In Nature No Shortage Of Things

As a writer i am not seen as worthy of note
And i never refer to myself as a poet
Though all of the stuff through the years i did write
You can see on many an internet site
To pen rhymes to Nature i am often inspired
And of singing her praises I've never grown tired
For many years of her i have been in awe
Our marvelous Earth Mother lives by her own law
Her secrets from us she keeps hidden away
Though from her we do learn something new every day
Her beauty is unrivaled it does seem to me
And something that one need not pay for to see
Though my worth as a rhymer I always do doubt
In Nature no shortage of things for to write about.

On Moses Fifth Commandment

To some it is mythology though many say it is God's will
Moses Fifth Commandment states 'Thou Shalt Not Kill'
Does this apply to humans only or life forms of all kind?
The true answer to such in books you will not find
Since us humans do kill other life forms to eat
And I'm one who enjoy the taste of fish and meat
Does this make an accomplice to murder out of me?
With what i say here many may not agree
'Thou Shalt Not kill' the Fifth Commandment does state
And though most say to humans this only relate
Yet since the Fifth Commandment humans only does not specify
To every life form it well may apply
If this be so all of us flesh eaters are destined for Hell
And the souls of the life forms we've eaten with God's Angels will dwell.

A Joy For To Meet

In the park or the pub, the shopping center or on the street
One with a happy smiling face is a joy for to meet
Wherever they are at joy is to be found
As they bring it with them and spread it around
With a cheerful hello when passing your way
The happy smiling stranger brings joy to your day
Some of the happiness that is in them with others they share
They are lucky to be blessed with a gift that's so rare
One might say of them of happiness they plant the seed
Of more of their kind the Human World is in need
You feel out of sorts as you walk in the town
And lots of unsmiling faces pass you up and down
But a happy stranger on passing you by
Gives your spirits a big lift with a friendly hi.

The Poor Poet Of Dublin

A high place in literature he does command
His name lives as the National Bard of Ireland
In his forty sixth year he died in poverty
Though his poems were not born to mortality
The poor Poet of Dublin of the famine years
When Eire was Land of death suffering and tears
In life the poor National Bard of Ireland did suffer his share
Though poets of his caliber even then rare
Poor James Clarence Mangan such beauty did create
In Ireland his name lives as a poetic great
Born at the wrong time as some do like to say
A much better Ireland to live in today
In his lifetime great suffering he had known of and seen
The author of the renowned poem 'Dark Rosaleen'.

There Are Good And Tainted People

There are good and tainted people in every creed and race
Make yourself a better person make the World to live in a better place
I am not saying what's original only what is known and true
In life we receive the Karma that happens to be our due
Wrongs done to you on purpose you may find hard to forgive
An old saying i do remember is to live and to let live
And for wrongs we do to others in Karma we must pay
What goes around always comes around as some are known to say
Racism is born of ignorance and the ignorant are too blind
To see the goodness in others who are not of their own kind
You only look for flaws in others and good you will not see
That is how it always has been and that is how 'twill always be
There are good and tainted people in every race and creed
And of racism and xenophobia humanity is not in need.

Memories Of The Silver Back Crow

The voice of a bird that i used to know
In fancy i hear the loud cawing of the silver back crow
In the fading twilight on a sycamore tree
Our past seems to follow us would you not agree?

In the higher fields in the wood by the hill
The weaker young lambs the black and gray birds do kill
No mercy to them the sheep farmers do show
They do hate the sight of the black and gray crow.

In rural areas classified as a pest
To rid the landscape of them the farmers try their best
But generations of farmers have come and have gone
And despite persecution the gray crows live on.

In the fading twilight just after sundown
In the high mountain field overlooking the town
In fancy the loud cawing of the silver back crow i do hear
The memories of what was to me ever near.

The Centenarian

Last Thursday he celebrated his one hundred birthday
The Seasons and years have left him looking gray
His better days to the forever long gone
But the will it is in him to keep living on
His great great grandchildren are teenagers and Melinda his wife
Died two decades ago she was the great love of his life
To the rare centenarians he is one who belong
And for one of his years he looks healthy and strong
That the will to live in the age surely not a lie
In his two bedroom home by the ocean he will live till he die
With his aging jack russell terrier his only companion he lives on his own
And like many the good and the tough times of life he has known
It has been many Seasons since he was in his life's prime
Three score and ten years ago that's a long time.

From Old Claraghatlea

From old Claraghatlea i may live far away
Though the mental pictures in my mind do stay
Of the old fields I've not seen for many a day
And good memories never fade as some are known to say
It's April now in the rushy fields near the Town of Millstreet
Where the Cails from Kippagh and the Finnow do meet
And by the bridge at Drishane into the Blackwater flow
In the home of the rook and the silver back crow
In fancy Nature's feathered minstrels i hear
The song of the throstle melodious and clear
The tiny brown wren with the bigger bird song
And the finches and robins and blackbirds do sing all day long
From the gray of the dawn till just after sundown
In the groves and on the hedgerows near old Millstreet Town.

Delia Murphy

The songstress of Claremorris Delia Murphy was her name
Her distinctive singing voice lives on in c d to her enduring fame
Her songs are often replayed though deceased for some time
She knew of Worldwide fame when in her glorious prime,
She was one of my favorite singers when i was a young boy
And listening to her records is something i still enjoy
The pride of Mayo Delia for her many an encore
She became loved and famous far from Hibernia's shore
From the nineteen thirties to the nineteen sixties an entertainer beyond compare
The Delia Murphy's of this World to say the least are rare
She had the gift of making others happy and that's a marvelous thing
It can be said of Delia that she was born to sing
Though long with the departed her marvelous singing voice with us remain
And the likes of Delia Murphy we may not see again.

On An Email From Margaret Desmond Sheehy

Years ago she left Millstreet in Duhallow for the U S of A
And from her Hometown by Clara Hill she does live far away
She was born Margaret Desmond, Margaret Desmond Sheehy now her name
But Margaret Sheehy and Margaret Desmond are one and of the same.

Working as a secretary for O Regan's Mills in Millstreet Town she began her professional career
But time does tick on quickly and that's going back many a year
A young and attractive and intelligent woman on hindsight i do recall
But us humans are not unlike Nature's Seasons our Summers fade to fall.

Related to Denis and Connie Taylor from her mother the Lucey family side
On her Millstreet family heritage she takes a justifiable pride
The Luceys and the Desmonds known to many in the countryside by Clara Hill
Where the Finnow to the Blackwater flows onwards with a will.

On the destiny of our life's journeys circumstance does have a say
Though nostalgia for the old home-place in the migrant seem to stay
And an email from Margaret Desmond Sheehy took me to the far away
To the countryside by Clara where we first saw light of day.

April In A Southern Town

An April day in a southern Parkland four months from the Southern Spring
On a sunlit black-wood wattle a male gray backed magpie sing
His all too familiar music beautiful flute like and clear
He is the silver billed Australian who sings the twelve months of the year.

Pleasant and sunny the weather into the sixth week of the Southern Fall
The voices of the magpie larks familiar pee wee pee wee they do call
And the dying leaves on the claret ash are turning a deep reddish brown
How nice to walk through the green Parkland of the sunny Southern Town

Of singing of Nature's praises one could never ever tire
In the beauty of her changing Seasons artists and writers she inspire
To sketch and paint and to write poetry as well as pen stories and rhyme
Of the World's only known immortal the one who is older than time.

A beautiful day in mid Autumn with only a slight touch of breeze
In the Town-park the leaves turning brown and dark yellow upon the deciduous trees
White butterflies dance in the sunshine of April in the Southern Fall
A beautiful memory to cherish and in retrospect for to recall.

I Hail From Claraghatlea

I hail from Claraghatlea west of Millstreet Town
There i spent my best years when my hair was dark brown
No use at Gaelic Football though i played that game
In a place where to be good at sports is your ticket to fame.

Though back then in Millstreet Parish to many well known
Nowadays i may not be seen there as one of their own
From the Town by old Clara I've been too long away
And there i might well be a stranger today.

It has been many years since i was a young man
And in old Claraghatlea where my life's journey began
Not many people nowadays there i would know
Apart from what was as we age we do grow.

Long years of absence weakens old friendships would you not agree
And there now my friends of the past may seem strangers to me
Yet a walk in the old fields i still would enjoy
Where with Pudsy i often hunted as a boy.

And though i may never see the old Town-land again
A Claraghatlea fellow at heart i remain
And on my flights of fancy the dipper does sing
In a far away stream on an evening in Spring.

To Those Who Disrespect You

To those who disrespect you disrespect you will
pay
Respect is a thing that has more than one way
The one in words who enjoys putting you down
Will never become your best friend in the town
Cruel words to your feelings cause a hurtful sting
To like one who does like you is a natural thing
Unless you are a masochist of a low sense of self esteem
Then to take offense at cruel put down remarks is quite natural it would seem
Disrespect causes ill feeling why otherwise pretend
The one who deliberately offends you will not become your friend
Cruel words from one unrepentant seem hard to forgive
They never do fit in with live and let live
And to those who disrespect you in a deliberate way
Respect to them is something that you cannot pay.

Quite A Big Ego

If in life you really wish to succeed
Quite a big ego is something you need
The humble one seldom becomes one worthy of note
That goes for the artist as well as the poet
In sports or in business if you don't feel you are best
You will be found to be wanting when put to the test
The will to succeed it does come from within
And without a big ego you cannot hope to win
Humility in it's place does seem okay
But a big ego in life does take one a long way
If within you lack the desire for renown
You never will become the toast of the town
If others your praises you do wish to sing
Quite a big ego is a necessary thing.

The War It Is Over

The mother she weeps at the grave of her son
The war it is over nobody has won
For so called victory in war does come at a huge cost
No such a thing as a winner with so many lives lost.

The war it is over on the streets of the town
A victory parade the bands play up and down
But in the nearby cemetery the remains do lay
Of the young men who died in war zones far away.

The President talks of the huge sacrifice made
Of the young men who could not march in the welcome home parade
But words for him do seem so easy to say
When he and his wife and children are okay.

Though not found to be wanting when put to the test
The war it is over the dead are at rest
The celebrations are over and in the moonlight
The streets are deserted in the calm of midnight.

Born To Mortality

We are born to mortality despite what some do say
And for each and everyone of us a final night and day
The life expectancy for a woman on average slightly longer than for a man
Though the longest human lifetime in time not a long span
The evidence is factual and fact none can deny
That to Nature and Nature only immortality does apply
The one who lives forever as she re-generate
And we can only wonder at the beauty she create
That the soul lives after bodily death many seem to believe
But the earth that feeds and nurtures us our remains will receive
Mortality for all of us whatever your belief
And in the endlessness of time the longest human life is brief
And Nature is the only one to live forever more
That's something i am quite sure you've often heard before.

A Hen

A hen has a comb two eyes a beak and two legs
And a coat of feathers and she does lay eggs
And when she and the rooster does copulate
Her eggs to chickens she does incubate
Of a hen and her kind so little I've known
But i do know she does have a charm of her own
In her own sort of language she communicates with her own kind
A hen is a creature with a thinking mind
Some of her eggs we boil or we fry for to eat
And some of her chickens are raised for their meat
Some of her ancestral stock the red jungle fowl of Southern Asia still live wild and free
They feed on the ground and they roost on a tree
And though little about her i can claim to know
Of the ways of the hen my wonder only grow.

Narcissistic People Now

Some people in their ways are very small
And they've not learned much from life at all
That others too have feelings the point they seem to miss
Suppose it is true that ignorance can be bliss
Their favorite subjects i, myself and me
And their close kindred and their family
And of the World's less fortunate they say
Too bad for them but i am doing okay
Some only know how to take but not to give
And they know nothing of live and let live
Narcissistic people now are everywhere
There are plenty of them in the World out there
Their favorite people me, myself and i
And as one lives then surely one will die.

And Yet In Fancy

In fancy i can hear the male pheasant crow
In the damp field by the river where rank rushes grow
And i can hear old Cails the one with the murmuring song
By dykes and hedgerows babbling along
In Claraghatlea where few nowadays I'd know
The grass growing winds of early April blow
And the robin's song is melodious and clear
He sings his finest at this time of year
In Millstreet Town a stranger i might be
Few nowadays there would even know of me
But many of the old fields i knew perhaps would look the same
Some of them even had a given name
And yet in fancy i can hear the rill
Go babbling down the high field by the hill.

The Deceased Nature Poetess

So sad to hear that the old poetess has died
She was a credit to her countryside
So much of Nature's ways that she did know
In death her legend it will only grow
On saying so I'm not saying what is new
That as a Nature Poet her equals only few
Her bird and animal poems in them have beauty rare
A Nature Poet with any to compare
A natural poet one who was born to write
Her lyrical verses easy to read and recite
A humble person in her own quiet way
Respect to Nature and Nature's creatures in her poems she did pay
And in Nature's earthy bosom her remains now lay
The great poetess was buried yesterday.

Australian Shelducks

Out of the breeding Season to moult on shallow lakes they congregate
The female though pretty not so as her handsome mate
With dark brown on chest and mostly darkish
And with white ring around either eye
With her ever devoted mate to her nearby,
The handsome male with white ring around neck, dark head and uppers and breast of chestnut brown
Birds I've yet to see on lake in a park of a town
Australian shelduck or mountain duck or chestnut breasted shelduck are names they are known by
Waterbirds familiar in appearance and in their honking cry
At nesting time from June to October the female she does lay
Five to fourteen cream colored eggs high on hollow branch from view hidden away
Of human kind they display a very healthy fear
And they will quickly take to the sky if to them you venture near
They pair until one of them do die the experts on their behavior say
Birds who frequent lakes and water dams that i do not see every day.

Doesn't Matter If They Are Religius Or Atheist

Doesn't matter if they are religious or atheist a God you will find
In everyone loving and honest and kind
And though you may not find one who is free of sin
Every good human being does have their God within
You well may go to your place of worship to your God for to pray
But if you look at others in a judge-mental way
Then you are not true to what in you do believe
And it is only your own flawed self you do deceive
Those with the God within never put others down
Or wish to be the best known and the wealthiest in their side of the town
But the frailties of others they do understand
And to those in need of it are willing to lend a helping hand
In every good person God resides it does seem to me
Though with my sort of thinking many may not agree.

As Long As He Or She

As long as she or he to make their millions has not dragged others down
Then good luck to them in their financial renown
They have amassed their monetary pile in an honest way
One can only respect them for that is all one can say
But if they exploit others for their financial gain
Then as targets of Karma they are destined to remain
Till their very last breath of life they do draw
Since what goes around comes around is Karma's Law
To every honest millionaire and billionaire respect one must pay
But those who come by vast amounts of money in a dishonest way
If human made laws do not catch up with them Karma will one day
What goes around comes around as some like to say
Though little in common they do seem to share
The pauper a much better person than the fraudulent billionaire.

In Early April In Victoria

The sound of the freshening wind in the tall trees
And the buzzing of flies and flying insects and bees
And the birds chirp and sing in the morning sunshine
And the weerloos are calling on the monterey pine,
Good memories to cherish and for to recall
Of this beautiful day in the Southern Fall
To this beautiful place i feel Utopia is near
In early April in Victoria a pleasant time of year
The leaves on the deciduous trees turning brown
And the magpie larks call in the park in the town
For lovers of poetry to read and recite
A poet of such beauty a great poem would write
Of the praises of Nature's wonders feel happy to sing
Such joy and such pleasure to us she does bring.

Drought Times

The creek that once flowed from the hills it's babble has died
Out there in the sparsely treed brown countryside
The drought ravaged paddocks are bare brown and dry
And not one sign of rain in the sunny Autumn sky
Financially for the farmer another bad year
At a cheap price he sold off most of his cattle and sheep animals he had bought in dear
Due to a shortage of grass and the increased price of hay
Most of his animals he had to sell at a financial loss that does seem sad to say
Huge colonies of ants crawl on the sun baked ground
In drought ravaged paddocks insects in numbers abound
The overgrazed paddocks bare looking and brown
Of the countryside close to the old country town
Not even a liter of water in any roadside drain
And in the sunny sky not any sign of rain.

I'm Lucky

I'm lucky i do not know about Earthly Hell
Life has been good to me and treated me well
I've never been homeless or had to sleep rough
And compared to some life on me seems kind enough
I've never known much about illness or pain
And i do not have any cause to complain,
I could be homeless or a Stateless refugee
Or one of the billions in dire poverty
Yes i am as lucky as lucky can be
There are billions of people far worse off than me
Far wealthier than i am are not hard to meet
But i could be homeless and living on the street
Life is quite good to me and i am doing okay
I am lucky quite lucky is all i can say.

By The Mountains Far Away

In fancy i can hear the babbling rill
Flowing down the high fields near the town by the hill
With wildflowers in their thousands to be seen
And the old fields are looking lush and green
The long grass flattened by the river to tell where the flood had been
And snowdrops, bluebells and primroses on the ditch of the bohreen
And on the hedgerows and in the leafy groves the nesting birds sing all the day
Amongst Nature's greenery in April far away
The female badger with her young leaves her sett in the twilight
To search for food and teach them survival skills in the old fields in the night
And every bird that has a song in the gray dawn one does hear
In April in the Northlands in the Spring of the year
And in fancy i hear the dipper in the dawning cool and gray
When Spring is in the Northlands by the mountains far away.

The White Winged Triller

The female in brown and gray the male's breeding beauty lack
When he is quite a striking white and black
By sight or sound one cannot get him wrong
For he has such a clear and melodious song
Yet in the World of birds they are strangers to fame
The white winged triller is their common name
They do seem rare and in large numbers do not abound
And they feed on insects they find on trees and on the ground
Although them i have been privileged to see
I cannot say that they are familiar birds to me
But the male a leading Nature's minstrel of the Spring
And it is a thing of joy to hear one sing
And were i a poet a poem for them I'd write
That readers would feel happy to read and recite.

Of Nature

With pictures and stories and poems to recite
The artists sketch her beauty and the writers of do write
Her flora and fauna, her seas, waterways and land
Her majestic beauty respect does command.

Her forests and deserts her mountains and hills
Her rivers, streams and her creeks and her silver tongued rills
That flows down the high ground to the seas far away
And babbles forever by night and by day.

The fish of her waters and her insects and bees
Her bushes, shrubs and grasses and her great and small trees
Her amphibians and lizards and her wild born birds of song
Are children of Nature and to her belong.

Her mammals and animals of land and of sea
Amazing to many and amazing to me
Her secrets from humans well hidden away
Though from her we do learn something new every day.

How Boring We'd Be

How boring we'd be if we all were the same
If in sports we only played and talked of the one game
If the praises of one person we only did sing
And we all were interested on the very same thing
Variety is the spice of life as some do like to say
How boring we'd be if we all thought in the same way
No topic or discussion on which to debate
And nothing at all for us on which to differentiate
To make up the Human World it does take every kind
And two in every way similar would seem impossible to find
As long as you never harm anyone or with your words put one down
Then you are an asset to your side of the town
If we all thought in the same way how boring we'd be
At least anyhow that's how it seems to me.

Lake Bolac Is Dead

Lake Bolac is dead that even seems sad to say
Where a great lake was only black earth and clay
In these times of Climate Change nothing seems to surprise
Though at a waterless Bolac scarce can believe my eyes
They did have their eel festival there of late
But the eels to the lake had a similar fate
Not even one pool of water in Lake Bolac today
On a dry lake bed water birds do not stay
The wild duck, coot, swamphen and moorhen have gone to elsewhere
In search of new watery homes in the dry World out there
On waterless Lake Bolac not a fish, waterbird or eel
In Climate Change for the creatures of Nature one only can feel
On a waterless Bolac no wildlife for to see
That is disappointing would you not agree?

White Throated Treecreepers

For a small woodland bird it does have a loud song
And it's voice from once heard you can never get wrong
In behavior to most of it's kind much the same
The white throated treecreeper is it's common name
Their nests seldom found and not easy to see
In cavity high on the trunk of a tree
With dark brown on back, spotted unders and white on throat
In the World of birds not seen as worthy of note
With their long thin bills for insects bark they probe around
As they climb the tree trunk to the top from the ground
With other species of treecreeper much in common they do share
And within their range not plentiful or not rare
And though not often seen and as birds not well known
They surely do possess a charm of their own.

Feeling Sorry For Yourself

By the demons of ill luck you are under attack
But when life gives you hell you must learn to fight back
Feeling sorry for yourself to you of no help at all
To the problems of some your biggest may seem small
It is true it is hard for to smile when you are feeling down
But few wish to know the sad sack of the town
Most do not wish to hear of the hardships you've known
Since they themselves do have troubles of their own
You well may feel life to you is not at all fair
But others too do have their crosses to bear
Feeling sorry for yourself on your lousy day
Will not help to make your problems go away
That life has not been kind to you only too true
And a change of fortune is surely your due.

A Wonderful Woman

You never do hear her wish on others ill
And if she can help you she most certainly will
To help others out she goes out of her way
And she performs at least one good deed every day
Not even well known on her side of the town
She never does yearn for wealth and renown
A down to earth person with a charm of her own
Though few of the selfless do become well known
For the suffering of others she has empathy
When one never looks for flaws only good one does see
To the unsung heroines of the World she belong
And if she cannot help you she will not do you wrong
A wonderful woman of that there's no doubt
Though sad to say not many like her about.

The Small Shall Be Great

The small shall be great and the great shall be small
Such wise words are surely worthy of recall
The praises of others big egos create
Though the humble champion is truly a great
The successful person not known for conceit
Is the type most people would be happy to meet
You often have heard success gone to his or her head
Of many too many such words can be said
It is hard to be humble and know of renown
When you are the one who is toast of the town
The celebrated who are humble to say the least rare
That the egotistical are many i am all too aware
The great champion humble in victory does not show conceit
And one who is graceful in the face of defeat.

In The Park In Cobden Town

In the Public Park in Cobden the wild birds chirp and sing
And the black crickets are singing Nature's an amazing thing
And the tiny brown frogs are calling one could never get them wrong
Most creatures born in Nature distinctive in their call or song
I've been learning about Nature though i do not know her that well
Though the grey butcherbird and magpie by their voices i can tell
Yet every day from Nature we learn something new
Though her wonders are so many and her secrets are not few
In the Public Park in Cobden mine may be a stranger's face
But i feel so very much at ease in such a lovely place
For to describe such beauty the words i do not have to say
Earthly Utopia from Cobden cannot be too far away
The leaves on the deciduous trees turning yellow and reddish brown
On a pleasant March day in the Fall in the Park in Cobden Town.

The More Some Have The More Some Want

The more some have the more some want it does seem enough is never enough they do want more
The greed for power and money seems infectious throughout the World from north to southern shore
And yet the World's poor seem to grow poorer the victims of the great social divide
The greedy rich grow rich the poor grow poorer and poverty widespread and Worldwide
Equality is never amongst the living you only find it where dead people lay
In death the dead monarch is only equal to the dead pauper that's how it goes as some do like to say
It is true that power and money go together without money one cannot have much power
In times of drought in the flower bed that's not watered you will not even see a single flower
Just like the homeless teenagers of the poor suburb the paupers of the poorer side of town
Disadvantaged from the day that they were born from where they live a long way to renown
Destined never to be wealthy and famous that's life though life should never be this way
The rich grow richer and the poor grow poorer that's how it is in the Human World of today
And the more some have the more some want it does seem though that does seem a sad thing for to say
And amongst the living equality is not relevant it only is where the dead people lay.

Red Capped Plovers

Red cap and brownish wings and unders white to gray
And a familiar sight on beaches of them one can say
They can run rather quickly and when approached fly a short distance away
You often see them near water by sea, lake or bay
Slightly bigger than a house sparrow for shore birds quite small
They do not have a song just a quick churring call
From September to January their nest near water a scrape on the ground
And out of breeding season in small flocks they abound
Native to Australia and to many well known
One might say they do have a charm of their own
Interesting little birds and nimble on their feet
Insects and tiny crustaceans to their taste buds taste sweet
Their quirky behavior does captivate me
And on beaches in small flocks them i often does see.

Great White Egrets

To see one standing in shallow water a beautiful sight
So graceful to look at and graceful in flight
The great white egret with feathers white as snow
Birds that i see often though little of know
They build their flat nest of sticks over water on top of a tall tree
Out of breeding season loners they seem to like their own company
They eat small fish and small water creatures which they readily kill
With a very quick stab of their long pointy bill
Just a deep guttural croak they do not have a song
By sight or by sound one cannot get them wrong
Known in many Countries they range far and wide
By shallow lakes and still waters they like to reside
Content in their own company it does seem that way
Birds i do see often though not every day.

This Is How It Is

If yourself you're not willing for to promote
Then you may not be seen as one worthy of note
You need a big ego in life to succeed
And to be successful humility is a thing you don't need
The one lacking in confidence never becomes a billionaire
And the humble successful to say the least rare
You won't become successful with low self esteem
At least anyway that is how it does seem
The most down to earth person in all of the town
Is surely the furthest away from renown
That is how it is and it always will be
At least anyhow that's how it seems to me
And the facts tell you so and fact can't be denied
That the desire for success to the ego is tied.

Bassian Thrushes

They are not birds that one does see every day
The bassian thrushes of South Eastern Australia mottled brown with spots of gray
To high wooded places they seem to belong
And they are distinctive in their flute like song
They live on molluscs and insects and worms they do find on the ground
But in large numbers they are not known to abound
The song of the male bird melodious and clear
A beautiful voice of late Winter and Spring of the year
An endemic species though not that well known
One might say it does have a charm of it's own
Searching for their food in ground cover they quietly hop along
But from once seen and once heard one cannot get them wrong
Their cup shaped nest of mostly dried grasses and lichen in hollow stump or fork of tree
With two to three greenish brown freckled eggs a thing that not many are privileged to see.

The Vixen Is Calling

The vixen is calling in the pale moonlight
Her wild cries echo in the still of the night
Perhaps she's in heat and calling for a mate
For to become pregnant she needs to copulate
Yet to her calls i cannot hear a reply
Perhaps there is not any male fox nearby
But tonight she'll keep traveling and calling until she does find
A male willing to mate with her of her own kind,
A distinctive wildness in a fox's cry
And of their skills of survival none them can deny
To rid the World of them humans their best do try
But the word extinct to foxes will never apply
The cry of a vixen in the night air i hear
She calls for a mate though no male fox seems near.

A Fact Of Human Life

Since we are mere mortals why otherwise pretend
Life's so called winners and losers all lose in the end
A fact of human life and facts never lie
That sooner or later our fate is to die
The great and the wealthy may enjoy their fame
But like the homeless and penniless they will die just the same
To the scythe of the Reaper the big egos fall
At the end of life's journey death is for all
The tag of winner and loser us humans create
But Nature's Reaper does not differentiate
Between the wealthy and the famous and the poor of the town
With his mighty scythe he cuts the big egos down
The poor homeless pauper one common fate will share
With the monarch and the president and the billionaire.

When He Had Heaps Of Money

When he had heaps of money his friends in numbers did multiply
But from his life they seemed to disappear though now he wonders why
Since he has become poorer they only nod in passing by
That money speaks every language is a fact none should deny
Since he has lost his fortune few him do wish to know
They see him as a failure and less interest in him show
Money speaks every language a truth i do recall
And that applies to everyone and everyone means all
When he had heaps of money he had friends all over town
But now few wish to know him when financially he's down
He once owned a grand two storey home and drove an expensive car
It is when you are doing it tough you know who your friends are
When he had heaps of money his friends more than a few
Money does speak every language so tell us something new.

To Sing Nature's Praises

There is so much about her to love and admire
To sing Nature's praises one never could tire
The World's greatest super power despite what some say
The beauty of her creations we see every day
The one worthy of our admiration and praise
Her flora and fauna never cease to amaze
All life forms live off of her including us human kind
Yet to abuse her for our gain many of us too inclined
I have loved her since i was a very young boy
And walks in her quiet places i still enjoy
Her wonders are many and her secrets not few
And every day from her we learn something new
All of her life forms born to die and she will live forever more
I only say here what has been said before.

When Trust Is Betrayed

In the schoolyard of the primary school where young friendships are made
As children they laughed and as children they played
And into their teenage years their bond of friendship grew
They enjoyed a friendship that is known to few.

In her early twenties a few years short of her life's prime
One of the friends fell in love for the first time
A handsome young fellow had come into her life
She dreamed of the day she would become his wife.

She fell pregnant to him gave birth to his son
But love's ways are fickle when all is said and done
He would not marry her and he left her in tears
It is true love's disappointments can live on for years.

Her son joined the army as a twenty year old man
But he was brought home in a box from Vietnam
Her son it is said as a true hero died
But by love and by war of happiness she was denied.

Her friend of her young years her trust did betray
With the man she did love as his wife she does stay
Their love it has withstood the great test of time
Their beautiful grand-daughters in their life's prime.

Best friends in their young years and bitter enemies today
That's life as the cynical person would say
The bitterness that is between them won't fade
But this is what happens when trust is betrayed.

By The Far Away Town

In the wooded hill by the far away town
The nesting birds sing as the sun is going down
And bluebells in bloom on the ditch of the bohreen
And everywhere looking so lush and so green
In this Southern Land the young migrant will not stay
His true love waits for him in the town far away
He feels homesick and lovesick he'll be back home in May
When the hawthorns are wearing their blooms white to gray
The lust of the wander has drawn him far south
Of the home of the gray crow, badger and brown trout
But than the lust of the wander the lure of nostalgia and love is more strong
And he will return to where he belong
And the brown haired blue eyed beauty the love of his life
In a few months from now will become his young wife.

One May Excuse Them

One may excuse them for their rude behavior the nasty people we meet every day
Though it seems they do enjoy hurting feelings as they never do regret the hurtful words they say
The people who are lacking in compassion they do live as strangers to empathy
Perhaps they did know of abuse in their young years from parents or guardians who for them never did show sympathy
For everything it is said there is a reason though rude people the World could do without
Though sad to say they are not an endangered species there are plenty of them everywhere about
But we have the choice on how we do treat others and though all sorts of excuses for bad behavior can be made
The mental hurt with the offended seems to linger and from the memory does not easily fade
Since they find pleasure in putting down of others they must be suffering of low self esteem
Their dislike of self they do take out on others in their behavior that's how they do seem
Than frowned upon they deserve more to be pitied due to their dislike of self they do put others down
And sad to say their numbers are increasing they live on every street in every town
One may excuse them for their nastiness and rudeness excuses never are that hard to find
But they've made their choice to live as nasty people they do not have it in them to be kind.

When It Comes To Bullfinches

When it comes to bullfinches the orchardist not one to pretend
When he says these birds to me will never be a friend
They eat the flowers of my apple trees in May
Of any good of them i do not have to say
Yet bullfinches have more admirers than foes
The male his pink breast like a blooming pink rose
With his plainer yet pretty wife on branch of sunlit tree
They are indeed a pretty sight to see
And than most humans are male bullfinch is more faithful to his wife
He pairs with her and stays with her and their union is for life
The blooms on the orchardist apple trees to them a tasty treat
Yet this is part of their natural diet and to live they have to eat
The orchardists do not like them for good reason maybe
But the bullfinches have looks and charm as most would agree.

I Am Lucky In A Way

One might say i am lucky in a way
In the things of beauty that i witness every day
Like a magpie fluting on a sunlit tree
A thing of beauty for to hear and see.

Were i a poet of such beauty i would write
In a poem for others to read and recite
Of Nature's beauty to me ever near
A beauty that changes in the Seasons of the year.

To watch with folded wings the gannets from a great height
Plunge into the sea is quite an amazing sight
For them to live small fishes have to die
A fact of life and facts do never lie.

With all of this beauty that's surrounding me
One might say i am as lucky as can be
And Nature's beauty is for all to enjoy
I have loved her ever since i was a boy.

Inequality Is Around Us

Inequality is around us everywhere
And it is rife in the bigger World out there
Few of the super wealthy with the poor do share
And too many for self only seem to care
Far too many people are doing it tough
For them their best is never good enough
They struggle on in life from day to day
The Gods against them as some like to say
For the wealthy few many in dire poverty
In a fair Human World this would never be
And though it is true enough we do breathe the same air
Hundreds are homeless for every millionaire
But it would be a truthful thing to say
That equality is where the deceased lay.

Have You Ever Felt So Maudlin

Have you ever felt so maudlin that you were quite close to tears
And your thoughts went racing backwards to your happier youthful years
When with your young friends you socialized and your biggest worries small
But the years went by so quickly aging happens to us all.

Many of those you went to school with the grandparents of today
Whilst some are no longer with us with the deceased their remains lay
All you have left are your good memories of what was and used to be
Of when you were young and healthy full of elan and carefree.

In your prime days in your twenties when your hair was nugget brown
You were never short of female company one of the pin up young men of town
But the years went by too quickly and your brown hair turned to gray
And your biological clock keep ticking such is life as some do say.

Your health is not at all good and you've not been feeling well of late
A weak heart and diabetes are things one don't celebrate
Still you have your happy memories of when you were in your prime
Though you feel a little maudlin when your thoughts go back in time.

A Kanturk Migrant

He's happy now to live in Ferntree Gully though of homesickness he's one who did know
For Kanturk Town in North Cork in Duhallow where the babbling waters of the Allow flow
Towards Leaders Bridge to join with the Blackwater even as the bird flies far north and far away
From the suburb by the wooded hills of The Dandenong Ranges where he has lived now for many a day
In his early sixties six times a grandfather his wife of thirty five years is from nearby Belgrave Town
They live quite close to the busy Burwood Highway where buses, cars and trucks to and from Melbourne buzz up and down
A different sort of place to Kanturk in Duhallow where the journey in life for him began
Though he has become an Australian on paper at heart he'll always be a Kanturk man
I have not seen him for a couple of Seasons last time I saw him I remember well
He was singing a song called The Bold Thady Quill in the barroom of the Ferntree Gully Hotel
he loves that song he sings it with a passion the memories of what was in the migrant does remain
The memories and his North Cork accent are still with him these he brought from Duhallow and retain,
He's happy now to live in Ferntree Gully the suburb in view of the Wooded hill
And perhaps when he is singing at the local he sings again of the Bold Thady Quill.

Black Cormorants

They can be seen on inland lake or waterway
Or in any coastal estuary or bay
Fishing people do not see them as a friend
To like them they do not even pretend
It is said that fishing stocks they do deplete
With commercial fishers they regularly compete
But black cormorants have to eat fish for to live
Though for that the fishers them will not forgive
In Australia in numbers black cormorants abound
In islands they build their nests of sticks on bushes and on trees or on the ground
Three to five eggs the female bird does lay
At any time of year those expert on them say
Familiar to coastal waterways or dams and lakes of the countryside
And bigger than their familiar cousins pied.

On Barn Owls

To those who know of it a familiar cry
The harsh scream of the barn owl in the night sky
White oval face, mottled brown uppers and unders of gray
A bird that is seldom seen in light of day.

For roosting and nesting in old church spires and barns Tyto Albas are known
Such places they like for to claim as their own
Though to where humans live they roost and nest nearby
Of our kind to say the least they do seem shy.

Small ground dwelling creatures are their edible choice
Such as frogs, skinks and voles as well as rats and mice
Quite useful nocturnal birds in their own way
A friend of the farmer of them one might say.

An eerie sound to hear in the calm moonlight
The scream of the barn owl a bird of the night
Medium sized nocturnal birds of prey not big or not small
And of the owls perhaps the best known of all.

Memories Of Chaffinches

Though little of their ways i can claim to know
The chaffinches are birds of groves, woods and hedgerow
Yet the male unmistakeable by his chirp or his song
By sight or by sound one cannot get them wrong
I have seen their nest on fork of low branch of tree
A wonder of Nature indeed for to see
A neat cup shaped nest of mosses and lichen made
With four bean sized reddish eggs slightly blotched brown that the female had laid
From my younger years the memory i recall
Around the heaps of grain chaff left by the grain threshing machines in the Fall
The chaffinches in search of small seeds did congregate
Till the threshing machines of the fifties and sixties passed their use by date
But that is going back near five decades in time
When i was a decade short of my life's prime.

I've Been Learning Of Nature

I've been learning of Nature ever since i was a boy
And my walks in her quiet places i always do enjoy
And though her wonders many her secrets are not few
And every day we live of her we learn something new
The more we learn of Nature the more our wonder of her grow
And yet we come to realize how little of her we do know
The intricacies of Nature quite an amazing thing
There is far more to a bird than the song the bird does sing
To sketch her beauty and to write of her the artists and writers are inspired
And of singing her praises how could one ever grow tired
She feeds all of her life forms from the great to the small
Without her we could not survive she takes care of us all
We are dependent on her off of her we do live
But from her we do take and take and in return to her little give.

Coots

Birds i see often sometimes every day
Though from water never see them far away
Dumpy looking dark birds on land with white on forehead and bill
Their distinctive cries to say the least quite shrill.

For medium sized water birds they have big ugly feet
But when seen in water the difference is complete
They swim and dive for their food with such grace
That out of water they seem out of place.

They build their nests of dried water plants and rushes in reedy cover with water all around
And on lakes in Spring with their large broods their numbers do abound
Up to fifteen eggs no less than six a sandy sort of gray
From late Winter in Spring or Summer the female birds does lay.

Their young like tiny balls of dark feathers quite a joy to behold
But their lives are short as most birds lives are they soon age and grow old
Dark birds of the still waterways and familiar to me
Though distant from lake or river them i have yet to see.

The Pine Marten

A dark brown small cat sized member of the weasel family the pine marten in daylight seldom seen
It lives on fruits as well as birds and small mammals it is said that their range it is spreading recorded in places where they once never had been
That they kill weak lambs as well as poultry and that some farmers do not like them at all
But it is quite natural for Nature's predators for to prey on the defenseless and the small
Unlike the red fox the pine marten in most places a protected species but foxes in more plentiful supply
For pine martens do not exist in open country only in places where woods are nearby
As climbers they need trees for survival that's why they are not seen in sparsely treed countryside
From their enemies dogs and foxes and humans they need trees for to climb and rest and hide
In whenever danger to them is apparent for their survival the wooded environment seems right
Though by day they are never seen that often they are better known as creatures of the night
Small predators they are known to be nimble they even can catch squirrels on the trees
Though it is said they seldom venture out in freezing weather with the temperatures under zero degrees
like most mustelids it is good at survival and though not plentiful it's range is far and wide
Not one to live in the sparsely treed places it's home is in the wooded countryside.

On Long Bill Corellas

You hear them squawking loudly in the evening late
As to roost on the tall gums they do congregate
The white long billed corellas in large flocks much noise do create
Though it is said that their numbers are decreasing at a steady rate
With their long hooked bills they dig for bulbs and tubulars in the ground
And though within their small range they do seem to abound
Their rate of reproduction it is said does seem rather slow
By those who of their ways much do claim to know
Familiar by sight and in their distinctive cries
These large ground feeding parrots not hard to recognize
From mid Winter to late Spring in hollow in standing stump or cavity in a tree
They lay dull white eggs mostly two sometimes three
As birds go they do live to be very old
And a large flock of them in flight quite a sight to behold.

On House Sparrows

House sparrows under house eaves, shed rafters or in tree cavities build their straggly nests of hay
That they line with small feathers and where they do lay
Up to eight tiny pea sized pale eggs that are blotched lightish brown
Birds at home in the countryside, village city or town
In their vast range to people house sparrows are very well known
And though not beautiful to look at they do have a charm of their own
The lovable brown to gray small birds who do not have a song
The cheeky chirpers of your backyard who chirp all day long
Loved by some and looked upon by some as a pest
In Spring all day long their young chirp for food in the nest
By sight or by sound them you cannot mistake
They chirp all day long to nightfall from daybreak
They must like and trust us humans since to us they like to live near
Though from us it does seem they should have most for to fear.

The Man Who Has Beaten Cancer

His best days one might say to the forever gone
But his great love of life helps him for to live on
The man who has beaten cancer has just turned eighty three
And few of his age are as lively as he
By ten years already he has outlived his wife
Still happy go lucky and he still loves life
Three generations of his descendants he has seen
His oldest great grandchild a girl has just turned nineteen
He hopes for to live for as long as he can
And die in his sleep as a very old man
A life member of the local Football Club
On Saturday nights with his younger mates at the pub
The great games of the past he's happy to recall
The man who loves socializing and life and football.

I've Loved Mother Nature

I've loved Mother Nature since i was a boy
And learning about her is a thing i enjoy
Yet the more one learn of her the more one realize
That there is more to her than does meet the eyes
And every day of her we do learn something new
And her wonders are many and her secrets not few
The one true immortal i see her that way
And of her we learn something new every day
In Spring her wild birds sing on bush and on tree
And in her hosts of multicultural flowers her beauty i see
My wonder of her only does seem to grow
Yet little so little of her ways i do know
Like all of her life forms i will return to her one day
And in her earthy bosom my remains will lay.

As Good As You Possibly Can Be

You may not be at the top of the social tree
But you are as good as you possibly can be
To be good as you can be your best you do try
And your worth as a person none ought to deny
You mind your own business and work hard for your pay
And of anyone you never have ill to say
Not the best known or most famous one in the town
To be a nice person seldom wins one renown
Though respect for the feelings of others you've shown
In your local community not even well known
You do not crave recognition for your every good deed
The World of more of your kind is sadly in need
A very good person that's what you really are
And for to find your equal one would have to go far.

That By Life You've Been Hard Done By

That by life you've been hard done by you like to make it known
Though others do tell you they've got worries of their own
To anyone willing to listen to you your sad stories you tell
How lady luck is not with you and you are not feeling well
And most out of politeness to you say that is sad
Of late it does seem times for you have been bad
Whilst some of the less compassionate to you do say
Your life story not that sad I've heard a few far worse today
Though of your own worries you only seem aware
Most people do have their life crosses to bear
And though they may be burdened by sadness and care
Their sad stories with strangers they never do share
To anyone willing to listen you do like to tell
That living life for you is an Earthly Hell.

In The World Far Too Many People

In the World far too many people of that there's little doubt
And with the increase in the human population wildlife is losing out
The Amazon Rainforest trees being removed for crop growing at an alarming rate
Leaving bird and animal and insect life forms to face an uncertain fate
More creatures and insects added to the endangered list we hear of and we read
Could our extinction of other life forms to our own extinction lead?
What we do unto others to our own selves we do
This does not apply to what we to other humans alone but to other life forms too
The human population numbers growing and other life forms becoming rare
With other creatures of the World we've not learned how to share
This World is their's to live in though many of us don't see it that way
Extinction is forever and it is happening every day
A wise woman told me years ago when i was a young boy
That the World is ours for to live in and not for to destroy.

Patriarchy

The son of the patriarchal father the mantle of dad he does don
And in his sons and their sons patriarchy will live on
And though the praises of patriarchy many may sing
What it stands for to say the least is not a good thing
In Patriarchal societies war is glorified
As well as love of Flag of Country and National pride
Such things that to war always does seem to lead
Of peace loving people we seldom do hear of or read
Far too many Patriarchal Societies in the World of today
We'd be better off without them is all i can say
Far too many patriarchs in every town
Who glorify war and keep women down
Patriarchs are not rare they do live everywhere
There are millions of them in the big World out there.

A Happy Person Always Nice To Meet

Time ticking on old age of you ahead
Enjoy yourself for you'll be forever dead
Life is too short for worry and for stress
Such only barriers to happiness
You ought to make the most of every day
Enjoy yourself and laugh your cares away
The happy people on the streets of town
Spread happiness as they walk up and down
The happy one the seeds of joy does sow
But the grumpy one few seem to wish to know
The one who has a happy smiling face
In any company not out of place
A happy person always nice to meet
Spreading the gift of joy whilst walking on the street.

Though I Come From A Land

Though i come from a Land in the north sea
Where i do live is always home to me
My life journey has me far south of my birthplace
Where nowadays mine might be a stranger's face,
A stranger where my life's journey began
Where from a boy i grew into a man
Some twenty four years and Springs have gone by
Since i last heard the lark sing in an Irish sky
The past is now a fading memory
And time ticks on it did not wait for me
And though the friends of my youth I've not seen for many a day
The present is all that does matter anyway
I live far south of the silver tongued rill
That flows to the river from the high field by the hill.

The Aging Fellow Bill

My mum would not be proud of me were she alive today
I would not be her idea of a success that's what Bill Allob say
I was the only child she had dad died when i was six months old
He was a good man mum did say though his life story untold
My mum would not be proud of me to see me drinking booze
It is my fault i am the way i am i live the way i choose
Mum raised me as good as she could for me she did her best
But what it takes to be a life's success i sadly failed the test
Mum died when i was a young man i had just turned twenty three
To see me homeless and on the grog she would not be proud of me
I am tired of living on the streets and tired of living rough
For one in his fifty ninth year that is hardly good enough
He may be homeless and hungry but of grog he drinks his fill
My mum would not be proud of me says the aging fellow Bill.

Breezy Warrnambool

For it's beauty and hospitable people it has won renown
But perhaps it is Australia's breeziest Town
Where the rivers Merri and Hopkins into the ocean flow
The freshening winds often in Warrnambool blow
The people of South west Victoria's Coastal City like their weather seem breezy and bright
A sour face in the Bool is not a common sight
A nice place to visit for a holiday
Though many feel sad from there on going away
The beautiful place by the Pacific sea
One of Australia's most livable Cities as most would agree
Lady Bay, Lake Pertobe and Thunder Point for their beauty known
Old Warrnambool does have a charm of it's own
The night life is great there and busy by day
And a nice place to visit for a long or short stay.

Amongst Writers

Amongst writers a scarce one is the millionaire
And even those who make a living out of writing to say the least rare
The stuff i do pen with others i freely share
In that way i am one of a majority of such i am aware
For many years now i have been a rhyme buff
I am just one of those who enjoys penning stuff
An average rhymer and useless at prose
The wordsmith trade made of all kinds one suppose
My worth as a rhymer i never cease to doubt
Yet so many things for one to write about
The stuff i do pen few do read or recite
But I'm one of those people who just loves to write
The successful writers as always are few
You may add to that tell us something that's new.

Designed By Nature

The bigger predators on smaller creatures do prey
Their way of survival that is Nature's way
Designed by Nature for to live on meat
And doomed to die of hunger if they cannot kill to eat
Save for herbivores in Nature the big eats the small that is always the case
But those born to be prey are usually quicker and their hunters outpace
The prey animals weed out the aged and sickly and with more available feed the young and strong do thrive
Few of those born to be prey to die of old age survive
Where the strongest are those who are born to rule
In Nature there is no such a thing as cruel
She supplies her creatures with every survival need
The predator has fierceness and strength and the quarry has speed
Some born to live in water and on land and some born to fly
And creatures born to be preyed on even killed in the sky.

You Well May Be Special

You well may be special and looked on as great
And you may be the one many do celebrate
But even those who are World renowned and at what they do World number one
If they do not retire when at the top by someone they will be outdone
The aging champion boxer never met with defeat
Till by one younger and better he eventually was beat
Our best years go quickly fleeting our life's prime
Eventually we all become victims of time
The losers are many the winners are few
In that I'm not saying anything that is new
The gallant loser his standard may raise
But the winner as usual gets most of the praise
You may be a champion and lauded as great
Though on your reign you too have a use by date.

A Claraghatlea Fellow

I may die as i live quite close to poverty
And a Claraghatlea fellow is all i can be
And though i may live far from where Cails waters flow
I often recall places i used to know.

Old Townlands far north of this Southern Shore
Inchaleigh, Coomlogane, Annagloor, Claramore,
Coolikerane,Shannaknock, Ballydaly from here far away
In fancy i visit them often if not every day.

Without any success of which i could name
To be a Claraghatlea fellow my one claim to fame
It has been awhile now since my hair was dark brown
When i was a young man near old Millstreet Town.

It still flows on downland the old mountain rill
Through John D Murphy's fields in view of Clara Hill
And the song of the dipper i fancy i hear
The past though long gone to my thoughts ever near.

Few would even know me now in Millstreet Town
On the old streets that i often walked up and down
The years have left me looking balder and gray
And i would feel a stranger in Millstreet today.

Yet in fancy I'm back in the old fields again
And i hear the birds sing in the drizzling rain
In early Spring when wildflowers bloom and grass commence to grow
And the milder winds from the mountains do blow.

In A Literary World

In a literary World of millions of writers the great writers few
That is common knowledge not anything new
A minority indeed the literary millionaire
Such people were and are and will always be rare
Though many sad for them will not make the grade
It does need all of it's writers the great wordsmith trade
Like everything in life every writer cannot win
But to try and to fail it is never a sin
Many have been writing for years without any success for it to show
And from publishers rejections of disappointments they do know
Yet they carry on writing in hope of literary success
In the face of failure for their determination they never fail to impress
For to earn one's fame and fortune the wordsmith trade is a tough trade indeed
Where so many must fail for a few to succeed.

For Many Life's Road

For many life's road is uphill all of the way
From the moment they are born till their very last day
They know what it is like to know of poverty
To make do on little their life's destiny
I feel that good luck in life has been with me
I never was homeless or a refugee
I never did go to bed hungry at night
For many life it is a much tougher fight
You do not have to go far poor people to meet
There are so many of them on Poverty Street
From where they live it is a long road to renown
Their ill luck to be born on the poor side of the town
For to live as a pauper is something most would not choose
Yet in life for one to win many have to lose.

An Amateur Penner Is All I Can Be

An amateur penner is all i can be and my worth as a rhymer i doubt
But when you tell me there's music in blank verse i wonder what you are on about
I've always thought music has rhythm and rhyme and is married to rhyming song
But of literature and music i am not a judge and maybe i do have it wrong
The music in good rhyming poetry one sense at least that's how it does seem to me
But I'm leaving room for an argument here and some with me may not agree
But that's my opinion make of it what you may we all look at things differently
If we all looked at life in the very same way how dull and boring we would be
Some will tell you a songwriter is not a poet their opinion on that is different to mine
Like some are very happy to welcome the rain and some want the day warm and fine
You tell me that there is music in blank verse though i cannot see it that way
But your opinion on the matter is as good as mine and with me that is quite okay
Oh give me a song that is built of good rhyme that to music is easy to sing
With such i am happy for to sing along and i find it such a joyful thing.

I Do Miss The Scenic Beauty

I do miss the scenic beauty of the high countryside
Where from the foot of the old hill one can see far and wide
The most amazing scenery for miles and miles around
In Spring in the green high country viewed from the higher ground
Amongst the knee high bracken the shy mountain hare
With one ear pricked as it does rest of danger quite aware
For vixen with fast growing cubs to feed and a keen appetite
A hare that she could catch asleep would make a tasty bite
The skylark leaves the bracken and upwards as he fly
Becomes a tiny speck of music in the gray evening sky
Out there in the high country far inland from the ocean shore
Nature's beauty is eternal it will live forever more
I do miss the scenic country by the mountains far away
Where in fancy i can hear the birds at the dawn of a Spring day.

The Near To Perfect People

The near to perfect people to say the least quite rare
Of my flaws as a human being i surely am aware
Perfection for one of the human kind almost impossible to achieve
That's what those who study human behavior tell us and that's not hard to believe
We are mentally tied to the ego and that is not a lie
And the ego has three siblings known as me, myself and i
And though many may say I'm talking rubbish and with what i say disagree
That's how it was and that's how it is and that's how 'twill always be
The only perfect one is Nature or so it would seem to me
She does not differentiate between a human and a bee
All of her life forms like the great tree of the forest to her Reaper's scythe must fall
All to her quite equal the most perfect one of all
The near to perfect people to say the least are few
And to that you may even add tell us something that is new.

That's What Queen Victoria Said

I lay on my back and i think of England that's what Victoria used to say
Whenever she was copulating and that was often on her day
Queen Victoria died but her fame outlives her States and places named in her honor from England far away
Born to royalty her fame does live on but only worms live where her bones now lay.

Since 'twas said that the sun never sets on the British Empire many decades in time gone by
The British not the conquerors they once were something that few would deny
Britain as a World superpower one might say did stand alone
Way back in the pre nuclear age when Victoria sat on the throne.

Queen Victoria had a long reign and she did live to be old
Yet she did not look a beauty unattractive to behold
And in the end she was a mortal a mere mortal like us all
To the scythe of Nature's Reaper she too eventually did fall.

I lay on my back and I think of England that's what Queen Victoria said
That is if you believe all you do hear and believe all you have read
But she did not die a virgin of that there can be no doubt
She had many sexual conquests and the mating game she knew about.

Perhaps I Will Never Again See

Perhaps i will never again see Hibernia's Shore
Or climb up the high field of green Claramore
For it is a steep one Jack Johnny's high field
That lead to the foot of Clara where grass to bracken yield.

When the nesting birds sing on the hedgerows of May
And the hawthorns are in their blooms of white to gray
The skylark is singing as upwards he does fly
A musical dot in the gray evening sky.

When the tadpoles are wriggling in the watery drain
In the fields of Claraghatlea lush after recent rain
And bluebells bloom on the ditch of the bohreen
And Nature's wildflowers everywhere to be seen.

A poet i have never pretended to be
But the past it does live on in my memory
In my flights of fancy i hear and i see
The male robin sing on a leafy birch tree.

Perhaps i will never see Clara again
Or hear the birds sing in the wind and the rain
When the grass growing winds of late April are blowing
And the pheasant cloaked in the high rushes is crowing.

Everyone For Himself Or For Herself

Everyone for himself or for herself and God for us all
An old saying from the past i can't help but recall
Or survival of the fittest as some like to say
Which may sound a bit selfish but most of us humans this way
With the sharp increase in the human population competition for success more intense
That is not being insightful just mere common sense
And the facts do tell us and facts never lie
That the most successful good at the promotion of me, myself and i
Many of the more humble it does seem are strangers to success
Most people humility does not seem to impress
With the increase in fame the big egos do grow
The humblest of the humble few do wish to know
Everyone for himself or for herself to most does apply
It is a fact of life and facts we cannot deny.

Those Great Entertainers Of Ghana

Those great entertainers of Ghana to their drumming they dance and sing
Music, song and dance an integral part of their culture with them it is a natural thing
Compared to them i feel quite ordinary as if my feet are tied to the ground
They sing, dance and drum with a passion in them talent seem to abound
They bring to this great Southern Country their culture from so far away
In these simple lines i do thank them for bringing great joy to my day
So dark and so handsome and lively their whole beings are bubbling and bright
They dance, sing and drum with a passion in the Australian warm sunlight
A long way from tropical Ghana to this sunny Southern Land
They bring their joyful culture with them this marvelous African band
This town that is not known for culture is becoming more multicultural of late
A World without cultural borders is a thing that we should celebrate
And these great entertainers of Ghana they have brought great joy to my day
And I'll retain fond memories of them what better of them can i say.

Money Never Fails

His aging wife at home getting drunk on expensive wine
Whilst with his lovely young mistress in a posh restaurant he dine
Of his infidelities to her his wife is quite aware
But she does not love him nor neither does she care
That he will sleep with his young blond tonight
She'll tell you silly old men like him not worth a fight,
In dark brown hair dye he cloaks his silver gray
And clearly he has known a better day
With three great grandchildren his eldest a son is fifty four
He is just a few years short of his four score
But he is wealthy a money billionaire
Of which his younger lover is aware
And with him she will stay even though she is only in her prime
Money never fails it wins out every time.

As The Sun Goes Down Red

Though most of her secrets from us she keeps hidden away
From Nature we learn something new every day
And the more we learn of her the more we realize
That there is far more to her than we can see with our eyes
In the big public park at the west of the town
The magpie is singing as the sun goes down
The silver billed black and white bird with the beautiful song
A familiar voice one could never get wrong
Though most creatures of Nature by their calls we do get to know
Our wonder of her only does seem to grow
Her marvels are many her beauty beyond compare
And her secrets with Humankind she will never share
The roost bound starlings to the nearby reeds fly
As the sun goes down red in the western sky.

Restricted Access By Poem Hunter

Restricted access by Poem Hunter's webmasters to my Poem Hunter site
Though of my fellow P H members nasty things i never write
But then suppose life is a bit like this you cannot always win
And the setbacks that we do receive we must bear with a grin.

I wish they'd email for to tell me my stuff for them not good enough
That my rhymes not to their standard slightly on the side of rough
If they told me so much in writing I'd not even take offense
On their behalf than treating me the way they do it would make for better sense.

A simple email for Poem Hunter's Webmaster should not be too much of a task
To tell me where i stand with him or her is that too much to ask?
When bureaucrats play mind games with me they do put me offside
I am not a hard one for to please but i have my sense of pride.

Any respect to me as a member Poem Hunter refuses for to pay
And to think that they can live without me does suit me quite okay
Not good enough for P H at least it would seem that way
You win some and you lose some that's life as some do say.

Nomadic Jim

The people nice to me in case you get me wrong
But i must be off been around here too long
Nomadic Jim said to me in a farewell good day
As to the railway station he hurried on his way
One in his late forties showing his years in gray
And clearly he has known a far better day
But it matters little to him if his best days are gone
He was born to travel and he will travel on
One who has seen much of the big World out there
His thoughts often lure him to places elsewhere
The lust of the wander is an addictive thing
Who knows where he will be for the birth of next Spring
He may be in Capetown or Berlin or Rome
To Nomadic Jim there is no place called home.

That They Can Come At A Huge Cost

That they can come at a huge cost cannot be denied
Religion, nationalism and patriotic pride
In their honor wars are being waged Worldwide
For God and for Country too many have died.

The troops they are ready and leaving for battle afar
And the clergy are there for to bless them for war
But it seems strange they ask God to help them to do others ill
When Moses Fifth Commandment states thou shalt not kill.

Though with what i do say many may not agree
These men of God seem hypocritical to me
They preach against murder yet for their Country's troops they do pray
Who shoot for to kill in war zones far away.

The praises of war heroes patriots like to sing
But war is a needless and a terrible thing
And that we have not learned from history does seem sad to say
As more people are dying in war zones every day.

Haile Selassie

To their God Haile Selassie Rastafarians do pray
But as a mere mortal his remains do lay
When he was Emperor of Ethiopia millions of hunger died
Whilst the good life he and his friends and his family enjoyed
The word God to one like Selassie ought not to apply
And why people make Gods out of mortals i do wonder why
He owned the majority of the wealth of his Country whilst his people lived in dire poverty
That hardly is Godlike would you not agree?
Compassion for his Country's Poor a Godlike person would show
But Haile Selassie was not that way as far as i do know
He did not share the Country's wealth amongst his people of him what does this say
That he was a mere greedy mortal flawed in every way
According to Rastafarians Haile Selassie is God
Though he never did help the poor and the down-trod.

Compassion And Empathy

They have so much in common compassion and empathy
And those who do possess them are blessed it would seem to me
For these are rare enough gifts in the Human World of today
Where many are poor and homeless and in life have lost their way
Those with empathy and compassion in words never put others down
And you never will find them amongst the judgemental of the town
They feel for the suffering of others more of their type we do need
For their kindness and generosity of spirit as good people they do succeed
Those with empathy and compassion always helping people in poverty
They help the homeless and the destitute and they help the refugee
If everyone were like them there would not be poverty and crime
And war that cause death and suffering would be of another time
But not everyone is like them which does seem sad to say
So for those with compassion and empathy let us hear the loud hooray.

Where The Land Meets The Ocean

The great white waves of the Pacific how loudly they do roar
And crash against the volcanic rocks that guard the ocean shore
The silver gulls above the beach are calling as they fly
And the terns dive in shallow waters for small sea things from the sky,
The feeling is so refreshing on your skin saltwater spray
It is nice to be by the ocean on a breezy Autumn day
In a place far off of the highway and far from the noisy street
A place where Nature reign Supreme where the land and ocean meet
The huge surf waves are rolling foamy and white as snow
At the awesome power of Nature my wonder only grow
Though not a seafaring person from land i love to watch the big waves roll
It has been a watery grave for many an ocean out of control
Where the land meets the ocean on a March evening in the Fall
A memory for to cherish and in the future to recall.

One God For All Religions

In Gods of religion no shortage of choice
But one God for all religions that would be nice
The Gods of the Universe trouble create
A Human World without wars for God something to celebrate.

Of the praises of God in harmony we could sing
No wars over God that would be a great thing
Less wars in the World how marvelous that would be
One God for us all a huge win for humanity.

On religious beliefs at least people would not disagree
A better World to live in a World of religious harmony
Of the my God is greater than your God we would finally be free
That would only be a great thing it does seem to me.

Of one God for all religions I hope to live to see
But like it is said we create our own reality
Wise words from a sage that to many does apply
So many have their different Gods in their Worlds in the sky.

A God Within In Every Child

Apart from Nature there is a God known as the God Within
Found in every child in every Land for children are free of sin
A God within in every child or so it would seem that way
But most adults lose their God within though to another God they do pray
All children born with their God Within and sad am i to say
That as we age our God Within from some of us tend to stray
Forced to leave us by the Ego by it crowded out of our mind's space
For the kind and compassionate Inner God in our being there is no place,
A God Within in every child that's how it would seem to me
Though with that sort of thinking there are many who would choose to disagree
Of a God Within they will tell you there is no such a thing
Of the praises of their God Up There they only wish to sing
Most of us do lose our Inner God to too much love of self and greed
And the innocence of children is a Godlike thing indeed.

To Be The Best You Can Be

There is good in most people and some in their ways kind
And amongst the egotistical greatness is a state of mind
And some very famous people towards humility inclined
But a truly perfect human being in the World you will not find
But to live as a good person is the best you can wish to be
Though with that i feel certain many would disagree
Millions daydream of wealth and fame and it would seem to me
That you will not find many people for to embrace poverty
But to be the best you can be ought to be good enough
In a Human World where millions are hungry, poor and homeless and living and sleeping rough
Always be kind to others and help those of help in need
One of the main causes of human poverty has to be human greed
Life is not an Earthly Paradise and many do live it tough
But to be the best you can be ought to be good enough.

It Is Not

It is not a big dog kills the most people or a spider or a snake
And it is not a great white pointer shark though humans to eat they do take
Those who swim in deep waters too far out from the sea shore
They who love the danger perish therein you've heard that one before.

It is not lions or tigers kill the most people though they have killed more than a few
Though in saying that they can be quite dangerous I'm not saying anything that is new
But then they do not know of Moses Fifth Commandment which states 'thou shalt not kill'
For an aged or injured big cat a human being is easy prey on which to eat it's fill.

It is not hippos, rhinos or elephants kill the most people by their kind humans deaths are rare
Though of the potential danger of such big and powerful creatures one ought to be aware
Crocodiles kill and eat people many have died from the sting of tsetse fly
Many dangerous life forms out there of that none can deny.

Apart from Nature and Nature's Reaper the greatest killer of them all
Is not an insect, fish, reptile or animal though human deaths by them we can recall
It is a known fact and as we well know facts are not known to lie
That at the hands of other human beings most humans are known to die.

So Why Waste Time On Regretting

The clock on our lives is ticking and ticking ever fast
So why waste time on regretting your mistakes of the past
Just learn from your experiences and enjoy life if you can
The longest life it does seem in time not a long span
The past it is behind us the future is ahead
And we cannot live forever though we will be forever dead
Make the most of the present we only can live in the now
Our time span only terminal like the sheep or the cow
You can only learn from experience on what you have done and seen
So why waste your time lamenting on the what might have been
Time seems to pass so quickly we soon grow tired and old
And in the end does it matter if your life story is not told
You can only live in the present and time does tick on fast
And every day we do live is one day nearer to our last.

A Doctor And So Called Writer

A doctor and so called writer yet not one of note
Yet he does refer to himself as a poet
And to him it comes easy in words for to put others down
You meet people like him in every small town
For his poetic criticisms he does not receive pay
And unkind things of some he has been known to say
But the seeds of what we sow we have to reap one day
What goes around comes around life is this way
The point of what it takes to be a good person his type seem to miss
Despite his good education ignorance to him is bliss
He seems rather ordinary quite ordinary indeed
The Human World of his kind surely not in need
He seems to be well educated as well as well read
But his minor literary successes have gone to his head.

The 2010 Port Fairy Music Festival

We are another year older and time is ticking on
And another Music Festival at Port Fairy has come and has gone
Great entertainment for young and for old and for those in their life's prime
And everyone there seemed to have a good time.

In the 2010 Port Fairy Festival some heavy showers of rain
And after an hour the sun shone out again
But this did not dampen the good fun and cheer
Of the Festival with such a great atmosphere.

In Port Fairy close to the great City of Warrnambool
The weather it is mostly warm to cool
It is held on the Labor Day Weekend of the Fall
Where a good time is generally had by all.

It brings to people from far and near such great happiness
The 2010 Port Fairy Music Festival another great success
There's music in the festival arenas and music on the street
Where once a year lovers of music do meet.

To Those Who Call Me A Poetaster

To those who call me a poetaster all i can say is ah well
Why bother to read what i pen if you think i pen doggerel
You never ever hear me say i should be one of note
And I've never had the cheek to ever call myself a poet,
I am not a literary critic people for such receive pay
And when people ask me to comment on their writings unkind things of them i don't say,
An old saying from a wise person i often do recall
If you cannot say good of someone why say anything at all
I've not learned much from life at all i have not aged like good wine
And if i feel detached from most others then the fault has to be mine
We are all on a life's journey that one day has to end
And your foe of the present may become your future friend
And to those who call me a poetaster in honesty I'd like to say
That it does take one for to know one or so it would seem that way.

In Life Some Are Destined

In life some are destined for greatness and some are destined to fail
And some are known and famed Worldwide and some end their lives in jail
But the facts do tell us one thing and facts do never lie
That us humans like all life forms are born for to die.

Like the great tree of the forest there's a last day for us all
To the deadly scythe of the Reaper we eventually do fall
Nature's egalitarian Reaper treats everyone as the same
He will claim the life's breath from you though you know of wealth and fame.

Some post death have become famous of their greatness unaware
Two of such that spring to mind quite readily Vincent Van Gogh and John Clare
Both were mentally unstable and poor as the word can be
Nowadays they are hailed as famous though they died in poverty.

One born to become wealthy and famous and one born to become a refugee
You can call it Karma if you so wish or you can call it destiny
But for each and everyone of us a final night and day
We are born to mortality that's life as some do say.

The Finlander

He is traveling and living far south of his northern Hometown
The roads of the brown country he travels up and down
From the Land of the mighty elk and the reindeer
The lust of the wander has lured him to here

A journey of twelve thousand miles maybe more
From northern Finland to Australia southern shore
He has worked on building sites and as a jackeroo
For to earn his living hard work he is prepared to do

In his Finnish accent in broken English he say
Australia too hot for me here me won't stay
He will soon be on the plane for his home far away
He expects to be there for the birth of the May.

Tall and blond and in his mid twenties and in his life's prime
One might say on his side he has heaps of time
But time keeps on ticking and ticking on fast
And every day we live is one nearer to our last.

In two months he will go home and settle in life
And his young love in Finland will become his wife
He has spent a year in Australia but here he won't grow old
He'd much prefer Finland where the weather is cold.

Yes I'm A Lucky Fellow

I've had my share of down times in my life's wasted years
And i have known grown macho men who were reduced to tears
At the sad news of the passing of a dear friend far away
No person above feelings that would be true to say,
I've done a little traveling I know the taste of beer
And i can be loyal as anyone can be to those i love dear
But that can be said of most people though our true friends are so few
Yet to that you very well may say tell us something that is new,
Suppose i am quite lucky to have enough to drink and eat
Enough clean water enough of milk and bread enough of vegetables, fruit and meat
A warm bed to sleep in millions are homeless tonight
For many far too many life's a constant uphill fight
Yes I'm a lucky fellow though sometimes i feel down
Even though the years have left me gray and balder my hair was once dark brown.

It Never Is My Business

How others live it never is my business though some make it their business to know mine
Though to them I'm quite close to being a stranger with them I'm never out to wine and dine,
Live and let live i surely do believe in and judge not and thou shalt not be judged to it has a ring of truth
The righteous often can be so judgemental and they are bereft of the gift of ruth,
I never wish to have power over others though what little power i have some try to take from me
Though the majority i know are quite good people i talk of a tiny minority
Who feel they are superior to others that it's an okay thing to put one verbally down
Unfortunately in numbers they are growing in every village and city and town
For to inflate their inflatable egos they do find ways of putting others to the verbal sword
They even have a verbal crack at strangers with their own lives they have to be quite bored
Even on internet sites some who call themselves poets quite nasty disrespect to others feelings they do pay
Suppose some people cannot help the way that they are if about them they do have a nasty way
I cannot lay claim for to be a nice person what we see in others in our own selves we do see
That is a term that applies to many and one of many happens to be me.

An Aussie On Paper

On paper an Aussie i thought i Might be
But that hardly would make an Aussie of me
I don't have the accent as most would agree
So I've decided to become an Aussie on paper not a good idea
A strong North Cork accent i do retain
So an Irishman on paper i will remain
A migrant in Australia and sad for to say
I might feel an outsider in Ireland today
Though my accent some struggle for to understand
I do love Australia this great Southern Land
The land of the World's oldest Indigenous Race
Where them and their culture by right ought to take pride of place
The home of koala and wombat and roo
Of emu, possum, rosella, lyrebird and cockatoo.