Some die of natural causes some in a tragic way
But for every single one of us a final night and day
Without respect for the power of wealth and without respect for fame
Death the great equalizer treats everyone as the same
Without death, bloodshed and suffering wars are never won
And only hatred and grief survives when the fighting is done
And war heroes honoured in every war street parade
By war men the memories of war not allowed for to fade
You go to your house of worship to your God to pray
But that your Government execute people with you is okay
When you tell me that all bad people deserve to die
Are you trying to say Moses Fifth Commandment is a lie?
My best years of life in the past and long gone
But 'tis the fear of death makes us want to live on
Old age is a punishment as some do say
But for each one of us there's a last night and day
Turned the dark brindled stag-hound of years only two
To hunt and kill wildlife he was bred to do
And what stag-hounds are good at Turner was too
But unfortunately he chased and caught and killed a protected species a kangaroo
He abused his powers though in that he had a choice
For all wrongs against others there is a huge price
For to pay to Karma that is Karma's way
And though Milosevic is deceased the price he did pay
From Meelin he came to Millstreet Town to die
For Ireland with a bullet in hie eye
And though more than eighty years since then have come and gone
The name of brave McCarthy still lives on.
Why worry of death and of dying when you will be forever dead
The present is all that does matter who knows for us what lay ahead
We will die that we know for certain and we only can live in the now
The father of time is our master and to the father of time we must bow
As i stood in phone booth by Swansea road
The sky was dark though street lights brightly glowed
And those street lights lit the busy motorway
And i could see as if it were bright day.
You won't find any life around where his remains will lay
And words of praise won't bring him back his soul has gone away
And though he died young at fifty one suppose he had his day
And for flying in fast planes you might say there is a price to pay.
'Twas Shane who gave the spotted dove to me
That he'd found by the Pittosporum tree
From upper branch she'd fallen to the ground
Though predator he had not seen around.
Though from religious zealots of damnation we hear
Why should i fear death when there is nothing to fear
Save the thought of dying and the nothingness of death
And the thought of the pain one might feel before life's final breath.
Those enamoured by death who of immortality dream
Suffer of delusion or so it does seem
For in the scale of time everything seems to fade
And the dead cannot witness their memorial parade.
Death comes to the living at the end of their life
It happens to the husband and it happens to the wife
It happens to the girl and it happens to the boy
Some granted a short spell for to live and enjoy,
Nations with the death penalty in place have nothing to feel proud of
Such Governements sadly lacking in humanity
Any Government that condone such a practice are not human rights friendly
No matter who they are it would seem to me.
The City was quiet under Winter dawn skies
And so few on the street before sunrise
But gunfire on Flinders Lane did echo around
Amongst two badly injured one dead to be found.
Death may create Martyrs but facts never lie
You cannot help your Country if for it you die
You may not like or agree with what I have to say
That a living coward is worth more than a dead hero I see it that way
Though some wish for death life's a wonderful thing
And for as long as one can one to it ought to cling
Though many to their unseen God in the Universe pray
Our last day of life on Planet Earth may well be our last day
Like many the very thought of death I fear
Yet for me with each ticks of the clock that moment draws near
The moment when the last life sustaining breath of air I will draw
To be born to die that is Nature's law
No need to tell me of the death of rhyme
Or of the prose like poetry of our time
And when you tell me that poets are only few
You are not saying anything that is new
Australia's wealthiest person Kerry Packer has died the breath of life from him has gone
Seven billion in money 'twas said that he had but life without him will go on
Sixty eight years of age he was not very old his money failed to keep him alive
And only the healthiest few it does seem to a ripe old age do survive,
On the internet in the Irish Examiner death notices on this the twelfth of May
I read of how Fintan Kiely one I knew had passed away
Into the great hereafter his fate our fate one day
And the years go by so quickly we soon grow old and gray.
He had been dead for a couple of years something I had not known
A citizen of Claraghatlea the man called Mattie Owen
And sad I felt to hear such news his passing caused regret
I knew him since I was a boy and him I won't forget.
His death was of his own choosing in a place he loved so well
Near the pub he often frequented the famed Bayswater Hotel
Jimmy Ellis gone forever but the memories will remain
Of one who worked hard and drank hard will we see his likes again?
Though his passing has caused many tears for to flow
How can I weep for one I did not know
Mourned by his fans and friends and family and by his fourth wife
He did know of fame and fortune in his life.
I do not fear death 'tis the thought of it I do fear
And of the death of one I know when I read of or hear
I think of my mortality and time on us doesn't wait
For with the dreaded Reaper I too do have a date
Like most others of the fear of death I'm one who does know
But I hope it comes quickly not painful and slow
That the Reaper with his sharp scythe doesn't leave me to slowly die
I do fear such an end of that why should I lie
Though he has just celebrated his one hundred birthday he talks of his birthday next year
The fear of death keeps us all living the ego of death lives in fear
He may have lived a happy and a long life but he has no wish for to die
The fear of death keeps us all living that's a fact and facts never lie
We all do have our own small fears and phobias
The most courageous often go to an early grave
But I for one would rather die of old age
And leave it to the fearless to die young and brave.
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.
Nostalgia at his heart pricks like a thorn
His thoughts are of the Land where he was born
And a beautiful woman he once loved there
Miliza with the curly ginger coloured hair.
No not a sound the still like silence break
Save for the noise the babbling river make
And robin he doesn't sing his merry song
On cypress tree by cottage of Jer Long.
In Claraghatlea she raised her family
She had lived there for half a century
And in Claraghatlea her life came to an end
And you could not wish for a better friend.
He was some man Bill the Basher standing near seven foot tall
And with a build to match his great height near him big men looked quite small
And with his great thirst for liquor he gave himself a bad name
As a drunkard and a brawler an unwanted sort of fame.
Tears of lament young Anna cried
On the day her little rabbit died
The timid creature's name was Jim
And she felt very fond of him.
I'll not be seeing him anymore
Sitting by the back porch door
My border collie 'Bobelleen'
A truer friend there's never been.
A hot day in mid January and scarce a puff of breeze
And John and Dave in cherry picker up by power line trimming trees
The cut back from the line three metres and the order cut to code
A mile out of olinda just off mount Dandy Road.
Arguably the greatest woman athlete ever
The story of her greatness has been told
'Flo Jo' the former World champion sprinter
And Flo Jo the winner of Olympic Gold,
When last I saw John Healy what year offhand don't know
It must have been in the late sixties now that seems long ago
As we shook hands in parting he said again soon we will meet
If not in New York City then maybe in Millstreet.
In all of his photos he seems very happy he wears a big smile on his face
And he longs for his execution to go off to that better place
As his reward for murdering people in that paradise beyond the sky
He believed what his mentors had told him and because of them he will die.
'Tis sad to think that he is gone forever
And that in Claraghatlea he won't be seen again
His wife and children left to grieve his passing
But memories of Denis Healy will remain.
For many years she lived in the Parish where I grew to be a man
And in human years one might say she had a lengthy span
And Julia was in her early nineties when the reaper called her name
Still at the sad news of her passing I felt saddened just the same.
The last man to have the 'Master nickname' Denny from Claraghatlea has gone
But the memories of the Masters forever will live on
And their souls are still around the place their bodies only died
And in the bogs and fields of Claraghatlea their spirits still reside.
Poetry now seen for the elite and what was the peoples at one time
Now belong to exclusive clubs and colleges since the death of good old rhyme
This the age of so called blank verse and the era of the modern poet
To new age high brows at poetry readings new age writers stanzas from their own poems quote.
I remember her from Claraghatlea she was six years younger than I
And on looking back the decades the time just seemed to fly
And now I've heard the sad news from all of those miles away
That Catherine dear Catherine with the dead of Ireland lay.
I did know Maurice O Connor knew him since he was a boy
And I've been told that he has died which prompts me to ask why?
Why must a good fellow like him die and he yet not in his prime?
But I'm sure that question has been asked by others many a time.
I heard about the death of Mary Kiely
And sorry the only word that I can say
She was a nice and kind and caring person
And memories of her just won't fade away.
By sense of loss I now feel moved to tears
And I have not felt so sad as this for years
And deeper, deeper cuts the mental knife
Since work mate he gave up his gift of life.
Erin will remember when others have forgot
Her lovely Shetland pony Camelot
Loose on the road and luck not on his side
Struck by a car near Belgrave Heights he died.