Popular Poems. Racism Is Around Me Everywhere. Read Poem. A Beautiful Day. A Ballad Of Wasted Years. The Sound Of Laughter. I have walked through tougher Harlem where few strangers dare to go And I've been in London City in the rain and in the snow And I've worked in inner Melbourne in the searing summer heat And believe me if I tell you I have earned the bread I eat.
She sees things of beauty in all that she see And what's beautiful to her seems ugly to me What to her is a flower to me is a weed We do seem so different so different indeed. The sound of laughter is a thing of beauty for laughter spreads the very gift of joy That people they are drawn to happy people is not that hard for to understand why Since everybody wishes to be happy and laughter it spreads happiness around And only the heartless could not like the sound of laughter for laughter is a very happy sound, Francis Duggan, widely written, is an amazing poet.
His writings are full of life, and wisdom, and inspiration, and I enjoy them immensely. In Penshurst lives a poet Francis Duggan is his name he posts work on the internet as well as earning local fame. There are over peeks into the beautiful life and soul of Francis Duggan here. Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge Francis Duggan. Those happy Morris dancers make for a happy sight They wear bright scarlet ribbons and their shirts and trousers white, They clash their sticks whilst dancing and you hear the timbers ring Though 'twould seem that Morris dancing is not a female thing.
I've never seen a female Morris dancer I stand corrected if I'm wrong It has it's roots in England and to England it belong And I hope that Morris dancing will not go the way of rhyme That in a changing World it won't lose out to time. They brought their culture with them from England far away A culture perhaps fading like many of the old cultures are today With the old dances of Europe I see a link somewhere And sad to hear that Morris dancers are now becoming rare.
Morris dancing vary from English Village to Village or so I have been told Though the times they are a changing and fading are the ways of old But those marvellous Morris dancers may they dance forever more In the sunshine of Australia far from England's rainy shore.
In Belzec Concentration Camp. His Grandparents were Romany people from his maternal side In Countries of Eastern Europe they travelled far and wide But the most basic human right their right to life of them even denied In Belzec Concentration camp where a million people died.
I never knew my maternal Grandparents with sadness he recall Due to circumstance of birth and their way of life misfortune them did befall My gift of music such a marvellous gift to them I feel I owe In Belzec Concentration Camp they were murdered decades ago.
A tall and handsome man in his early thirties with wavy raven hair With the marvellous gift of music a great accordion player In silence we sat and drank our beer as we listened to him play The beautiful old gipsy tunes from Countries far away.
That all things do come to an end in some cases a lie In Belzec Concentration camp the gipsy music did not die But that the gift of music does live on should not come as a surprise Something that those who commit crimes against humanity seem to fail to realize. He played at the pub on passing through him I never more may see But the beauty of his music will live in my memory His maternal Grandparents who died at Belzec their lives were not in vain Their music in their Grandchild has come to life again.
Francis Duggan Apr A Beautiful Smile. Perhaps she is one who is not free of guile But she is one who has such a beautiful smile And a beautiful smile carries one a long way It does more for one than words can ever say, No doubt she's not perfect we all have our flaws The feline who often purrs is known to use her claws But a smile from a stranger just in passing by Can bring to your day a small flutter of joy, On my cares and worries I did silently brood As I walked down the street in an out of sorts mood But a beautiful smile and a warm hello From a lovely young woman one I did not know Helped for to bring a little joy to my day For the best things in life we do not need to pay.
The window of her soul is open to light She always seems happy and bubbly and bright And her type of person a pleasure to know For beauty goes with her where-ever she go.
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