Francis Duggan Poems

What I pen to paper may seem a bit rough
But I'm one addicted to penning of stuff
At this time of year one of Nature must sing
A beautiful time of year is early Spring
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The A P E C protesters in Sydney by politicians dismissed as troublemakers
As if indeed they are the guilty side
But if the Political leaders of wealthy Countries are such good people
Behind protected walls why do they hide?
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As a poet of Nature writing in the English language few with him to compare
But life it was awful for poor sad John Clare
In Northampton asylum he was locked away
And there sad and abandoned he lived his last day
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Christine Gaunt the woman who bought Steve and Annie Durie's house
I used to work for them before I moved to live near Mt Rouse
She emailed me about Steve and Annie's wombat Bob perhaps now in his prime
And living free in Kongwak and having a good time.
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In life may you be happy and your biggest worry small
For one day the high and non achievers to the reaper's scythe must fall
And then to you it will not matter not one little bit at all
If you are one of the forgotten or others your fame recall,
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Human males with big egos are not hard to be found
One might say of them in numbers they abound
Egotistical males dismiss as effeminate males who are gentle and shy
And that they feel challenged by cultured people not hard to understand why
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The grey butcherbird with silvery beak
Pipes on a wattle tree in Ferny Creek
And kookaburra's voice is echoing shrill
On the gum trees on the wooded hill
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I've heard enough from you now please
Don't want to hear of your Uni degrees
Or of how wonderful you are
Or of the size of your new car,
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For thirty three years I've been addicted to rhyme
And I've been penning stuff since I was in my prime
The verses I write I could not hope to sell
Perhaps I am bound for the Poetasters hell.
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In their time the young poets they used to inspire
May they rest in peace the long dead Bards of the Shire
They too knew the glory they too had their day
But in Nature's dark bosom they forever lay.
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