Francis Duggan Poems

As a poet he's celebrated and his praises the critics sing
Yet his esoteric writing to it does not have a poetic ring
But that is only my opinion with which many would disagree
What does seem a poet to many does not seem a poet to me
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I had my daydreams of great literary renown
Back there in the old fields west of Millstreet Town
Just dreams of success I was never to know
And that is going back many Seasons ago.
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Though nothing of importance I have for to say
The rhymes in my soul they keep bubbling away
And though they never will bring to me wealth and renown
They keep coming to me and I pen them down
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All of you known to be poetasters of which I must add I am one
Despite lack of success you keep writing for that to you 'tis well done
Literary critics may choose to ignore you but they are rude in their own way
Since everyone who put their thoughts to paper in the wordsmith trade their part does play
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'Tis said he has fleas in his long gray beard the homeless and sad faced old man
And his is such a tough existence at the twilight of his life-time span
He drinks cheap brand wines by the bottle perhaps alcohol his downfall
If you judge him don't judge him too harshly or why should one judge him at all
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For culture and hospitality it has won renown
Port Fairy by the ocean a famous old Town
To it's famous music festival that is held once a year
People from all Nations they come from far and near
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On this morning in June the trout jumping for flies
In Kippagh mountain lake where the Cails river rise
And the skylark he seems a small speck in the sky
As carolling upwards to the gray clouds he fly.
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For their courage and kindness they are known everywhere
In war zones and natural disaster zones you will find them there
With the Nurses of the Red Cross few could hope to compare
One truly can say of them that their type are rare.
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The meaning of life beyond me to explain
It does seem some must lose for some others to gain
Money speaks every language some are known to say
That's life as we know it in the World of today
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Some may call it doggerel and others call it stuff
But I'm not one to say enough is enough
And though my best days in life one might say long gone
Addicted to rhyming I keep penning on.
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