Francis Duggan

Francis Duggan Poems

8681. Your Life Story Ought Be Told 1/18/2008
8682. Your Lucky Last Five Dollars 1/31/2008
8683. Your Mother 1/27/2008
8684. Your New Year Resolution 3/2/2008
8685. Your Noble Old Hero 5/18/2008
8686. Your Own Business 9/8/2009
8687. Your Past 3/25/2008
8688. Your Pride In A Flag 12/19/2007
8689. Your Reckoning Day 6/19/2009
8690. Your Relationship With Nature 2/29/2008
8691. Your Religion Is Your Religion 1/18/2010
8692. Your Stories Mate 1/17/2008
8693. Your True Friend 6/18/2008
8694. Your True Friends 4/27/2008
8695. Your Word Is Your Honour 4/5/2008
8696. Your Word Should Be Your Bond 9/25/2008
8697. Your Worth As A Person 11/20/2008
8698. Youth And Age 3/18/2008
8699. Youth Has To Have It's Fling 5/19/2008
8700. Youth Will Have It's Fling 7/21/2008
8701. Youth Will Have It's Fling This Well May Be 3/30/2009
8702. Youth's A Blissful Thing 7/23/2008
8703. You'Ve Got A Big Ego 5/14/2008
8704. You'Ve Journeyed Far In Your Long Life 4/21/2008
8705. You'Ve Lived For Seventy Years 8/23/2008
8706. You'Ve Travelled The Miles 7/6/2008
8707. Yvonne Delacy's Brainchild 4/30/2008
8708. Yvonne's Sixtieth Birthday 2/27/2008
8709. Zac 2/7/2008
8710. Zephyr Hart 2/17/2008
8711. Zinnedine Zidane 5/26/2008
8712. Zoo Lion 1/24/2008
Best Poem of Francis Duggan

Racism Is Around Me Everywhere

Of human ignorance I am almost in despair
For racism is around me everywhere
But like they say sheer ignorance is bliss
Just like Judas betrayed Jesus with a kiss.

Some people carry their honour in a flag
And of their Nationality they brag
They feel superior and they differentiate
And against those who are different they discriminate.

So many people still judged by their race
For such there never ought to be a place
'A fair go' those untruthful words I do recall
There is no such a thing as a 'fair go for all'.

Though we live in a so called ...

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Return Of The Redwings

O'er hills and fields and moonlit rural town
The redwings in their thousands journey down
From cold northlands to southern places bound
Again they fly back to their wintering ground

In early November I can still recall
In colder weather towards end of the Fall
Of hearing redwings in the starry sky
The migrant thrushes give voice as they fly.

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