Francis Duggan Poems

Slowly down the pavement with the aid of a walking frame she shuffles on yard by yard
For a frail octogenarian life can be so hard
The sparrows are chirping in the Winter sunshine
If I reach her age her lot well may be mine.
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Perhaps he'll never again on a sunlit evening in May
Cimb and stand on the hill above the woodland from here so far away
And watch and hear the brown lark singing a small speck in the sky
The songster of the mountain to sing he has to fly,
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We cannot live in the future the future of us is ahead
And the past has gone forever though memories of it are not dead
We can only live in the here and now though the clock keeps ticking on
And the future we don't know about and the past forever gone
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Feel lucky if he says hello if him you do meet
The unsociable fellow who lives on our street
'Tis a huge effort for him just to say good day
He always does seem stuck for something to say
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My wallet empty of money but my ego is fully blown
The weaknesses I have I cannot disown
The big ego compels me more doggerel to write
Without ego I would not have stuff on this site
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Some ask me to read and rate their poetry though their poetry seems all good to me
I am not a literary critic and I do not have a literary degree
In a Literary World of millions of wordsmiths not everybody can be great
Though some the critics do rate highly and many they do not even rate
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Old Jake can lay claim to the tag of the true evergreen
So much of the great World we live in he has seen
Unmarried he fathered a daughter who has children to him she does not live anywhere near
One he has not seen for well over a year,
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I have to accept what life to me does bring
And I am my own person and I do my own thing
To hurt others feelings I am uninclined
I don't like those who treat others in ways unkind
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A descendant of the Irish blue eyes and shoulder length hair of brown
Yet she has never seen Hibernia's shore or her great Grandparents Hometown
Or the ruins of their stone cottage beside the purling rill
That ever flows to the river from it's birthplace by the hill.
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So many with heavy life crosses to bear
Who constantly live on the brink of despair
Of ever rising above their extreme poverty
There is no such a thing as human equality.
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