Francis Duggan Poems

The old poetess Ann sat by the fire she was in the mood for rhyme
Her thoughts were of her younger years when she was in her prime
When she was with the sheep shearer Dave the great love of her life
The man who fathered her son Joe and who took her for his wife.
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What's life about the years and months go by
And are we only born to age and die
And is there life beyond the grave of death
Or do we die forever when we draw our final breath?
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The potential for goodness is in all of Humankind
And in the very worst person some good traits you'll find
It is just that something in their thinking in some way has gone wrong
And some human frailty is even found in the mentally strong.
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In Claraghatlea by Millstreet Town where I once did reside
The dreams I had of poetic fame in those old green fields died
I never did become a poet for poets are very few
And dreams of course are only dreams and dreams seldom come true.
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In the cold depths of Winter the grey butcherbird sing
And only nine weeks or thereabouts till the first breath of Spring
Five days ago of daylight hours the year's shortest day
And time it keeps ticking and ticking away.
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No you are not that special not one of the chosen few
And the woman that you married she does not belong to you
And each an individual though you do not see it that way
For you think that you own her just going by what you say.
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'Tis true the more knowledge we acquire the less we know we know
And for the decades that we live if we only have to show
A financial institution we did create that does not seem much at all
For the greatest human achievement when compared to Nature small.
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The beauty of her Village and none so fair as she
Way back in the mid fifties she was the pride of Knocknagree
One in her early twenties then and all but in her prime
She did not go unnoticed and she inspired the poets to rhyme.
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All of those I went to school with now looking the worst for wear
And those of them who are not using hair dye must have much gray in their hair
And some gone to the Reaper and others from Millstreet live far away
Whilst others in Duhallow have chosen for to stay.
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The sun is out and shining though a chill is in the air
And in the depths of Winter a morning such as this is rare
The traffic on the Freeway I hear it buzzing by
Such a noisy intrusion few if any enjoy.
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