Francis Duggan Poems

The clock of time on our lives ticking on fast
And to reach the present we have come from the past
We must die like the sheep or the dog or the cow
And the future ahead and we live in the now
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I am not unlike millions of others in my own ways i can be quite small
To be flawed it is said only human does seem to be true after all
Though kind and compassionate people i do meet almost every day
So many can be quite judgemental or racist in some sort of way
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Perhaps one in his early sixties it was not of old age he died
Only know he lived in Caherbarnagh in the mountainy countryside
Had he married and fathered children were things of him i did not know
This true son of old Caherbarnagh where into manhood he did grow
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With shoulder length hair of silvery gray
One i do see often though not every day
She must be quite close to her ninetieth year
The one who is known as the lovely old dear
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So many to become invisible without success have tried
From Big Brother's eyes there is nowhere to hide
His disciples tell him where you are night and day
From them you can never hope to hide away
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Though in distance from them i do live far away
The friends of my past i remember today
The bond of friendship weakened due to absence but good memories of them with me remain
And sometimes in my thoughts i meet them again
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The working poor Worldwide are in majority
So many of them are in dire poverty
The gap between the haves and the have nots keeps on growing ever wide
Far too many of a fair go in life are denied
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In Summer and Fall on every sunny day
They fly in their undulating zig zagging way
The butterflies known to many as the cabbage white
Along with their brown cousins a familiar sight
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If it were not easy to do it then it would not be for me
I find penning rhyme easy as easy can be
I've been rhyming for close to four decades and that is going back in time
And just like i told you anybody can rhyme
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If somebody does write his life's story in book sales it would do quite well
For it would make for interesting reading and thousands of copies would sell
He has been in so many Countries and he has worked in many a town
And the wanderlust it is still in him perhaps he'll never settle down
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