Halls Gap
From the oval at Halls Gap the football and cricket ground
The view it is breathtaking of the wooded hills all around
On a warm and a pleasant evening in September of the year
'Twould seem to me Utopia to Halls Gap is quite near
No factory chimney to pollute the sky the Grampians air is clean
And in the early weeks of Spring the place looking so green,
The grey shrike thrush is whistling on a black wattle tree
And Nature's splendid beauty is everywhere around me
I envy Halls Gap's residents the people born to win
Such a beautiful part of the World they happen to live in,
A Town surrounded by hills as fair as i have known
For natural beauty Halls Gap with the best can hold it's own
And from the football oval breathtaking scenery
The wooded hills resplendent in Nature's greenery.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Beauty Is All Around Me
A walk in the garden of Nature and for it such a beautiful day
And the white backed magpie is fluting on a high branch of an old mountain gray
The scrub wrens in the undergrowth chirping their nest must be somewhere nearby
On this warm morning in September with the sun shining in the clear sky.
A warm day in the wooded hills in September with the slightest hint of a breeze
The crimson rosellas are chirping amongst the gum and wattle trees
And kookaburras at their border calling their voices one cannot mistake
One of the first heard in the woodland they even call before daybreak.
The Asian myna not the finest songster is proclaiming his territory
And the red wattlebirds utter their hoarse calls their names from their fleshy jewellery
And the butcherbird pipes in the gully he has his borders to defend
At nesting time he becomes aggressive and his own kind not even his friend.
A warm sunny day in September in a place that to Nature belong
The wooded hill scent of flowers and blossoms and resound to the lilt of bird song
The golden billed blackbird is piping amongst the leafy greenery
And I have good cause to be happy for beauty is all around me.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Amongst The Quiet Of Nature
Amongst the quiet of Nature with wooded hills around
The harsh cawings of the ravens the only living sound
In the nice Winter sunshine it is a pleasant day
From life's many cares and worries a place for to hide away,
Of an Earthly Utopia 'tis not hard to visualize
Where Nature in all of her splendour is beauty to the eyes
I too am part of Nature like all creatures great and small
And memories of Nature's beauty are marvellous memories to recall,
An artist on her canvas would try to capture such a scene
And I enjoy remembering the beauty I have seen
And the unmistakeable sounds of Nature on a sunny Winter's day
Like the clear flute of the magpie on trees not far away
A lovely day in Winter of around eighteen degrees
And in the stony valley there is scarce a puff of breeze.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In The Local Football Oval
In the floodlight lit football oval each weeknight after tea
I hear the young men shouting as they train diligently
As their coach puts them through their training drills their exuberance I hear
They sprint about in the chill night air in the coldest time of year.
Some of the young players under twenty they have their dreams of fame
That they yet may become famous in Australia's only indigenous game
To play in an Australian Football League Grand final would be a dream come true
A dream that's dreamt by many and realized by only a few.
In the well lit football oval they kick ball and sprint around
And in their endeavour to become match fit they cover miles of ground
And they perform push ups and pull ups and natural muscle in this way they gain
For one cannot expect sporting success if for success you do not train.
In the local football oval where dreams are born and die
The shoutings of the young men echoes to the starry sky
In the chill evening air of late Autumn you hear them cheer and shout
As they race through the oval and chase the ball about.
I hear them every evening from six thirty till after eight
In the local football oval five hundred metres from my front gate
The town's young budding football stars not quite yet in their prime
And they dream of sporting greatness that will withstand the test of time.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
It Is A Warm Day For September
It is a warm day for September around the 25 degrees
The nesting birds chirping and singing with only a very faint breeze
The Goddess of Spring in her glory the pittosporums in their grey flowers
The paddocks looking lush and greener as a result of the early Spring showers
On a blackwood tree the grey shrike thrush is whistling his voice so melodious and clear
And wildflowers bloom in woods and in paddocks Spring is such a nice time of year
A very warm day for September the sun shining in the clear sky
In the wooded park by the mountain the rosellas chirp as they fly
Such beautiful parrots to look at of mottled brown and bright crimson and blue
Better known as crimson rosellas to their given names they are true
The white backed magpies and blackbirds are piping it is such a beautiful day
And the first butterflies of the Season with brown spots on their wings white to gray
Are flying in the sunlit parkland around the blossoming trees
On this warm day for September of a high of 25 degrees.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
September In Her Finest
The sun is brightly shining the frogs sing in pond and drain
These shy and tiny amphibians their songs tell us of rain
And Spring is all around me the beauty of the Spring
The wattles in their yellow flowers the birds whistle and sing.
September in her finest she wears her cloak of green
And everywhere one turns to look there's beauty to be seen
A poet in such a Landscape would truly feel inspired
Of talking of Nature's beauty one never could grow tired.
Some pray for an Utopia beyond this Earthly shore
In a world of eternal youth for to live forever more
But this the nearest place to Utopia that i will ever know
And how many more Seasons will i see come and go?
September in her finest it is a lovely day
The tiny wrens hop on the ground in search of insect prey
And birds are whistling on the trees in the afternon sunlight
So much to write of in Nature for those who love to write.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Peppercorn Tree
Such a nice work of Nature and pretty for to see
And pleasant for to scent it's leaves the peppercorn tree
To look at not unlike the weeping willow it's branches hanging down
A thing of natural beauty in a garden of the town,
The beautiful peppercorn trees have a style of their own
And only natural beauty in Nature's World known
Had i the gift of poetry of Nature i would write
Of things such as the rich green peppercorn tree lovely in the noon sunlight
It never loses it's leaves it is an evergreen
Such lovely things in Nature we take for granted to be seen
The strong though pleasant peppercorn like aroma blown out by the freshening breeze
That blow up from the coastal lands through the peppercorn trees
Such a nice work of Nature or so 'twould seem to me
It does have it's own beauty the peppercorn tree.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Bohol, Land Of Chocolate Hills
Bohol, land of chololate hills
Melvin Banggollay
B-OHOL, Land of the famous chocolate hills
Cradles the smallest primate ever to exist,
The world renown Philippines tarsiers
That loves to cling upon ruboust small trees
As they stare with their round eyes so big.
O-ver its verdant valleys, I have seen many hills
With wonderful scenery sharing nature's gifts
As they speak to us geographical mysteries
And nature's wonder with the beautiful hills
Scattered around with their perfect cone shapes.
H-eaven I behold when I reach the famous hills
and extend my eye upon the horizon of the hills
For I have seen nature's captivating scenery
of cone shape hills that radiates God's mysteries
And his artistic inclination when he made all these.
O-ver the sky, birds from the heaven fly with glee
As they sing with song of praises as they are free
To soar upon the blue sky as they enjoy the scenery
With a promise that they will never destroy the beauty
Of this abode and sanctuary of nature's tapestry.
L-ove our land and never rape its wealth and beauty
But be stewards of God in protecting all its scenery
with all it creation upon its wide verdant valleys
Like the birds, the tarsiers and other wildlife sanctuary
For our children children to behold these someday
poem by Melvin Banggollay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Discarded Lines From Famous Poems
I wandered lonely as a cloud
that floated on high o'er vales
and hills, when all at once I saw a
crowd of football hooligans so I legged it.
What is this life if full of care,
we have no time to stand and stare,
because the stewards make us sit down.
Solomon Grundy
born on a Monday
christened on a Tuesday
supported Sheffield Wednesday.
The Owl and the Pussycat went to sea
in a beautiful pea-green boat
they took some honey, and plenty of money,
because mascots weren't allowed on the coach.
If you can keep your head when all about you
are losing theirs, and blaming it on you,
if you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
then you'll make a good manager my son.
All the worlds a stage,
and all the men and women players,
they have their exits and entrances,
that's football for you!
poem by Kevin Halls
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
On The Second Week Of January
On the second week of January I hear the shrike thrush sing
His flute like notes so pleasant to them have a familiar ring
And Spring is but a memory and Summer near her prime
And that birds sing out of Season happens all of the time.
The piping of the white backed magpie his is a familiar song
By their songs Nature's feathered minstrels one cannot get them wrong
A pleasant Summer's morning 'twill make a pleasant day
And the paddocks of Wonthaggi scent sweetly of baled hay.
In a clearing I am standing surrounded by scrub trees
In such places the Aboriginal dancers had their Corroborees
They danced on Summer evenings before the sun went down
Long before there was a Gippsland or a Wonthaggi Town.
A morning on the second week of January with a warm summery breeze
And a forecast high for the afternoon of 25 degrees
One might say perfect weather for the time of year
North in New South Wales and Queensland 'tis warmer by far than here.
On the second week of January the weather warm and dry
And a goldfinch he is singing on a wattle tree nearby
And brown butterflies are dancing in the sunny morning sky
And Mother Nature's natural beauty is for all to enjoy.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
For To See One More Spring
How marvellous to live for to see one more Spring
To feel the sun's warmth and to hear the birds sing
The sweet scents of Nature of pollen and hay
That wafts in the breeze of a beautiful day.
In search of water surface insects young ducklings are out
With their mums in the Townpark lake quietly swimming about
And the pipe of the shrike thrush is so pleasant to hear
In Nature Spring is such a nice time of year.
Were I a poet of such beauty I would write
A poem others would happily read and recite
Of Spring in her glory when flowers are in bloom
And the gardens are scenting of Nature's perfume.
Into the last month of Spring and young birds learning how to fly
And butterflies dancing in the sunny sky
I hear the familiar voice of the pee wee
And wild birds are whistling on bush and on tree.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In The South Western Grampians
In the South Western Grampians of Victoria the Summer hills are brown
And from Casterton to Hamilton the roadway winds up and down
The creeks are barely flowing the roadside drains are dry
And the sun is brightly shining in the clear afternoon sky.
In the South Western Grampians the weather mostly fine
And many days of warm weather and beautiful sun shine
An undulating Countryside and hardly any green
With so few groves and woodlands and few trees to be seen.
Through the South Western Grampians one may travel far and wide
But one won't see many houses in that brown old Countryside
A farming population and few people one see
In the South Western Grampians far Inland from the sea.
On the hills of the South Western Grampians there once were many trees
Where the Indigenous tribes in the Dreamtime lived and had their Coroborees
But now open to the weather those old hills look brown and bare
And the only sound the buzzing of the bush flies in the warm Summer air.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Day For November Quite Warm
The day for November quite warm with only the faintest sign of breeze
And starlings from the trees to the garden railings flying and flying back again to the trees
The weather temperature in the high twenties from 27 to 29 degrees
And in the shade of the gum in the paddock the cow sits and chews her cud at ease.
White butterflies out in the sunshine they do not like the wind and the rain
Why they like the calm sunny weather do not ask me since I cannot explain
Anything of the workings of Nature of Nature's ways so little I know
Of Nature's ways I know as much now as I did five decades ago.
The poets love Spring for Nature's greenery her beauty them always inspire
In their words they always laud the Earth Mother of singing her praises they never do tire
And the artists try to capture some of nature's beauty on their canvas the flora and fauna of the woods and the hills and sea shore
I know of so many fine artists in fact there has never been more.
The day for November quite warm even warm for the time of year
And on the wattle tree in the garden the song of the blackbird I hear
'Tis said when birds sing in warm sunshine that rain cannot be far away
The radio weather forecaster says the weather is changing with thunder showers later today.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Ancient Hills Of Toora
The ancient hills of Toora are looking brown today
Yet they were lush and rather green when last I passed this way
But that was last September when the nesting birds did sing
And every where looked greener in the early days of Spring.
To those ancient hills of Toora the Seasons come and go
And where once were thousands of gum trees only a few gums grow
And the Aboriginals who lived and hunted on those hills are not around today
Time brings with it great changes and it's always been that way.
The ancient hills of Toora as old as father time
And they were millions of years old when Christ was in his prime
The oldest human on Planet Earth perhaps fifteen years with five score
But the ancient hills of Toora will exist forever more.
The ancient hills of Toora overlooking Toora Town
From the long and warm dry Summer have never looked so brown
But I recall last September decked in their wildering flowers
Those ancient hills of Toora lush and green after Spring showers.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Wish I Could Sing Of The Beauty I See
I wish I could sing of the beauty I see
The beauty of Nature that's all around me
In the warmth of November of the Southern Spring
The blackbird and magpie and shrike thrush do sing.
Of singing Nature's praises the poets never tire
And her beauty the Nature artist does inspire
To paint and frame a beautiful picture to hang on a gallery wall
When it comes to beauty Nature the most beautiful of all.
The buzzing of flying insects the flies and the bees
The soughing of the wind in the bushes and trees
The babble of the river and birdsong I hear
The voices of Nature are everywhere near.
The roar of the ocean when the tide is in
As the huge waves crash on the beach they do make a loud din
The howling of the storm, thunder cracks in the sky
When Nature feels angry to scream she's not shy.
Yet the beauty of Nature is lovely to behold
What is more beautiful than the parrots in their blue, red, green and gold
And the flowers of the parkland that bloom naturally
I wish I could write of the beauty I see.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Gippsland Hills
The hills of Gippsland were so green but that was in September
And songbirds piping happy songs as well I might remember
But now the Gippsland hills are gray since sun changed the grass colour
And though the sun shines hot today this countryside looks duller.
The Gippsland hills were green in Spring and grass growing winds were blowing
And all along the sunlit hills the wildering flowers were showing
And bell magpie piped his joyful notes and butcherbird was singing
And through those hills those happy hills the bushlark's voice went ringing.
The Gippsland hills the sunburnt hills grown lonelier and quieter
And like the shades of old man's hair they've turned a gray type whiter
The nearby creek in trickle flow, the birds have lost their voices
And not one of Nature's minstrels now on Gippsland hills rejoices.
The Gippsland hills the sunburnt hills have lost their Spring like colour
And though the sun shines hot today the Gippsland hills look duller
But Spring bring green to Gippsland hills Spring rains and soft winds blowing
And birds will sing on Gippsland hills and Gippsland creeks fast flowing.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A poem for Football lovers
Football can make you cry
it can also bring you joy
I've played and watched it
as a man and a small boy.
Football has great players
like the one and only Messi
the Argentinian is a genius
I wished he played for Coventry.
Football is the favourite sport
no other game comes anywhere near
in the U.K.it's the number one pastime
just beating fishing and drinking beer.
Football though can be an addiction
it can be on your mind all of the day
your thinking about goals, shots, and saves,
and even talking about it to God when you pray.
So long may Football be played on our planet
even though it has trouble along the way
but just think if there was no Football at all
us fans would have nothing to do on a Saturday!
poem by Kevin Halls
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Football A Way Of Life
Being a football fan is a way of life
it is constantly on one's mind
your thinking about the next match
while going about the daily grind.
Your talking about great goals
and a brilliant player from the past
telling anyone who's listening
that he was skilful and he was fast.
Your living and breathing football
you dream of it in your sleep
even though the team you support
can make you angry and make you weep.
You meet up with fellow football fans
in the pub before the big match
one group of like minded people
talking about football over pints and a batch.
Football on a Saturday is all that matters
nothing else can stand in it's way
all of life's worries are put on hold
while the football fan watches his team play.
poem by Kevin Halls
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ban Them For Life
They sang songs about a disaster
thinking they sounded cool
but that shows them to be cowards
and having the minds of a fool.
They should not be called fans
as they are nothing of the sort
they should be banned for life
and named and shamed when caught.
Football does not need them
don't let them make a sound
they're not a part of the Football family
so keep them away from the ground.
We are pleased the truth finally came out
as the people of Liverpool never let it rest
but real fans are behind you all of the way
as you do whatever you think is best.
poem by Kevin Halls
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
When People Ask Me Where I Come From
I am just a peasant fellow without pretension to renown
But in some ways I feel lucky I was raised near Millstreet Town
And if anybody ask me where are you from anyway?
I tell them I come from Millstreet from a place called Claraghatlea.
Claraghatlea that sounds a strange name and where the hecks might Millstreet be?
I tell them a Town in North Cork inland distant from the sea
In green and fertile Duhallow with high mountains all around
Where you can view the finest scenery when you climb the higher ground.
Of Millstreet you paint a good picture but how do it compare to here?
We only read of wet Ireland where the skies are seldom clear
Not much point in pretty scenery if the weather's seldom fine
Give me Queensland and warm weather, golden beaches and sunshine.
With them I don't try to argue each to their own point of view
And what they read of Irish weather in some ways is partly true
But I have often been to Queensland and thought the climate hot and dry
And even in cooler Victoria risk of skin cancer is high.
When people ask me where I come from my heritage I don't deny
I tell them I come from Millstreet twelve thousand miles north as plane fly
Winter months were wet and frosty and in Spring some heavy showers
But from May onwards so much beauty, fields and gardens full of flowers.
It is Spring now in Victoria and today is such a pleasant day
And the grey shrike thrush is whistling in the wood across the way
it is almost perfect weather a high of twenty degrees
And the nestling birds are chirping in their nests high on the trees.
Wish today could last forever but wishing cannot make it be
In the Summer temperatures soar to a high of forty three
And this a cool part of Australia further north it's hot all year
And to some parts rain is a stranger and the drought can hit severe.
When people ask me where I come from west of Millstreet Town I say
In green and fertile Duhallow in a place called Claraghatlea
This Claraghatlea sounds such a strange name and where the hecks might Millstreet be?
I tell them by Clara mountain inland distant from the sea.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Why Do You Love Football?
Why do you love football Kevin
what do you see in it?
why not watch another sport
like Rugby, Golf, or Cricket?
Well let me answer that my friend
and put your mind at rest
I love the beautiful game
because it's simply the best.
No other sport is as exciting
no other comes anywhere near
football has lots of passion
and can create a great atmosphere.
It is loved all around the world
most children kick a football
rich kids, and poor kids,
small kids, and some very tall.
Ask a lad what he wants to be?
a footballer I bet he will say
not a cyclist or a pole vaulter
a top swimmer no way!
A good football match is a real joy
that's why thousands go to every game
when you get goals and lots of action
the fans are so glad that they came.
So yes my friend I do love my football
it's the number one sport for me
so while your watching snooker and darts
I'll be cheering on my beloved Coventry.
poem by Kevin Halls
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!