The Non Swimming Man Of The Sea
He had his own fishing boat for many years though he never ventured far out to sea
And from fishing he made a good living enough to upkeep his family
He was born and he still lives near the ocean and the ocean holds no fears for him
But to many it may seem a bit strange that he's never learned how to swim.
Though he left school young for to fish with his father he's a bright man and nobody's fool
And his son and daughter live in the big city their children in Primary school
Two years ago his wife she died suddenly they had been married for thirty five years
And though for her his grieving is over thoughts of her still move him to tears.
A year younger than him she felt quite well till a massive heart attack struck her down
And one day he too will go to join her in the grave yard in the sea side Town
He had a wish to be cremated and his ashes spread on the sea shore
But to his wife he must remain true and with her he will lay forever more.
He sold his fishing boat when his wife died his great zest for life with her died
He now lives on the old age pension and from his cottage he can hear the tide
Rage against the rocks on the fore shore the huge waves they rumble and roll
The immortal voice of the ocean is ever soothing to his soul.
Last February he turned seventy and the years have left him gray and slow
Still he finds comfort in his good memories of his better days decades ago
Of his beautiful wife and their children but life part of mortality
And the Reaper is now quietly waiting for the non swimming man of the sea.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Louis
He speaks with a very strong accent though his English seems quite good to me
The man from the fishing Village in Malta by the Mediterranean sea
He likes to go rod and line fishing and cast his line from rocks on the shore
In the low tide in the early evening he fishes for two hours or more.
Louis is a likeable old fellow he looks quite well for eighty two
Though his life has never been easy and his sorrows he has been through
He does his best for to keep active he tends his garden every day
And nothing in life to him has come easy his gray hair he has earned one might say.
His wife Rina died in her mid sixties going back some fifteen years ago
She was suffering from stomach cancer her end it was painful and slow
For four decades they were together and he loved her his devoted wife
The final parting for him was heartbreaking though he still got on with his life.
Their only child Paul died in Vietnam in the sixties their cross of grief heavy to bear
A handsome young man in his early twenties with brown eyes and wavy brown hair
His comrades tell of how he died bravely but that of little comfort to them
Their son's loss to them was heartbreaking and for many years they grieved for him.
Louis lives in his seaside cottage with Blue his dog a Kelpie x Heeler cross
And though the death of his son and then his wife to him was a heartbreaking loss
He still gets on with life and with living and he goes fishing every second day
And it can be truly said of him that he has earned his hair of gray.
poem by Francis Duggan
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But, I Can't Stop Fishing! ! !
But, I can't stop fishing,
I told my new wife.
It's an integral part,
Of all young men's lifes.
But she laid down the law,
It was fishing or her.
Get rid of the tackle,
The rods and the lures.
She wanted no part,
Of those smelly fish.
To tell you the truth,
She was really a...pain.
Well I don't know what happened,
But after a while,
She just let it go,
Like a bright eyed little child.
And I took her fishing,
For the first time in her life.
And she caught more than me,
My wonderful new wife.
It's close to forty years now,
And she never stays home.
She says it's not right,
That I go fishing alone.
12/21/10 Alton Texas
poem by Juan Olivarez
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Kiwi Dave
For forty five years I've been working and I'm just an unfettered slave
And I have gray hairs to show for it I am quoting Kiwi Dave
Five years to go to retirement I was sixty last birthday
And ever since I've started working it's been uphill all the way.
My ex wife said that I was a drinker that I was too fond of the booze
That was her excuse for leaving she said I was born to lose
But I take it in moderation after work three or four beers
And I've been a slave for her and for my children for close to if not twenty years.
Fifteen years ago she left me and she went to live with younger bloke
She got more than half my assets for years to her haven't spoke
She turned my son and daughter against me and my six grandchildren I don't see
And I will spend my usual Christmas on my own watching T.V.
Kiwi Dave is a good person though just a little soured by life
And things for him would have been better had he had a faithful wife
'A woman she can make or break you' with that who could disagree
Dave could see the truth in those words for who would know better than he? .
For forty five years he's been working the hard worker Kiwi
Dave
And for his ex wife and his children for years he has been a slave
He looks older far than sixty the hard life has made him gray
Five more years left till retirement it's been uphill all the way.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Gannets
I've never once seen them on land though from the shore I see
Them with folded wings from dizzy heights diving into the sea
And then they rise out of the waves and upwards again fly
These hunters of the ocean who stalk their prey from the sky.
To watch gannets fishing is an amazing sight
They fly above the ocean and dive from a great height
I once see one dead on a beach it was washed in by the tide
Born on a cliff ledge overlooking the sea and out at sea it died.
The gannets are true fishing birds on humans for food they don't rely
They roost and breed on remote ocean cliffs and of human kind are shy
They are birds I don't often see they are seldom close to the shore
Though I recall I once watched them fish for a half an hour or more.
True ocean birds born by the sea and out at sea they die
With folded wings they dive for fish like rockets from the sky
A guttural noise the only sound they make they do not have a song
They take their living from the sea and to the sea they belong.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Boys I Went To School With
We played football in the school yard and we swam in the Finnow
But the years go by so quickly and to father time we bow
And the boys I went to school with perhaps now looking gray
And many of them from the Homeland shore like me live far away.
Many of the boys I went to school with and that's going back more than four decades in time
Are now ageing grand fathers and years beyond their prime
And those legs that could move so quickly some forty years ago
Now feeling tired and heavy and their fastest pace is slow.
The boys I went to school with have known a better day
And that time takes care of everyone it would be fair to say
Our young years went too quickly and time just flitted by
And on looking back it seems like only yesterday when I was a school boy.
Some of the boys I went to school with to the grim reaper have gone
But life back in the old Hometown as usual carries on
And in the fields near Millstreet Town where the rank rushes grow
The Finnow on towards Drishane and the Blackwater flow.
Most of the boys I went to school with I have not seen for years
But for my fading memories I don't have any tears
We played football in the school yard and in Summer swam in the Finnow
But the years go by so quickly and to father time we bow.
poem by Francis Duggan
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That Old Man....
that old man who lives down the street,
who just shared a can of Alpo with his blind dog.
who owned the corner grocery when i was a kid,
who helped me out when i was short.
whose father passed it down to him,
whose son was killed in a car wreck.
whose daughter lives somewhere in California,
whose wife died ten years ago.
who was a deacon in the church for years,
who quit going when his wife died.
who put his life savings with 'trusted investors',
who lost it all when everything fell.
who the county's hounding for back taxes,
whose porch is falling down.
who prays that if there is a god...
he'll die and take the dog with him!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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On An April Evening In The Fall
With folded wings the fishing gannets plunge into the sea
And the nuggety old man with fishing rod was waiting patiently
For a fish to bite as the incoming waves splashed quite close to his feet
And each new wave it came surging in as each old wave did retreat.
Have you been catching many fish today? of the fisherman I inquired
Not been doing too well today mate the old fellow replied
I've yet to catch a fish today, sometimes in the rising tide
From cover they don't venture out between the rocks they hide.
I'll stay another hour he said at least until twilight
The wife would like a good sized fish to cook for tea tonight
Still I don't like my chances much it's a quarter after four
I'll stay till a quarter after five and not one second more
The silver gulls cry on the beach the angry ocean roar
The gannets fishing on the bay, the old man from the shore
And people walking on the beach before their evening tea
On a sunny evening in April in the Fall by the Pacific sea.
poem by Francis Duggan
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She Does Deserve Great Sympathy
Ageing Bella in the house at the corner outdoors she is not often seen
She was a potential swimming Olympian till a motoring accident she had at eighteen
Brought an end to her swimming career back in ninteen seventy three
And condemned her to life in a wheelchair she does deserve great sympathy.
She could not compete in the Olympics and swim her way into renown
And become the toast of the Nation and the heroine of her Hometown
It robbed her of her chance of having children she has never been any man's wife
one might say she was quite unlucky that accident ruined her life.
She is quite an attractive woman her brown hair flecked with strands of gray
She had spent years of her life in a wheelchair seven to ten years before her prime day
when I meet her she smiles and says hello but sometimes she looks rather sad
I can only empathize with her a terrible life she has had.
Thirty six of her fifty four years in a wheelchair since her widowed mum died five years ago she has lived on her own
Lady luck is surely against her a terrible life she has known
Confined to a wheelchair due to a car crash on the highway which robbed her of her chance of fame
In swimming she was a young champion and for herself making a name.
poem by Francis Duggan
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On The Passing Of Lizzie Hickey
I've heard of the passing of Lizzie Hickey a long life on this Earth she did enjoy
And she now lives on in another atmosphere for good people such as she will never die
Yes she lives on somewhere in the hereafter for the reaper never lays claim to the soul
And she is one I always will remember when back the lanes of memory I will stroll.
A Faithful wife to the late Johnny Hickey she raised four children Donal, Joan, John Francis and Jane
And she was a role model and a mentor and marvellous memories of her I retain
I felt saddened at the news of her passing but time 'twould seem for anyone doesn't wait
And we ought not to mourn Lizzie Hickey but her marvellous life we ought to celebrate.
There was so much to like about that woman a great role model to us school going boys
We admired her for her great depth of knowledge so down to earth and yet so very wise,
She was one of the most likeable people and in her kind heart there was so much good
And in her life she never made an enemy and she would only help you if she could.
I heard of the passing of Lizzie Hickey she now is living in a better place
At Inchaleigh close to the Town of Millstreet in our young years her's was a familiar face
She only left her soul elsewhere is living that part of her is never going to die
And in that Land that we know as the hereafter her new life she's beginning to enjoy.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Doctor’s Mistake
As towns flourish and teem with life
Of all colours and creeds
In one of them lived with his wife
A doctor, with certain needs
Life and practice were more than good
He’d friends on every side
Yet took to drugs so oft he could
Which soon would turn the tide
One day a bad mistake was made
A fault he tried to hide
With pills a man in bed was laid
Who very nearly died
His medicine was wrong of course
The doctor was so high
The dose he gave could kill a horse
A man would surely die
For many years the doctor’s wife
Had prayed both night and day
For God to change her husband’s life
And take the drugs away
Her prayers were heard God saw how sad
His daughter lived with tears
Although her husband’s deeds were bad
God freed them of their fears
The doctor’s heart began to melt
He joined his wife in prayer
“Oh Lord my God what guilt I’ve felt
Since knowing You are there”
Salvation came because a wife
Had knelt in fervent prayer
Not only had her husband life
But now! Life’s Truth they share.
poem by Michael P. Johnson
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Wedding Band
Joey Wedding Band
JoAnn was the birth name of my wife
To me Joey was her name for a lot of our married life
One of the best things anyone could ask for in life
Is to have a good and loving wife
When it comes time for me to pass no matter day or night
I hope and pray that my wife will be my guiding light
I did not complement my wife as much as I could of
But with all my heart I gave her my love
My wife is in heaven watching over our family
Hoping we could be the best we could be
I am now living by myself and on my own
I have my dogs and my family but I feel alone
I never thought I knew how bad pain could ever be
Until my wife died and left me
At times my wife lets me know she is near
She turns off the picture frame to let me know she is here
On a chain around my neck I wear my wife’s wedding band
I also still wear mine on the finger of my left hand
To anyone who reads this poem do not let the time with your family go
Everything is gone before you know
poem by Michael Gelb
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Those That I Went To School With
Some of them with the departed and the others growing old and gray
Those that I went to school with in the long gone yesterday
From the boys and girls I went to school with many years before I reached my prime
I am separated by distance and by long years of time.
Some of them live far distant from Hibernia's windswept shore
And from the Town in View of Clara hill overlooking Claramore
And some of them remained in Duhallow married and there raised their family
And some of them remained unattached single and fancy free.
Most of those I went to school with I have not seen for years
And for the past and for what has been I've shed nostalgic tears
Like every other migrant for the past forever gone
But the present is what matters and we keep on keeping on.
Of those I went to school with good memories I retain
Though most of them I realize I will never meet again
We've gone our separate ways in life but memories of them I do recall
And happy memories of what was the best memories of all.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Price Of Dead Love
His marriage is over but he has no tears
For the woman he was married to for just over two years
Though he miss his baby daughter when he comes home from work at night
In his marriage she was his one source of delight.
She is with his ex wife her mother who lives with her new man
And for him in her life his ex has only one plan
That he pay his alimony to her on Friday of every week
They no longer have common ground on which to speak.
On their wedding day he thought 'twould be for life
He was so in love with his beautiful wife
But just after two years of marriage love between them is dead
That the ways of love can be fickle no truer words said.
That his ex wife has left him for another he finds that as okay
But he misses his baby daughter when he comes home from work every day
That life has it's ups and downs it's always been this way
And the price of dead love it can be high to pay.
poem by Francis Duggan
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bloodline ***** FISHING ON PALILAN TABO-O WHITE SAND TRENCHES
in memory of the late Carlos carling Caminos, our fisherman, and to my biological Papa Romy
at Brgy. Palilan and Tabo0o, Jimenez, Misamis Occidental,
Mindanao, Philippines
Nearly summer
March night of 1995
crest of waves took off
beneath the escaping-out Pacific
typhoon eye
hitting upper most Philippine
archipelago
A perfect night for
my childish fishing adventure
at Misamis sea
after Papa permitted me to
join Carling in GOODBYE type
fishing
I threw then a fishing net as we
had approached the fishing bay
above coral reefs to trap
passer-by seasonal school of fish
locally known as the matam-baka
carried by low tide current
along trenches
we had a good 'catch' ever
until the last thrown and
the fishing net was trapped
along reefs
we simply bid goodbye
same as that fishing type was being called
goodbye to the nylon net
goodbye to the just caught fishes
too hard to pull it back
into our customized pump boat
the current was so strong
unpredicted
only the fisher's kerosene lamp
was left as we went back
shore
I lighted on
until now flaming in the
school of my memories
poem by Rommel Mark Dominguez Marchan
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Ron
He has lost the inspiration of his life
And he must grow old without Annie his wife
They had been married for twenty two years
And memories of her still has him near to tears.
She was forty six when she passed on two years ago
And she did not live to see their grandchildren grow
Into young adults it was her wish to see
Her first great grandchild baptized but it wasn't meant to be.
Without his beloved Annie who had the 'heart of gold'
Ron in his early fifties must grow old
She was his soul mate and to him remained true
And together love and happiness they knew
Theirs was a true love that lasted till the end
She was his heroine and his dearest friend
And one as good as her he could not wish for to meet again
And the memories with him always will remain
Of the beautiful woman with brown eyes and nut brown hair
To laugh to her came easy she was always free of care
Their wedding photograph hangs on his bedroom wall
And she will remain as his greatest love of all.
Life will never again be the same for Ron
But without his beloved Annie he must carry on
She was the inspiration of his life
His lover and his soul mate and his wife
poem by Francis Duggan
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On Joe White's Ninetieth Birthday
So many he knew in his younger years to life have come and gone
But like the great man that he is Joe White keeps on keeping on
Ten years short of his century in his ninetieth year of life
I remember him and his daughter daughter Bibi and his now long deceased wife.
He and his wife and daughter went to live in America many decades ago
But they returned to Ballydaly to live amongst old friends they did know
He has done his share of travelling but the love of home is strong
And he is back in Tubber where he feels he does belong.
One of the elder citizens of the Parish of Millstreet
He is as nice a person as one could wish to meet
I have fond memories of him and of his ready smile
He is one of those nice people that I've not seen for some-while.
In the Wallis Arms in Millstreet Town for him a surprise party where a great night was had by all
And I bet at the happy gathering old times they did recall
Joe White has turned ninety and enjoying his lengthy life span
And it truly can be said of him that he is a gentleman.
poem by by unknown author
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The Divorcee
She's been through a messy divorce case and single now she will remain
And she feels she's had it with marriage and she'll never marry again
She tried her best to save her marriage at least she gave it her best try
And from her past mistakes she has learnt like they say 'once bitten twice shy'.
She had seven years of married life and five of those years for her hell
And years from now she will remember yes she will remember too well
The beatings she received from her drunken husband as their two young children looked on
And they like their mother feel happy since out of their lives he has gone.
She married for love and love only but her feelings of love quickly soured
And years from now she will remember how beneath his cruel blows she cowered
Her children now ten and eleven feel happier without their dad
He often beat them and their mother and by him they were treated bad.
A woman in her early thirties she has only turned thirty two
And she vows she'll never re-marry that one marriage enough to go through
Her ex husband now is re-married and her sympathies are with his wife
And she hopes that he will treat her kindly and that he's learnt from his mistakes in life.
Her son and daughter soon to be teenagers are all that she worry about
That 'life isn't meant to be easy' at such a young age they found out
She raise them as a single mother and she works hard for them every day
Since her ex husband doesn't pay alimony or help them out in any way.
She vows that she'll die a divorcee and that she'll never marry again
And the sad memories of her broken marriage through her life time with her will remain
For she took the abuse and beatings when she was a callous
man's wife
Still she doesn't feel bitter towards him she merely gets on with her life.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Lady Of The Lake
Today I talked
to the old lady
who lives across the way
she said she died
a hundred years ago today
She told me
of the time she saw me
fishing in the lake
I had to laugh
I said
if You've been dead
for a hundred years
it couldn't have been me
you saw fishing in the lake
I'm not even fifty yet
She said
have you ever seen me
walk out of this garden
or talk to anybody else
I said
you've got me there
but like I said
if you died a hundred
years ago today
it couldn't have been me
you saw fishing in the lake
She said
a hundred years ago today
you drowned trying to save me
now it's time to except
that you are dead
poem by Dave Alan Walker
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The Workaholic
He retired from his job on his sixty fifth birthday
But he did not enjoy the work free life
And he died just nine months into his retirement
To be mourned by his family and his wife.
It has been said he was a workaholic
And that he was one who worked as hard as two
And he felt bored without a job to go to
And he pined away as many like him do.
His problem was he did not have a hobby
And a working life the life he loved and knew
A good man for his wife and family and his Country
But good men just like bad men must die too.
For forty seven years he worked for the same employers
And to the end to his bosses was true
His parting gift from them a wrist watch and box of chocolates
And a well done and a shake hands and thank you.
He must have been one who truly liked his bosses
To have worked for them for forty seven years
His last day on the job it was his saddest
And as he left he fought to choke the tears.
His problem was that he did not have a hobby
And he only lived for each working day
And when he left the workforce in his sixties
He fell into ill health and pined away.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Old Madge
Old Madge who is in her late eighties is suffering from failing sight
But her memory it is flawless and she remains lucid and bright
She has vivid memories of her childhood which she feels happy to recall
I've had a good life she will tell you but my childhood years were best of all,
Her two great grand daughters are in their mid teens she says them I often do see
They are kind and lovely young ladies they always have been good to me
Her husband Tom died ten years ago they were married for fifty years
His end it was so slow and painful and memories of him still move her to tears
But she has got on with living life she says we cannot dwell in the past
The present is all that does matter though nothing in life seems to last
She surely is an inspiration the Madges of this World are rare
And though her sight it is slowly fading she is one unburdened by care
She always is happy and cheerful and she looks younger than her age
And from her life experiences she has learned much she surely is a female sage.
poem by Francis Duggan
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