Francis Duggan

Francis Duggan Poems

13081. Your Teary Eyed Day 4/26/2016
13082. Your True Friend 6/18/2008
13083. Your True Friends 4/27/2008
13084. Your Waking Nightmare 6/18/2016
13085. Your Word Is Your Honour 4/5/2008
13086. Your Word Should Be Your Bond 9/25/2008
13087. Your Worth As A Person 11/20/2008
13088. Your Worth As A Person You So Often Do Doubt 2/24/2016
13089. Your Worth As A Person You Well May Doubt 9/24/2016
13090. Your Worth As A Writer You Often Do Doubt 6/12/2016
13091. Your Worth As A Writer You Sometimes 5/25/2016
13092. Youth And Age 3/18/2008
13093. Youth Has To Have It's Fling 5/19/2008
13094. Youth Must Have It's Fling 1/22/2016
13095. Youth Will Have It's Fling 7/21/2008
13096. Youth Will Have It's Fling This Well May Be 3/30/2009
13097. Youth's A Blissful Thing 7/23/2008
13098. You'Ve Got A Big Ego 5/14/2008
13099. You'Ve Journeyed Far In Your Long Life 4/21/2008
13100. You'Ve Lived For Seventy Years 8/23/2008
13101. You'Ve Travelled The Miles 7/6/2008
13102. Yvonne Delacy's Brainchild 4/30/2008
13103. Yvonne Harrington 4/14/2016
13104. Yvonne's Sixtieth Birthday 2/27/2008
13105. Zac 2/7/2008
13106. Zephyr Hart 2/17/2008
13107. Zinnedine Zidane 5/26/2008
13108. Zoo Lion 1/24/2008
13109. Zumba In Aubane 11/9/2016
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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