Francis Duggan Poems

Everyone for himself or for herself and God for us all
An old saying from the past I can't help but recall
Or survival of the fittest as some like to say
Which may sound a bit selfish but most of us humans this way
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Perhaps I will never again see Hibernia's Shore
Or climb up the high field of green Claramore
For it is a steep one Jack Johnny's high field
That lead to the foot of Clara where grass to bracken yield.
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It has been many years since I left Millstreet in Duhallow
To travel far south my life's dreams for to follow
Yet I'm poorer than ever and far off of glory
Though like all others to tell I too have a life story.
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In the bare lands of saltpans where the brown Murray flow
Where few creatures live and only saltbush grow
Where Australia's First people lived in the Dreamtime
Long before the first book was written and the birth of rhyme
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A non speaking relationship is with one by sight you know
Though not any form of recognition between you does show
Between you and him or her it is never good evening, night or good day
You both pass by in silence with nothing to say
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I may die as I live without much to my name
To be Millstreet's last old fashioned rhymer my one claim to minor fame
The word poet never does apply to such as me
The stuff I pen born to mortality.
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Self conceited and self opinionated are like bonded sister and brother
One might say of them they do go well together
Humility with them is way out of fashion
The love of self only is their only passion
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On paper an Aussie I thought I Might be
But that hardly would make an Aussie of me
I don't have the accent as most would agree
So I've decided to become an Aussie on paper not a good idea
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How others live it never is my business though some make it their business to know mine
Though to them I'm quite close to being a stranger with them I'm never out to wine and dine,
Live and let live I surely do believe in and judge not and thou shalt not be judged to it has a ring of truth
The righteous often can be so judgemental and they are bereft of the gift of ruth,
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I've had my share of down times in my life's wasted years
And I have known grown macho men who were reduced to tears
At the sad news of the passing of a dear friend far away
No person above feelings that would be true to say,
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