Monthly Archives: October 2018

Burst

A poem bursts upon the world, the Earth, for what its worth.

Does it make any difference whatever, to you or me or never?

Still, people say carry on.

Will you miss me when I’m gone?

Who, me, or this poem, don’t you see?

Okay, whatever you say.

Gone tomorrow, here today.

This is all I have to say.

For today.

Does this poem stand up to scrutiny?

Don’t mutiny.

Tich Ennis

31st October, 2018

Advertisements

Complaints Department

To whom do I complain?

You give me a pain.

It might rain.

If I complain about the weather you say pull yourself together.

What about my missing sock?

My broken alarm clock?

You need a seismic shock.

I am not a pair of curtains, that’s for certain.

Do the caring professions care?

About their wallets and fresh air.

Do you favour free speech?

Is compassion beyond your reach?

Adam thought Eve was a peach.

Children are charming when they’re young.

Some are brats, I bite my tongue.

Is complaining any use?

Do not kill the golden goose.

I live in coffee bars, under the stars.

The God of war is called Mars.

Mars is a planet, so is Earth.

I end my poem for what its worth.

Tich Ennis

31st October, 2018

Now

It does mean now.

A metaphor, a parable, an apple falling from a bough.

In principle it’s the principle of things.

Ask peasants and kings.

The principle applies, get wise.

You must learn to apply.

Apply or die.

That’s life, your story, the story you tell.

Now and forever you sound the bell.

The bell may be cracked, who cracked it, you?

Fix it, fix it, fix it, that’s what to do.

Have I made my meaning clear?

Now is not next year.

Now is here.

Here and now.

Put your hand to the plough.

Tich Ennis

30th October, 2018

Farmer

Your man thinks he knows everything but could he catch a calf, can he make a haystack?

If he saw things through my eyes would he think he was so wise?

I know he has two degrees, I’m sick of hearing about it, he brings me to my knees.

There’s no fool like an educated fool said some man who should know.

I have a herd of cattle to sell, I bought them this morning.

I would not have come if I knew you were here, next time give me warning.

You could bore for Ireland with all your show off talk.

You don’t impress me though you try, oh brother take a walk.

It takes all sorts to make a world and some of them are nuts.

Mr. Eccentric shut your mouth with all your ands and buts.

I see you coming and I groan.

End of moan.

This poem is incomplete, not a complete demolition job.

I’ll leave that to God.

Go ahead, tell him a thing or two.

That’s just like you.

I know this poem does not rhyme in every line.

Next time.

Tich Ennis

30th October, 2018

Surprise

Nothing would surprise you now, convention is out the window anyhow.

Moderation appears dead, extremism is here instead.

Mad is sane and sane is mad, bad is good and good is bad.

Or so they say and so they act.

Now there’s no such thing as fact.

Logic and reason are no more, anger rules from shore to shore.

When love is hate and hate is love who believes in God above?

Well not many, that’s for sure, we live on and eat manure.

Lies are truth and truth is lies much to a wise man’s surprise.

What next, will war be declared peace?

Oh sanity, may your tears cease.

Tich Ennis

29th October, 2018

Sins

The sins of others are very easy to see.

Who will tell my sins to me?

The truth is what is most hated, T.S. Eliot said.

Is it a secret until you’re dead?

I have been told I’m too perceptive.

The truth is a corrective.

What about those who don’t want to know?

Tell them, they shut up and go.

The Devil is a moving target, or evil if you prefer.

Its all around, spoken by him and her.

Good liar is a self contradicting term.

Hear the lie, disprove it, don’t be a worm.

So the sinner speaks to you.

May I speak only what is true.

I have been told I’m silly to smoke.

I don’t inhale, is that a joke?

Tich Ennis

29th October, 2018

Poor

You don’t get rich writing poetry I have been told.

I have not discovered gold.

I spoke to another poet, he agreed.

Poets are people in need.

Still, its nice to find someone with whom you agree.

Who agrees with me.

Then why write, some might say.

I will answer that another day.

Love of words and love of life and truth.

To atone for a misspent youth.

Do I like the rich, do I prefer the poor?

I make no distinction, words endure.

As long as they are genuine, that’s all that counts.

I measure money in small amounts.

Tich Ennis

29th October, 2018