Francis Duggan Poems

I suppose for our acts of self abuse in some ways we must pay
I picked up a bloke who was hitching a lift at 10-30 a.m. today
As he hobbled out of Wonthaggi minus his shirt and shoes
He said he had lost them somehow on his night out on the booze.
...

Nick Rackard was a very famous hurler as famed as Mick Mackey or Christy Ring
And when i was young he used to play for Wexford and great excitement to the game did bring
His seven goals and seven points against Antrim in an All Ireland semi final in championship hurling still a record score
And hardly ever likely to be beaten and probably will stand forever more.
...

It surely is a dog's life after all
Old Jedder after years of chasing ball
Her arthritic hips damaged beyond repair
And her balance going the price of wear and tear.
...

Of life after death the mystery has grown
And there must be more to us than flesh and bone
For the human remains the funeral bell may toll
But life goes on as usual for the soul.
...

Young Aaron is a bright and budding poet
And for the future he is one to note
And all of his class mates say his poems are good
And are well written and easily understood.
...

I still recall a memory from my childhood
Long years ago and many miles away
The robin on the flowering hawthron singing
And the high fields wore their wildflowers of the May.
...

In her love songs the light of feelings shine
And to her credit not one slip shod line
And she could have lived on matured like good wine
But Sara chose to die at forty nine.
...

The one on portrait hanging on the wall
Perhaps the best that history can recall
He lived and worked five hundred years ago
And still the legend of Leonardo grow.
...

How come we hear so much about male heroes
And men feature mostly in brave deeds we recall
One would believe that there were never heroines
And that women not important after all? .
...

The wombat leaves his home in ground at evening in the gloaming
And through the glen the wooded glen in search of sweet grass go roaming
And across the glen the silent glen the veil of darkness creeping
And silence reign under night's cloak and all day creatures sleeping.
...