Francis Duggan Poems

High above the brown paddock on a calm and windless day
The huge dark brown bird with wedge tail is eyeing the landscape for prey
He kills living creatures and scavenges on the dead
The great wedge tailed eagle Aussie born and bred.
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It may not be in your Homeland that you will rest in peace
Not every Greek person is resting in Greece
Amongst Nature's bosom we are destined for to lay
From what is inevitable we cannot get away,
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My heroes or heroines aggression they never do show
For their acts of kindness them we only know
For to help others out they go out of their way
They are the unsung of the World of today
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I may live far south of Hibernia's shore
And of the old high fields of green Claramore
But in my flights of fancy i hear the birds sing
On their nesting time in the prime of the Spring.
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He is grieving for his terrier old Peter
For thirteen years his dog his truest friend
He bought him at the pet shop when his wife Mariah passed on
But every life has to come to an end.
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The old poets and poetesses they were master wordsmiths
Though literary styles have changed much since their time
For all others they are a hard act to follow
Since they mastered the art of penning perfect rhyme.
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A sunny and beautiful March evening just over twenty degrees
And in the old town by the ocean a refreshing and cool coastal breeze
Is blowing up the street from saltwater it is such a beautiful day
Not too warm or too cool near to perfect or so it does seem to me anyway
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Tall and slim and well into her fifties with blond dye she covers her gray
And though she does not seem to need to lose weight she jogs in the park every day
Perhaps with her it is an addiction and our addictions rule us as some think and say
And she is not any different to others we are all addictive in some way.
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He is one who has a big ego not humble in any way young Fred
And he fancies himself as a top lover he boasts that he is good in bed
He turned twenty four last September he is in the prime of his life
And when asked does he one day hope to marry he says why should i have a wife
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Bryan Waller Procter wrote under the pen name of Barry Cornwall
He was a very under rated poet
He was the father of Adelaide Anne Procter
The poetess and hymn writer and one worthy of note.
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