Francis Duggan Poems

The day of his ordination his widowed mum's happiest day
To Sainthood she said my son is on his way
She raised him on her own when his dad of a heart attack died
Of her only offspring she took so much pride
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To live life one can only live as good as one can
And respect every woman and respect every man
And never no never put another down
Not even the lowest lowbrow of the town
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Though to hurt others feelings is never in my plan
I must come across as a horrible man
Do not give online comments or expect none as well
The poets write their poetry I pen doggerel.
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Old Guiseppe the fiddler he lives on our street
As happy a fellow as one could wish to meet
He plays on his front porch old tunes every day
The music of Italy so far away
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The home of the badger and the silver back crow
I come from the place where the Cails waters flow
From Kippagh Lake fringed by bracken it babbles it's way
On down through the old fields by night and by day
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Our average life span three decades of years
And what are we but beings of phobias and fears
We compete for honours for success and fame
Though success and failure to us all of the same
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I turn to Nature when I'm feeling down
I go to the park at the top of the town
And sit on the timber bench in the shade of the trees
In a cool spot that's out of the sun and the breeze
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The hardest thing of all to say is the parting goodbye
To friends you never more may see before you travel far by sky
For to start a new life elsewhere far from your old Homeplace
Where you were known by many and your's was a loved face
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I have met some wonderful people and I have met some who are far from nice
Suppose the type of person that you or I are with us is a personal choice
We can be arrogant and judgemental that is if we do wish to be
Or we can be loving and caring at least that's how it seems to me
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I've been penning stuff since I was in my life's prime
For some thirty five years that is going back in time
An addiction to writing is never a crime
But few can write poetry anyone can rhyme
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