Francis Duggan Poems

Upon the leaf litter that covers the ground
The faded rose petals lay scattered around
The last rose of Autumn has answered the call
Of the cold grim reaper and so too must we all.
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He wore dark glasses I could not see his eyes
And the mirror to his soul he did disguise
He hid from the World his personality
Without the eyes a face you only see.
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When Arkle was a champion his legend still seem to grow
They wore the red Cork jersey some thirty years ago
And before the chaser Red Rum jumped to Aintree renown
John Mahony and Mick Loughlin were the toast of Kanturk Town.
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So Sarah it's your birthday twenty two
And a happy birthday red haired one to you
And may all of your dreams for future years come true
And may you achieve the goals that you pursue.
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They party hard and drink their fill
Those marvellous people from Brazil
And to their sambas dance and sway
And play their drums till break of day.
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A symbolist in many ways Austin Clarke the beauty in his words with me remain
A throw back to the Celtic bards of Ireland and will we see the likes of him again?
Yet as a poet he is not highly rated which seems away beyond me to explain
His lost heifer has strayed into the bogland and is disappearing in the mist and rain.
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In the middle of February they always came to Annagloor
And parked their horse drawn vans by the by road the travelling Irish poor
They came for the March horse fair in Millstreet Town horses they bought and sold
And a beautiful Pinto to them was a horse worth more than gold.
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The modern World an unhappy place to live in due in part to egostistical power hungry men
We need the wisdom of wise and ageing women if hearts and minds and peace we are to win
We do not need crazy male ageing bullies who talk peace through the barrel of a gun
These are the type we ought not to look up to in fact they are the type we ought to shun.
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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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Joyce Kilmer was a poet and a soldier and he died in battle in nineteen eighteen
And his famous poem 'Trees' a thing of beauty and it helps for to keep memories of him evergreen
He passed from life in his very early thirties when perhaps his best songs had not yet been sung
And perhaps there might be some truth in the saying that only the very best are taken young.
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