Francis Duggan Poems

We are told that there is a hell and heaven and we are told they are not poets those who write in rhyme
And we are told that old men are too old for love making and in fantasising only waste their time
And we are told the son of god in pre written history did walk upon the waves of Galilee
And died they tell us because of our sins nailed to a timber cross on the Hill of Calvary
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The same for the refugee as for the voluntary migrant if they tell you it would surely be a lie
That they never do think of their first homeland and once never wish to go back home to die
Believe me for i too am a migrant one who has mixed with migrants of every race
And many of them are quite honest with their feelings when they say they often does think of their first homeplace
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In his long lived life he never harmed anyone
His mother and father in him raised a good son
Loved by all who knew him on his side of the town
Jack in word or in deed never put anyone down
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Self improvement as a person is all up to you
For yourself and for others good things you can do
That kindness does beget kindness is not based on a lie
There is far more to living than for me, myself and i
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I pen rhymes about people and places and about the natural beauty i do see
And of the animals and birds i do see often who have their own homes not distant from me
Of life and Nature every day we are learning we learn as we live is only true to say
The book of life is full of endless knowledge and something new to learn of every day
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The welcome swallows of the southern country they fly above the landscape all the day
They spend most of their time chasing flying insects for them it is their only source of prey
Dark shiny back and wings brown throats and dark gray unders the aerial winged speedsters of the southern sky
Hundreds of kilometers every day they do travel the birds who have been born for to fly
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A place that is close to Earthly Utopia the wooded hills above Apollo Bay
In the coastal breeze the tall gum trees are soughing like dancers to music their branches move and sway
Where all year round the wood birds chirp and whistle how lovely on a sunlit day in Spring
To sit on a park bench near to where a creek is babbling and enjoy the peace Nature to the mind does bring
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It has been awhile since i lived in Duhallow in the green country where Blackwater flow
In the fields of rabbit, hare and rook, fox and badger and the bird referred to by many as gray crow
The memories of the past in me are living and on my flights of fancy i do see
The gray fogs of rain creep slowly down the Boggeraghs it does seem Duhallow it has followed me
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So happy looking and down to earth and free of guile
The beautiful young woman with the beautiful smile
She greeted me a stranger as if i were a friend
Nice people i like meeting of this i won't pretend
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In the Len Sprague Reserve near Forrest which is on the way
To the Great Ocean Road Town of Apollo Bay
The sun it is hidden behind clouds of gray
And the blackbirds are singing on this October day
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