Sunday, June 30, 2013

The Day It Is Pleasant And Warm And Fine

The day it is pleasant and warm and fine
I sit on a park bench in the bright sunshine
In temperatures just over twenty degrees
The song of the magpie lark wafts in the breeze
His often repeated notes that sound like pee wee
Familiar to everyone and familiar to me
Were i born a poet i would love for to write
A poem others would like to read and even maybe recite
At a literary gathering or a poetry club
Or in the lounge room of a bar-room or pub
A poem about Nature for others to enjoy
I have loved her since i was a very young boy
And the good memories with me are destined to stay
Of the beauty that i have seen around me today.

It Is Cold In Aubane

From the news by Mushera from here far away
It is cold in Aubane very cold there today
Low cloud over the high fields in fog cold and gray
And cattle in farm-sheds are bellowing for silage or hay
On the high and snow covered narrow road from Rylane to Millstreet Town
Few trucks, cars or buses do pass up and down
When the cold winds of January from Mushera do blow
And the high fields by the mountain are covered in snow
On the farmers of Aubane January weather is hard
When the migrant redwing thrushes are in the farmyard
And by backdoor sparrows, robins and blackbirds pecking crumbs of bread
With many weeks of severe weather ahead
And each breath you exhale it is gray in the wintery chill
In January in Aubane by Mushera Hill.

I Feel Grateful Another Day I've Lived To See

Though my worth as a writer i often do doubt
There are no shortage of things for one to write about
The birds in the Parkland just across the way
Are chirping and whistling for to greet the new day.

Though eventually the Reaper will catch up with me
I feel grateful another day I've lived to see
The sun o'er the hill like a giant ball rise red
It looks very like a warm day is ahead.

The one i have loved since i was a young boy
The beauty of Nature for all to enjoy
The silver billed magpies songsters of renown
Their flute like notes echoing in the park of the town.

As a writer even minor fame i have not known
And the rhymes i do pen i can claim as my own
Though with everyone them i would like to share
Still I'm not a poet and poets are rare.

The Town's Mr Charmer

So many young women for his charm does fall
But not the one that he does want most of all
To woo her he never does cease for to try
But his every advance to her she does deny
Though to most young women the most handsome young man in the town
The one that he loves keeps on turning him down
With him she will not even go out for tea
His charm on her it has failed miserably
On her it does seem he has wasted his charm
With a local young man she is often seen arm in arm
One who is far from handsome as most would agree
Though she does seem happy in his company
And since rejection is not good for his self esteem
The town's Mr Charmer not happy it does seem.

Cruel Megalomaniac Leaders

Anyone who does speak against them are forced for to flee
Beyond their homeland borders to the life of a refugee
Cruel megalomaniac leaders of oppressive regimes who impose poverty
On their people beyond themselves they cannot see
For their crimes against humanity they will be made to pay
The Universal Karma it does work in that way
What goes around comes around as some like to say
And their Karma will come to them some night or day
Of their crimes against humanity we read of and hear
They cling on to power through the medium of fear
They do not know how to lead only how to oppress
And the borders of what it is to be human they do happily transgress
But the power of the Universal Karma one ought not to deny
And what goes around comes around to them too does apply.

In The Mind Of A Woman

In the mind of a woman a mother you'll find
For women are loving and caring and kind
The mothering instincts to women belong
Than men less aggressive and more mentally strong,
The men celebrate when the battle is won
But the mother is left for to grieve for her son
She did not raise her son for to be sent afar
For to fight and to die in another man's war
In patriarchal societies deprived of renown
By arrogant males women are still kept down
The mother, the lover, the devoted wife
Without women there would not be human life
The males do compete for the chief of the clan
But it does take a woman for to raise the man.

On Francis Ledwidge The Poet Of The Blackbird

The poet and the soldier of Slane County Meath
With a tragic fate he was destined to meet
A World War 1 poet in battle he died
Far from his beloved Ireland and his home countryside
Francis Ledwidge breathed his last when in his life's prime
But his poetry does survive the great test of time
The beauty in his words with the reader remain
You read his poems once you will read them again
With the best poets of his era he does compare
He has been referred to as the Irish John Clare
Though long dead his fame as a poet has grown
One can say of him in a class of his own
In his short life by good example he did lead
And his beautiful poems are a pleasure to read.

So Easy To Read And Not Hard To Recite

So easy to read and not hard to recite
Rhyme is a thing anybody can write
And would be poets many and poets are few
You might say to that tell us something that's new
Still i remain as a fan of old fashioned rhyme
Though literary critics say it is of another time
But we agree to differ it does seem that way
And each to their own as some do like to say
I love the poems of Mangan and Burns and Clare
They surely were true poets and true poets are rare
And though everyone welcome in the wordsmith trade
Few writers of any sort do make the grade
And few ever become the toast of the town
And fewer still do know of widespread renown.

From Snippets Of News From Millstreet Far Away

I gather not many pubs in the old town today
From snippets of news from Millstreet far away
The news from every Irish village and town
Is new forms of entertainment and pubs closing down
In the town i was raised near changes happening fast
The place i remember is now of the past
But changes are happening nowadays Worldwide
And now i may feel a stranger in my home countryside
Though some of them did live to be old and gray
The mentors of my young years by Cashman's Hill lay
But old Clara Mountain would still look the same
As would the old fields many had their own name
And in fancy i can hear the male robin sing
On a leafy birch tree in the prime of the Spring.

Your Religion Is Your Religion

Your religion is your religion and with me that's okay
And disrespect to your chosen God I'd never pay
But of those of other religions and those without religion negative things you do say
You are so judge-mental in your own rude way
To those who believe differently to you why do you do act so rude
For one who claims to be religious you have a poor attitude,
The praises of your God you do like to sing
But you obviously lack in compassion and that's a sad thing
When you put it out there that not everyone is equal in your chosen Supreme Being's sight
You are portraying your God in a very poor light
And that's something your almighty one without can do
Your God I am sure cannot be pleased with you
For the disrespect to those who believe differently to you that you've shown
I have yet to hear you say to each their own.

Saturday, June 29, 2013

Than The Gift Of Life Is There One As Great

Than the gift of life is there one as great
And life is a thing we ought to celebrate
I'm so lucky to myself is all i do say
When i awake to the light of another new day.

I would like to live for as long as i can
And die in my sleep as a very old man
Even on my worst day I've had no wish to die
And i have known bad days of that i won't lie.

On our journey through life at times we struggle to cope
But where there is life it is said there is hope
To know better days the hard times we survive
And isn't it so great just to be alive.

Sometime in the future whenever that will be
The Reaper too will claim the life's breath from me
And though my better days to the forever long gone
I still do love life and i want to live on.

As The Dark Clouds Of Rain

As the dark clouds of rain are gathering in the sky
The birds sing and whistle in the parkland nearby
From listening to Nature's creatures knowledge of weather we do gain
The birds always whistle and sing before rain
The sun in the heavy clouds hidden away
It was only seen out for a brief while today
Two days ago it was thirty five degrees
Today it is twenty and rain in the breeze
The magpie is piping on a wattle tree
And the magpie lark can be heard calling pee wee
And the golden billed blackbird has rain in his song
As forecasters of weather the birds never do get it wrong
The rain will be welcome since El Nino of moisture has sucked the ground dry
And the moorhen in the pond utters forth her shrill cry.

Due To Circumstance Of Birth

Due to circumstance of birth i was born and raised in Ireland and i am of Irish Race
But I'm never nationalistic or patriotic though i have a sense of place
I've never worn the tricolor of Ireland and waved an Irish flag
And i never seem to warm to people of Nationhood who brag
I was born and raised in Claraghatlea in Millstreet far north of this southern shore
By ancient Clara Mountain overlooking Claramore
There i first fell in love with Nature when i was a young boy
And learning of her flora and fauna something i do still enjoy
Of the workings and ways of Nature I've so much to learn and know
And the more i learn of her the more my wonder of her grow
As much as every other life form to Nature we belong
And those who tell you otherwise i feel have got it wrong
We all are very different and different life experiences we have known
I'm just one of many who loves Nature but then to each their own.

I Am Just A Rhymer

I am just a rhymer anybody can rhyme
It is something I've done since my fading life's prime
Just a common sort of hobby that cannot be a crime
And my name will not live through the decades of time,
Anybody can rhyme any woman or man
Rhyming does seem so easy like Ann rhymes with Stan
And goat rhymes with stoat and Bill rhymes with Jill
And rat rhymes wit cat and rill rhymes with hill,
To rhyme is so easy i do mean what i say
There are millions if not billions of rhymers in the World of today
But not everybody can become one of literary note
Like a famous novelist or playwright or a famous poet,
I am just a rhymer that and nothing more
This is  something that i often have said before.

Only A Small Minority

Only a small minority are born to be great
And even fame on it has a use by date
The body is born to mortality
And few names outlive death by a century.

Great minds of the Human World to say the least few
And the old always have to make way for the new
And of those who embrace poverty not one i could name
I suppose human life is about wealth and fame.

Only a small minority with their lot satisfied
And their disappointment with failure many struggle to hide
Between failure and success failure none would choose
Yet for one for to win so many have to lose.

And though sleeping or waking dreams seldom come true
The dream of self betterment we all pursue
The winner may smile and the winner may grin
But not everybody is born to win.

To Be as Good As You Can Be

To live for to be as good as you can be
And accept your successes with humility
And if in sport you don't win when you compete
Congratulate the winner and be graceful in defeat
The arrogant winner and the bad loser similarities share
And sad to think such people not even rare
The humble quiet achievers have always been few
To that you might say tell us something that's new
Egotistical people one often does meet
There are plenty of them they live on every street
Their three favorite people are me, myself and i
Too much love of self can lead to self centeredness the facts never lie
But if you can win with humility and lose with grace
Feel proud of yourself since your higher self you embrace.

There Are Not Many Saints

There are not many saints in the World of today
Such are rarer than rare that would seem fair to say
And though many people are honest and kind
There isn't a shortage of the criminally inclined
Yet in Countries where justice and human rights due to corrupt governments fail
There are many far too many good people in jail
People who spoke out against oppression in the face of fear
True heroes though stories of their bravery we seldom do hear
The red flame of courage these people have fanned
Against the oppressors they did make a stand
Despite knowing they would be imprisoned they dared to speak out
Of their greatness and courage there isn't a doubt,
Having said that many in jail serving prison time
Are paying the just price for a punishable crime.

Her Mr Right

So many times she has fallen in and out of love in her life
To seven males thus far she has been a wife
Husband number seven she divorced last week
Yet more love and romance in her life she will seek
With twelve healthy children her blessings she does count
So many born of one woman a substantial amount
They range in age from eighteen down to three
One must say she does have a big family
In child bearing quite a good job she has done
And she still looks quite well for one of forty one
And great hopes of finding her soul mate with her does remain
For she has fallen in love and will marry again
For her this time it was love at first sight
And she does believe this one is her Mr Right.

On What Is Success So Few Do Agree

On what is success so few do agree
The successful one to you may not be so to me
No two see things exactly the same as some like to say
We all look at life in a different way
Some people are not very hard to impress
They associate money and material things with success
Such as the value of your house and the value of your car
They never see you for the person you are,
The company you work for and your take home pay
Many look at success in this sort of a way
To them compassion and kindness to little amount
Though these things should be taken into account
When talking of success though it seems to me
That most of us look at things quite differently.

The Whingers I Know Of

I'd rather not know them though them i meet every day
I quickly tire of whingers i mean what i say
Whingers i know not poor people though they like to complain
Some human behavior is hard to explain
Since they never did or will never know of poverty
Why they do complain does seem puzzling to me
Perhaps for to grizzle they do feel the need
Yes human behavior can be puzzling indeed
The whingers i know of are financially secure
When i think of the hardships the poor Haitian Earthquake victims do endure
To complain these people would have earned the right
How could one expect them to be happy in their lives uphill fight
They make every whinger i know of seem a multi millionaire
People who of what real hardship feels like would hardly be aware.

Friday, June 28, 2013

On The Haiti Earthquake

The news it has traveled Worldwide
In Haiti's earthquake thousands are injured and have died
In Port Au Prince great buildings razed to the ground
Where death and destruction exist suffering is to be found
Nature has grown quite angry in the big World out there
But in such a mood she can strike anywhere
On Planet Earth the greatest force of them all
Before her anger great human buildings like dominos fall
To for what humans build respect Nature doesn't pay
Poor Haitians are suffering and grieving today
One angry outburst of Nature has instilled widespread fear and dread
Under piles of rubble their friends and kin lay dead,
Compassion and mercy Nature never does show
And so little about her we can claim to know.

Doctors Differ And Patients Die

Doctors differ and patients die
In some cases not a lie
And every surgical mistake
Can lead to death and grieving and heartbreak
Though surgeons have saved many a life
Some die under the surgical knife
A fact of life one well might say
And such things happen every day,
Doctors differ and patients survive
And even regain their sexual drive
Yet on our lives the Reaper has the final say
For all a last night and last day,
Doctors differ and patients die
That's a fact and facts don't lie.

Phil Ward

Phil ward one who never has too much to say
Yet a quiet achiever in his own quiet way
An emerging young artist of Warnnambool Town
His yet may be far more than local renown
In South West Victoria's art circles an emerging name
Yet he is one who may not cope well with fame
Being the object of adulation shy people find hard to embrace
And amongst adoring fans can feel quite out of place
And though Phil his genius does not seem to promote
What he creates does make him worthy of note
Amongst Warrnambool's best emerging artists he does rate
A name for the future for to celebrate
Phil Ward is approaching his artistic prime
He may yet be celebrated in story and rhyme.

You Will Find Poverty

You will find poverty in the U S and Great Britain, in France and in Japan,
In Canada and in Australia, New Zealand as well as Iran
In South America and Europe, Africa and all through Asia as well
Throughout the Human World some in their Earthly Hell
In the past decade millions of people of hunger have died
As the gap between the haves and the have nots grow wide
In the World's wealthiest Countries homeless people not rare
So many poor people for every millionaire
And the social divide growing wider by the day
And that the poor are growing poorer does seem sad to say
In The Human World poverty of varying degrees
In the refugee camps millions of refugees
And poverty not a stranger anywhere
So many poor souls in the big World out there.

Love Of Self Is Important

Love of self is important of that there's no doubt
Of it's importance by psychologists and spiritualists it has been written about
But leave it to others your praises to sing
Since too much of anything is not a good thing
What i say here by others has often been said
Never allow your successes to go to your head
Though if you cannot love yourself you cannot love anyone
Just take a quiet pride in your job that's well done
To your higher self you can only be true
And always give credit to where credit is due
And never with your words put another down
Those into belittling of others never know of renown
But do love yourself though not in an narcissistic way
For self love leads to love of others as some are known to say.

When It Is Autumn Here

The woodcock to breed is back on the high ground
And the swallows above old fields are flying around
And the hawthorns cloaked in their white blooms of the May
When it is Autumn here it is Spring far away,
The skylark to sing from the bracken he rise
A musical speck as upwards he flies
Till in the gray clouds from sight he disappear
Yet his beautiful caroling i fancy i hear
Just thinking of Nature a thing to enjoy
I have loved her since i was a very young boy
In my visualizations the silver tongued rill
Is babbling on down the high field by the hill
White butterflies dance in the warm sun of day
When it is Autumn here it is Spring far away.

Tommy Carty The Musician

Tommy Carty the musician a marvel of guitar
From his Homecity of Dublin he is living far
In South West Victoria in the City Of Warrnambool
One honored as a Legend of the Koroit Lake School.

Not into self promotion of such he seems shy
But true talent of him one could never deny
His music says more of him than words can say
One of the best living guitarists of today.

In a Human World of self promotion and so much self conceit
One as humble as he is such a pleasure to meet
Yet when it comes to playing of guitar few with him to compare
The Tommy Cartys of this World to say the least rare.

Amongst the musicians of South West Victoria one famed and well known
One might say of him in a class of his own
So self effacing and down to earth in his own humble way
The masterful guitarist he just loves to play.

In South West Victoria a legendary name
Yet his is far greater than a local fame
The high standard of guitar playing he sets for himself he does attain
And Dublin's loss is surely Warrnambool's gain.

Though Boasting In Life

Though boasting in life it may get you quite far
Leave it to others to say of how marvelous you are
Of your college degrees i did not ask to hear
Though of such you made known to me quite loud and clear
Your college degrees to me do not say
That as a person you are better than most others in every way
It only tells me you have college degrees
Like everyone else you do cough, fart and sneeze
But there are things of you that i would like to know
Are you one with compassion for others to show
Or are you one of those the self centered kind
Who to the needs of others seem totally blind?
And your college degrees to me do not say
That as a person you are good in every way.

She Would Even Rather The Dog

Than her husband she would even rather the dog
To her he is violent after his fill of grog
In front of their two young daughters he slaps her around
In the mind of the wife beating drunkard the coward to be found
It was all love between them before and for awhile after their wedding day
But love in her life sad for her did not stay
He took to the beer he's a changed man since then
Alcohol seems to bring out the worst in some men
She has no desire to live with such an obnoxious man
For to leave him forever she does secretly plan
One day he will come home from work to an empty house
Minus his young daughters the dog and his spouse
For his sins against her he will be made to pay
What goes around comes around as some are known to say.

Snow In Duhallow

The fields and hills and towns of Duhallow are covered in snow
And ice on the pools where the Blackwater flow
On it's way through icy North Cork to the Atlantic Shore
Something not seen or not often heard of before.

Sean Radley with his camera in Millstreet Town
The images online of where he walked up and down
Snow on the rooftops and snow on the street
It is not a place where one could walk on bare feet.

Andreas Zenker with his camera did display some skill
In his graphic images of snow clad Mushera Hill
In Mushera in Winter the silence is profound
When the frosty winds are blowing across the high ground.

Michelle O Keeffe's photos of the frozen Blackwater at Dooneen
In the snow covered countryside around could not see any green
In her portrayal of the reality she did rather well
Every picture it is said it's own story does tell.

It is true enough the camera does never lie
Many wild creatures in the harsh Irish Winter will die
There may not be many birds left to welcome the Spring
In groves and in woodlands fewer songsters to sing.

A hero to the children of Ireland though that may be brief
Is the Minister for Education the Cullen born and raised Batt O Keeffe
By order he has closed down the schools till the thaw does set in
At least for the children in it there's a win.

From Millstreet Michael Cashman, Eily Buckley, John Tarrant and Hannelie O Connor not much joy to report
Only cancellation of events and cancellation of sport
Road bowling and soccer, hurling and Gaelic football
And the fiftieth anniversary celebrations in Ballydaly Hall.

I lay here in the sunshine improving my tan
Whilst telling myself i am a lucky man
I could be in Duhallow gazing at Clara Hill
With chattering teeth in the harsh Winter chill.

Thursday, June 27, 2013

From Where They Live

From where they live a long hike to wealth and renown
The homeless children of the poor side of town
Their parents in jail serving their prison time
For robbery or larceny or drug related crime
Born to be the children of the lesser Gods
To get to anywhere in life they must battle the odds
Of any form of success they do live in despair
On the poor of the World life is not at all fair
Of those who speak of life's choices for everyone i have had a gut-full
These people they do talk a whole heap of bull
How many of them have been to Poverty Street
And how many homeless people have they known or did meet
From where they live success seems so far away
Life can be so cruel as some are known to say.

It Is My Addiction

Till the Reaper claims the life's breath from me hopefully as an old man
I will carry on rhyming for as long as i can
It is my addiction that i won't deny
Since addictions of all sorts to most do apply
I've been penning stuff since my fading life's prime
And that's going back more than three decades in time
An addictive rhymer of that i won't lie
Perhaps I'll be rhyming till the day i die
My worth as a rhymer i often do doubt
But always so many things to write about
I rhyme for the love of it not for wealth or renown
And plenty like me in every village and city and town
What I'm trying to say here is that poets are few
Though to that you may add tell us something that's new.

We Do Not Need Racism

In the Human World it does not belong
We do not need racism since it is so wrong
The racists in their ways are so very small
To have them amongst us a blight on us all.

Since red is the blood we are born with to bleed
The racists amongst us we surely don't need
The scourge of racism is a human disgrace
For it in the Human World there ought not to be a place.

Racism is the source of serious crimes against humanity
Without racists so much better off we all would be
The torch of hatred of difference they set to flame
To have them amongst us is to all of our shame.

To war and to conflicts racism does lead
Without it the Human World would be better indeed
The racists amongst us to us all a put down
They never bring honor to their side of the town.

All You Need To Become Famous

It is not easy to become one worthy of note
Though you may even have been a Koroit Spud Poet
That may gain you maybe some local renown
Though you won't become the toast of the small rural town.

You may be crowned a Legend of the Koroit Lake School
And become better known in and near Warrnambool
But the majority those who love cricket and football
Will not look on your honor as important at all.

For notoriety you may do something for fun
Like running nude down Liebig Street in the warm Summer sun
But the Warrnambool police will arrest you and take you to court
And no point in telling the justice that you did it for sport.

There may not be one for miles around quite as clever as you
But to be famous you do not need a high I Q
To be a good footballer will bring you renown
And will help to make you the toast of the town.

You may be a Spud Poet or a Lake School Legend of an exclusive club
But that won't even make you famous in Mickey Bourke's Pub
All you need to become famous is be a good footballer big, healthy and strong
And you will be honored in story and song.

By Mushera Mountain

The winds of early Spring blew with a cold chill
Down the wooded slopes of old Mushera Hill
Most days there damp and cold even too cold to snow
Where i cut down pine trees many Seasons ago.

Eoin Connors, Gene Buckley and Dan Joe Kelleher to me worked nearby
We were in wet weather gear the days were seldom dry
In a hard enough way for to earn one's pay
I wonder are they felling pine trees today?

By Mushera Mountain from here far away
In weather that is often chilly and gray
Though like me in life they perhaps too have moved on
We must live in the now for the past it has gone.

But it was nice by Mushera Mountain in May
The cooing of the wood pigeons in my memory stay
The call of the migratory cuckoo was echoing near
A voice that is always quite pleasant to hear.

The male robin sang to proclaim territory
The sun on his red breast i fancy i see
By Mushera Mountain in the latter Spring
When wildflowers are blooming and nesting birds sing.

The Workings Of Human Life

The workings of human life beyond me to explain
How one person's loss is another one's gain
And why some see greed as okay does seem puzzling to me
In this Human World of inequality
The pauper, the homeless, the poor refugee
A quarter of the World's human population in dire poverty
And billions of have nots are doing it tough
Whilst the privileged minority have far more than enough
Of money and every material thing
Yet many too many their praises do sing
In an age when poverty exists everywhere
Life is so hard for many in the big World out there
In a Human World where the gap between the haves and the have nots grow wide
Far too many of a fair go in life are denied.

Spiro Of The Isles Of Greece

When Spiro talks of the Isles of Greece his eyes fill up with tears
He has not been back to his home Island for close to fifty years
His hair that was as black as coal is now a silvery gray
It can be truly said of him he has known a better day.

The remains of his Aussie wife Evangeline in the local graveyard lay
She died a slow and painful death last year in early May
Of bone cancer to him she was a good and faithful wife
Without her Spiro has to live for the remainder of his life.

Their only son Spiro Jr married with a son and daughter attending primary school
Far from Richmond where old Spiro lives in the City of Warrnambool
He visits them a few times a year goes to Warrnambool by train
A family man his loyalty to the family remain.

Of any pains or aches or such he seems completely free
He looks fit and healthy and quite well for one of seventy three
But in the pub on Saturday his feelings he struggles to disguise
When he talks of his home fishing village the tears are in his eyes.

The One Who Created A White Butterfly

Brown spots on their fragile wings that do look white
A thing of great beauty for one on to write
In the Southern Summer so breezy and bright
Flitting in the park in the warm sunlight
Just a few days to live as butterflies by experts we are told
White butterflies after mating do quickly grow old
Yet are they any less mortal than you or than i
Than them we may live far longer but we too must die
They do not even outlive the blossoms on the trees
Yet they fly without effort and they dance in the breeze
So lovely to look at yet seemingly unaware of their fate
Such beauty that Nature can only create
And the magical creative powers in Nature only fools would deny
The one who created a white butterfly.

Perhaps Millstreet Town I Will Never More See

Perhaps Millstreet Town i will never more see
Or nearby Claraghatlea many years home to me
Or see the hawthorns in their white blooms of the May
When wildflowers are blooming in fields far away
The song of the chaffinch i can visualize
In the gray of the dawn just before sunrise
In the grove by the stream that babbles along
Where dark brown white breasted dipper sings his scratchy song
Were i only a poet of such beauty I'd write
A poem for others to enjoy and read and recite
When robin does sing in the twilight of the day
In my years of absence his song with me stay
From places i loved in Seasons gone by
Far north of this Land even as the bird fly.

For All Of Us A Last Sunset

For all of us a last sunset like for all of us there was a first sunrise
A saying that's been around for years that came from someone wise
And every sunset that we see is one nearer to our last
Our biological clocks are ticking on and ticking ever fast
This evening the sun like a huge red ball set behind the western hill
And how many more sunsets for me since time does not stand still
I watched it disappear from view where it set the sky was red
A weather sign in the twilight sky of warmer days ahead
For all of us a last sunset so very very true
No matter what we achieve in life death it will be our due
Even for the greats of human history there was a last sunset
Though they live on in memory since them we don't forget
For all of us a last sunset the facts do never lie
Since like every other form of life we too are born to die.

Wednesday, June 26, 2013

In Fear Of

In fear of the judgement of others and in fear of negative things of you they will say
I can empathize with you for i too am that way
You like to paint your pictures and you like the taste of wine
And that is your own business and not others or mine.

In fear of arrogant and judgemental people who like to run others down
The whisperers of the neighborhood live in every city, village and town
We do like to be well liked and ridicule we do fear
And negative stuff said of us we would prefer not to hear.

Ignore them for their ignorance and the untrue things of you they do say
But the Karma they seem to overlook will come to them one day
What goes around always comes around Karma works in that way
And for our sins against others some price we have to pay.

In fear of ruthless people and the mental scars their words create
They too must fear their Karma if not sooner then late
Do not play with them their cruel mind games since they like to make foes
What they send around to them will come around such is life one must suppose.

The Goddess Of Nature Is Everywhere Near

The Goddess of Nature is everywhere near
In the gray of the dawn her music i do hear
In the songs of her birds on the bushes and trees
That wafts through the park in the freshening breeze
Her beauty we do not have to pay to see
It is all around you and it is all around me
The Nature poets to her their poems do write
For others to enjoy and read and recite
Under a sunny sky of light blue and gray
The beauty she creates looks lovely today
The Parkland is full of her beautiful flowers
That bloom in the sun after yesterday's showers
And white butterflies with spots on their wings of light brown
Dancing in the breeze in the park of the town.

The God I Know Of

I am arrogant and conceited but my flaws are my own
And why try converting me to your God since the only God i have known
Is not truly perfect or not free of sin
And does go by the name of the God Within.

In trying to convert me why do you waste your time
Though i was slightly religious in my life's prime
But that is going back to near four decades ago
A phase in my life i did quickly outgrow.

The sinner i know i am in me you see
But in trying to convert me you pass judgement on me
Judge not and thou shalt not be judged did your God not say
Respect to my feelings do you not wish to pay?

In a World where crime is rampant everywhere
The God i know of is not living out there
Yet my sort of God can be compassionate and kind
One who does dwell in peace within the human mind.

A Self Imposed Outsider

He has lived for six months on the west side of town
And the street many times he has walked up and down
Where few do greet him with a hello or good day
The stranger in their midst as a stranger will stay.

He does feel for his outsider status the fault is his own
That to the local community leaders had he made himself known
That he would be accepted and all with him would be okay
But we are what we are that is our human way.

A self imposed outsider he well may be
But small exclusive groups form every local community
And his main drawback is that he is quite shy
And to become better known he's not willing to try.

Not a member of any committee or any local club
He drinks on his own in the local pub
In his side of the town he does not have a mate
Though those who know of him his presence tolerate.

That he may be a self imposed outsider may well be the case
But in his side of the town his is no longer a strange face
Though being shy and humble few friends for you gain
And as outsiders such people do seem to remain.

Man And Pig

Each evening at twilight just before sundown
He walks with his black and white boar in the park in the town
He has had the animal since he was small
In three years he has grown to be sturdy and tall
The pig is his best mate he even sleeps by his bed
Some locals say the man is not right in the head
But he doesn't care much of what others of him say
He is his own man and lives in his own way
His wife because of the pig left him and took their young son
Which proves that a man cannot please everyone
The pig faithful to him the pig with him stay
In life you win some and lose some it does seem that way
After work in the evening he takes his mate for a walk
And the boar grunts back at him when to him he does talk.

The Born To Travel Man

The lust of the wander in him is still strong
In any one town he feels he doesn't belong
He has shorn in the big shearing sheds in the wide brown country
And many more places for him for to see,
A book on his travels some author may write
He has worked in many an urban building site
Does not stay anywhere long for to become well known
The born to travel man has a mind of his own
In his latter twenties still in his life's prime
He works hard and drinks hard in his work free time
The women he has made love to in numbers do grow
But of any children he has fathered he does not seem to know
Surrounded by flat paddocks bare looking and brown
In his ute on the roadway to the next big town.

To See In Next Spring

I hope i will breathe life to see in next Spring
To hear Nature's singing birds whistle and sing
On fence and on powerline and on bush and tree
With flowers in abundance everywhere to see
Just learning of Nature i do so enjoy
And I've always loved her since I was a boy
A warm day in Summer near thirty degrees
The air is so still with scarcely any breeze,
The sun blazing bright in the blue to gray sky
And El Nino of moisture has sucked the ground dry
The warm days of Summer do not suit me at all
I long for the cooler weather of the late Fall
But my favorite Season will always be Spring
When Nature is blooming and her nesting birds sing.

It Is Then Your Friends You Know

The one who does come to your aid in your time of most need
Though him or her you may not even know is a true friend indeed
One prepared to help you out of a financial hole or in some other way
A friend in need is a friend indeed as some are known to say
The one prepared to help you out when you are really down
When you are shunned by so called friends as an outcast of the town
Whether you know him or her well or not at all great gratitude to your friend you owe
'Tis when you are in need of help that your true friend you know
I only say what's been often said before not anything that's new
When you were doing financially well your friends not in the few
But when you needed them the most you they choose to forsake
Such people don't know how to give only know how to take
When you are in financial strife and in spirit feeling low
At such a tough time in your life 'tis then your friend you know.

Australia The Land Of

Australia the Land of the Wombat and roo
Corella and sulphur crested and Black cockatoo,
Wallaby, koala, emu and bandicoot
And echidna who in the ground for insects root.

It's many species of beautiful rosellas and lorikeets make for a pretty sight
The birds of Australia an ornithologists delight
The thornbills, wrens, pardalotes, honeyeaters and the gray and pied currawong
And the shrike thrush who has such a beautiful song.

Kookaburras, cassowary and butcherbirds and the magpies who in breeding Season sing day and night
How lovely to hear them pipe in the moonlight,
Willy wagtail the best known of the fantails and whipbird with the strange call
And superb lyrebird the greatest mimic of all.

Platypus the water dwelling egg laying mammal stranger not to be found
And megapodes who lay their eggs in a huge leafy mound
Where else in the World could such creatures one see
And they all are as Aussie as Aussie can be.

It's Indigenous People the World's oldest known Race
The roots of their history far too old to trace
In Summer in the Dreamtime they had their Corroborees
Out of the warmth of the sun in the shade of the trees.

A huge Country of temperate and rainforests to lands flat and brown
Of the empty outback miles from the nearest town
Australia the Land surrounded by sea
The home of pittosporum and wattle and eucalypt tree.

It Is True Enough Hatred

It is true enough hatred is a bad energy
One of the main causes of disharmony
Between human beings hatred does lead to war
A destructive feeling when taken too far
For hatred a reason one has to suppose
Though some have it in them to forgive their foes
And though some sins against you can be hard to forgive
Without hatred in your mind in peace you can live
The destructive nature in hatred one cannot deny
A life for a life and an eye for an eye
The need for revenge when acted on only escalate
The feelings of anger that bubbles in hate
The cause of many conflicts in the World of today
Is anger born of hatred that would seem fair to say.

Tuesday, June 25, 2013

Fair Dues To The Reaper He Does Not Differentiate

Fair dues to the Reaper he does not differentiate
On the lives of the paupers and of those the masses celebrate,
The lives of the monarch and the billionaire
Just like the lives of the homeless he does not spare
I salute the Reaper though him i do fear
And a bad word against him I'd rather not hear
Since he treats everyone in the very same way
The greatest egalatarian it would seem fair to say
The one who is feared by people Worldwide
From him there is not any safe place to hide
For humans and for all life forms great and small
There is a last day and last night for us all
Those of high status and money and those without fame
To him all are equal and all are the same.

As A Rhymer

Though in Life and Nature so much to write about
My worth as a writer i always do doubt
I started off penning when in my life's prime
And since then i have penned a whole heap of rhyme
Of Nature and Life rhymes to write every day
And rhyming is easy as some like to say
But with me it is an addiction or so it does seem that way
I write just for love of it not for fame or pay
It is true about poets that poets are few
But in that I'm not saying anything that is new
My best days in life to the forever gone
But i do love rhyming i keep penning on
I like penning stuff of that why should i lie
And as a rhymer i live and as a rhymer I'll die.

Love Is A Thing

Love is a thing that must be shared by two
How can you love one that does not love you
Unrequited love another name for infatuation that and nothing more
That is something you know of and heard of before.

Love is a thing that does not go one way
For one who does not love you with you will not stay
Though maybe in the one house but not sharing the one bed
Physical contact is over when love it is dead.

People who fall out of love are not rare
And little in common they no longer share
Save for the children they helped to create
Few things die quicker than love out of date.

Infatuation and unrequited love do seem much the same
Different only it would seem in name
To the faults of the one you love you may be blind
But in your lifetime your soul mate you never may find.

Not Homesick For Macroom

In his sunlit back garden roses are in bloom
A long way far south of the Town of Macroom
And the silver billed magpie sings on a gum tree
In a beautiful place just a mile from the sea
The nostalgia he once felt it is in decay
For his old Hometown in Mid Cork from this Land far away
Where he now is he is quite happy to stay
I do love Australia he has been known to say
Though he never fathered children or never had a wife
He is quite contented in his lot in life
In his early seventies his better days gone
But for as long as he can live he will keep living on
A long way far south of Hibernia's shore
And his old Hometown he may see never more.

A Victim Of Deception

The story of his life a sad story to tell
He is one who does live in his Earthly Hell
Homeless in his sixties in dire poverty
Perhaps his existence is his life's destiny?
Robbed of his life's savings by a crook in disguise
It is easy in hindsight for one to be wise
For trust such a price he has been made to pay
In our dealings with others it is sometimes this way
He has been a victim of one who lives by crime
But what has happened to him has happened to others many a time
Of our dealings with strangers we ought to be aware
Since crooks in disguise are not or have never been rare
A homeless poor bloke in the poor side of town
So few wants to know of you when you are down.

On The Gneeves Windmills

The Gneeves i remember was a quiet old bog
In cool and damp weather a place of gray fog
In Summer there men shlauned out dark peat for to dry
For to warm their homes when Winter winds howled in the sky

But going by news from Duhallow far away
Gneeves is a different bogland today
The huge blades on the wind-mills whirring around
Creating loud noise on the once quiet high ground.

Though experts on such have been known to disagree
For wildlife wind farms not a good idea
Those blades spinning in the wind birds have been known to kill
Will many feathered flyers die on Gneeves hill?

How many skylarks will survive for to sing
In the sky o'er Gneeves for to welcome the Spring?
An environmentally friendly form of energy many are known to say
But for all forms of electricity some price to pay.

It is a known fact and facts never lie
That in the spinning blades of the wind-mills many birds do die
But then suppose everyone does look at things differently
And what seems good to you may not be so to me.

Dysfunction

The fellow next door spends too much of his life
Shouting at his children and arguing with his wife
And though that is his business and his business his own
What goes on in his home by him is made known.

His wife just as bad as him at him shouts back
To her the best form of verbal defense is the verbal counter attack
It takes two to quarrel as some like to say
And with her he does not have things all his own way.

But when in the park they do walk hand in hand
Human behavior i do find hard to understand
Perhaps they must argue for to reconcile
And together then walk hand in hand for awhile.

Of their business they don't leave their neighbors in doubt
They shout at each other and at their children shout
And the foul language they use between them not worthy of repeat
Yet they walk hand in hand in the park and the street.

For their dysfunctional behavior their children must pay
And learned behavior is repeated some say
And in years from now their children will argue with their husbands and wives
The gene of dysfunction through generations survives.

My Wonder Of Nature

My wonder of Nature only seems to grow
But of her ways so little i can claim to know
Her secrets she keeps them well hidden from me
There is far more to her than the eyes can see
She is so mysterious in her own way
The beauty in Nature i see every day
She lives everywhere around her presence is near
In the songs of her birds her music we do hear
The Goddess of land and the Goddess of sea
She sustains every life form including humanity
The one destined to live forever more
I only say here what many have said before
Her unrivaled beauty we see every day
Yet her secrets from us she keeps hidden away.

Festival Port Fairy Town

In the music World it is a place of renown
For it's huge annual musical festival Port Fairy Town
And for it's coastal beauty it is also well known
One might say it does have a charm of it's own
A gem of Victoria's coastal south west
Where the shear-waters in Spring come to mate and nest
On Griffith Island by the Pacific sea
In an Earthly Utopia it does seem to me
Port Fairy is known as a touristy place
Though life is lived there at a leisurely pace
The locals there friendly as friendly can be
I've never met anyone there rude to me
And though homes to buy it does seem are much cheaper elsewhere
If i had plenty money i would like to live there.

Isaac Newton's Birthday

January the fourth is Isaac Newton's Birthday
Though near three centuries dead his legend not in decay
England's greatest genius as some are known to say
The Wizard of Woolsthorpe from here far away
Watching an apple fall to the ground from it's mother tree
Gave him the idea of the Earth's Gravity
A man who is honored in story and rhyme
And in his thinking one well ahead of his time
Since the day that he died many Seasons have gone
But the legend of Newton is still living on
He died in 1727 four years with four score
And in the history of human achievements he is one to the fore
Amongst the World's great minds he is one you can rate
And one can say of him he was born to create.

Monday, June 24, 2013

Addicted To Penning Of Rhyme

I am one addicted to penning of rhyme
And lucky for me that such an addiction is not seen as a crime
For i would be in prison if such was the case
Deprived of my freedom as a public disgrace
For many years now i have been a rhyme buff
And one might say I've written a whole heap of stuff
My best years behind me and old age ahead
One day I'll be one of the forgotten dead
My best years of life in the forever gone
But i won't stop rhyming I'll keep penning on
Until the Grim Reaper claims the life from me
Then of my addiction I'll surely be free
And I'll finish by saying something I've said before
That i write for enjoyment and little else more.

In Old Claraghatlea My Life's Journey Began

In old Claraghatlea my life's journey began
And there i was raised and grew into a man
And there i discovered my love for Nature as a very young boy
And learning about her i still do enjoy.

Of old Claraghatlea i so often do dream
And the dipper i hear sing in the babbling stream
That flows to the river from high Claramore
In the fields far north of this southern shore.

In fancy i see the dark swallows of May
Flying above the valleys from here far away
When hawthorns are in their blooms as white as snow
And nesting birds chirp and sing on bush, tree and hedgerow.

From the Millstreet-Rathmore road in distance i live far
From here one could not reach there by bus, train, truck or car
Thousands of miles of ocean and thousands of miles of sky
Far north of this Country even as the bird fly.

Good Memories Of The Past We Like To Retain

Good memories of the past we like to retain and from the mind them do not wish to sever
But the past as we know is in the past and in the past forever
But some like to stay in the past they do fear the tomorrow
From happier times they have lived through some mind happiness they borrow
They fear the life's journey ahead and have fear of growing older
The way we look at life one must suppose is in the mind of the beholder
I too fear life's journey ahead my better days behind me
From the Reaper no safe hiding place in time he too will find me
And though our better days to the forever long gone
The will to live helps us to keep on keeping on,
The saddest poor fellow who lives in the town of friends never seem to have any
Whilst the happy one seems to draw people to him and he is one who is known to many
Good memories of the past we do like to retain but the sad times we don't wish to remember
But we only can live in the here and the now and for all of us a last December.

I Do Not Fear The Dead

Though of ghost stories we read of and of hauntings we hear
I do not fear the dead 'tis the living i do fear
On the radio news today i heard last night a young man lost his life
In Cruikshank Park in Footscray through foul play by knife
On his way to work on a pathway in the park
His attacker or attackers must have surprised him in the dark
He did lose his life in a most tragic way
Hope the offender or offenders for the foul crime do pay
On his way to work from the train station nearby
He received a fatal stab wound under the night sky
One in his early twenties only in his life's prime
A victim of the worst sort and the foulest crime
It was not a deceased one who murdered him in the dark
Of late evening on a pathway in Footscray's Cruikshank Park.

Only The Bravest

When most of those known to be noble say enough is enough
Only the bravest hang in there when the going gets tough
And though all hope of better things from their lives seem gone
To despair they do not surrender they keep on keeping on
Financially they do grow poorer by the day
And lady luck she never does smile their way
But like the champion boxer they never give in
Those who keep on trying do eventually win
May the last day be the hardest the bravest do say
Respect to them for their fortitude one has to pay
They keep hanging in there in the poor side of the town
In their survival battle though financially down
Their great dreams in life through hard times they pursue
And credit to them in abundance is due.

Back There Near Caherbarnagh Hill

Back there near Caherbarnagh hill the weather cold today
And from the overnight frost the old fields looking gray
It is even too cold to snow below zero degrees
And not even one leaf remains on the deciduous trees
The migrant redwing thrushes chirp on the windswept hedgerow
And the old stream from the high ground bank high to the river flow
It will be at least nine weeks till the early days of Spring
Till the deciduous trees bud new leaves and the nesting songbirds sing
Today above old Caher bog the brown lark does not fly
For to carol in the grayness of the mid morning sky
It is a dormant time of year when grass refuse to grow
And across the barren countryside the cold north east winds blow
And the harsh caw of the gray crow in the frosty air one hear
In early January in Caherbarnagh in the cold of the New Year.

The Day Is So Warm And Windy And Dry

The day is so warm and windy and dry
And the sun blazing bright in the blue Summer sky
The cattle shelter from the heat in the shade of the trees
On a very warm high of thirty five degrees
The overgrazed paddocks that border the town
For lack of sufficent rain looking dry, bare and brown
This countryside with lots of rain now could do
A week of showery weather or better still two
Droughts in some places and flooding elsewhere the weather acting strange
Suppose this to be expected in Climate Change
The parched for rain paddocks as hard as a stone
And the drain by the roadway as dry as a bone
For the farmers another poor financial year
And the future they have a good reason to fear.

For One Who Claims He Loves God

For one who claims he loves God you are not very kind
And better than you would not be hard to find
You pass judgement on those you see as different as if it is your right
Is everyone not equal in your God's sight?
For to criticize others you seem too inclined
You are not one who does have a beautiful mind
For to look down on others is not a hard thing to do
And sad to think too many are too like you
Not at all well liked on your side of the town
You do not even know of local renown
Why bother to go to your church on Sunday
If to others you do behave in such a way?
You proclaim your love for God but in your ways you are small
Since you do not believe on a fair go for all.

The Boeing New Year's Day Swimmers

'Tis something that one should not do in a whim
To participate in the Boeing New Year's Day swim
In dark icy waters swollen by rain and sleet
In the river Blackwater near the Town of Millstreet.

In the depths of Winter in zero degrees
With frost on the ground in the cold gusty breeze
Just thinking about it does make me feel cold
But then again time has left me feeling old.

There must be great inner warmth in the Duhallow grog
For the Blackwater in Winter would freeze a hairy dog
Those who took part in the swim medals for bravery are due
To their Glacial Gods they would have to be true.

It was for a good cause that much i do know
But in weather that's even too cold for to snow
Without a single leaf on any deciduous tree
To swim in the Blackwater seems beyond brave to me.

Of the coldness of the Blackwater in Winter i do have an idea
And after such a swim one would need something stronger than tea
It is not for the faint-hearted is all i can say
And for the Boeing New Year's Day swimmers lets hear the hooray.

Ballydaly Between Millstreet Town And Rathmore

Ballydaly between Millstreet Town and Rathmore
A Townland far north of this southern shore
Where the Cails waters to the Finnow does flow
From Kippagh Mountain Lake down through where bracken grow
On through rushy flat fields that are old as time
That centuries ago inspired old bards to rhyme
It once was a place that meant so much to me
And in my flights of fancy i still hear and see
The pink breasted male chaffinch singing on a birch tree
And i re-live again the beautiful memory
Of the hawthorns in their white blooms of the May
And the swallows flying above old fields far away
Fond memories of what was i do retain
And in fancy I'm back in Ballydaly once again.

Sunday, June 23, 2013

'Tis Only For Enjoyment

'Tis only for enjoyment i ever do write
And email my stuff to the internet site
I am just a rhymer that and nothing more
I only say here what i have said before
Some wonder out loud why do i waste my time
On persisting of penning of old fashioned rhyme
What they think of me is their business and that suits me fine
For their business surely can never be mine
I've never referred to myself as a poet
Nor do i wish to be seen as one worthy of note
If i ceased to enjoy rhyming i would give it away
But tomorrow for me it will be like today
For i have the intention more rhymes for to write
To add to my numbers on the internet site.

Not Everyone Can Be Famous

Not everyone can be famous though many yearn for fame
In a World where millions do die without a penny to their name
And that any hope of an egalatarian Human World cannot exist cannot be denied
Whilst the gap between the haves and the have nots is growing ever wide
Their dreams of great wealth and fame millions do pursue
But for many of course such dreams never come true
And many who have great dreams die in poverty
For dreams are just dreams that's how it seems to be
Around the World today in every village, city and town
People daydream of great things of wealth and renown
And though to live in poverty only the saintlike would choose
For one for to win many destined to lose
To achieve in a big way seems a human need
And though many strive for success only few do succeed.

On Receiving An Email From Dan Twohig

I did receive a surprise email today
From a man that i knew when i lived far away
In Millstreet School he was in my classroom a primary school going boy
And just hearing from him to me a gift of joy.

Not seen him for twenty five years in time a lengthy span
Dan Twohig i recall as a very nice man
A down to earth fellow untouched by conceit
He now lives in Dublin far north of Millstreet.

From the fields of Annagloor he now does live far
A journey of five if not six hours by car
But in his heart a Millstreet man he remain
And Annagloor's loss has to be Clontarf's gain.

Like me he is one who lives far from Millstreet
And though Dan and i we may never more meet
An email from him stirred a nostalgic tear
For a place that in distance is not anywhere near.

Millstreet in Duhallow where my life's journey began
Where from a baby i grew into a man
Dan Twohig in his email took me back in time
To the place where we lived when we were in our prime.

The World Does Not Have Borders

In reality the World does not have borders that's something humans did create
Like other divisive human made creations like Country, Nation and State
Yet the Earth is of one crust no floor to the sea
At least anyway that's how it seems to me.

Some animals and birds too have borders in that sense to us they relate
Which the male does defend for his young and his mate
They have borders at breeding time mostly in the Spring
And such with them is not a permanent thing.

The Earth does not have borders at least not in the real sense
Though to cross human made borders without documentation is considered a serious offense
But the Indigenous people of the World in their thinking do not have it wrong
When they say that the land is not ours to the land we belong.

Though with what i say here many may not agree
That the World has borders is only a human idea
Something created by our kind why otherwise pretend
And we vow what is ours we will die to defend.

The Coastal Raised Man

Where his surfing mates are riding the big waves today
From the town by the ocean he lives far away
In his dreams in full tide he hear the sea roar
When the huge waves do crash on the rocks on the shore
Next Summer he will be back in his Hometown
And on familiar streets he will walk up and down
The town where he is known on every street
In suburbia where he now lives only strangers he meet
He left for adventure in the big World out there
To see what life is like in places elsewhere
But absence makes the heart grow fonder as some like to say
And next Summer he will be going home for to stay
The coastal raised man likes to live by the sea
In familiar surroundings amongst friends and family.

Whenever Of Far Away Places I Dream

Whenever of far away places i dream
The dark brown white breasted dipper he sings in the stream
And the song of the robin melodious and clear
Echoes in the grove in the Spring of the year
And above the bracken clad mountain in the gray morning sky
The little brown lark carols as he does fly
Like a musical speck till out of sight he disappear
Yet in the still mountain air his warbling i do hear
The hawthorns are in their white blooms of the May
And the swallows back home from places far away
Are chasing flying insects above the high field
Just a short climb from where grass to bracken yield
The wildflowers abundant in fields lush and green
And bluebells bloom on the ditch of the bohreen.

New Year's Eve 2009

This is the last day of two thousand and nine
And lets farewell the old year in brandy or wine
Or rum, beer or vodka or gin or stout
We will welcome the new in and sing the old out,
We will go to the park and drink as we dine
And sing Robert Burns song for Auld Lang Syne
But for the dying decade we won't shed a tear
Tomorrow we will live in another new year,
The old year is dying and the clock ticking fast
And the future ahead and the past in the past
Through another year we have made it somehow
So why not celebrate and make the most of the now
Whilst the life of the old year is ebbing away
And tomorrow a new year and another day.

That I Am Self Centered

That i am self centered i will not deny
But my flaws to others do also apply
Our lives do revolve around me, myself and i
And that's how we will be till the moment we die
What we dislike in others in our own selves we do see
But we are what we are that's how it seems to me
And though i am one who has walked on many a street
The near to perfect one i have yet for to meet,
The more ruthless are those who financially thrive
But without the selfish gene one would struggle to survive
Of the unwritten Commandment of thine own self take care
So many it does seem are all too aware
But to those who to their higher self try to remain true
Respect and a whole pile of credit is due.

The Battle Scarred Man

He screams in his nightmares the battle scarred man
His legacy of his war days in Vietnam
He see things that anyone ought not to see
That still live in him to haunt his memory.

His war days in Vietnam have ruined his life
His addiction to alcohol has cost him his children and wife
Decades ago his wife took their young son and daughter to live in a town far away
He often does think where they might be today.

He see things that are not good for the human mind
And in alcohol some form of relief he does find
From his ghosts of war that from him will not go away
Till the Reaper claims the life from him with him they will stay.

He drinks on his own when in the local bar
Vietnam has left him with a deep mental scar
He looks more like eighty five than sixty three
And of his ghosts of war he will never be free.

The Need For To Be Loved

Though the heartache of dead love is surely not small
That need for to be loved it is in us all
And it remains in us till the moment we die
That's a fact of humanity facts never lie.

Those who say they don't need love somehow have it wrong
The sense of self love in them cannot be strong
Self love in the mind blooms like a beautiful flower from a seed
And for us to love others such a thing we do need.

The need to be loved transcends a loving relationship between man and wife
And those who do not need it miss out on a great joy in life
Perhaps if such an important feeling they do not wish to own
Any love in their young lives to them has not been shown.

It is almost a necessity in life you know the reason why
And sad to think in their lives some such a need do deny
If you cannot receive love then love you cannot give
And without love life must be much harder to live.

Saturday, June 22, 2013

As A Claraghatlea Man

Suppose we all do have some claim to renown
Mine is to be born and raised near Millstreet Town
In a two storey house by the Claraghatlea Rill
That flows from high Claramore close to old Clara Hill
By ditches in fields by night and by day
On to join the river it babbles it's way
In that old green countryside i was well known
And people there claimed me as one of their own
Till the crave of the wander did lure me away
And there now i may feel a stranger today
Though i envy those who do have a sense of place
Some are born with the traits of the wandering race
All people are famous amongst their relations and clan
And so too was i as a Claraghatlea man.

Mentally It Does Seem

Mentally it does seem we are built differently
What's enjoyable to you may not be so to me
We are all individuals would you not agree?
And the life of the party we all cannot be
Some about them do have quite a charming way
Which they use to their advantage it would seem fair to say
And amongst them like in all sorts doubtless you will find
Those who to use their charm to embezzle money does seem all too inclined
So many different sorts of personalities psychologists could name
Suppose we would be quite boring if we all were the same
Though red is the blood that flows through every heart
Mentally it does seem we are miles apart
And though some of us even do share the same name
We all are quite different no two quite the same.

In The Cold And Damp Dawn

An overnight frost has left the fields looking gray
In the cold and damp dawn of a December day
And only house sparrows the birds that cannot sing
Chirp on the bare trees ten weeks from the Spring
For blackbirds and thrushes on the frost hardened ground
Worms and slugs are quite hard to be found
In Northern Winters birds frail and old
In their thousands die in weather damp and cold,
From yesterday's heavy rain flood waters of brown
Are flowing bank high in the fields by the town
In latter December with January near
The weather wet and cold at the end of the old year
And the hungry cattle in the farmyard cattle shed
In the cold gray dawn bellow for to be fed.

Soulmates As True Soulmates

If you have found your soulmate on your journey through life
In a partner or husband or lover or wife
Then you are quite lucky as lucky can be
Since soulmates are rare with that would you agree?
Many people their soulmate they never do find
So hard to meet one to us who is of similar kind
With similar interests and who think in much the same way
Soulmates as true soulmates for their lifetime do stay
The relationship with those of dissimilar interests as true love does not last
Like an Autumn rose it does wither quite fast
Infatuation as such it is quick to decay
That is why we have more marriage and relationships break ups every day
If you meet your soulmate you're one of the real lucky few
And in that I'm not saying anything that is new.

I Must accept From Life

On what constitutes in the Human World success and failure not all would agree
The successful one to you may not be so to me
Our eyes only tell us what we want to see
And we all look at life one might say differently
In life as in sports many have to lose for one for to win
And though some see success as enough to eat and drink and a home to live in
With that others would not feel the least satisfied
A humble existence not good for their pride
And whilst many do dream of great riches and fame
The expectations in life for no two are the same
And though not everyone the goals they set for themselves achieve
We must accept from life what we do receive
And though your idea on what success is may be different to mine
I respect your opinions and that suits me fine.

In Cruikshank Park

In Spring and in Summer from dawn until dark
The mynas do chirp and sing in Cruikshank Park
And cool is the breath of the freshening breeze
That blow up Geelong Road through the sunlit trees
Of such natural beauty a poet would write
A poem for Nature lovers to read and recite
And the beauty of Nature is for all to enjoy
I've loved her since i was a very young boy
From where i live now in the fields far away
I learned from her something new every day,
With ever wagging tail in the shade of the trees
The willy wagtail searching for flies and bees
And people with their dogs on the pathway walking up and down
In Cruikshank Park by Sommerville Road in Kingsville Town.

Sometimes I Envy Those

Sometimes i envy those who never leave their Hometown
For to travel and work and to live elsewhere
They are happy in the place where they were born in
And have no wish to see some of the bigger World out there.

They never wish to leave their native parish
In them they do have a strong sense of place
Where they reside well known to every local
Where everybody does know the familiar face.

I'm one of those who have the bug of wander
Though many have seen more of the World than me
The more one travels the more one does realize
How much there is of in the World to see.

I've never seen the great wonders of the World
Or I've never been to Paris or to Rome
And though I live far south of my native Town-land
Old Claraghatlea to me is always home.

Friendship Of A Dog

The best friend most people have is their dog on your dog for friendship you can depend
Than your ever devoted canine you cannot have a better friend
Your dog will never forsake you he or she will be your friend for life
A dog's love you can rely on far more than the love of your wife,
There are so many stories of dog devotion risking their lives loved ones to save
When people they love are in danger dogs can be unbelievably brave
They've been known to save people from drowning and they've been known to save people from fire
They do not expect reward for their loyalty so much in them for to admire
Yet some do treat their dogs quite badly cruelty to animals is a serious crime
And perhaps for such an offense a good deterrent would be at least a year of jail time
Any dog is not born to be vicious it is their masters who make them this way
A cruel owners makes a dog dangerous that does seem a sad thing to say
Since dogs to us can be so loyal your dog to you can be your best friend
Your wife may decide for to leave you but your dog will stay with you till the end.

For The Son Of The Criminal Father

For the crimes of the father the son is made to pay
That is how it is it's always been this way
Many judged on the records of their parents or their postal address
The judgemental people are hard to impress,
Judgemental people are many they are not of the few
And on saying the World would be better without them is not saying anything that's new
Such people in their thinking are very small
They do not believe on a fair go for all
In this the twenty first century it does seem a bit sad
To think that the son still has to pay for the crimes of the dad
The judgemental whisperers in numbers abound
Their type as is ever not hard to be found
For the son of the criminal father life can be tough indeed
The judgemental for him make it hard to succeed.

Of Old Fashioned Wisdom

Of old fashioned wisdom i stand in defence
Old sayings to me do make a whole pile of sense
Old pearls of wisdom that have been passed down
From the very wise deceased elders of the town
They were not college educated as many are today
But they were quite wise and clever in their own way
The gift of life from them has forever gone
But the wisdom in their words destined to live on
Of the high achievers of today we read of and hear about
And though many of them highly educated their depth of wisdom in doubt
And though the praises of them many do like to sing
Bookish knowledge from wisdom is a different thing
Old fashioned wisdom seems similar to old fashioned rhyme
In that many see it as belonging to another time.

Friday, June 21, 2013

Asian Mynas

Their rough sort of song one could never mistake
You hear them all day to nightfall from daybreak
Their ancestors brought to Australia from places far away
And to millions of them Melbourne is home today
To suburbanites Asian mynas are well known
In voice and appearance distinctive with a charm of their own
Mostly brown in appearance with a familiar song
Once seen and once heard you cannot get them wrong
To C J Dennis the legendary Australian poet
The mynas are birds who are worthy of note
He noted their toughness on how they did thrive
Where most other species could not hope to survive
From human dwellings never far away
Where people are plentiful they like to stay.

In The Flat Old Countryside

A brown to green old countryside out there
Quite similar one would not see anywhere
Cattle and sheep in fenced paddocks flat and wide
Where once the Dreamtime people did reside
In this countryside that could do with more trees
They lived and fished and hunted and had their corroborees
Till the paler foreigners that came from a distant shore
Did change their ways of life for evermore
But most things change and few things one could name
Through the centuries of time do stay the same
And who is to say in a hundred years from now
In this countryside there may not be a sheep or cow
Or marsupial, bird or even human being that would not be strange
Since we are in the age of Climate Change.

Christmas In Lisnaboy

Memories of a childhood Christmas for a lifetime we enjoy
And i often recall Christmas as a child in Lisnaboy
Santa left his bag of presents by the porch door in the moonlight
When the air was damp and frosty on the eve of Christmas Night
In Uncle Dan and Aunty Mary's house of here far north and far away
We enjoyed the ham and turkey and pudding on Christmas Day
But the years went by so quickly and time has left me looking gray
And the biological clock on my life silently ticking away
Weeks before Christmas we wondered what toys Santa to us would bring
The innocence of childhood it is a marvelous thing,
The Seasons go so quickly and the past forever gone
But the happy times from childhood in the memory living on
Uncle Dan and Aunty Mary in eternal rest now lay
But they come into my memory on the eve of Christmas Day.

We Do Not Need Super Powers Or Nuclear Weapons

We do not need super powers or nuclear weapons in the World of today
Of a safer Planet to live in these are obstacles in the way
The only World war we do need is a war on poverty
With alms not military domination of the have nots of humanity
Of super powers and nuclear weapons i do not wish to hear
Since it is those who have the most power are those whom we ought to fear
What would be best for humanity and i really do mean best
Is a World without super powers and free of nuclear weapons in Countries north, south, east and west
Any talk of super powers and nuclear weapons does not appeal to me
The World does not need them though some with that may not agree
Even in every super power Country of the World on every city street
The hungry and the homeless one is surely bound to meet
We do not need super powers and nuclear weapons we need compassion instead
We need shelter for the homeless and the hungry to be fed.

It Is Destiny

Though many may see it in a different way
It is destiny in our lives that does have the say
Our life journey our journey to destiny
To fame and to riches and to poverty.

It is a fact that the greatest are mortals and facts never lie
And from the day we are born to the day that we die
Destiny on our lives a huge part does play
It is destiny decided that i pen this today.

Many who believe in life choices will tell you that your life journey you decide
Those who ignore that you need to have luck on your side
They see your station in life as of your making not of circumstance
And they scoff at any mention of destiny or chance.

The town's wealthiest person in his fiftieth year was buried today
'Twas cancer he died of in a slow painful way
This was not of his choice of that most would agree
A slow painful death part of his life's destiny.

Thursday, June 20, 2013

Poets Are Few

Poetasters are many and poets are few
One might say to that tell us something that's new
Out of millions a small percentage make the grade
But every writer is needed in the Wordsmith Trade
Without the not so good poets we would not have the great
And though only the best the readers celebrate
Each writer important in her or his own way
And that despite what the literary critics do say
So many young writers do daydream of fame
But not everyone can become a great name
Like in all walks of life for one to be wealthy many in poverty
Suppose that's how it is and it will always be
Poetasters are many and poets are rare
A fact i am sure of which you are aware.

The Last Rose Of Autumn Has Gone To Decay

The last rose of Autumn has gone to decay
Her petals on the grass by her mother tree lay
The last rose on her tree she bloomed in the Fall showers
One might say of her a queen amongst flowers
So lovely and pink in the bloom of her prime
But the life of a flower is a short span of time
The late Autumn rose is the quickest to die
But if the rose is a mortal then so too am i,
Ground insects and slugs her petals now eat
To them the soft petals of a rose a late Autumn treat
In Nature the death of one life form is another's gain
That's how it has always been and will always remain
A week ago she bloomed in the showers of late Fall
And now she is food for the life forms that crawl.

The Football Grand Final Scapegoat

Most of those who knew him thought he was not good enough
He could not measure up when the going did get tough
In the Grand Final he wilted under pressure with the game to be won
When he could have become the town's favorite son.

On the final siren he did take the mark that should have won the game
And he had the chance for to make for himself a name
Thirty meters out straight in front of the posts his side two points down
Had he kicked a goal he'd be toast of the town.

His poorly placed kick slightly curled in the wind
And went through the one point posts to record a behind
From the opposition fans a thunderous roar
By a single point their team had kicked the winning score.

After that disappointment last September he gave football away
In his life's twenty first year he'll be twenty two in May
But the past it has gone can't keep a good one down
And this week he is the hero of the town.

At the fire in Donello's house a boy's cry for help he did hear
At the risk of great danger to his life he conquered the fear
He went into the flames and dragged nine year old Franscesco out
When true courage was needed his was not in doubt.

Mr and Mrs Donello lost their home to the fire but their son's life he did save
In the gap of danger only the bravest are brave
He saved a young life which is more important than all of the Grand Finals ever played
Yet for him for that there won't be a parade.

I Pen Rhymes For Enjoyment

I've said it so often many times before
I pen rhymes for enjoyment that and nothing more
And if i stop enjoy rhyming that will be the day
That I'll decide to give penning stuff away,
I am not one of any literary note
And i never refer to myself as a poet
I've been making up rhymes since nineteen seventy three
What seems boring to some is enjoyment to me
Since then many Seasons have come and have gone
But i am still rhyming i keep penning on
My worth as a rhymer I never cease to doubt
But in life and Nature plenty to write about
Anyone can pen rhyme don't have to feel inspired
Though of such a hobby many quickly grow tired.

A Sign From Nature

When you hear the blackbird singing in the warmth of a Summer's day
It is a sign from Nature that rain is on the way
Since blackbirds are natural Spring songsters in Summer their songs tell of rain
From listening to Nature's wild born creatures weather insights we do gain
Birds can be Nature's weather forecasters of such instances quite a few
But to that you may even say tell us something that is new
Of Nature's many wonders we do become aware
But she has many secrets that with us she'll never share
The blackbird one of Nature's leading songsters in the green Season of Spring
But before rain in Summer he too is known to sing
One of Nature's many weather forecasters of weather change birds know
At the ways of our Earth Mother our wonder only grow
When in the warmth of a Summer's day the blackbird's song you hear
It is a sign from Nature that rain is very near.

So Too Do I

You do have a big ego but having said that so too do i
And that most human beings are egotistical of that why should one lie
To the ego we are bonded it is our lifetime tie
Yet we are only mortal since we are born to die
For success with each other we always do compete
And those with over-inflated egos suffer of self conceit
And it does seem in the Human World that winning is the most important thing
Of the praises of the loser you will not hear many sing,
Since the ego is our sense of self some credit it is due
It is said we need it for our survival and this may well be true
But too much ego not a good thing as it blocks humility from the mind
Amongst the over egotistical great arrogance you will find
And though you do have a big ego your type not even rare
And that i too am egotistical i am all too aware.

Goddess Anu Of Shrone

In poetry and song in story and in rhyme
The legend has lived through the centuries of time
Of Goddess Anu of Shrone her breasts pointing to the sky
The mother of the smaller mountains nearby.

Overlooking the Cork-Kerry border countryside
In legend her fame has traveled far and wide
Far from old Sliabh Luachra the traditional story is known
Of how Anu's breasts into huge mountains has grown.

Above the small fields far inland from Hibernia's shore
Overlooking the countryside around the Town of Rathmore
Stands the ageless Paps of Shrone as time quite as old
The legend of their Goddess Anu has often been told.

Legend is legend as the more cynical do say
But you make out of this whatever you may
That in Shrone in East Kerry far inland from the sea
The giant breasts of a Goddess in mountains you can see.

With The Copenhagen Summit Flop

With the Copenhagen Climate Summit flop it cannot be denied
That the last hope of survival for many oceanic islands has died
Doomed to be swallowed by the rising sea
The politics of greed through nationalism the bane of humanity,
For the inhabitants of small ocean islands the future seems bleak indeed
Forsaken by the leaders of the World's most powerful Nations in their time of need
The painful reality they have come to realize
That they have to leave their islands as the sea levels rise
The so called Copenhagen agreement just an idle boast
Those who have contributed least to carbon emissions are those who will suffer most
The millions living in Third World Countries and the inhabitants of Oceanic Islands will sadly lose out
Of a bleak future for millions of poor people there can be little doubt
And all due to the politics of human greed
Of our own demise we may be sowing the seed.

The Silver Billed Magpie

I often hear them singing on a moonlit night
And in the gray dawn and the fading twilight
The silver billed magpies birds i often do hear
In fact they do sing every day of the year
Their familiar notes one can never get wrong
The black and white birds with the beautiful song
For their aggressive nature they are quite well known
But as songsters they are in a class of their own
It can be said of them in bravery they do not lack
At nesting time even humans they've been known to attack,
Insects, worms, slugs, mice and small birds they do kill and eat
To their taste buds such things must taste very sweet
Near where humans live they are happy to stay
The Australian magpies i see them every day.

Those Who Commit Crimes Against Children

Those who commit crimes against children will surely be made to pay
If the Law does not catch them then Karma will one day
Self esteem they do erode and self confidence destroy
In the mind of their young victim the innocent girl or boy.

The abuse of children by an adult surely a crime of shame
Not many worse crimes than it that one could wish to name
Their innocence stolen from them in their most vulnerable years
For the victims of child abuse humanity sheds tears.

The abuse of a child on human innocence an attack
And innocence when stolen cannot be given back
Some of those who commit such crimes as children may have known abuse
But that for their behavior not a good enough excuse.

Any crime against a child is a hard crime to forgive
And those guilty of child abuse with their sins have to live
And though on another human being one ought not to wish ill
If the Law does not punish them then Karma surely will.

Wednesday, June 19, 2013

On Long Billed Corellas At twilight

In the gathering twilight as the sun is going down
On the tall gum trees in the park of the town
The long billed corellas are squawking loudly birds bereft of song
To the cockatoo family they do belong
In their limited range in large numbers they abound
With their long hooked beaks they dig for bulbs and other food in the ground
Like most parrots they nest in a cavity high on a tree
And their pale eggs few have been privileged to see
Of humans they do display a healthy fear
And they do fly away if to them you come near
Many of them do enjoy a long lived life span
And live to be old as a very old woman or man
In the Town-park at twilight on the tall gum trees
Their loud squawking carrying in the freshening breeze.

The Ex Footballing Hero

The town's man of the year in nineteen sixty one
From the goal he kicked after the siren the Premiership was won
On Grand Final day he was the best on the ground
Back then men like him were quite hard to be found
A renowned Aussie Rules player one of the best,
One never found to be wanting when put to the test
He played the game hard but he always was fair
Back when he was young with a head of dark hair
A grand dad in his mid seventies his best days long gone
Yet the lust for life in him keeps him keeping on
Looked up to by the present day players at the Football Club
And he still enjoys a few beers at the local pub
But the years have left him looking weary and gray
The ex footballing hero of a bygone day.

Koroit In Victoria

It's characters and friendly people it's claim to renown
Koroit in Victoria a welcoming Town
For it's hospitable people the old Town is well known
Koroitians treat strangers as one of their own
On Commercial Road which is Koroit's Main Street
Many great characters one is bound to meet
The locals there difference are known to embrace
Which makes their Town to live in such a marvelous place
A small Town without the small Town mentality
Such places are rare even in the twenty first century
A small country Town that to it does have a good feel
One cannot say of it that it lacks in appeal
Koroit in Victoria has a charm of it's own
For it's characters and it's hospitable people it is very well known.

The Memories Of Winter

The cattle in the farm shed bellowing for silage or hay
On a cold and wet dawn by the hills far away
The silent fields cloaked in the fog damp and gray
On a wintery start to a December day,
The stream flowing bank high swollen by heavy rain
And brown storm water gurgling in the roadside drain
A temperature high of a cold five degrees
And the migrant redwing thrushes chirp on the bare trees
Their northern woodlands now covered in snow
But they will fly home to breed when the winds of March blow
And the years first wildflowers bloom by the hedgerow
At the onset of Spring the migratory bird know,
The memories of Winter with me does remain
And in fancy I'm back in the home place again.

That What Friendship's About

It may not be any of those you drink with in the bar
When you are in trouble you'll know who your friends are,
Your friends will not desert you in your time of need
Just like it is said such friends are friends indeed,
The praises of friendship you hear people sing
But friendship for many is a conditional thing
Those who in friendship for them must be financial gain
Only for as long as you prosper as friends their type with you remain,
Your true friends as your true friends through your tough times will stay
Rats desert the sinking ship as some are known to say
Your friends will stand by you even in poverty
That's what friendship's about with that would you agree?
You may be the saddest of the poor of the town
But your friends won't ignore you when life has you down.

Her Beauty Is Everywhre

Her beauty is everywhere all around me
And every day in Nature new wonders to see
The Goddess of land and the Goddess of sea
The one known immortal would you not agree?
Our sheer awe of her only does seem to grow
And of her many secrets we will never know
From our eyes she has them well hidden away
Though from our every walk in her kingdom we learn every day
Her moods one might say are of varying degrees
Her relief from the heat of the sun in a cool Summer breeze
Yet in an angry mood she is one for to fear
The howl of her fury in her storms one does hear
The life forms around the World on every shore
Of the one destined to live forever more.

Business As Usual

A wet Summer day in the busy coastal town
The rain from the gray clouds is bucketing down
Yet in the business center the pre Christmas shopping is in full swing
And young carol singers on the street Christmas carols do sing
In the Christian World a festive time of year
A time of present giving and receiving and a time of cheer,
A time for enjoyment and dining and beer
In the meeting of family and friends their friendship to us dear
Though the farmers are not doing financially well
The rain it is welcome after the warm dry spell
Bare patches in the brown paddocks tell of Climate Change
In Global Warming the weather is known to act strange
Just eight sleeps to Christmas the rain pouring down
And business as usual in the coastal town.

Total Fire Ban Day

The temperatures at a very warm forty degrees
And there is great warmth in the freshening breeze
That through the dry country up the wooded hill blow
On days like today the threat of bush fires grow
Last Summer many people and animals in the bush fires died
That ravaged Victoria's wooded countryside
Some of those fires were started by humans quite deliberately
The pyromaniac is quite a dangerous public enemy,
Today in Victoria a total fire ban day
Anyone by law officers even caught lighting a barby a huge fine have to pay
Those in fire prone areas at this time of year
Of the threat of bush fires feel a sense of fear
When Nature is angry mercy to none she does show
And the risk of fire high when the warm Summer winds blow.

What Are We Only Mortal Beings

I am confused in my thinking of that why should i lie
What are we only mortal beings born into life to die
Many of us give life to children so our genes will live on
When we have gone forever to the forever gone
There are so many people in the bigger World out there
Who are Homeless and Stateless and not wanted anywhere
In a Human World of too many people too much poverty
And only in the minds of the credulous there is equality
From fear of torture and famine so many do flee
No place in the World for a poor refugee
Millions of a fair go in life by circumstance of birth denied
And the gap between the haves and the have nots has grown ever wide
And i can only wonder what life is all about
And my worth as a person i often do doubt.

Willie Neenan's Road

At the back of Clara mountain four miles from Millstreet Town
Is Bealac the high roadway that ever winds up and down
Willie Neenan the great athlete one who has inspired story and rhyme
On the roadway on through Kilmeedy has run many a time.

The often times Irish Champion and the pride of Millstreet
Against the best in the World he was known to compete
From running the mountains muscle and endurance he did gain
On the high Bealac road one who often did train.

Now into his seventies and time on him ticking away
I wonder does he run on the Bealac road today?
On the mountain roads of Millstreet he built to his fame
Bealac should be re-named WillieNeenan's Road for to honor his name.

For whenever i think of Bealac Willie Neenan comes to mind
He ran that hill so many times against the wintery wind
Even on Winter nights of storm and rain he ran up Bealac hill
But the years go by so quickly and time does not stand still.

They should re-name Bealac Willie Neenan's Road in honor of the man
For five decades one of Ireland's best in time a lengthy span
I wonder does he still train on the mountain roads by the old hills far away?
For the legendary athlete too has known a better day.

Tuesday, June 18, 2013

Respect Me As An Equal

Respect Me as an equal and respect to you I'll pay
I'm too old for playing mind games I've never been that way
The one who derives pleasure in verbally putting others down
Will never be looked up to as the most loved one in town,
Those who use words as an offensive weapon with their sins have to live
Cruel words can wound fragile feelings and prove hard to forgive
If you cannot offer respect such you will not receive
We do sow our own Karma on that i do believe,
Low in their sense of self esteem and without common sense
The arrogant and insensitive with their words cause offense,
offensive people who are aging have not learned from life at all
They don't leave us with happy memories of them for to recall
The one without reason to offend me will never be my friend
He or she i do not wish to know of that i won't pretend.