Before All Hope Has Gone

Habitat destruction is rife and it seems sad to say
That more life forms becoming in danger of extinction every day
Add to this Climate Change due to Global Warming which goes to explain
Why mere survival for some species is becoming such a strain
Excessive burning of fossil fuels and carbon emissions have gone on for too long
It may be too late to save our Natural Environment though I hope I am wrong
Due to the shorter Arctic Winter the great white ice bear
In numbers are dwindling and becoming rare
For our abuse of our Natural Environment us humans too must pay
We too may face extinction since we are heading that way
What applies to other life forms to us does apply too
And what we do to our environment to our own selves we do
Not too late to change our environmental practices before all hope has gone
For a better World to live in though Nature will live on.

I Hope To Be Living In Ten Years From Now

In ten years from now in time not a long span
If I am alive I will be an old man
The clock on our lives ever ticking away
And every day nearer to our final day
The belief of a post Earthly existence to many to some is a lie
But one thing for certain humans like all other life forms are born to die
The same for us as the sheep or the horse or the cow
But I hope to be living in ten years from now
The young boys are laughing as they play football
In decades from now with their friends they'll recall
The games that they played in the park in the town
The aging have their memories the young daydream of renown
Through many hard Seasons I have learned to survive
And in ten years from now I hope to be alive.

Strangers Around Me

Those I thought were friends now seem strangers to me
And strangers around me are all I can see
Confused in my thinking have you felt this way?
No joy in my heart in the cold light of day
From friends of the past apart I have grown
And where I now live I live as an unknown
Even few to me bother for to say hello
Do you like me feel that to yourself you're a foe?
My best days in life to the forever gone
But the fear of death makes me want to live on
My great love of Nature my only life's joy
I have loved and admired her since I was a boy
So many like me in the big World out there
The powerless abundant they live everywhere.

She Cannot Go Back To The Town Far Away

She cannot go back to the town far away
To the place where she first looked on the light of day
Her family and friends they are still living there
Condemned to live in fear of an oppressive regime and not wanted elsewhere
She spent a year in a refugee camp living in poverty
And she arrived in this Country as a boat refugee
A young woman in her prime only twenty three
Those near and dear to her she may never more see
The reason she cannot return to her Homeland
Is that for justice and human rights she made a stand
Her life was in danger so her Homeland she did flee
One can only admire her for her bravery
She can never return to her Homeland again
In this Southern Country destined to remain.

We Still Have War That Leads To Terrorism

That we learn from our past mistakes in some instances a lie
For God and Flag and Country so many still prepared to die
In a World of millions of homeless people where poverty is rife
We still have war that leads to terrorism and disrespect for human life
Of war and battles fought and won the war men love to sing
In many instances from the past we have not learned a thing
One war leads to another war in most cases is true
The Karma that we reap from life it only is our due
More news of war and terrorism with every new day
We have not learned from the past that does seem fair to say
A life for a life as well as an eye for an eye
Amongst the unforgiving only does seem to apply
The past may well be in the past and to the forever gone
But some find it hard to forgive and old hatreds do live on.

Such Beauty That One Does Not Pay For To See

Such beauty that one does not pay for to see
A beautiful goldfinch on a black-wood tree
So lovely to look at and lovely to hear
The beauty of Nature is everywhere near.

On every bush and tree in the prime of the Spring
The songbirds of Nature do whistle and sing
The sun at times shine through clouds blue and gray
So good to be living on such a nice day.

Why some writers do complain of writers drought
When in Nature's there's so much for to write about
Her wonders are many though her secrets not few
And every day from her we learn something new.

The magpie sings night and day this time of year
And the song of the blackbird is melodious and clear
Most birds one can tell from their chirp or their song
You hear them a few times you can't get them wrong.

The creatures of water and the flora and fauna of land
The workings of Nature too complex for us to understand
Yet To view her great beauty we do not have to pay
And from her we do learn something new every day.

You May Be Quite Good Even Great

You may be quite good even great at what you do
But remember there are some as good as you
And though at present you may be the best
From self praise at times your tongue does need a rest.

At number one the present best one will not stay
He or she to another must give way
Self promotion it does seem your greatest skill
Let others sing your praises if they will.

Too much self love is never a good thing
Our own praises are so easy to sing
And when you put down others to build your self esteem
As a person you are not good it does seem.

To your higher self you only can be true
And give others the respect that they are due
To the Reaper's scythe you too destined to fall
There is a last day and night for us all.

Fear Can Be Felt By the Bravest Of All

The so called macho man may tell you he never sheds tears
And he never admits to having phobias and fears
But pride as is said does come before a fall
And fear can be felt by the bravest of all
I know this soldier decorated for bravery
It is said there was never one braver than he
A brave man in war and a hero with a gun
But at the sight of a spider he will turn and run
A proud man his phobia of course he disown
There are some things about us we would rather not known
Those without some phobia to say the least few
You might say to that tell us something that's new
To those who admit to their phobias and fears some credit is due
At least to themselves they try to remain true.

I've Never Made It As A Writer

I've never made it as a writer that I cannot deny
But at least to my credit I gave it a try
The stuff that I pen I could not hope to sell
The poets write their poetry I pen doggerel
My best days in life to the forever gone
Yet so much to write on and I keep penning on
Of people and places so much for to tell
The haves and the have nots in their earthly hell
And of Nature to write of her so many she does inspire
Of singing her praises could one ever tire
For as long as I can I will write every day
That is something I never wish to give away
I have been penning stuff since I was a young man
And I will write on for as long as I can.

All Of Those Who Look On Him As Ordinary

He has never been lauded for courage
Or been a soldier and fought in a war
Or from his Hometown in the country
He never has travelled very far.

To most who know or know of him he seems ordinary
Yet those who are ordinary themselves are slow to realize
That the one who to them is quite uninteresting
Is one who happens for to be very wise.

He is not into football or sports of any kind
And to them he seems lacking in manly elan
So between them they have come to the conclusion
That he is just one more boring man.

He is not one who drinks at the local pub
Or talks about sports or on t v watches football
And all of those who look on him as ordinary
Do not really know him at all.

The Beauty Of Nature I Greatly Admire

I cannot lay claim to the title of poet
Or I'll never be worthy of literary note
But the beauty of Nature I greatly admire
And of singing her praises I never do tire
The years have left me looking older and gray
And the clock on my life it is ticking away
But my walks in Nature's places today I enjoy
As much as I did in the fifties when I was a boy
Most birds recognizable by chirp or by song
Even by sound when you get to know them you cannot get them wrong
And from Nature we learn something new every day
We never stop learning as the wise one did say
The morning is gray with rain clouds in the sky
And the magpies are warbling in the grove nearby
And though the weather forecast has more rain on the way
It is good to be living to greet the new day.

Hans The Octogenarian

From his old Hometown in Germany he lives far away
And the years have left him looking older and gray
The young man of the fifties the octogenarian of today
And time is ticking on as some are known for to say.

Far north of this Country his life's journey began
Old Hans the octogenarian grandfather is a clever man
For one of his years he is full of elan
And he wants to live for as long as he can.

It has been awhile since he has been to Germany
And his old Hometown he may never more see
And though his love of his Home Country remains ever strong
He is happy by the woods of the pied currawong.

A man who has lived through many hard years
And for the past he does not have any tears
His better days to the forever have gone
But Hans does love life and he wants to live on.

The One Garden Proud

The lovers of beautiful gardens sing the praises loud
Of the beautiful garden of the one garden proud
And to those who compliment her on her garden she smile and she say
Thank you for your kindness may joy bless your day
A widow and grandmother in her early seventies the hard working old dear
Her garden is in bloom twelve months of the year
Often pruning her rose bushes she can be seen
To match her surroundings in her cardigan of green
At the presentation of the award to her with joy in her eyes
For the town's most beautiful garden she received the first prize
Seemingly uncaring of how she seems to others she never dyes her hair of gray
But to the joy of her life great attention she does pay
The beauty she creates is an amazing thing
Her garden bloom in Summer, Fall, Winter and Spring.

It Is A Bleak Season For Farmers

It is a bleak Season for farmers with climate change and livestock prices down
Some of them have sold what they can sell and moved to live and to find jobs in the town
For many of them the rains have come too late climate change affecting everywhere
Global warming is in every Country in the bigger World out there
Some arrogant Humans think they can control Nature how come they have got it so wrong
How egotistical they must be for to think they can control the one we to belong
For we too are a part of Nature as much as her creatures of sea and of land
And she will always be our master though some that do not understand
Many farmers due to climate change the land are leaving and that seems a sad thing to say
With less farmers less food in the supermarket but the wealthy they will be okay
For a farm food scarcity means higher food prices but for food they can afford for to pay
It is the poor will be condemned to suffer in times of food scarcity it is always this way
It is a bleak Season for farmers and that is a sad thing to hear
And for the have nots of the World it looks like another bleak year.

The Creek From The High Country Babbles Along

From the wooded foothills of the pied currawong
The creek from the high country babbles along
Through the old brown dry paddocks by night and by day
For to join the big river on it's sea going way.

The old local bloke with hair white as snow
Says in his eighty years he's not seen it so low
Many of the smaller creeks that feed it at present bone dry
It hasn't rained here since early July.

By the homes of the grey roo and the pale eyed crow
Above the brown gravel it trickles on slow
Through over-gazed paddocks where rank thistles grow
On to the big river it ever does flow.

This countryside with lots of moisture could do
A week of good rainfall having said that two
Many of the local farmers have moved to elsewhere
For to start a new life in the big towns out there.

And though there isn't much water left in any drain
The creek from the foothills it's babble retain
And across the dry paddocks where rank thistles grow
The thirsty winds down through the south country blow.

I Am One Of Many Who Loves Nature

I am one of many who loves Nature her beauty is all around me
And every day in Nature's World new wonders I'm privileged to see
Of Nature we never stop learning we learn from her every day
Though her secrets and they are many from us she has hidden away
The only immortal I know of her presence is on every shore
All of her life forms their life spans in time is not long but she will live forever more
We depend on her for our survival yet we do not treat her that well
By our polluting and destruction of natural habitat we are creating our own earthly hell
One can only marvel at Nature each species of bird has it's own song to sing
And in the groves and woods and hedgerows they build homes for their young in Spring
The fish of lakes, streams and rivers, the mammals of sea and of land
Her billions of flying and ground insects of sky and of soil and of sand
Of Nature we never stop learning till to the scythe of her Reaper we'll fall
And in a World of many great forces she is the greatest of all.

In A Human World Where Many Grow Poorer

In a Human World where many grow poorer for one to become a millionaire
Who can blame the forgotten have nots for thinking that life is unfair
The homeless poor of the big city to survive have to battle the odds
Many of them die in their twenties the children of the lesser gods,
The children of disadvantaged parents for them no such a thing as a fair go
A good home and a good education of such things they never will know
Compared to them I feel so lucky one might say a fortunate man
I have never been hungry or homeless at anytime in my life span
For the wealthy to grow wealthier the poor must grow poorer in a fair Human World this would not be
Far too many are disadvantaged and condemned to live in poverty
Even in the so called wealthy Nations the hidden poverty is rife
By circumstance of birth far too many are condemned to a miserable life
It is true enough we are mere mortals and to the scythe of the Reaper we fall
But in a Human World where many grow poorer no such a thing as a fair go for all.

Some For The Wealth Of Nature

Some for the wealth of Nature only seem to care
Those who of her beauty are never aware
They grow wealthy from her resources for as long as they live
They take and take from her and in return nothing to her give
They grow wealthy from her resources such as diamonds, oil and gold
And they never grow to love Nature they only grow wealthier and old
And of her flora and fauna they do not wish to know
To them a blackbird is a species of crow
Out of Nature's resources the good life they enjoy
And the beauty around them they feel is their's to destroy
For more development for huge profit their workers cut more trees down
For those who live in the wealthier side of the town
Wealthy in money and assets but spiritually in poverty
The Beauty in Nature they are too blind to see.

A Claraghatlea Man Is All I Can Be

Many roadways I've driven on and many streets walked up and down
Since I left Claraghatlea west of old Millstreet Town
But wherever I go to my past goes with me
And a Claraghatlea man is all I can be
Though I've been to big cities far from my old home
I have not been to Rio or Paris or Rome
Or many Countries and cities far from Clara Hill
And the first home I knew by the clear flowing rill
That through Claramore and Claraghatlea night and day
To the bigger river babbles on it's way
And for as long as the gift of memory we retain
The past in our psyche does seem to remain
I'm a Claraghatlea man since facts never lie
And that's all I can be till the day that I die.

Since Red Is The Blood

Since red is the blood we all shed when we bleed
Is there any more proof that anyone does need
That all people should be equal black and white and brown
Though many poor people live in every town
Why tell me about it I know it's unfair
That the pauper not equal to the millionaire
Money makes us unequal and it seems sad to say
That inequality due to it is rife in the World of today
The super rich live near where paupers abound
And even in the poorest of Countries billionaires to be found
Doesn't matter your gender, race or creed or the color of your skin
Without money in life you cannot hope to win
But at least everyone are equal when they are dead
So of death it does seem some good things can be said.

The National Game Of Australia

The National game of Australia is Australian Rules Football
And the Aussies who love their game say it is the greatest game of all
Soccer, Rugby Union and Rugby League and Cricket have their roots elsewhere
But no truer Aussie sportsman than an Aussie Rules footy player,
A game born on Australian soil it surely is Australia's own
And the legend of great footy players in their deaths has even grown
In September at the famed M C G in Melbourne on A F L Grand Final Day
Close to one hundred thousand people flock to watch Australia's best teams play
Though many like both codes of rugby and cricket and soccer a game that is played Worldwide
Australia's National game is Aussie Rules to many that's a source of pride
The National Game of Australia and it's great claim to fame
It that it was born and bred in Australia and is the only true Australian Game
And it surely is a true Aussie as Aussie as can be
And though some others may like introduced games far better with what I say many would agree.

A Winter's Day In Claraghatlea

A Winter's day in Claraghatlea and a chill in the breeze
And the old fields are gray from the overnight freeze
And droplets of water dripping off of the bare trees
In temperatures as low as zero degrees
The cattle in farm shed are bellowing for silage or hay
In a countryside looking so dreary and gray
And old Clara Hill wearing his hat of snow
And in brown flood waters the stream bank high flow
By wind exposed ditch and by bare hedgerow
At a time of year where nothing seems to grow
Ground frost overnight and heavy rain yesterday
And it is looking like that more rain is on the way
In late January in Claraghatlea six weeks from the Spring
When grass will start to grow and birds will chirp and sing.

Our Wonder Of Her Only Does Seem To Grow

The artists and poets by the beauty of Nature inspired to sketch and to write
Their drawings for others to look at and their poems for others to read and recite
And in Nature there is always great beauty to see
In paddock and parkland and on every bush and tree
Once you get to know them you cannot get them wrong
Each species of bird of Nature by their chirp or their song
And though so little of Nature's ways we do seem to know
Our wonder of her only does seem to grow
And in her there is so much to love and admire
And of singing her praises one never could tire
In time brief enough the longest human life span
And Nature will outlive the last woman and man
Since all of her life forms are born to die
That's a fact of Nature and facts never lie.

There Is No Equality

The karma we reap may well be our due
But that the law treats everyone as equal is surely not true
Out of a serious offense the wealthy can buy their way
Money speaks every language as some like to say
Even in a Democratic Country the law treats everyone as equal are words that deceive
You must be very naive if such you do believe
Where money is concerned there is no equality
The corruptible cannot be bribed by one in poverty
To buy your way out of trouble on it you can depend
The color of your money will win you a friend
In numbers the friends of the billionaire grow
And the pauper is one that few do wish to know
And the power of money it never seems to fail
It even does keep criminals out of jail.

Not Many Who Do Not Take Insult To Heart

Not many who do not take insult to heart
I should know I've been called worse things than a boring old fart
By ignorant people who lack in common sense
The callous with their words like to cause offense
Of the feelings of others some are not aware
And sad to think offensive people not rare
Their type sad to say one can meet anywhere
And millions of them in the big World out there
The bile of the mind they eject through the mouth
That a word can cause offense of that there's no doubt
And none worse than those who deliberately offend
The one who insults you cannot be your friend
To make the Human World it does take every kind
The good and not so good and the one of warped mind.

One Woman Enough For Most To Satisfy

In some cultures polygamy blossoms and thrives
Where egotistical males have their harems of wives
The rights and wrongs of such practice is not for me to say
But if a man can satisfy one woman he is doing okay
The virility of men who can satisfy more than one woman one has to admire
They are blessed with an abundance of sexual desire
For to be a great lover good for the macho esteem
But one woman enough for most men it would seem
Only the wealthiest males in their community a harem can afford
But their women would have to be sexually frustrated and bored
It is believable that some of them from the harem do stray
Even in monogamous societies this happens ever day
Their right to their harems them one cannot deny
But one woman enough for most to satisfy.

Some Are Known To Say

The past gone forever as some are known to say
But I wish my past from me would go away
Deep in my psyche it seems to remain
And in fancy I visit old places again
And in my flights of fancy on a distant street
The friends of my younger years I often do meet
And they have not grown older as if time had stood still
For them in the town by the old bracken hill
The past is behind us and the future ahead
And we must live in the now as the wise one has said
But the past seems to follow some to where-ever they go
And I am of that sort so I ought to know
That the past will be with me till the day that I die
And to tell you the truth I wish that were a lie.

Many Fight And Die For Freedom

Many fight and die for freedom but it does seem to me
For any one of us not a guarantee
At death at the hands of our own kind by bomb, bullet or knife
Just a basic human freedom known as right to life.

Though most people believe in live and let live
A guarantee of your right to your life any Government cannot give
A basic human right that to anyone does not belong
I say only what's true and truth cannot be wrong.

No freedom for women to walk without fear in the park
On a moonless night when the sky it is dark
To walk without fear in the town in the night
Seems a basic freedom that ought to be a right.

Far too many young men have believed in the lie
That if you do love freedom for it you will die
But we don't all drink the same beer or spirits or wine
And your ideas on freedom are quite different to mine.

The Ordinary People

I am quite ordinary myself that much of me I do know
But in numbers around me my type seem to grow
For ordinary people I meet every day
And in that I mean ordinary in an ordinary way
They live everywhere and they live on your street
The ordinary people are not hard to meet
We even elect them to positions of power
Suppose one person's weed to another a flower
Our entertainment and sporting celebrities and politicians seem ordinary indeed
Suppose they have in them the will to succeed
At what they choose to do and though you may not agree
Those born into royalty seem ordinary to me
Even those we look up to and we choose to admire
The thoughts of the ordinary in us inspire.

You Have Heard Many Similar Stories Before

You have heard many similar stories before
His girlfriend is twenty he is seventy four
Together hand in hand they walk up and down
The concrete pathway in the park of the town
With brown hair and brown eyes and lovely to behold
It goes without saying for her he's a bit old
But he is a billionaire and as some like to say
Money speaks every language in the World of today
To make way for the younger lover in his life
Lately he divorced his thirty five year old sixth wife
With many grandchildren his youngest child a daughter is three
Money speaks every language would you not agree?
With his gray hair dyed brown, he's had a face lift or two
It is truly amazing what money can do.

For Me Far Too Much Foofaraw

For me far too much foofaraw
Your own conclusions on them and their work draw
Though modern poets and their poems in poetry the in thing
And their praises the literary critics sing.

I am not an up with the times man
And of them and their work I am not a fan
For I do love old fashioned rhyme
And my love for it goes back some time.

It gives me joy to sing along
With the singer of the old ballad or song
The sort the travelers at the horse fairs sung
Decades ago when I was young.

A beautiful memory I recall
Of the Millstreet Town horse fair in the Fall
An aging Irish Traveler sung Burns 'Afton Water' what a joy
For a nine year old country boy.

In the poems of modern poets too much foofaraw for me
Though with that many would disagree
I love the music in the rhyme
The poetry of another time.

On Koroit's 09 Football Premiership

They celebrate in the Commercial and Mickey Bourke's pub
The marvelous win of Koroit Saints Football Club
The Warrnambool Blues the pride of Warrnambool Town
In the Football Grand Final to the red and black went down
To the memory of such a victory Koroit fans will cling dear
They will celebrate well into next year
The Grand Final win to the Town has brought cheer
They do celebrate there in spirits and beer
From shop and house windows red and black balloons and bunters in the wind blow
Their great love of Koroit all Koroitians do show
And well do they have reason to celebrate
Their present footballers with Koroit's best does rate
Their 09 Premiership for them a huge victory
Something that is destined to live in memory.

So Many Arrogant Males

So many arrogant males in the Human World of today
Egotistical and conceited in quite a big way
They verbally build themselves up by putting others down
As they compete with each other to be best in the town
They are not a minority that does seem sad to say
And respect to the feelings of others they never do pay
To their higher selves they could never be true
And the Karma they sow one day will be their due
An over inflated ego is not a good thing
Their own praises they only do like to sing
Beyond the needs of the self they cannot seem to see
With them it is all about I, myself and me
What I've been telling you here is not anything new
That the arrogant males of the World not a few.

If I Said I'd Quit Rhyming

I never refer to myself as a poet
Nor do I deserve to be one of literary note
Though for many years now I have been a rhyme buff
And I am one who has penned a whole heap of stuff
Though I have traveled far and walked on many a street
A true poet in the flesh is one I have yet to meet
Many like to refer to themselves as poet with me that is okay
Though self praise is no praise as some are known to say
Yet the Wordsmith trade need all of it's writers for the experts to differentiate
Between poor and average writing and between good and great
But on few things in life few do seem to agree
And what seems good to you may not seem so to me
If I said I'd quit rhyming that would be a lie
As a poetaster I live and as a poetaster I'll die.

He Is Quite A Sensitive Fellow

He is quite a sensitive fellow not in any way haughty or rough
And his bogey is low self esteem he feels his best not good enough
Sensitive to the negative comments of others one might say he takes them to heart
Of trading in derogatory comments he is one who could not be part
A shy person though kind and caring of the feelings of others one who is aware
You will not find too many like him his kind are becoming more rare
He never panders to the ego as some do and he never puts another down
The quiet man who is not known to many even on his side of the town
He likes his few beers at the weekend but he always drinks on his own
He will never be the life of the party for such people like him not known
He is not into self promotion he is what to most he does seem
One who has a deflated ego brought about by low self esteem
He is not into self promotion he never has that much to say
Yet to help one of help who is in need he is one to go out of his way.

He Displays A Brave Public Face

The emptiness he feels within he has never expressed
And he tries to appear as happy though he feels depressed
With his mental problems he struggles to cope
But he is a person who keeps faith in hope
That the flowers of peace and contentment in his mind will grow
And happiness in his life he will come to know
And despite his depressed mood he displays a brave public face
He accepts his life crosses with bravery and grace
Despite his depressed mood he feels so calm and so sane
Were I in his shoes I feel I would complain
Yet he who does suffer never seeks sympathy
Which makes him a far braver fellow than me
Few as brave or as likeable as him in the town
He manages a smile though at heart he feels down.

One Must Pity Those Who Cannot love

One must pity those who cannot love of happiness they are bereft
As children their gift of love stolen from them and bitterness in it's place left
By callous and unloving parents any love in their young years to them not shown
And how can you learn to love someone if love in your life you've not known.

One must pity the poor unloved children in life they do not have a fair go
Into loving and kind and caring adults they do not have the chance for to grow
By circumstance of birth luck against them in life they must battle the odds
One can only feel so sorry for them the children of the Lesser Gods.

The children who are born to good parents are lucky so lucky indeed
By circumstance of birth advantaged their ticket in life to succeed
To be loved in their young years so lucky for love in us all there's a need
You cannot expect a good food crop if you do not care for the seed.

One must pity those who cannot love if in their young years love they never knew
And of their type there are so many I am not talking here of a few
The poor homeless kids of the city their dysfunctional parents in jail
The luck of life's draw is against them they have been set up for to fail.

For As Long As I Can

The longest human life in time not a long span
So try to live on for as long as you can
For despite all this talk about Heaven and Hell
Of an Afterlife none have come back to tell
The millions of homeless the poor and downtrod
Are surely the children of the lesser God
Though many believe in the existence of this God in the sky
This is something I question but offhand cannot deny
I must be an agnostic I think in that way
And to the God of the Universe I never do pray
One reason I am in no hurry to die
But what is truthful to me to you may be a lie
My best days in life to the forever gone
But for as long as I can live I hope to live on.

Not Exactly The same

No two of life have the same story to tell
Some know of great success some know of Earthly Hell
And whether to anonymity or whether to fortune or to fame
For any two the life journey not exactly the same
You may live to be very old frail and gray
But the life journey ends for you one night or day
It may be in your Hometown or from there far away
On our lives the Reaper does have the last say
Like a true doubting Thomas I believe what I see
And of life after death ask one other than me
To any God I never kneel for to pray
Though respect to Nature I never fail for to pay
Though the life story of most people few copies would sell
Everybody do have their own story to tell.

I Visit Duhallow Again

So few from Duhallow nowadays I do meet
And since it has been awhile now since I've lived in Millstreet
Where Finnow to Blackwater through rushy fields flow
So few faces there nowadays I could hope to know.

The past returns to me when I visualize
And familiar faces I do recognize
And though my childhood mentors in Nature's bosom lay
They are living on in my memory today.

Though nostalgia now seldom does move me to tears
For faces and places I've not seen for years
The song of the robin I fancy I hear
In the grove by my old home melodious and clear.

The lark above Clara a speck in the sky
Up to the gray cloud world he sing as he fly
His partner in the bracken hidden in her nest
With the larks of the future kept warm by her breast.

The years have left me looking older and gray
And in Millstreet I may feel a stranger today
But fond memories of what was with me does remain
And in fancy I visit Duhallow again.

Who Gave You The Right

You think you know me thought has proved you wrong
To any grouping I do not belong
We look at life in quite a different way
Does that not seem a fair thing of me for to say?
That you have your own religious and social grouping does suit me fine
Since your business is not any business of mine
You dismiss me as a pagan one with a soul without light
To pass judgement on others who gave you the right?
In your house of worship to your God you do pray
Though in your words those who believe different to you disrespect you do pay
Your God I am sure with you does not agree
Since a good God would never pass judgement on me
I live in my own way and I do my own thing
And of the praises of Nature I only do sing.

A Cool October Morning

On this gray October morning in the prime of the Spring
The birds on the bushes and trees chirp and sing
It has rained overnight and more rain on the way
Going by the weather forecast later on in the day
But with the warmer and drier weather of Summer quite near
We need lots of rain at this time of the year
Yesterday it was warm and sunny and dry
But this morning the gray clouds of rain in the sky
Yet the park lands and paddocks looking lush and green
And the wildflowers of Nature everywhere to be seen
So much beauty in Nature for all to admire
And of singing her praises how could one ever tire?
It has rained overnight and more rain on the way
That is going by the forecast much later today.

In The Human World No Such A Thing As Equality

The lives of the wealthy and famous we read of and hear of every day
Though many of them are not admirable people ordinary in an ordinary way
It is true money speaks every language with money one can even buy fame
You won't read of or hear of poor people even few wish to know a pauper by name
In the Human World no such a thing as equality or no such a thing as a fair go for all
Though the Reaper the great equalizer to his scythe every life has to fall
For the monarch the president the billionaire and the celebrity there too is a final night and day
Like all life forms us humans are mortals with Nature our last remains lay
Out of the love lives of the wealthy and famous the magazine publishers do quite well
The impressionable love reading of them and such magazines readily sell
The paparazzi for their photos and stories never visit Poverty Street
In the poorer suburb such people you are quite unlikely to meet
Of the lives of the wealthy and famous so many like to hear of and read
Though it is not always by good example that many of such people are known for to lead.

The Very Wise Only A Few

The boys of the fifties and sixties are the aging grandparents of today
But it does not mean a fellow is wiser though the years have left his hair looking gray
Yes some as they age do not grow wiser one must wonder why this must be?
On the way that the human mind works psychologists cannot agree
Through the decades I've known many people and of the many a few that are wise
Though I too am one lacking in wisdom of which I have come to realize
With age I have not grown any wiser though in that I'm not in a minority
There are millions all around the World quite lacking in wisdom like me
One cannot buy wisdom with money it is something one cannot buy or sell
Many wealthy people not insightful though financially they do quite well
The not so wise are in majority and the very wise only a few
In saying that I am stating a known fact and that is not saying anything new
The boys of the fifties and sixties are aging the clock on our lives ticks away
But few of us grow old and wiser does that seem a fair thing to say?

I Pen Rhymes

I pen rhymes in life that's my hobby
But as a rhymer I do lack in class
And the test of the average rhymer
I feel that I would not even pass

But I pen stuff on real human issues
And for the have nots of the World I do feel
Compared to most I am so lucky
To live many do have to steal.

Which sad for them lands them in prison
Behind bars they serve out their time
For in the book of the lawmakers
To steal to live deemed as a crime.

Some poets overlook the poor have nots
And the praises of celebrities they do sing
In their words they laud the affluent and influential
To me that does not seem a good thing

To be doing for writers who many look up to
To greater things young poets they inspire
Yet in their poems they ignore the have nots
And for that I for one them can't admire.

I pen rhymes I am just an average rhymer
And about me nothing special or nothing grand
In my life rhyming an addictive hobby
And my simple rhymes easy to understand.

A September Night In The Countryside

Out there in the quiet countryside in the still of the night
The unmistakeable cry of a hunting fox in the moonlight
And perhaps at the threat of a predator to their ground nest nearby
The wary spur wing plovers are calling as they fly
Like the fox the predatory night birds have young to feed this time of year
And the loud screech of a barn owl not a pleasant sound to hear
And to the boobook calls of mopoke on the nearby trees
The brooding small bird in her nest does listen with a sense of unease
On the quiet rural roadway few cars pass up and down
On a September night in the countryside miles from the nearest town
And the calls of the male ring-tail possum one never could mistake
He will be back in his leafy nest before sunrise at daybreak
The predatory birds and animals who hide from the lamp of day
In the still of a September night are out hunting for prey.

Have You Known Nostalgia

Have you known nostalgia have you been moved to tears
As you thought of your friends in your life's long gone years?
And only memories of them with you do remain
For in the flesh you may not see them again.

The clock on our lives it just keeps ticking on
Alone have you wept for the Seasons long gone?
As you thought of friends in a town distant from a far shore
Good memories of them with you remain just that and nothing more.

You wonder with hair dyes do they cover their gray?
They are the grand mums and grand dads of today
Life's prime years go quickly as some like to say
And the biological clocks they keep ticking away.

Nostalgia is a thing few migrants have outgrown
Do you think of the past and the friends you have known?
And to know that you'll never more see them a sad thing to realize
From the depths of your soul bring tears to your eyes.

Do Not Judge Me For

Do not judge me for my religion or lack of it or for my skin color or race
Or for my age or for my gender or the look of my face
Or of my nationality or employment status or by my postal address
It scarce matters to me if you I do not happen to impress
Those who pass their judgements on others in their own ways so small
We were born of woman and before we did walk we did crawl
And to the scythe of the Reaper we eventually must fall
And whether we are burned to ashes or our remains are buried to decay
Like all other life forms in Nature's bosom we lay
In saying I am not one without sin I'm not saying anything that is new
There are so many like me I am not one of a few
But the right to a fair go of anyone do not deny
To you and me and everyone that surely does apply.

Blessed Are They With The Great Gift Of Ruth

I only say here what is the obvious truth
That blessed are they with the great gift of ruth
One might say in numbers they do not abound
Though the ruthless at heart are not hard to be found
A person with ruth never puts others down
And of their type we do need more in every town
So much room for self improvement in more than a few
To that you may well say tell us something that's new
If you cannot say something nice about someone say nothing at all
Those words from a wise one are well worthy of recall
And since of the feelings of others they are all too aware
Those with the gift of ruth sad to say all too rare
To their higher selves they remain ever true
And respect to their kind is by now overdue.

The Farewell Words

Down her lovely face the tears roll from her eyes
Quite emotional for her the last goodbyes
Tomorrow from home she will be far away
The farewell words are always hard to say
Self betterment in her life she hopes to gain
Her only reason for taking the migrant plane
Far from friends and family for to live elsewhere
To try her luck in the big World out there
Just nineteen years not yet in her life's prime
To settle in the distant city will take her some time
Perhaps she could stay at home and become a young local man's wife
Though she does crave adventure in her life
Dark haired young and lovely and still in her teenage years
In her last goodbyes she cannot hold back the tears.

I Envy Them For Their Resilience

The most of us have our own worries though to another your problems may seem small
But lucky are they very lucky who never seem to worry at all
Although in financial difficulties they don't allow that for to get them down
They never appear to be worried they smile as they walk in the town
I envy them for their resilience they laugh in the face of despair
You never do hear them complaining or moaning that life is unfair
They are like the great champion boxer they raise themselves up off of the floor
And carry on with the life's battle and fight on as never before
Unlike those who moan over small things the victim mentality to them apply
They tell all who care to listen of their hardships by life they do feel hard done by
Whilst some who have far greater problems are never once heard to complain
In their toughest times they feel happy the smile on their face they retain
You never do hear them complaining they never blame life or the gods
Happy to accept their life's challenge they battle on against the odds.

Some With Good Reason To

Some with good reason to say life's unfair
But that said we all breathe in the same air
And we all sleep and eat and drink and die
In that the billionaire no different to you and I
Though it would be nice to live as a billionaire
Without the burden of financial care
To live the life of which many only dream
Though for one to win many must lose it would seem
Yet the Reaper who creates equality
Does not differentiate between wealth and poverty
Like the aged tree to death we too must fall
There is a final night and day for all
It is short enough the human lifetime span
So why not live for as long as you can.

In My Memory Young She Does Remain

Perhaps she's not the beauty now that she once used to be
And I may not recognize her today if her I see
Her hair was as dark as the wing of a crow
And her eyes as blue as the ripe November sloe.

She was older than me by ten years or so
And I only knew her just for to say hello
And I was young then twelve going on thirteen
And to the ways of life one might say quite green.

So beautiful and graceful and stylish and tall
And I had a crush on her I do recall
I felt so very awkward when her I did meet
Just a shy hello in passing on the street.

So little of life's ways then I did seem to know
For that is going back some fifty years ago
When she left town I never see her again
Yet in my memory young she still does remain.

The Truly Wise Person

Of him or her you seldom hear of or read
The truly wise person does not wish to lead
They never do speak much they don't deal in lies
From learning from living they have grown to be wise
The truly wise person never has much to say
He or she know that from life you learn every day
They realize the more that you know of the less you know that you know
And from their life experience more wise they do grow
The wise never yearn for wealth and renown
And they are not even well known on their side of the town
To be leaders of others in life not their role
The ego with them is well under control
You won't find a wise one on every street
And their sort of person one does not often meet.

More Than One Way Of Being Cruel

Some people with their words can be offensive it is in their nature for to be rude
They do seem to find a sense of pleasure when on the feelings of others they intrude
They must have been lacking in love in their childhood for to behave in such a way
Although always some excuse for rude behavior as some have been known for to say
Words meant to offend cause hurt feelings and hurt feelings cause mental pain
And sad to think some ruthless people from causing offense pleasure do gain
To do unto others what you'd like them to do to you some do not seem to understand
They fail to realize that respect you must earn that it is something you cannot command
I respect compassionate people in them so much to like and admire
And I feel of singing their praises that I for one could never tire
Nothing to like about in the judge-mental and offensive who enjoy putting others down
Though sad to say of them there is no shortage in any city or village or town
Some people enjoy being offensive for their pleasure put down words their fuel
Hurt can be caused physically or mentally there is more than one way of being cruel.

The Poor Homeless Bloke

With holes in his pants and with holes in his shoes
The poor homeless bloke who has nothing to lose
And with ill fitting coat and long straggly gray hair
Yet you never hear him say life is unfair
He is happy with life and he says life is fine
For as long as he has a cheap bottle of wine
Which he drinks on the park bench in the evening sunshine
He is happy though his life is much harder than mine
In the park or the pathway by the river or on the street
He gives me a smile and hello when we meet
His inner happy glow is in his toothy smile
A beautiful character one free of guile
A poor homeless bloke dependent on welfare
Yet he is one who is not burdened by care.

Most Of The So Called Literary Experts

Most of the so called literary experts are dismissive of rhyme
They say it is the poetry of a long gone time
Yet the poets that they laud the poems they do write
Cannot be put to music and are hard to read and recite
The rhymer of today is not looked on as a poet
Or is not seen as one worthy of literary note
By the so called literary experts with literary degrees
Though their judgement on what is or is not poetry not everyone does please
They never will convince the old style rhyme buff
To him or her well written rhyme is not throw away stuff
In well written rhyme are the words to a song
And good rhyming poetry to music belong
Yet the degreed literary experts who on poetry like to have their say
Dismiss rhyming poets and their poetry as of yesterday.

The Great Gift Of Love Is A Marvellous Thing

It's praises we ought to feel happy to sing
The great gift of love is a marvellous thing
Those who can love unconditionally are blessed indeed
One might say of them that they are a rare breed
Those who cannot love also cannot be kind
To empathy and compassion their's is a closed mind
And some take their hatreds of those different to them too far
By trying to inspire the like minded to acts of terrorism and war
Of people with love in them only good things you hear
For the sufferings of others they can shed a tear
That they seldom make the news headlines seems a sad thing to say
Since to help others out they go out of their way
Of their sort of people we seldom hear of and read
Though by good example they are known to lead.

It Is True That Poets Are Quite A Rare Breed

It is true that poets are quite a rare breed and few that pen verse are worthy of note
Though many say they do write poetry and refer to themselves as poet
You won't find many like Robert Burns or James Clarence Mangan or John Clare
They may have lived and died poorer than many do but their type of writers are rare
As for me I'm a bit of a rhymer and for years I have been a rhyme buff
One not worthy of the title of poet though I've written a whole heap of stuff
Some self proclaimed poets into self praise their own praises they love to sing
Their egos are over inflated the ego is such a strange thing
In this the age of self promotion the word poet is often abused
In referring to self by those who crave fame and attention a word that is too often used
Suppose there is nothing wrong with self promotion though some with it get carried away
Though one would not find many people who would agree with what I do say
About poets and about writing poetry a weed to one to another is a rose
Our different views on things makes us seem interesting on that one would have to suppose.

Post Grand Final Day

For the winners many weeks of hip hip hooray
And the feeling of joy with their fans months does stay
But for one to win one must lose as some do say
And for the losers only sadness post Grand Final Day.

And since winning is what only does seem to count
Gallant in defeat to little does seem to amount
The joy in victory is always sweet
There is never any glory in defeat.

Those uninterested in sports say football is just a game
That who wins or who loses life goes on the same
But those who support football clubs never see it that way
They do get quite excited watching their team play.

To play in a Grand Final is many a boy's dream
And be a champion player in a Premiership Team
But on post Grand Final day only the winners celebrate
And for their victory their fans say 'twas well worth the wait.

For Your Past Are You One

For your past are you one who has never shed tears?
As you thought of old friends in the now long gone years
With them you played football in a town far away
Have you ever wondered about them where they might be today?
Since you left the Hometown you must go back in time
On your twenty first year and quite close to your prime
Your oldest grandchild has a daughter of three
And you are not the man that you once used to be
The boys and girls you grew up with them do you recall?
They too like you are well into their life's Fall
Some of them their remains in cemeteries lay
Whilst some like you from the Hometown live far away
Whilst some in the home-place are growing old today
Their children in mid life showing their years in gray.

In The Old Seaside Town

On the esplanade the cars buzz up and down
It is holiday time in the old seaside town
Young and old people out in the warm sunlight
On a Spring afternoon that is breezy and bright.

The silver gulls mewing in the sunlit seaside park
And the familiar pee wee of the magpie lark
Is floating along in the freshening breeze
As it makes it's own music in the bushes and trees.

Young people in shorts and singlets play ball in the sun
And people of different age groups on the park pathway jog and run
The fruit trees in their pink blooms the nesting birds chirp and sing
On the last week of September near the prime of the Spring.

The years may have left me looking older and gray
But so good to be alive on a day like today
The sun shining bright in a clear and blue sky
And the swallows chasing flying insects chirping as they fly.

Stick To The Truth

My business is not your business and your business is not mine
And when you say what's true of me that does suits me fine
And through the negative means of backbiting some advantage seek to gain
When speaking of others with the truth do remain
Though it will never be your ticket to renown
It is easy so easy to put others down
From life it is known we receive what we give
So it is best stick to the old saying of live and let live
Why hurt someone's feelings for that there's no need
It is true that those who receive the good Karma do plant the good seed
If you cannot say something nice of a person say nothing at all
Wise words from a wise one worthy of recall
To Karma for our actions some price we must pay
So stick to the truth and you will be okay.

Old Bruno

You will not hear Bruno complaining though his prime years are in the long gone
He says me love life and me happy and me hope for to keep living on
Until one known as reaper will take me and me hope that won't be for some while
He is such a happy old migrant the one with the broad toothy smile
Old Bruno he's never been married or known of the joy of being a dad
But he always does seem very happy he says life's too short to feel sad
Last year he visited his Hometown in Italy though there he did feel out of place
He says there me did feel a stranger and to everyone mine a strange face
Old Bruno he feels he's an Aussie me do love Australia he say
Me won't spend me last days in Italy far north of here and far away
In sports he does cheer on the Aussies in their colors of green and gold
At heart he is still a young person you don't tell him he is growing old
He has a few beers at the weekend with his mates at the local pub
And he's a member and a loyal supporter of both the town's cricket team and football club.

Perhaps I Will Never Again see Old Clara Above Claramore

Perhaps I will never again see old Clara overlooking high Claramore
Though in fancy I walk in the old fields through places I walked on before
Coming to this Southern Country Where I have grown older and gray
The clock on my life it is ticking and ticking and ticking away
Back there now I would be a stranger a stranger to most I would meet
Yes a total stranger to many even in the Town of Millstreet
Where I had many friends and was well known I would seem a stranger today
It has been twenty two years plus nine months since I've seen the wildflowers of the May
Blooming in Claraghatlea my home Townland when the hawthorns wore their blooms white as snow
And the dipper he sung in the old stream that to the Cails river does flow
I cannot afford to go back there since I am financially poor
But in fancy I hear the birds singing in April in old Annagloor
And the mentors of my youth though with the departed they come to life before my eyes
Since it is easy for to imagine and easy for to visualize.

What In Ourselves We Do See

It is true what is said of some people that we become what in ourselves we do see
And if you think that you are a failure then a failure you'll turn out to be
Self doubt has become my barrier to success and of such I will never be free
For an example on negative thinking you need not look further than me
Yes if you think that you are a failure then you create your own poverty
But a wise person can strike a balance between arrogance and too much humility
But I am one of many who cannot strike such a balance for my negative self effacement the price I do pay
Financially I'm not a winner my thinking has left me this way
Yet sad to think some of the financially successful feel arrogant in their high self esteem
Such people are quite overbearing at least to me that's how it would seem
Yet few things worse than low self esteem those with it do drag themselves down
For that perhaps I'm an example as one of the 'have nots' of the town
Self confidence to success can lead though many of such people towards arrogance inclined
Yet then suppose the perfect person is one you could not hope to find.

Her Very Equal Would Be So Hard To Find

For her soul there isn't any need for to pray
For it was a good person that was buried today
To help those in need of help she went out of her way
And a bad word of anyone she never did say
She was never a mother or to any man a wife
But she was one who did achieve much in life
A beautiful person compassionate and kind
Her very equal would be so hard to find
In her early fifties one who was far from old
And though her life story in book form may never be told
Though her biography would make a memorable read
For 'twas only by good example that she did lead
Of a massive heart attack she died suddenly
And sad to think her we will never more see.

The Old Coastal Countryside

The old coastal countryside looking so green
The greenest and healthiest for years it has been
The paddocks made lush by recent heavy Spring showers
And the capeweed in bloom in their bright yellow flowers
At this time of year the magpies are singing by day and by night
And so lovely to hear them flute in the moonlight
Towards the end of September near the prime of the Spring
On trees and on bushes nesting birds chirp and sing
By their chirps or their songs most birds one can identify
Birds have their own accents just like you and I
Of the beauty of Nature a poet would write
A poem for others to read or recite
And an artist would feel inspired to sketch the beauty I see
Everywhere I turn to look it is all around me.

On The 09 All Ireland Football Final

For the Cork Gaelic Footballers another humbling defeat
By their neighbors Kerry in Croke Park once more they've been beat
In Gaelic Football in Ireland Kerry to the fore
With 36 All Ireland titles and their fans hoping for more.

My mum was from Kerry that I cannot deny
But why it aches me when Cork lose a big game I do wonder why?
Though long absent from Ireland a sense of parochialism I do retain
Some-things from our past always with us do remain.

But Kerry fans with their 09 All Ireland victory need not get carried away
As their hurlers are quite poor though that does seem a sad thing for to have to say
Like Kilkenny Ireland's premier hurling County Kerry G A A rankings low
The lowest even in Munster as all G A A fans do know.

For the Liam McCarthy Cup Kerry Hurlers never allowed for to play
For that not deemed to be good enough by the administrators of the G A A
Like the Kilkenny Footballers Kerry Hurlers amongst the lowly rate
Though their many Football victories their fans have to celebrate.

Kerry are 09 All Ireland Senior Football Champions their neighbors Cork they did outplay
In Croke Park in Dublin Ireland on September's third Sunday
But Cork the only winners of the Hurling and Football double for them an amazing feat
With Ireland best Football and Hurling Counties at the highest level do compete.

It Is Great To Be Alive

Though for all of us there is a last night and day
It is great to be alive is all I can say
I cannot understand those who wish to be dead
They cannot be as some do say right in the head
In the wooded park nearby birds whistle and sing
And the fruit trees are in their pink blooms of the Spring
The sun it is shining on a beautiful day
How great to be living is all I can say
On this September morning of twenty degrees
The warmth of Spring is in the freshening breeze
The flute of the magpie melodious and clear
How great to be alive at this time of the year
The sun shining bright in a clear blue sky
And the nesting birds singing in the wood nearby.

There Is Plenty Of Room In Heaven

There is plenty of room in Heaven where winged angels dwell
But things are very different in Satan's World in Hell
It is vastly overcrowded and conditions there are bad
But for the souls of deceased sinners I cannot say I feel sad
And though one day soon I will be there I've come to realize
To hear that Hell is overcrowded comes to me as no surprise
For in a Human World of many sinners the good are in the few
Though to that you may well say so tell us something new
In the World of the hereafter Heaven will not be for me
Winged angels singing in the sky I will not hear or see
By all accounts in Satan's World life there is worse than tough
But for as long as I have pen and paper I will feel happy enough
For to scribble on forever more reams and reams of doggerel
Amongst the other poetasters in our Poetasters Hell.

Far North In Duhallow

Far north in Duhallow near the Town of Millstreet
In the flat and rushy old fields where the Cails and Finnow meet
And flows on to the Blackwater that flows to the ocean shore
A journey through north east of Cork County of sixty miles
or more
In the coolness of late September the leaves are turning brown
And the birds are no longer singing in the groves near Millstreet Town
And though the weather cool and unsettled the hills are clear of snow
And from the Boggeragh mountains the winds of rain do blow
My walks in those old rushy fields I always did enjoy
And my love of Nature blossomed there when I was a young boy
In my flights of fancy I see the hawthorns in their white blooms of the May
And I hear the songbirds singing in the dawning of the day
And the swallows chasing flying insects are chirping as they fly
Above the fields of Claraghatlea across the cloudy sky.

In Sports As In Life

The town decorated in the colors of the local football club for the weekend's big game
Suppose in sports as in life it is all about winning and fame
The local footballers are playing for renown
For the fans and love of self glory and love of the Hometown
And for love of the club colors they proudly do wear
The very thought of losing even seems hard to bear
To the uninterested it is just another game of football
But in sports as in life the winners seem to take all
Of the admiration and fame and of singing their praises their fans never tire
And even gallant losers so few seem to admire
To be graceful in defeat to little does amount
In sports as in life only winners seem to count
At the weekend they play for the trophy and their self glory and sporting renown
And for their sporting success hungry fans and for love of their Hometown.

Most People Love Nature

Most people love Nature in their own sort of way
And the voices of Nature we hear night and day
The artists sketch Nature and the poets sing her praise
And the wonders of Nature never cease to amaze
Our Earth Mother the one who does live as she please
The babble of her rivers that never does cease
The unmistakeable soughing of the freshening breeze
In the woods and the fields in the bushes and trees
Her beauty is everywhere all around me
Wherever I turn to look I do see
Her marvelous creations are before my eyes
And every day for us she has some new surprise
Her creatures of night and her creatures of day
Most people love Nature in their own sort of way.

The Last Poet Of The Coastal Lands

Far from her coastal Hometown where she first looked on the light of day
The last poet of the coastal lands at peace forever lay
In the quiet suburban cemetery where her remains lay forever more
One cannot hear the rumble of the tide on the sea shore
She died in her mid eighties her better years long gone
But her poems on coastal Nature are destined to live on
Nature's coastal fauna and flora in her poems she glorified
The greatest ever Nature poet of her coastal countryside
In her former Hometown by the ocean she remains as one worthy of note
Her fame will live forever as the old Shire's greatest poet
Yet the wanderlust was in her and she died far from her Hometown
Where she started on her journey to poetic renown
A famous poet of coastal Nature her poems will live forever more
Though her bones at rest in suburbia far from the ocean shore.

A Rhymer I'll Remain

From penning reams and reams of stuff anonymity is my gain
But that doesn't stop me penning since here I go again
The status of an average rhymer is all I can hope to attain
The poets can write their poetry but a rhymer I'll remain
One might say a lot of rhyming stuff has come from my
jumbled mind
But on putting to paper my thoughts on life joy I do always find
I say here what to me seems true and what I've often said before
That a rhymer I can only be just that and nothing more
That many non poets refer to themselves as poets with me that is okay
Though honestly I do believe that they get carried away
With their own sense of self importance though in fairness it does seem
That there is nothing wrong at all in an inflated sense of self esteem
As for me I'm just a rhymer as well as a rhyme buff
And over the years one might say I have penned a lot of stuff.

On The Passing Of Dee Dineen

The news has spread far beyond Duhallow's borders that Dee Dineen has passed away
In St Mary's cemetery in Millstreet Town his last remains now lay
He was a marvelous character likeable in every way
But the journey through life for us all must end one night or day.

Characters like Dee Dineen was are glorified in song and rhyme
He wore the Ballydaly colors when he was in his prime
He was far from an old man in his late fifties or early sixties maybe
And sad to think that in the flesh him we never more will see.

In Duhallow he enjoyed the status of a character of renown
He will be missed in Ballydaly, in Cullen and Millstreet Town
And all through Duhallow and Sliabh Luachra where he was known quite well
A biography of his life in book form thousands of copies would sell.

He will be missed by his many friends as well as by his family
And sad to think that in the flesh him we never more will see
So likeable and kind hearted fond memories of him will remain
The likes of him in Ballydaly may not be seen again.

Of Your Feelings On Human Rights

Of your feelings on human rights never leave others in doubt
Of wrongs against others one ought to speak out
To those who abuse others rights let your feelings be known
Them for their behavior you ought to disown
Though with what I say here many may not agree
Those silent at human rights abuse seem in agreement to me
With the offender whoever the offending one may be
Silence in the demonization of others is saying yes to inhumanity
Speak out against racism for racism is wrong
In the Human World it does not belong
There is far too much racism in the big World out there
And a racist person one can meet anywhere,
Against abuse of human rights never fear to speak out
On your feelings on such never leave others in doubt.

on The Harassment Of Denis Ferguson

It is true he is one found to be guilty of a very serious crime
But for that Denis Ferguson has served his prison time
A person should live where he or she chooses to live
Without harassment from the Compassionless who cannot forget or forgive.

The one without sin never does cast the stone
And mob law is a thing one ought not to condone
Since respect to his human rights the mob refuse to pay
The man out of prison not a free man today.

The praises of judgement by the public we ought not to sing
Since such judgements as such can be such a cruel thing
Thanks to some so called good people who like to have their say
In so called democratic societies we still have mob law
today.

The man out of prison for his crimes he did pay
But he is not free to live where he wishes to stay
The mob on where he lives will have the final say
It is sad when such people have things their own way.

Old Dave The Agnostic

One can say of old Dave he is a true agnostic he does not have a God that to he can pray
He says I do question a supreme being's existence or that Jesus Christ was born on Christmas Day
He says anyone has not come back to tell us about this imaginary after life
His Linda is a devout church going woman but Dave is very different from his wife
An agnostic is different to an atheist in God's existence an atheist does not believe
But an agnostic is one who always questions and before believing proof he must receive
And Dave says I've been waiting now for decades but none have come back to me for to tell
Of the existence of a God or Satan or of a Heaven, Limbo or a Hell
He is not a person who could be converted he question's God's existence as a lie
Since he was young he has lived as an agnostic and as an agnostic he will surely die
With his mates he has a few beers at the weekend he is a man who likes to dance and sing
He says I'm one who would like to live forever the gift of life is such a marvelous thing
His Linda is in church on Sunday morning whilst Dave at home watches sport on t v
The man he surely is a true agnostic he does not believe in what he does not see.

It Is True What Is Said About People

It is true what is said about people that everyone has a life story to tell
Though not everybody's life story in book form a million copies would sell
The biography of a poor homeless person many would not be interested to read
Life's journey from the poorest suburb to success for most people never lead
The lives of elite sports people and celebrities and those of power and money makes the best sellers list
Just reading of and hearing about them the masses cannot seem to resist
Suppose we only admire in others what we ourselves aspire to be
Most wish to be wealthy and famous and none wish to live in poverty
Most do wish to be wealthy and famous and others their praises to sing
Suppose to wish to be loved and admired is quite human it does seem a natural thing
But the road to success is a steep road and few ever climb to renown
And what hope for the poor and the homeless who live in the poor side of the town?
You ask one of their life wishes poverty he or she never choose
But the sad thing about the Human World is that for one to win many must lose.

What In Our Own Selves We Do see

We dislike in others what in our own self we do see
The words of a wise one far wiser than me
Though with such there's many who do disagree
As we all look at things one might say differently
Dislike is our reflective mirror by the wise we are told
And the flaws we see in others in our own selves we behold
Why two arrogant people cannot see eye to eye
Why this ought to be you should not wonder why
You hear people say things in common we share
But in such situations resentment not rare
That the human mind works in a mysterious way
Is only common knowledge is all one can say
And we dislike in others what in ourselves we do see
With that you either do or do not agree.

The Great Gift Of Love

They are rare as rare those who are without sin
And as for the great gift of love it can only come from within
It can only be born and bloom in the mind
And in every good person love's gift you will find
Of love people write and of love people sing
And the great gift of love is a marvelous thing
And those without love do deserve sympathy
Since the good in others they cannot seem to see
So many forms of love as everyone does know
But the seed of love in the mind can only grow
You will not find it blooming on the bushes and trees
Or dancing with the flowers in the freshening breeze
It does not grow like a plant from a seed in the ground
Only in the mind love is to be found.

As Different As Can Be

We all look at life one might say differently
And you in your ways are quite different to me
But as long as in any way you never do put others down
I will look on you as an asset to the town
With many of your opinions I may not agree
And on politics eye to eye we may not see
But that is your business and that suits me fine
Since your business is not any business of mine
You are a good person not in any way small
Since you do believe on the fair go for all
And since unkind things of others you never do say
Respect to you for that I only can pay
Yet we share few things in common on which to agree
For we are as different as different can be.

I Am From The Place

I am from the place of the gray hooded crow
Where the Cails and Finnow to the Blackwater flow
Far north of here even as the bird does fly
A long journey by sea or a long journey by sky.

I am from the place where the badger at night
Is searching for food in the fields in moonlight
Where the dipper does sing in the clear mountain rill
That babbles downland from the field by the hill.

My first breath of air in the World I did draw
In the home of the rook and the gray headed daw
That is going back in time many decades ago
When the old hill was in his Winter hat of snow.

I am from the place of the tiny brown wren
Whose loud song does echo in the bushy glen
The place where I first looked on the lamp of day
From where I live now quite a journey away.

The Gray Shrike Thrush Is Singing

A leading songster of the Spring of the year
The whistle of the gray shrike thrush so pleasant to hear
He finds his food on the ground and he sings on the trees
And his music carries in the freshening breeze,
I could stand and listen to him all day long
The plain looking bird with the beautiful song
You hear his voice once and you know it again
The song of the bird in your mind does remain
As from tree to tree around his borders he fly
The gray shrike thrush is singing in the wood nearby
From males of his own kind he has borders to defend
His partner the only one he sees as a friend
In silence nearby she sits in her nest
As she incubate her eggs with the heat of her breast.

Johnny Walk Up And Down

He must be near eighty and it would seem fair to say
That he is one who has known a better day
He goes by the nickname of 'Johnny Walk Up And Down'
For all day he is walking the streets of the town
On days that are wet and windy and on days that are fine
He is out on all weather rain, hail or sunshine
He has a walking addiction by some it is said
Whilst others say he is not right in the head
As 'Johnny Walk Up And Down' to many he is known
But what he does with his life is his business and his business is his own
To be different to all others his claim to renown
The poor aged man in the small country town
His best days in life to the forever gone
But the more respectful always refer to him as John.

If None Ever Bother

If none ever bother to read or recite
Any of the thousands of verses I've happened to write
Then that will not bother me one bit at all
Since my expectations from life have always been small.

I've loved reading poetry since I was a boy
And penning to paper my own thoughts a thing I enjoy
And I will say here again what I have often said before
I write for enjoyment that and nothing more.

The years have left me looking weary and gray
But I never stop writing I write every day
My best days of life in decades long gone
But I don't stop writing I keep penning on.

I hope to keep penning till the day that I die
For if I told you otherwise that would be a lie
If I did not enjoy it I'd give writing away
So I keep on penning more stuff every day.

He Had A few Drinks Too Many

He had a few drinks too many the old migrant close to tears
And he was feeling nostalgic as he talked of long gone years
For his home City of Copenhagen far north and far away
From this warm Southern Country where his last remains will lay
He left his Homeland Denmark some sixty years ago
When the cold winds of late Autumn in the Northlands did blow
A great grandfather ten times over in his eightieth year of life
By a decade and ten months he has outlived his Aussie wife
The migrant lives far from his Homeland but the love of home remain
And in his flights of fancy he walks familiar streets again
Most of his friends of his younger years with Nature now do lay
And he is left to mourn them the migrant old and gray
He had a few beers too many and as he talked of the long gone years
For his old Hometown of Copenhagen he was very close to tears.

In Lonely Saltbush Country

In lonely saltbush country where so much saltbush grow
The only bird one hear and see is the dark pale eyed crow
Cawing mournfully on a dead gum tree beside the quiet roadway
His voice echoing in the silence of the dawning cool and gray.

The black tribes lived and hunted here long before white people came
And perhaps for the saltbush country they had some other name
In the quiet saltbush country back then there were more trees
In the shade out of the full sun they had their corroborees.

They were the first people to live in this great Southern Land
And the ways of the white pioneers how could they understand
To be the first Australians their great claim to renown
But it must have been heartbreaking for them to see their trees cut down.

Across the barren countryside the thirsty south winds blow
Where the saltbush fringe the huge saltpans the saltpans white as snow
Mostly saltbush and saltpans far as the eyes can see
Many acres of saltbush for every stunted tree.

In the vast salt ridden countryside the silence is profound
Where the mournful caw of the pale eyed crow is the only living sound
Where beneath the snow white saltpans the bones of the first Australians lay
From the nearest town or village a long journey away.

Mopoke Mopoke Is All It Has To Say

In the still of night I hear the boobook cry
Mopoke mopoke in the parkland nearby
Mopoke mopoke is all it has to say
The bird that hides from the bright lamp of day
A voice quite un-melodiuos though clear
That in the night time one does often hear
An owl that the small songbirds greatly fear
They fly from their roosting perch when boobook's near
Small enough for to kill and delicious for to eat
To boobook's taste buds quite a tasty treat
With killer claws and a deadly hooked bill
The boobook owl is out hunting for to kill
Mopoke mopoke echoes in the night sky
The boobook owl hunts in the park nearby.

No Fool Like An Old Fool

Some men as they age do not grow wiser they just grow old and gray
Enlightenment from their minds by arrogance blocked away
Whilst some men in their twenties for their years are quite wise
Though to a lot of people that may come as a surprise.

No fool like an old fool as some are known to say
We hear of and do read about such people every day
Aging men who send young men to war to fight and die
No fool like an old fool is surely not a lie.

The wise a mere minority from the facts we've come to note
The most arrogant to positions of power the voting public vote
That our political leaders are our reflective mirrors does seem so very true
A World of war and terror perhaps is our due.

Some aging men for their years have little wisdom for to show
With age more arrogant they do only seem to grow
The arrogant are many and the wise are in the few
To this you very well may say tell us something that is new.

By Good Example She Does Lead

What matter if you are religious or an atheist or agnostically inclined
When it matters more that you are one who is decent and kind
Or not racist in any way towards black or white or brown
And with your words you never ever put another down
Actions speak louder than words as some are known to say
I know this middle aged woman not religious in any way
She helps the poor of the neighborhood does good deeds every day
One far better than most people who to a God do pray
For future good Karma for herself she has planted the good seed
She helps the poor and ageing those of help most in need
One with the gift of empathy free of guile or conceit
A better or nicer person than her one could not wish to meet
You will not see her on the t v or newspaper stories of her read
But she is a marvelous person by good example she does lead.

A Lovely Day In September

The nesting songbirds are singing on the sunlit bushes and trees
On this warm day in September of close to thirty degrees
The cows in the nearby paddock sit and chew their cuds at ease
And there is a pleasant freshness in the freshening coastal breeze
For the second week of the Spring a very warm day
The fruit bearing trees looking beautiful in their blooms of pink and gray
The poets and the artists by such beauty feel inspired
Of singing Nature's praises one never could feel tired
After the heavy rainfalls of late Winter the paddocks are looking green
And wildflowers known to some as weeds in plenty to be seen
Dragon flies out in swarms in the bright sunshine fly
And the dark winged welcome swallows are chirping in the sky
A lovely day in September close to thirty degrees
Songbirds sing in the sunshine in the freshening coastal breeze.

Don't Waste Your Prayers

Don't waste your prayers on my soul for your own soul you pray
For my sins against others to Karma I must pay
To you I'm just a damned soul one who pens doggerel
Doomed to a life hereafter in the poetasters hell
Yet what you do think of me is your business not mine
And your business is your business and that does suit me fine
Your right to believe in what you believe in I never could begrudge
But does your allegiance to the God of your religion give you the right to judge
On passing your judgements on others your God you do deny
As judge and thou shalt not be judged to you also does apply
I never ever recall of asking you for your advice
What I choose to believe in is surely my own choice
What you think of me is your own business and with me that is quite okay
Still for my sins against others to Karma I must pay.

The Old Rhymer Bill

The clock keeps on ticking and ticking away
And the poet of the past is the rhymer of today
And the boy of the fifties showing his years in gray
The Reaper on all lives has the final say
In the local bar-room the old rhymer Bill
Is reciting his verses as he drinks his fill
Nowadays he does seem much further from renown
Than when he was known as the laureate of the town
At local poetry readings never asked to recite
So few now interested on what he does write
Looked up to by many but that in the past
For some who are famous their fame does not last
At least his drinking mates his praises do sing
And he feels happy that to them his verses joy does bring.

The Sun It Is Shining On A Beautiful Day

The sun it is shining on a beautiful day
And the weather forecast has more of the same on the way
The magpies are singing on the sunlit trees
Their flute like notes carrying in the freshening breeze
The fruit trees cloaked in their pink blooms of the Spring
The wonders of Nature is an amazing thing
A poet of such beauty would feel inspired to write
A poem for others to read and recite
And the artist on canvas would feel inspired to draw
The beauty in Nature that he or she saw
The hen blackbird in bush sits in her hidden nest
Her green speckled eggs kept warm by the heat of her breast
Her partner on a tree sings to proclaim territory
On a beautiful day by the southern sea.

A Form Of Admiration

The people who to you would never drink a toast
Those who are jealous of you admire you the most
Jealousy is a form of admiration turned upside down
And those who are jealous crave their own renown
There's none of us perfect and it would seem fair to say
That we all are flawed in some sort of a way
And to be jealous of someone is not breaking any law
For jealousy is just one more human flaw
And though people who are jealous can be good and kind
Jealousy it is not good for the mind
But suppose we all have our flaws and our crosses to bear
And the near to perfect people to say the least rare
A form of admiration that is jealousy
Though many with what I say would disagree.

A Man With A Mind Of His Own

His praises he does not need others to sing
He lives in his own way and he does his own thing
He has no desire to be popular and well known
One might say a man with a mind of his own
He does not play cricket or golf or football
In fact he's not interested in sports at all
Not a member of any group or of a social club
And he always drinks on his own when he is at the pub
With a primary school going son and daughter and a home loving wife
A man who is happy with his lot in life
A man with a mind of his own in an ordinary town
There's none he looks up to and on none he looks down
He's never harmed anyone and he lives in his own way
He's a true individual of him one might say.

He Is A Psychologist

In his early forties he has just turned forty two
And he is known to be good at the job that he do
Highly educated with uni degrees
Though he'd give it all back just to know of mind ease.

He is a psychologist others minds he analyze
Quite a clever person and known to be wise
With two primary school going daughters and divorced from his wife
He has to contend with his own inner strife.

Highly educated as well as highly paid
One would think in life that he did have it made
But a smile on his face is something one never does see
For he feels unhappy as the word can be.

To his name he has many a uni degree
Though money and success of happiness not a guarantee
Well educated and successful and very well read
But those in the know say he's not right in the head.

In September In The Southern Country

In the Townpark the pee wees are calling and the magpies are piping on the sunlit trees
And the familiar song of the blackbird is carrying across the street in the freshening breeze
Spring has arrived to the Southern Country and with her she has brought her greenery and flowers
Everywhere looking so green and so healthy the water dams near full from the recent showers
Were I a poet I would write of such beauty that comes to life in the Southern Spring
In their breeding Season male birds at their borders a warning to their kind in their songs do sing
In September in the Southern Country everywhere you turn to look beauty to be seen
Fruit bearing trees in their pink and white blossoms everywhere looking so healthy and so green
Out on the lake black swans and their gray cygnets they are safe from harm by their parents side
Moorhens they warn their dark babies of danger they swim to the reeds in safety to hide
Nature's great beauty it is all around me something to admire and for to enjoy
She never ceases to fill me with wonder I have loved Nature since I was a boy
Were I a poet I would write of her beauty everywhere I look it is all around me
Yet there is more to her far more it does seem than anyone could ever hope to see.

The Hungry And The Homeless

The hungry and the homeless are to be found everywhere
There are many millions of them in the bigger World out there
And so many do grow poorer for every new millionaire
For many far too many life must seem so unfair
For me just to make ends meet it is a struggle all the way
But compared to many I am lucky since my bills I can pay
I've got a home to live in which is more than many poor souls can say
Yes I am very lucky believe that if you may
The gap between the haves and the have nots has never been so wide
And many far too many of their basic human rights denied
Enough for to eat and shelter millions hungry and sleeping rough
So many far too many are doing it rather tough
The poor souls of the World living in extreme poverty
You tell them how fair life is with you they won't agree.

In Fancy I See Clara

In fancy I see Clara in his rugged face of brown
Overlooking the old green fields that border Millstreet Town
And the little lark is caroling as upwards he does fly
And though out of sight his tinkling notes sweet music in the sky
It is many thousands of miles from here to Hibernia's windswept shore
And another two hours drive by car to the slopes of Claramore
It may seem far in distance from here far north and far away
But in my flights of fancy I am back home every day
Brown flood waters are gurgling in the flooded roadside drain
And old Finnow bank high flowing swollen by recent rain
The rushy fields of Claraghatlea to me look much the same
As they did look when I was young where each field has it's own name
Fond memories don't die easily till death in us they do remain
And in my flights of fancy I am back home again.

The Black Feathered Songster

The black feathered songster with the golden bill
He sings on the tree by the babbling rill
The song of the blackbird melodious and clear
A familiar voice in the Spring of the year
In his song males of his own kind the message of warning does hear
To my borders you better not venture near
At this time of year his own kind not a friend
In his song a warning that his patch he'll defend
Concealed in her nest from predator eye
His partner sits on her eggs in a bush nearby
When she and her mate back to Nature have gone
Their genes in their young are destined to live on
Birdsong to us may seem a beautiful thing
But it is not out of joy that the songbird does sing.

Goodbye, Good Luck

Goodbye, good luck and may good fortune be with you and follow you to where-ever to you go
I did not know you well only in passing we nodded as we met and said hello
I do regret I did not get to know you better though in common we had little for to share
We all are different in our ways and thinking a fact of which I am all too aware.

Goodbye, good luck and may you always be happy and may you achieve the dreams that you pursue
And may you never know of hardship, want or suffering and may what you wish for out of life come true
You are a young man buoyed by ambition one who daydreams of great wealth and renown
You crave success in the bigger World out there for celebrity status far from your old Hometown.

At twenty years success at you is beckoning and you want to be known and admired everywhere
With local fame you never could be happy success awaits you in the World out there
The young do have their daydreams for to follow the aging have their past for to recall
But for the billionaire as for the pauper as we do know there is a final Fall.

Goodbye, good luck I wish you joy and success though I only knew you for to say good day
I hear next week the old town you are leaving for a bigger city from here far away
Not yet in your prime your best years ahead of you and in life you seem determined to succeed
And who knows in the not too distant future of your successes we may hear of and read

Your Own Business

What you think of me of course is your own business and surely your own business cannot be mine
If you dislike me for whatever reason I can live with that for that does suit me fine
But if you say nice things of me for me all the better for kindness shown to us we should feel glad
At my stage of life I'm just happy to be living and in life we must take the good with the bad
The wise old bloke Joe well into his eighties says life does not owe us anything
It is the thought of death I only fear he tells me and the praises of life he's happy to sing
He is eighty six but he wants to keep on living to cancer eight years back he lost his wife
But he wants to live for as long as he can live for he is one who is in love with life
Although it is said what we dislike in others in our own selves these things we also see
But I'd much prefer the saying of live and let live it does surely make a lot more sense to me
What I think of others it is surely my own business and surely my own business is my own
One must sort of envy those who do have few to judge them the people who to many are not known
And what you think of me of course is your own business and your business it never can be mine
If you dislike me for whatever reason I can live with that and that does suit me fine.

When I Visualize I Hear And I See

When I visualize I hear and I see
A lovely cock robin on a silver birch tree
Singing with his orange feathered breast puffed out in the wind and the rain
In my flights of fancy I am back home again
The sun shines through the rain clouds on a blustery day
And the hawthorns cloaked in their white blooms of the May
The swallows above the fields fly to and fro
And nesting birds chirp and sing on the hedgerow
It is not very hard at all to visualize
And is easier than some even seem to realize
The contented cattle grazing the lush grass of the Spring
And in the babbling river the dipper does sing
And the old fields bedecked in their nature's flowers
That came into bloom in the thundery showers.

John Cronin Of The Priests Cross

John Cronin was a well known Millstreet person he lived at the Priests Cross most of his life
He will be missed in the Millstreet community and mourned by his friends, his family and his wife
He was not an old man at most in his early sixties though for awhile he had been feeling ill
He was well liked and he never made an enemy in the old Town by ancient Clara Hill.

In his younger years he played Gaelic Football for Millstreet with pride he wore the famous green and gold
It is sad to think that he is gone forever that the farewell bell for the good man has tolled
He now lay with the departed of Millstreet for all of us there is a final Fall
But in Duhallow he will be remembered and fond memories of him many will recall.

John Cronin was a good and a decent person with words he never put another down
A gentleman and it can be said of him that he was a credit to old Millstreet Town
He was one with a happy disposition and if he could not help you he would not do you wrong
And I recall when he was in his prime years a dark haired fellow of sturdy build and strong.

I hope the good man had a peaceful ending as he never harmed anyone in any way
John Cronin is now with the dead of Millstreet his bones by Cashman's hill forever lay
A happy fellow one who was kind hearted and ill of others he would never say
In time the longest human life is not a long span and for all of us a final night and day.

The Curlew He Pipes In My Memory Again

In my flights of fancy I fancy I hear
The song of the curlew melodious and clear
Above the brown bogland from here far away
When the bog cotton bloom in the prime of the May
With bracken and bog cotton growing all around
His partner sits on her blotched eggs on the boggy ground
In their nesting Season the curlews like most birds are secretive kind
And their simple ground nest is not easy to find
In the Northern Spring just after sunrise
The male curlew above his breeding territory flies
His bubbling notes are so pleasant to hear
A voice I did love in the Spring of the year
On our journeys through life such thoughts we retain
And the curlew he pipes in my memory again.

Since We Are Mere Mortals

The biological clocks on our lives keep ticking away
And the end is drawing nearer with each night and day
And since we are mere mortals the facts never lie
We are born into life and destined for to die
With each tick of the clock our end is drawing near
But it is only the fear of death that we do fear
The average life span of a woman is a few years more than that of a man
But in time the longest human life is not a very long span
Feel happy if to seventy years you survive
In ten years from now I may not be alive
The boy of the fifties is aging today
Time does take it's toll as some are known to say
When we reach our forties our best years are gone
And the clock on our lives does tick on and on.