Of Her None Can Say
The poetry critics don't rate me my sort of stuff doesn't sell
by Francis Duggan
And they alone are to decide what's verse and doggerel
To them true verse is hard to understand only for the trained eye
The good old earthy stuff that rhymes not their type to enjoy.
'Tis they decide what is verse or not and that's okay with me
Since they get paid for to decide what is or is not poetry
And though I've written heaps of rhymes I am not a poetry judge
And those who know better than I them their task I don't begrudge.
I've lived my life in my own way I even have slept rough
And I've given it my best try at writing though my best 'twould seem not good enough
But there's a greater force out there than all of human kind
The power of Nature idling in the she oaks in the wind.
And when she races at top speed she knocks the tall trees down
And she flattens buildings in her way as she rages through the Town
She sinks the big ship out at sea where hundreds of lives are lost
The rain to her a calming source though her rampage at a great cost
To the many who lost kin and homes to the gale that blew herself tame
But they cannot condemn Nature since Nature never knows shame
At loss of life or damage done by her when she is out of control
And when she has her anger spent the bright sun shines in Nature's smiling soul.
It really does not bother me to know I am a lesser man of rhyme
Since the works of the artistic and literary greats will fade in given time
But Nature lives forever more and of her none can say
That she was once a mighty force and she has had her day.