A September Day
A thing of such great beauty to behold
The wattles resplendent in their blooms of gold
The first week of September and Spring is in the air
And in the green park daisies bloom everywhere,
On a day like this 'tis good to be alive
To start your car and go off on a drive
So great to live to see another Spring
To hear the nesting wild birds chirp and sing,
Were i a poet i would write a simple lay
For to celebrate this beautiful Spring day
To celebrate the beauty i can see
Where the Goddess of Spring has spread her greenery
And the wattles laden in their golden flowers
Look resplendent in these mild September hours.
poem by Francis Duggan
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In The Mind Of A Woman
In the mind of a woman a mother you'll find
For women are loving and caring and kind
The mothering instincts to women belong
Than men less aggressive and more mentally strong,
The men celebrate when the battle is won
But the mother is left for to grieve for her son
She did not raise her son for to be sent afar
For to fight and to die in another man's war
In patriarchal societies deprived of renown
By arrogant males women are still kept down
The mother, the lover, the devoted wife
Without women there would not be human life
The males do compete for the chief of the clan
But it does take a woman for to raise the man.
poem by Francis Duggan
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In Often Very Windy Warrnambool
In Warrnambool another gusty day
A freshening wind blow up from Lady Bay
Through the coastal City bathed in sunshine
Where the pale eyed crows caw on the norfolk pine
In old Warrnambool there's many a wind burnt face
It is indeed a very windy place
O'er Warrnambool the Goddess of the Wind blows in the sky
To the coastal City she must live nearby
The weather it is mostly warm to cool
In often very windy Warrnambool
Where the residents for their hospitality are well known
The natives there have a charm of their own
Where dead leaves on the sidewalks are blown up and down
By the curling winds that blow in the big Town.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Racism And Rank
Racism and Rank are humanity's shame
All people should be equal and the same
But in my lifetime this will never be
In the Human World of inequality
The person born into a so called royal family
Should be no more equal than the likes of you and me
But human society is not structured in this way
And such is life as some are known to say
The facts tell us so and facts do never lie
That human beings are mortals and all born to die
The billionaire like the pauper to the Reaper's scythe must fall
Eventually death comes to one and all
In the Human World inequality of Rank and Race
Seems sad to say will always have a place.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Rosa
'Tis sad to think her I never more will meet
At the shopping complex, in the park or the street
The lilt in her warm hello so lovely to hear
We miss her from the town the lovely old dear
She outlived her husband by a decade or more
They came here together from a distant shore
Their only offspring Joe a noble young man
Did not make it home from the war in Vietnam
Last week Rosa died she was eighty three
Far from her Hometown of Rome in Italy
A beautiful person untainted by guile
And free of conceit she had warmth in her smile
Never more to be seen in the town shopping mall
But fond memories of her are with us to recall.
poem by Francis Duggan
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You Beautiful One
Oh you with the great smile and beautiful face
In my heart for you there is a special place
So often you have helped for to make my day
And so lovely to see you is all I can say
You are one I always feel happy to meet
So beautiful and without any conceit
I feel very lucky why otherwise pretend
To know and to have you as a mentor and friend
In your mind full of insights great wisdom abound
Your intelligence and knowledge of life is profound
You are the person many do wish to know
And with the passing of time your friends in numbers do grow
So warm and caring and free of any guile
You beautiful one with a beautiful smile.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Human Life Can Be Much
Human life can be much like a game of football
The winners we only do wish to recall
The hero as usual kicks the winning score
Tell us something new we have heard it before
For the winner the glory and that says it all
The winner the proud one the winner walks tall
The taste of success it is always so sweet
Whilst only bitterness in the taste of defeat
Even the gallant loser we tend to ignore
For him or her there is never an encore
The winners have earned their right for to boast
And 'tis only to them that we do drink a toast
Human life can be much like a game of football
For those known as losers life's not good at all.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Human Will Never Ceases To Surprise
'Tis hard to keep a good woman or man down
Even the one born on the poorest side of the town
Above the most dire poverty has been known to rise
The human will never ceases to surprise
You've heard about the female billionaire
By circumstance of birth she was not treated fair
A poor child of the poor side of the town
Like 'tis said 'tis hard to keep a good one down
Suppose it is in our life's destiny
That even from the depths of poverty
That one will rise and scale the heights of fame
And the once poor one becomes a celebrated name
Though to rise above poverty one does need
Great self belief as well as the will to succeed.
poem by Francis Duggan
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What To One Is Truth
The truth can be hurtful when spoken without ruth
But then suppose the truth it is the truth
And one lie leads to another it is said
And deceit can only live where truth is dead
But what to one is truth to another is not so
Why this should be you ask one who might know
You ask some how good is that and they say great
Whilst others answer only second rate
We all do look at life quite differently
And what's true to you may not be true to me
Though what's true to me may not be entirely so to you
To the higher self we should try to stay true
And though it's praises we may like to sing
The raw truth it can prove a hurtful thing.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Leave That To
I've never known what it's like real poverty
And I've always been lucky life is good to me
And since I've never known illness or physical pain
I am not one with the right to complain
Leave that to those who are doing it tough
The homeless and destitute who have to live rough
The forgotten people of Poverty Street
Who search in rubbish bins for thrown out food to eat
Leave that to the millions of Stateless refugees
Hungry and subject to every known disease
Life for them a constant survival fight
If they complain they have earned the right
I've lived for sixty one years in time a good span
And I cannot complain I am a lucky man.
poem by Francis Duggan
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