Francis Duggan Poems

In Spring in pond in grove by the old streamlet amongst the reeds the moorhen built her nest
A bulky mass just above the water level of flags and long dried grass the material she liked best
On which to lay her six to ten buff eggs with light brown speckles she and her partner busy every day
Feeding their first clutch of dark chicks with ruddy faces who hatched out in the early days of May.
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Chuck Feeney is from Elizabeth in New Jersey Perhaps the greatest person on this earth today
To charities and to other worthy causes he has given four billion dollars away
A renowned philanthropist and a quiet achiever for the betterment of mankind a huge part he play
And yet he never does make the news headlines this quiet man with so few words to say.
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The past is gone forever and what is done is done
And there's not much point in talking of what's been lost and won
And there's not much point in regretting the mistakes you have made
That have cost you a small fortune and for which you have dearly paid.
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In January in nineteen twenty one more than eighty years ago
When the hills of Duhallow and Sliabh Luachra wore their white hats of snow
Near the Cork border in east Kerry Sean Moylan and his freedom fighting men
Shot to death a Tan Soldier and an R I C commander at Tureengarriffe glen.
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The countryside looks lush and greener after the recent rain
And the sheep and cattle with more grass to eat kilos in weight do gain
This place affected less by climate change or so 'twould seem that way
Through the undulating coastal landscape wafts the pleasant scent of hay
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I envy the people who can cope with stress
They are on the high road to happiness
They have anger caused by frustration under control
The one who can laugh under stress has a beautiful soul
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In the City of Sydney at Blackwattle Bay
An environmental crime was committed not in light of day
But in the dark of night someone poisoned some trees
Many of which bore flowers for pollinating bees
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The wattlebirds kept busy all the day
From flowering gum trees chasing them away
But wattlebirds though big are not so fleet
And they can't catch purple crowned lorikeet.
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Dear God I have you to thank for what I am
A very happy and a healthy man
You gave me two good legs to walk around
And two strong hands for to earn and honest pound.
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The gap between the haves and the have nots so sad to say is growing ever wide
And those who live in the poor suburb must not have a god on their side
The Government and politicians in general ignore them it would seem they have taken note
That many who live in the poor suburb do not even bother to vote
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