Monthly Archives: December 2018


I’m not very good at getting down to things, up maybe, but not even that.

I disappoint myself, I have a lot to look forward to, the future is flat.

I must get around to things at some point in time.

Do I delay by writing this rhyme?

This is my diagnosis of my psychosis.

I must take a step or one or two.

That’s what to do.

Forever is a long time to put things off.

I have a smoker’s cough.

I am not perfect, far from it to be perfectly frank.

If I do something I will have myself to thank.

Tich Ennis

31st December, 2018

My Stuff

I write rough stuff and transcendental, just this side of mental.

I hold a watching brief, some things are beyond belief.

I write as I am, I don’t say damn.

I’ve met all kinds of rogues and sluts and, frequently, nuts.

All part and parcel of my life and times, on my part no major crimes.

I observe the rough and smooth, a funny joke may be rude.

Not when the dirt is the point as someone said, whom saints annoint.

This is me for better or worse, I swear I don’t often curse.

So good and bad, a mixed up lad.

Just the right side of mad.

Tich Ennis

31st December, 2018


Must I be mad, must I be sane, how may I free the world from pain?

My ambition is set rather high, to achieve before I die.

To cure the illnesses on Earth, that is more than my life is worth.

Strange mad people rule things, leaders and kings.

They want power, they preach hate, who will free us from our fate?

Mad, self serving and corrupt, will their end be abrupt?

Could we cooperate and love each other, treat every man as my brother?

If that is mad I won’t be sane, things should be as right as rain.

When sane is mad and mad is sane, honest people feel the pain.

I am a rather bad poet, not very good.

I would be better if I could.

I know love and truth are all, this is my writing on the wall.

Its better than nothing at all.

What do we get, hate and lies.

People open up your eyes.

Tich Ennis

31st December. 2018

My Immortal Soul

Be true. In the world in which you find yourself.

That’s what to do.

Are jokes funny? Yes, when they are good.

A good story is not a waste of time.

No crime.

Use what is given to you.

Friendliness is good. And good friends.

How to proceed?

A friend in need.

A mouth to feed.

Happiness and love.

We yearn for those.

Be a giver. Its hard to know, I strain.

Do what you were meant to do and be.

The real me.

Love yourself and others too.

And what you do.

Do your best.

That is the test.

Believe in something more than meets the eye.

This is rather rambling, so am I.

That’s me.

How I’m meant to be.

If I concentrate perhaps I might write a great poem, not a mess.

More or less.

God bless.

I want to make things clear.

That’s why I’m here.

This is hard to write. I fight.

Say it, then its done.

Have fun.

I love good humour and a joke.

I am not sorry I spoke.

I may be something of a fool but I mean well.

Truth to tell.

I end now.

I hope not too many words, anyhow.

Goodbye. From I, from me.


This topic may be too complex for me, my immortal soul.

The truth shall make you whole.

Tich Ennis

30th December, 2018

Betting Coup

A racing dog was very good, the owners knew.

This is the story of a betting coup.

They put it in a race, drugged it so it would not run fast, it more or less came last.

Weeks later they entered it for another race, the odds were very high.

My friend bet on it, so did two others at the same time to not change the odds, the dog flew by.

It won. They tested it for drugs, there werent any.

Why did the dog do so badly before they asked, they did not like losing a penny.

It was his first race, he was not used to it, they said.

They took large winnings home, the bookies lost instead.

That’s the only time my friend ever bet.

He tells that story yet.

I prefer betting on a near dead cert.

I don’t want to be hurt.

If you’re not fast you’re last someone said.

I’ll go to bed.

Tich Ennis

30th December, 2018

Poem A Day

I write a poem every day and sometimes three or four.

What for?

To record what I have to say in this long war.

I mean life.

Its not all strife.

I have been under the surgeon’s knife.

I am not now in pain.

I feel strain.

But not a lot, I get over it.

I care a bit.

Do my poems do any good to anyone?

Some like them, that is good.

If I can ease your pain I will.

Climb the hill.

The view is best at the top.

I stop.

I can’t go on forever.

I am a river.

My poems usually rhyme.

Not this time.

Tich Ennis

29th December, 2018


I wish to inspire me and you.

Cinderella’s shoe.

A little man who succeeds against the odds.

Conquering false gods.

World wide peace and happiness will then ensue.

It depends on you.

Me too.

You may of course be feminine.

That makes no difference any time.

This is the recipe for me and you.

Irish stew.

Between the lines you may know what I mean.

For every man, ice cream.

This poet seeks inspiration.

Without hesitation.

Genius is akin to madness you may say.

Have it your way.

Tich Ennis

28th December, 2018