Francis Duggan Poems

Monarch butterflies were flitting above the smoke
And one of the New York firemen dousing the still smouldering ashes spoke
Saying those are the souls of the many who died here
On silent wings to heaven's gate they near.
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The 'Private Property' sign still on the entrance gate
But the old owner I have not seen of late
The man is gone but the house and land remain
And in death we lose the things in life we gain.
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The children taunt old Jenny they say you can't chew meat
And you must eat your porridge you don't have any teeth
They call her Gummy Jenny and then they run away
And when she yells 'you go to hell' it only makes their day.
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Bill Mendy is not scared of the grim reaper
For he has spent his boyhood years in hell
The story of his life he never relate
As such a story too painful to tell.
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Those green fields of Kilmeedy I do remember still
They meet the gorse and bracken at the foot of Clara hill
A place of peace and beauty with mountains all around
Scarce touched by man's pollution where Nature's joys abound.
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She has been diagnosed as one with manic depression
Her moods swings from the very low to very high
But Linda is a warm and loving person
And she takes good care of her little boy.
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Oh Yeats you wrote of this terrible beauty
And in your great poem you glorified death
But it's been proved that even suicide cases
At their last moment will struggle for breath.
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Those who know her know her as the Moggie Woman
She has thirty cats and kittens in her care
She finds stray cats and carries them home with her
And with feline company her home she share.
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Jim the painter's ex wife Millie says she loved him
But I grew tired of him she'll have you know
He would not work his heart was set on sketching
And his great dream was to have his work on show.
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A quarter moon shines in the starlit sky
And a dog is barking in the yard nearby
In answer to the fox's wild shrill cry
And moths and insects around the street lamps fly.
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