Francis Duggan Poems

The hare she has her babies in the high grass and each in a different spot she hides away
Perhaps a better chance of some of them of growing to adults though dog or fox or cat on one might prey
This could be the reason she don't keep all in the one nest an anti predator device by Nature for the hare
But then for that there may be other reasons since her secrets with us Nature never share
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For far too long the Land of blood and tears
This conflict seems to have gone on for years
Though Yeltzin and Putin don't feel any shame
The Chechen rebels for this war they blame.
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Happy Birthday to you Genevieve today you are twenty nine
And with age you have grown mellow like the good expensive wine
And on looking back a decade the years simply seemed to fly
And hope this tenth day of August is a day you will enjoy.
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Some 50 kilometres out of the next country town
The miles of flat paddocks looking gray to brown
The hues of Australia are gray, brown and green
This great Land looks different to others you've seen.
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The weather warming up a bit it's getting warm today
And people for the weekend will be heading for the bay
To do a bit of fishing and relax by the sea
To surf or go skin diving or have a sea side tea.
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The more I learn about Nature the less I realize I know
About how creatures live in wild state, about how plants and grasses grow
About how flowers close in the evening and open to the morning light
We learn every day from Nature and we learn from what others write.
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I am not a poet I never said I was I just pen doggerel
The sort of stuff that few bother to read and I cannot hope to sell
I've been rhyming for many years and though my better days long gone
Until the Reaper claims the life from me I will keep penning on
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No such a thing as God's chosen people if there is a God he's for all
For a God than us would be far greater in our judgements we are so small
God would judge everyone as an equal no matter the Race or the name
The believers or the non believers a true God would treat as the same.
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Old enough to hold a car and truck licence and old enough to vote
And old enough to have a gun licence and operate a small fishing boat
And old enough to recognize an apple from a quince
Yet not old enough to be blessed with much sense
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He is a poetry expert at least he feels that way
And on what others write which is their business he likes to have his say
The chance to offend people he choose to dislike but does not know he never fails to miss
Just one more arrogant ignoramus to him ignorance is bliss
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