure and heart tablet to keep you alive
And another viagra to boost your sexual drive
And anti aging creams to smooth wrinkles and dye for your hair
The things some men do for to hide Nature's wear.

But clearly young women through such things can see
And clearly you are not the man you once used to be
Though suppose it is all about ego the source of our pride
The ravages of time seem near impossible to hide.

Not financially well off for you that's a sad thing
More money to your life more joy it would bring
To most women money an important thing in life
So you may have to make do with your boring aging wife.

Without your prescribed tablets you may well be dead
And though viagra slightly improves your performance in bed
The father of time has become your great foe
You are not the man you were decades ago.

 With anti aging creams and hair dye you try to hide your wrinkles and gray
Though clearly you have known a far better day
And though your deflating ego you try to re-inflate
The second coming of youth humans cannot create.

Of Your Knowledge On Poetry

Of your knowledge on poetry you wish me to know
Your three favorite poets Eliot, Whitman and Poe
Though great they may be I regret for to say
That on reading them you won't be laughing all day
It is good of you to honor their renown
But this evening I must say I feel a bit down
And though the poetry of Eliot, Whitman and Poe I even read as a boy
Their meaningful words never filled me with joy
If you wish to talk of poetry talk of something that's happy and light
Like the poems of Pam Ayres they are breezy and bright
Though she is one who is not seen as a poetic great
In her poetry the joy of laughter she create
Why talk to me of serious poets and their poetry today
When the tears from my eyes are not that far away
This evening I do need a good laugh or two
Something I cannot have whilst I'm talking to you.

Bud Tingwell

Bud Tingwell he did have a lengthy life span
And he was a good actor and quite a good man
A famous Australian who was known Worldwide
One could only feel sad to hear that he had died
In his life so many friends the great man made
And widespread respect to him in his passing deservedly paid
A great mentor to aspiring young actors in his long acting career
To so many film buffs himself he did endear
At living a good life one who did succeed
One by good example who always did lead
A man who has been honored in story and rhyme
His name will live on through the annals of time
For him his separation from life was a painful release
Bud Tingwell the great man may he rest in peace.

In A Perfect World

In a perfect World there would not be refugees
Risking their lives in un-seaworthy boats for asylum in Lands overseas
And we would not have wars that cause needless deaths when cities are destroyed
In the name of us against they far too many have died
And if the billions in money spent on nuclear weaponry and war was spent on famine relief
We would have a far happier World to live in and far less of grief
But for the unhappiness in the World us humans are to blame
And the sufferings of the millions is to all of our shame
In a perfect World not one human being would know of poverty
And different Races and Nationalities would live in harmony
And the ways of each other we would understand
No war over God and no war over Land
And through love of self we would learn to forget and forgive
And put into practice the fair go in live and let live.

Each Creature Within Nature

From the great whales of the ocean to the garden snail in his shell
Each creature within Nature does serve it's purpose well
And the creatures we dismiss as vermin are not vermin at all
They contribute to Nature in some way though their contribution may seem small
What can be said of Nature that has not been said before
She is the one immortal she will live forever more
Many of her creatures gone to extinction but new life forms she create
The one the artists and the writers feel inspired to celebrate
The one who lives by her own law and does things in her own way
From our every walk in Nature we learn every day
'Tis not out of a sense of joy that the male bird sings his song
But to warn neighbor males of his own kind that this patch to him belong
The creatures us humans dismiss as vermin not so in Nature's eyes
And Nature's ways are far more complex than we even realize.

Appearance Does Say Little Of A Person

Appearance does say little of a person a point that the judgemental seem to miss
But judgemental and discerning not related and to the judgemental ignorance is bliss
On every street more than one judgemental person and though many of us are judgemental in some way
Some are far more judgemental than others does that not seem a fair thing for to say
A well dressed person not necessarily a good person though some with that would surely disagree
A collar and tie and striped suit does not tell you anything of one at least that's how it does seem to me
You will not find many well dressed people on the sidewalks of poverty street
But amongst the homeless and the destitute honest and good people you will meet
Appearance and dress to one's character is something to that one should not apply
And why some judge others without knowing them on appearance of such one has to wonder why
It is a known fact that many well dressed people are heavily involved in serious crime
And for various very serious offences are in prison serving out their time
The judgemental judge you by your dress standards by your appearance and your postal address
Lets face it as it is common knowledge that some people are not at all hard to impress.

Love To It Has Many Sides

Love to it has many sides and feelings and of love's ways little I can claim to know
You will not find it in the fields and hedgerows and on bushes and on trees it does not grow
Quite different to passion and infatuation the feelings of love grown on intimacy
The many ways of love seem very complex and in truth seems too big a thing for me.

Love has to be more than a one way feeling unrequited love does have a darker side
A feeling that is not reciprocated cannot be love when by one it is denied
True love is a feeling that has to be mutual for it to be love it has to be this way
You tell me at last you have found your soulmate oh lucky you is all I have to say.


Of love and it's great joys and disappointments the poets and writers write and the singers do sing
A mutual love has to be very special since such in life is not a common thing
You may well love someone who does not love you though that does seem a waste of energy
Though such feelings beyond one's control it does seem and more the pity it does seem to be.

Love in the commercial world is big business of the love lives of the rich and famous magazines and papers sell
From selling exclusive wedding and baby photos to publishers celebrities financially do well
But celebrity marriages often end in acrimony when the love they felt loses it's inner glow
And it took a wise one to say in the first place that love on trees and bushes does not grow.

Your Ideas Of War

Your ideas of war and war heroes are your own and that's okay with me
But when you tell me war leads to peace with you I can't agree
Bad feelings between people who have been to war for years and years remain
In war as well as the needless loss of life friends you don't ever gain
Even for the so called winners of the war the price is huge to pay
And yet of war and rumors of war we read and hear of every day
Millions have died or have been injured in wars and in war only heartbreak
And far too many people fail to realize that war is a huge mistake
When you say that war is not a bad thing in that you are not alone
But let the one who is free of sin be the first to cast the stone
That you are entitled to your point of view with me is quite okay
Though I for one do not agree with what you have to say
Of war and your ideas on it which to all you like to make known
And though your ideas are different to mine like it is said to each their own.

The Great Egalatarian

Of all of the egalatarians the greatest of them all
The billionaire just like the pauper to his sharp scythe must fall
He is the Goddess Nature's Reaper he lays the mighty low
To the lives of the homeless and the rulers the same respect he does show
The greatest egalatarian yet what amazes me
Is that one to drink a toast to him is something I have yet to see
The monarch and the president mention of him doesn't wish to hear
Even the very thought of him instils in them great fear
He treats the life of the pauper equal to the life of the billionaire
And he cannot be bought with money any life he does not spare
He treats everyone as an equal never discriminate
The one billions live in fear of and none does celebrate
He treats the rich and famous as he treats everyone
He's the greatest egalatarian when all is said and done.

We Are All Individuals

Though many may beg to differ and experts disagree
We all are individuals that's how 'twould seem to me
Some to you may be like minded but not in every way
We all are very different despite what some do say.

We all are individuals with a mind of our own
Yet of a new life after death by our kind is unknown
And though many believe in Heaven and the punishment of Hell
No deceased person of their existence has come to life for to tell.

We are all individuals though some are born to lead
And only of the wealthy and the famous most like to hear of and read
And only the compassionate wish to know those who are down
The fringe dwellers and the homeless of the poor side of the town.


We are all individuals that goes for you and I
Though one thing in common we do share as mortals we were born to die
On our lives Nature's Reaper does have the final say
And for each and everyone of us there's a last night and day

Well North Of This Country

Well north of this Country from here far away
I would feel a stranger in Duhallow today
Few there would know of me and few there I would know
Where Finnow to Blackwater through the rushy fields flow.

The memories are all I have left to enjoy
Of Cullen and the old fields of Lisnaboy
But for as long as the gift of memory I retain
The beauty I once knew with me will remain.

The mentors of my young years amongst the dead lay
And the passage of time has left me looking gray
Yet in fancy I hear the frog croak in the drain
And the male robin sing in the wind and the rain.


Far north of this Country in the prime of the Spring
In the leafy groves and on the hedgerows the nesting birds sing
And the lush fields their wildflowers of Nature display
And the hawthorns are in their white blooms of the May.

Most Politicians Can Be

Most politicians can be so deceptive the truth to them can be so hard to tell
For sake of power they forsake what is decent and at lying one might say they do very well
They are referred to by some as 'the honorable' though most of them not honorable in any way
The honorable politicians in minority a sad enough thing for to have to say.

For sake of power to lie to them comes easy people of honor in politics are very few
What I am talking of is only factual one well may say so tell us something new
The lust for power undermines human values many place power before principle 'twould seem
And yet 'tis sad to think that politicians by many people held in high esteem.


Most of them in their speeches so ambiguous in honesty they do seem destitute
With them one lie always leads to another to them the struggle is to tell the truth
Perhaps they are society's reflective mirror though our shortcomings we do not wish to face
Their flaws do reflect on us in a poor way since we helped them to power in the first place.

Most of them are quite deceptive and power hungry to lie to them seems quite a natural thing
Yet what does it say about the general public if their praises many feel happy to sing
One should never take a politician seriously since trust they don't give they cannot expect to receive
Though some of them in their dealings are honest the majority do flatter to deceive.

On Michael And Margaret Dineens Golden Jubilee Wedding

I see a photo of them on their golden jubilee
On the Millstreet Web Site
A couple that I visually did know
On Sundays they used to attend eleven o clock mass in Millstreet
When I was younger many years ago.

Fifty years together such a great achievement
In human years that is a lengthy span
Michael and Margaret Dineen their marriage is a great story
Of devotion between a woman and a man.

In church their teenage children always with them
Their photograph brought back memories to me
Of when I was a young man in Duhallow
Before the bigger World I went to see.


They now live in Hegarty St in Millstreet
From Ivale in Kilcorney that's not far away
They may have aged a bit as one would expect
Though I still would recognize them in the flesh today.

Photos of faces from the past we knew well or by sight knew
Never seems to fail for to stir a memory
Of bygone days when we were fitter and younger
But life goes on that's how 'tis meant to be.

Fifty years of marriage well worth celebrating
Such an achievement few can hope to emulate
Margaret and Michael they have done themselves proud
And they sure do have something to celebrate.

The Aging Bush Poet Matt

He is known by people for miles around the aging bush poet Matt
And I have yet to see him without his akubra hat
The same old hat he has worn for years part of his self esteem
He could not live without it at least that's how 'twould seem
On Saturday at the local pub to fellow patrons he recite
Some of the stirring rhyming poems that he recently did write
And at the end of his performance for him a loud encore
And he always obliges by reciting one more
Through decades of writing and reciting poetry his fame as a poet has grown
And for miles around in bush towns the aging poet is known
Yet fame has not gone to his head he is free of conceit
He is as nice a person as one could wish to meet
And with him everywhere he goes is Annie his dear wife
The one who gave birth to and raised his children and the great love of his life.

Fringe Dwellers

They live in rural places and in village, city and town
The people the more judgemental does see fit to put down
They are known as fringe dwellers by those who pigeon hole
Some of them work in low paid jobs and some of them on the dole
Condemned to be outsiders and strangers to success
Many of them are homeless without a postal address
On the running of the community they never have a say
But for all who judge like all who are judged a final night and day
In a World of so much exclusion fringe dwellers are not rare
To be born to poor parents is a cross in life to bear
Though red is the blood we all bleed and we breathe in the same air
For millions all around the World life is anything but fair
They do not have a social group though they live everywhere
And there are millions of them living in the bigger World out there.

When Last I Spoke To Johnny

When I last spoke to Johnny one of the sad sacks of the town
He told me of his troubles how life had got him down
His wife of six months Jo had left him in her life a new man
Even as marriage goes nowadays that is not a lengthy span.

In his life's twenty fifth year one can say in his prime
One would swear by the sad look on his face he was running out of time
That he had a terminal illness or something just as bad
For him I could not help but feel sorry he looked so awful sad.

On Saturday in the town park between half past one and two
I listened to his story for him that was all I could do
Since I have problems of my own and far more than a few
And stories of love's disappointments are nothing fresh and new.


Towards Jo he seems so bitter love has it's other side
Hard to believe six months ago she was his happy bride
The love that is the quickest to bloom is the quickest to die
Whoever first did speak such words was not telling a lie.

Young Johnny is a lovelorn man how sad this life can be
And I can only feel for him he has my sympathy
But his worries that seem big to him to others would seem small
Life sometimes knocks us to the ground but we rise after a fall.

Are You One

Are you one beyond caring of what others of you say
And do you feel to your Country you do not have a debt to pay
And for others you have empathy and for the have nots you do care
Then you are not one of the ordinary and people like you rare.

The ordinary are plentiful you meet them everywhere
And they are in their billions in the bigger World out there
Above the very ordinary they cannot seem to rise
And though some of them grow financially wealthy none of them grow wise.

Do you remain as almost anonymous in your side of the town
And are you one of those people who never put others down
And the poor one and the billionaire you look on as the same
You are one well worth knowing and I'd like to know your name.


Do you see all people as equal never differentiate
And against those who look different never discriminate
And you never judge other people and believe in to each their own
Then you are far from ordinary and deserve to be better known.

Of My Life Successes

Of my life successes cannot talk about though I too daydreamed of renown
When I was younger decades ago back home near Millstreet Town
But such things never came to me not that I do really care
Since even fame will know of mortality of such I am aware
Where Finnow flows to Blackwater that babbles to the sea
I daydreamed I would be a poet but it wasn't meant to be
For daydreams are just that daydreams and they seldom do come true
And from life as some say we do receive what only is our due
I first fell in love with Nature when I was a young boy
And Nature through the decades has brought me hours of joy
The birds sang in the old grove beside the purling rill
That flowed to the big river from the high field by the hill
In my pleasant flights of fancy I am back home again
And I hear the songbirds singing in the sunshine after rain

What Is It With Humans

What is it with us humans for success we compete
So few too few are satisfied with being best on the street
They want to be the greatest and be known Worldwide
'Tis all about our ego our inflated sense of self pride.

Though some with being out of the limelight are always satisfied
That it takes all sorts to make the Human World a thing that cannot be denied
Our different ways make us more interesting one would have to suppose
What does seem a weed to one to another is a rose.

Many crave public recognition with them the most important thing
Is that in the bigger World out there people their praises sing
And even the mildest criticism they treat as an offense
They grow old but not wiser and they lack in common sense.

What is it with most humans they crave success and fame
But the deflatable ego it cannot cope with shame
They want to be well known and be loved everywhere
And they crave recognition in the big World out there.

From Our Every Walk In Nature

From our every walk in Nature we learn every day
And though many of her secrets from us she hides away
She often does surprise us she always surprises me
And every day in Nature there's something new to see
Some of the birds of Nature we know them by their song
The white backed magpie and the blackbird and the pied currawong
Sparrows chirping on the bushes as on the path you walk along
Yes even by their voices one should not get them wrong
I've learned much from Nature and my wonder of her grow
And yet so little of her ways I know that I do know
Yet in my every walk in Nature and they've not been a few
I never fail to feel amazed and learn something new
The honeyeaters chirping on the flowering bushes by the pathway
And for a walk in Nature it is a pleasant day.

Live To Be Happy

Like most people I'm one who fear death though 'tis the fear of death I do fear
And as I age the fear grows stronger as my life's journey's end I do near
A deceased one has not come back to tell us of a hereafter life after death
The last breath we draw on this Planet may well be that our final breath
Like billions I was born into religion though I've given that stuff away
But if your religion makes you a better person good on you for that I do say
Anything that makes one more caring can only be a very good thing
But I feel put off religion when warlike people the praises of God they do sing
I fear death as I do fear growing old and I am into my life's Fall
But the Reaper of lives does make everyone equal so death cannot be that bad after all
In death the monarch and pauper are equal all are equal where dead people lay
And every dawn that we awake to one day nearer to our last day
One can only live to be happy and live for as long as one can
And as for me I do wish for a long life and to die as a very old man.

Poor Mr Jones

A great grand dad in his eightieth year of life
Poor Mr Jones is grieving for his wife
She died in her sleep a year ago today
Twice a week he visit where she lay.

For fifty years she was his soul mate
But on everything there is a use by date
And sooner or later best friends have to part
Though her death has left him with a heavy heart.

A good mother to their daughter and their son
And by those who knew her loved by everyone
She was a good person in every way
And he miss her more than words can hope to say.


Together they had many happy years
But even good times often end in tears
The great tree of the forest eventually does fall
And our life journey it must end for us all.

A year ago today his beloved Gwynnie died
In the dawn he woke to find her lifeless at his side
She had not been ill she expired suddenly
He grieves for her how sad this life can be

Yet Him We Do Fear

With many it's god save the queen and god save the king
The praises of royalty the masses do sing
But that the queen and the king so great in their eyes
Are as mortal as they are they don't seem to realize
For the monarchs and presidents a last night and day
As on their lives the Reaper too has the final say
The one who does not respect prestige or fame
The life of the pauper and the billionaire to him are the same
The Reaper the fair one none does celebrate
Yet he is not known to differentiate
Between the haves and the have nots he makes the great small
To his sharp scythe every life form eventually fall
Of a toast in his honor I have yet to see or hear
He treats us as equals yet him we do fear.

Why Ask Me Of Poetry

Why ask me of poetry or who is or is not a poet
Or who is not worthy or worthy of note
Since in literature I do not have a literary degree
For an opinion on such a matter ask one other than me
The style of poetry has changed with the passing of time
And by modern critics seen as old fashioned now verses that rhyme
Though with their opinions not everyone does agree
We all look at things one might say differently
What seems marvelous to you may not be so to me
Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder is how it seems to be
On what is or is not poetry my ignorance I must show
For in all honesty I must say of it so little I can claim to know
Though I do have a preference for verses that rhyme
Suppose I'm an old fashioned man in a modern time.

'Tis Football

'Tis football is the big World game of today
Grid Iron the big game of the U S of A,
Rugby League, Rugby Union and Aussie Rules Football
And soccer the biggest World game of them all
Gaelic Football a field game the Irish do play
Football in it's many codes the big World game of today
Football supporters Worldwide their team and their club colors wear
And in International games in their National colors they even dye their hair
Some men love their football team as much as their parents, children or wives
Yes football is one of the great loves of their lives
When their team does win the club song they do sing
But a loss to their weekend great sadness does bring
All over the World many codes of football
And to each their own code the best game of all.

One Reason I Do Love Women

Of Arrogant males I have grown tired I meet one or two every day
One reason why I do love women is that they are different to men in every way
We would have less wars if women were leaders and a far better World to live in
With females in positions of power pragmatism would have a big win
We need women as World leaders women who have in them empathy
For most women than men far more caring they see the good in humanity
And women as a whole than men less aggressive a good woman would never rule by fear
Most crimes against humanity are committed by the male kind many of which we do read of and hear
That women seen as inferior to men in some cultures does seem such a sad thing to say
The arrogant and ignorant of patriarchal societies respect to their women don't pay
There is something wrong and dysfunctional in a Human World of inequality
We need women in positions of power at least that's how it does seem to me
So lets drink a toast to all women their contribution to World peace not small
And lets drink to every good person as well as to a fair go for all.

He Will Soon Leave The Hometown

He will soon leave the Hometown for places elsewhere
The lust of the wander is in him for the big World out there
At the doorstep of his prime he has just turned Eighteen
He daydreams of places that he has not yet seen
Energetic and adventurous and full of elan
The spirit of adventure is in the young man
He visualizes great Cities distant from his home
Such as Melbourne and Sydney, London, Paris and Rome
He plans to grow old as a well traveled man
To visit Capetown and Rio and Tokyo in Japan
From his rural Hometown he will travel far away
To Montreal, Beijing, New York and Bombay
Eighteen years of his life in his Hometown for him a long enough stay
In the big World out there he will grow old and gray.