Francis Duggan Poems

How come to him anyone never do pray
Of Satan has anyone good things to say
The religious zealots tell us God is great
Yet their God is their trigger for war and for hate.
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Some of the old Celtic beliefs for some decades survived
After Patrick the missionary from Britain arrived
But he tied us to God and he tied us to Rome
And the Vatican became for the Irish their spiritual home.
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Once friends can become bitter enemies when trust is betrayed
This is how the worst of enemies are quite often made
Or the unfaithfulness of a friend with a husband or partner or wife
On this way the best of friends can become the worst of enemies for life
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The old bloke and his wife enjoying their cake and tea
At Thunder Point overlooking the Pacific sea
Sitting in their car in the evening sunshine
How nice to be out of doors on weather so fine
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For old Claraghatlea and the long gone years
And the what used to be i have shed my last tears
My better years are in the forever gone
And life all around me as usual goes on
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One can only admire those of a sense of place
Life challenges in their original homeplace they do face
From home never wishing to travel elsewhere
For to seek adventure in the big World out there
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Not religious in any way
To any god he does not pray
And friends he does not seek to win
The fellow who does not fit in
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With rhyming words i am one who does love to play
An addiction for me too hard to give away
Forty four years ago when in my life's prime
In the Autumn of seventy three i penned my first rhyme
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In the mostly blue sky just a few clouds of gray
For November and Spring quite a bright sunny day
A forecast high for the afternoon of thirty degrees
And the warm air full of the buzzing of flies and bees
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Memories can last a lifetime but time does not stand still
And so many years have come and gone to the ageless old brown hill
At the stroke of midnight today it will have gone
And tomorrow will not dawn for some but life it will go on
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