Francis Duggan Poems

Though well into his seventies and his better days long gone
The peerless Willie Neenan he keeps on running on
Cork, Munster, Irish and World Championship and other medals by the score
He still runs on the roadway between Millstreet and Rathmore.
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By an affair of the heart his character was soiled
And he spent some time in Reading Jail the amazing Oscar Wilde
And in his wit and writings his legacy lives today
The memory of true genius takes centuries to decay.
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I have written reams and reams of stuff and bugger all my gain
And why i keep on penning on is beyond me to explain
The lesser Goddess of Doggerel she has a hold on me
Addictive behaviour it does seem keeps one in poverty,
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Tis easy for to be judgemental and judgemental people not rare
And i should know as i too am that way and there are plenty like me everywhere
Perhaps we dislike in others what in ourselves we seem to see
The things in others i do not like are the things i do not like in me
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Back there in old Duhallow the frosty fields are gray
And the wildborn birds are silent at the dawning of the day
And the chilly winds of January sough in the naked trees
And ice is on the dark pond from the hard overnight freeze
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An email from a fellow for years i had not seen
A schoool friend from the past decades the likeable Frankie Reen
His daughters now young women and time keeps ticking on
On looking back the decades where have the years to gone?
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The great Goddess of Nature is the one true God for me
I feel i sense her presence in every bush and tree
You may dismiss me as an atheist since to your God i do not pray
But what you think of me is your own business and with me that seems okay
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The blueness of the saltwater the white waves rolling free
In my wild flights of fancy the ocean i can see
The silver gulls and black backed gulls above the white beach cry
And the sun is shining brightly in the clear and sunny sky,
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For some life is a hard journey it is uphill all of the way
And every day of life for them is just another day
Of struggling for survival but still they battle on
The ray of hope remains with them that all is not lost and gone
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The Boggeragh hills white in January snow
In ancient Duhallow where the Blackwater flow
Through that old flat countryside by Derrinagree
On it's way through North Cork on it's way to the sea.
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