Francis Duggan Poems

Extinction is forever that seems sad to say
And more life forms becoming extinct every day
Like trying to re-create the paper we've given the fire for to burn
The dead to life never more ever return
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In fancy I hear the mass bell ringing the faithful in to pray
And the choral singers singing hymns in the old church far away
And though I have lost the gift of faith the memories with me stay
Of sunday mornings in the old Town long before my hair turned gray
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In others pain we were born and in our own pain we will die
And that does apply to everyone as well as to you and I
Created out of pleasure 'tis pleasure that gives rise to the birth of every girl and boy
And pleasure surely is a thing that all of us enjoy.
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I've been a student of Mother Nature but for how long I cannot say
Ever since I've been a young boy in a Country far away
From this great Southern Land of Australia about Nature I got to know
In North Cork in Duhallow where the great Blackwater flow
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Through the park well trimmed and green from places rank and brown
The creek from the hills flows through the Countrytown
On it's long journey it babbles night and day
To the sea going river from here far away.
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As gray as a badger one of him might say
And a badger is one who looks hoary and gray
His wife she is living with a far younger bloke
About that says Willie my heart is not broke
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They do not love each other or so 'twould appear
For the neighbours will tell you them they often hear
Shouting at each other in an aggressive way
I only quote here what I hear others say
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Since you live a long way from Poverty Street
How many poor people today did you meet?
You say that the poor for being poor only have themselves for to blame
Yet the name of one poor person you cannot name
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I must be addicted to penning of stuff
With me it does seem no such thing as enough
In the Literary World good writers are rare
There are plenty like me in the big World out there.
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His song loud for a small bird yet melodious and clear
The greyish brown bird with the red poll I fancy I hear
Singing in the leafy wood in the prime of the May
The past I re-visit almost every day.
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