Francis Duggan Poems

When some young men look at a young woman they look at her shape and size
Just like stock judge eyeing a heifer has she points to take a prize
Has she got the well curved figure that they often dream about
For if she doesn't meet their high standards they will quickly rule her out.
...

To say sorry seems such an easy thing to say
But from you that won't take your sense of loss away
You have been burdened with a heavy cross
And time alone can only heal your sense of loss.
...

I once heard him speak in Millstreet I was just a little boy
And the cheers of his supporters re-echoed to the sky
And I asked a man beside me what's the politician's name
And he answered me young fellow that's Sean Moylan from Kiskeam.
...

On the dirt track that leads downhill to Town
I often see old Jude walk up and down
Her shoulders drooped from age she smiles and says good day
To any one she meets along the way.
...

The Sydney Olympics are over but the stories will be re-told
Of the men and women from every Land who competed for gold
But I for one felt happy when the big Games did end
For of sports I have grown weary and why should I pretend
...

On Gertrude Street an old man out for a walk
Draw stares from strangers as to himself he talk
I heard him shout aloud as he looked my way
Though I did not understand what he did say.
...

He's in his early twenties you might say in his prime
And he has not been guilty of any serious crime
Yet for his involvement in a bar brawl his reputation is at stake
But have those who condemn him ever made one mistake? .
...

In a lush damp meadow in Liscreagh
In a rushy clump the brown hare lay
From predators well hid away
He doze and sleep for most of the day.
...

On her last birthday she was seventy yet her dark hair free of gray
And if you did not know what age she was in her fifties you might say
She doesn't use hair dyes or makeup or anti ageing cream
And her secret of eternal youth beyond me it would seem.
...

If I could only describe the beauty around me
The treed hills by the ocean of beautiful Broulee
The cormorant on volcanic rock with wings stretched out to dry
With feathers wet from fishing he finds it hard to fly.
...