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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The Zimbabwe Rose
She brought such colour to our town her and her flowery clothes
With her dark and wavy curling hair the dark Zimbabwe rose
Her smile lit up the dullest day the warmth in her hello
And she will make many new friends where ever she will go.
A young woman in her early twenties her beauty I recall
And I a male of average height beside her did seem small
Yet she was not conceited and she was free of guile
And how her white teeth glittered each time that she did smile.
The Autumn weather here for her too cold she missed the warm sunshine
And for her home in Africa Zimbabwe's rose did pine
She went back to her Homeland we miss her happy face
And the Town now without her seems much a duller place.
She missed her family and friends and her Homeland far away
And the weather far too cold for her so here she did not stay
She brought such colour to our Town her and her flowery clothes
And we who knew her miss her so the dark Zimbabwe Rose.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Shopping
Were buying and selling your history
How we go about it is no mystery
We check it with the city, then change the law
Are you looking forward?
Now you want some more
Were s-h-o-pp-i-n-g, were shopping
Its easy when you got all the information
Inside help, no investigation
(no investigation, investigation)
No questions in the house, no give and take
Theres a big bang in the city
Were all on the make
Were s-h-o-pp-i-n-g, were shopping
Were s-h-o-pp-i-n-g, were shopping
Our gain is your loss, thats the price you pay
I heard it in the house of commons: everythings for sale
Were shopping
Were shopping
Were s-h-o-pp-i-n-g, were shopping
Were s-h-o-pp-i-n-g, were shopping
Ah ah ah, ah ah ah, ah ah ah, ah ah
Ah ah ah, ah ah ah, ah ah ah, ah ah
Were s-h-o-pp-i-n-g, were shopping
Were s-h-o-pp-i-n-g, were shopping
(were shopping
Were shopping
Were shopping
Were shopping
Were shopping)
song performed by by Pet Shop Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Vietnam
The runway rushed up at me, I felt the wheels touch down
Stood out on the blacktop, and took a taxi into town
Got off down on Main Street, to see what I recognized
All I seen was strange faces, watching a stranger passin' by
Vietnam, Vietnam, I don't man
Back in Vietnam
Went for my job back at the factory, down at the factory
The only thing I heard from the man at the desk
Is, "Son, understand if it was up to me"
'bout half the town's out of work
Ain't nothin' for you here
From the assembly line to the front-line
But I guess you didn't hear"
You died in Vietnam, you died in Vietnam
Now don't you understand, you died in Vietnam
Drive down my neighborhood
See the flags out on the porch
So I went to see my old baby
Down at First and Grand
Her mama told me she ran off
With a singer in a rock 'n' roll band
????
I can see me passin' by
You died in Vietnam, you died in Vietnam
Boy, don't you understand, you died in Vietnam
The runway rushed up at me, I felt the wheels hit down
I stood out on the blacktop, and took a taxi into town
Got off down on Main Street, to see what I could see
All I seen was strangers, watchin' a stranger pass by
And that stranger was me
Vietnam, Vietnam, oh-no man
Vietnam
Went to see my baby, down on First and Grand
To tell her I'd come home from away in Vietnam
Her mama came to the door and told me
Her mama told me she ran away
With a singer in a rock 'n' roll band
She said, "I'm sorry son, but we understand"
You died in Vietnam, you died in Vietnam
Now don't you understand, you died in Vietnam
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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She Was A Nice Old Lady
Does it really matter one little bit at all
If only her family and her few friends memories of her do recall
She was a nice old lady that much of her I did know
But she did not die easily her end painful and slow
I had not seen her for somewhile but sad am I to say
That this evening one who knew her told me she was buried yesterday
In the flesh she will not be seen walking in the park again
But fond memories of her in those who knew her are destined to remain
Pre-deceased by her husband he died ten years ago
Their only offspring a Granddad in his late fifties the years on him begin to show
To her son she was a good mother and to her husband she was a good wife
A kind and caring person and one who did love life
Since her husband life departed she had lived on her own
She did not have a public profile and she was not well known.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Young Woman From Paris In France
The one with brown eyes and brown hair her Hometown is Paris in France
She has such a sweet singing voice and to music she loves to dance
She is in her twenty fourth year and happy in her single life
For some very lucky young man she will make a beautiful wife.
Her accent is easy to love like the lilt to a beautiful song
Of her voice one never could tire I'd listen to her all day long
To this Town she's like a breath of fresh air not many French people live here
Except for the rare tourist who stop for a break from travel I meet one perhaps once a year.
She has such an old World charm and she has such a beautiful face
And she doesn't find it hard for to smile a woman of charm and grace
'Twould be nice if here she did settle but in our Town I know she won't stay
The young woman from Paris in France from home she is so far away.
She says she will go home next year in beautiful May of the Spring
In the green parks of Paris in France she will hear the birds whistle and sing
And on the verandah of her old home with family and friends out of the glare of the sunshine
She will sing along in the sing song as she enjoys a glass of good French made wine.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Speaking of shopping
Speaking of shopping…
My wife is the best
shopper in town
At shopping
there’s no woman greater
She’ll buy anything marked…
up or down
Just last week
she bought an escalator
poem by David Whalen
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The Joy Of Their Laughter
The children are playing football in the park off of the street
The joy in their laughter it does sound so sweet
'Tis true youth is such a marvellous thing
Like the flowers of the fields that bloom lovely in Spring.
The joy of their laughter bring back memories to me
Of happy boyhood days of any cares free
In the Town park on Summer evenings we kicked the football
Such wonderful memories are good to recall
The years went so quickly and time did not wait
And I've grown grayer and slower and I'm putting on weight
The future belongs to the youth of today
Though they too will grow to learn that time quickly ticks away.
Some of those I went to school with now with the dead lay
And some are grand parents and their grand children play
The games they themselves played they run up and down
In pursuit of the football in the park by the Town.
As I walk to the bottle shop for to buy beer
The laughter of the children playing football I hear
Their best days approaching and mine in the past
But time keeps on ticking and nothing does last.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Shopping Without Edgar Allan
We will always shopping go
Without Edgar Allan Poe.
We go shopping, hopping, hopping,
From this store to that.
Edgar Allan was a Poe
Who never ever had to go
Shopping.
O.K., and so perhaps I lied,
And so perhaps his lovely bride,
Annabelle Lee and he
Went shopping, like
The rest of us.
poem by Fred Babbin
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The Last Mall
Attention all shoppers
It's Cancellation Day
Yes the Big Adios
Is just a few hours away
It's last call
To do your shopping
At the last mall
You'll need the tools for survival
And the medicine for the blues
The sweet treats and surprises
For the little buckaroos
It's last call
To do your shopping
At the last mall
We've got a sweetheart Sunset Special
And all of the standard stuff
'Cause in the morningthat gospel morning
You'll have to do for yourself when the going gets tough
Roll your cart back up the aisle
Kiss the checkout girls goodbye
Ride the ramp to the freeway
Beneath the blood orange sky
It's last call
To do your shopping
At the last mall
song performed by by Steely Dan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Envy Them Their Love Of Home
Many left the old Town by the river to work and live in Cities far away
From where they went to school and spent their early years and first saw light of day
But some remained in the Homeplace and there worked for lower pay
And credit them for their love of home those who at home did stay.
They sowed their seed in their Hometown their children and grandchildren still live there
Whilst those with the lust of wander in their hearts went off to work and live elsewhere
To the old Town by the river they remain ever true
And credit them for their love of home since credit they are due.
The ancient river by the old Town ever towards the ocean flow
And to the Countryside it babbles though the Seasons come and go
And another generation of young people into young adults have grown
And the stay at home feel quite content with the only life they've known.
When I say I envy them their love of home 'tis not said with tongue in cheek
Compared to theirs my love of the Hometown to say the least seems weak
The wanderlust was in my heart and from the home shore I went to live far away
Though home is where the heart is you hear some people say.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Shopping For Dresses (feat. Loretta Lynn)
Jimmie Dickens, Merle Haggard, R. Q. Jackson
Down through the ages men have died for women
And done so for many times
Each time I loved one, I ve always lost one
Seems the right one is so hard to find.
Shopping for dresses with no one to wear them
One in each color, one in each style.
I ll find a lady someday to wear them,
My shopping will be done for awhile.
I ll bet somewhere s a lady shopping for britches
Comparing the value, appraising each pair.
Maybe someday the Lord will bring us together
And we ll both have a new wardrobe to wear
Shopping for dresses with no one to wear them
One in each color and one in each style.
Maybe someday if I'm lucky
I ll find someone to wear them
And my shopping will be done for awhile.
My shopping will be done for awhile.
I m looking for a lady who ll look good in dresses
She must be red-headed, green eyes and be fair.
I ll make exceptions to all my requirements
As long as she s willing to care.
Chorus:
I just saw a beauty with blue eyes, what a cutie
Bond hair like a halo around her did flow,
But the brunette beside her would be just as lovely
In the dresses I bought long ago.
Chorus:
Now as I sit here dreaming, planning and scheming,
Why should I make standards when everyone knows
As your need ranges, women make changes
And you must accept them or just let them go.
Chorus:
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Precious gem
I dreamed about precious gems
All kind wealth and some stones from them
But it is difficult task to take on hand
As it can turn out risky in the end
I have lovely and beautiful friends
Known for her smile, nature and helpful trend
She is surrounded by impregnable wall
No one can breach it as it is very high or tall
Love is such nice gift instilled at heart
It is only part that feels beautiful art
Tears dropp or face smile in some events
Roar into laughter, cry and resent
I consider myself as luckiest person
To have such person on my side with reasons
Lovely heart to miss for human losses
Miserable events and struggle for noble causes
I take her as noblest among all
As she has always responded to calls
Rendered invaluable assistance
That might have not come as rare chance
I owe and thank for such beautiful gesture
The world is lovely to live in future
Only we have to gear up for tomorrow
Else time may not be on our side or allow
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Precious gems
I dreamed about precious gems
All kind wealth and some stones from them
But it is difficult task to take on hand
As it can turn out risky in the end
I have lovely and beautiful friends
Known for her smile, nature and helpful trend
She is surrounded by impregnable wall
No one can breach it as it is very high or tall
Love is such nice gift instilled at heart
It is only part that feels beautiful art
Tears dropp or face smile in some events
Roar into laughter, cry and resent
I consider myself as luckiest person
To have such person on my side with reasons
Lovely heart to miss for human losses
Miserable events and struggle for noble causes
I take her as noblest among all
As she has always responded to calls
Rendered invaluable assistance
That might have not come as rare chance
I owe and thank for such beautiful gesture
The world is lovely to live in future
Only we have to gear up for tomorrow
Else time may not be on our side or allow
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Hometown
Whatever place you hang your hat
you call that your home.
Whatever town you live in
you call that your hometown.
My hometown is a naval port
and at any given time,
you will see sailors there.
Men who go out in boats large and small
to face the fury of the tides
wherever they may go.
They face the wind and the lashing seas.
Sometimes they wish
for calm waters where the sun shines,
where the warmth there stills everything.
However, they are always happy
when they come back to shore
and their hometown once more.
15 February 2008
poem by David Harris
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Shopping for Yesterday
Busy crowds, lonely hearts, broken dreams
Shopping for yesterday.
Visiting the shared moments,
In all the familiar places
When shopping for yesterday.
We are all prisoners of the past
When shopping for yesterday
Knee deep in our loneliness
Surrounded by the crowd
We’re shopping for yesterday.
Pictures and memories
Half-forgotten words
Time slipping away
From the windmills of my mind
When shopping for yesterday.
poem by Adrian Wait
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21st Century Shopping Mall
Built on a day in sin
Sand, girders and tin
Prefab shopping mall
For a working class clientele
Everything for sale
With chemist and optician
Open 24/7
All made in heaven.
...............................
Soc ial gathering if you like
Star parade caked music.
Push your food around Mike
.................................
Pref ab shopping mall
The Vatican
A pilgrimage every time
The Notre-dime.
..................................
Walk down towering isles
To marry a barbeque
With blessed burger
You become the Pope
In prefab shopping mall.
......................................Checkout!
A gorgeous honey bun
With e numbered eyes
Or male hunky spunk
Wearing organic hair gel
Loving your food to death
Into recyclable bags
Or do it yourself
With smiley friendly computer scanner
Serving a mega ram lip service.
..................................... .
However much you pay
Sacred food should stay
You cannot ever leave
Our God blessed sanctified
Prefab shopping mall......
poem by Andrew Nawroski
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Sad Faced Dan
His heart is full of stress by stress he is weighed down
The one known as sad faced Dan the saddest one in town
He never laugh or smile he never crack a joke
He must not like the World he seems a sad poor bloke
When he walks down the street he never says hello
To anyone he meet not even those he know
Yet he is a good man he works hard for his pay
Nor ill of anyone you never hear him say,
He lives in his own quiet way and he does his own thing
The sad one of the town and none his praises sing,
The town's most crooked one he has a cheerful smile
Yet he flatters to deceive and his heart is full of guile
And unlike poor sad faced Dan he lacks in honesty
But the face you look upon is not always the soul you see.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Rose Of London
She now lays in the cemetery though life for her was hell
And her life a tragic story though that story I must tell
She migrated to here from London in nineteen fifty two
When she was only twenty brown haired with eyes of blue.
She was known as Rose of London Rosemary was her name
A car accident in her early fifties had left her slightly lame
And in that tragic accident her husband Jim and their daughter died
Her happy life until then by cruel fate was destroyed.
Her husband Jim was fifty two and Ann their only child was twenty three
But Rosemary put her misfortune behind her and she overcame her tragedy
And she soldiered on bravely though her cross heavy to bear
Still the broken dreams of her life even time could not repair.
I often see her at the superstore she always wore the brightest clothes
Her silver hair and lovely face she did look like a rose
With her beautiful cockney accent she was cheerful and free of guile
And she would win the heart of Satan with the warmth of her smile.
In her battle with cancer poor Rose did not win through
Still she was a noble person and her equals all too few
Pre-deceased by her nearest and her dearest she battled on till the end
She was loved by many people and I miss her as a friend.
A kind hearted cockney lady and she wore the brightest clothes
She was known as Rose of London and she surely was a rose
She lost her nearest and her dearest and her's was a painful end
But she was admired by many and I loved her as a friend.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Brendan Moynihan
He played football for Millstreet in his twenties
And he is one I readily can recall
Quiet spoken, down to earth and unassuming,
A powerful fellow over six foot tall.
He owned a pub in the West End of Millstreet
Inherited from his mother in her will
And outside the pub door on a cloud free evening
One had a clear view of old Clara hill.
A gentle giant his friends were in the many
And he would only help you if he could
And I will always recall Brendan Moynihan
As one who had in him a lot of good.
He always kept a couple of racing greyhounds
For Millstreet is a dog and football Town
On Summer evenings near the Town Park people walk their greyhounds
Whilst young men chase the football up and down.
A gentle giant admired and well respected
For Millstreet in his prime he played football
And when I reminisce about my Hometown
He's one of those I often do recall.
poem by Francis Duggan
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