Category Archives: Books

Converging Concepts

Maths, art, science, literature, philosophy, religion are converging to a single point.

A Russian scientist said that, whom the saints anoint.

Speaking for myself, I concur.

I who infrequently err.

Love is where you find it wherever that may be.

An old pop song or a cup of tea.

Did Adam and Eve do wrong or did they make a mistake?

The Reader’s Digest said that in my years of heartache.

I made mistakes in my time.

Who is without crime?

Everything should rhyme.

I do be and I does be talking rot.

That’s not all I’ve got.

Whoever is responsible, thanks a lot.

I think this poem is rather good but who am I to say?

Have it your way.

Perhaps the last two lines should be in parentheses or, as you might say, bracket.

If you have a bad child do you smack it?

Tich Ennis

4th December, 2017

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Dear Millionaire

Millionaire, Somewhere

1st December, 2017

Dear Millionaire,

I wrote to you in 2014 enclosing a copy of my book Pub Talk which you paid ten euros for and wrote a nice letter of appreciation, thank you.   I am still alive and kicking at the age of 76 and writing and, what’s more, singing!

Here is my latest (second) book also self-published, Reasonable Rhymes, and my CD (self singing) Great Irish Songs and a Christmas Card, self and Santa. Cost of CD ten euros.   Book five. (Twenty would be nice).

I hope you enjoy them all. If the music is not to your taste perhaps you know someone to whom it would make a suitable gift.

I now live in Reality, Seaview Avenue, Arklow, Co. Wicklow, house named by me. My brother thinks it funny to have civil servants writing to reality!

Technical and price details: The book, saddle-stitched, costs me three euros to have printed here locally and the CD hopefully costs me about or less than four euros to have duplicated, cover and all.   All design and layout work by me. Cover photo on book a lily from a neighbour’s garden, photo by my sister, idea of my brother.

Also here are two pieces of writing, a poem I wrote today while thinking of possibly writing to you, called Millionaire, and something I wrote called Books And Other Things. I have a blog with 81 followers, If I was a pop singer I suppose I would have millions.   Also am on Facebook and YouTube, under my professional name of Tich Ennis, birth name David.

Someone said you don’t get rich writing poetry, how about singing?   My brother says its much easier to sell a music CD than a book of poetry, people are put off poetry because of the strange, meaningless stuff written in its name today, that’s why I called my book rhymes,

I hope you may at least play and listen to my CD, of course as well as read my book, you liked the last one. The songs are all out of copyright, so I won’t have to pay any royalties if I manage to sell any. The CD mastered by Beardfire of Dublin, some people here are professional and know what they’re doing, you may take that personally if you like.   My brother says the CD sounds 25 per cent better since mastering, presentation is all-important.

Oops, I came onto a second page, I meant to keep this fairly short, I know you are busy. As I am on a second page I may as well put that poem I wrote today (26th November) here.   Title arbitrary, with or without your second name. Here goes:

Millionaire

You live in your world I in mine may our worlds collide?

Or intersect if that’s correct, the Moon controls the tide.

Who knows what may happen all is happenstance.

What girl may dance with you at a dance?

The Muse is musing and comes not at a time of your choosing.

Life is for living has been said at the worst confusing and at the best amusing.

If I go all transcendental here you might say I’m mental.

Have a very good year.

Tich Ennis

25th November, 2017

         Now that I’ve got that out of the way what else is left to say? Okay, nix with the rhymes. Address me as David, hear final track on my CD, In reality, or Reality, I am David.

What I like about those songs are the great words, basically I am a writer, I love words. The slogan on the front, At least you can hear the words, was said by someone I gave the CD to in an earlier incarnation, I thought it was funny so I put it on. I was the best reader in my class at school (showing off!)

My best friend says I can’t sing but I have a unique voice. I was told at school I can’t sing, so was Elvis. We have that in common.

My mother, a piano teacher, said timing is more important than getting the exact note, my rhythm I think is good. And you can hear the words, which is more than can be said for some singers. I love all the songs.   A local singer said you should only sing songs you like.

The Santa on the card I send is a local guy, the best Santa I ever saw, and what’s more his beard is real, he started growing it last June.   I saw him on the street and asked a girl to photo me with him.   Kids followed him off stage and were having their photo taken with him.   Happenstance, see poem above!

So I got the photo printed and am using it as a Christmas card and costing less than shop bought ones!

The number of people who have paid for my work are a small and select group, join the club, please, if you will. Enjoy!

         Tich Ennis

26th November, 2017

Books And Other Things

Is there any point in reading all the great books assuming you have time enough and if you did what good would it do you or anyone else and would you have time to do anything else at all in your life? A man died while watching the Eurovision Song Contest. I know the feeling.

James Joyce said the appreciation of his work requires a lifetime’s application. Probably only half joking. A psychiatrist said she would not do it if she had two lifetimes. Sorry, James. Joyce also said he wanted to forge the unfinished conscience of his race in the smithy of his soul. Fine words butter no parsnips. That sort of thing gives rhetoric a bad name.

Substitute whatever turns you on for the word books in the title here, music or whatever the Hell else. Yes, I love music. Or dancing or golf, God help us. The perennial student, always studying, never doing. Is that a life well spent? What is life for? Look it up, there are conflicting opinions. Have you an opinion of your own or are all your ideas second hand?

What is the purpose of art, to inspire, enlighten, amuse, entertain, educate or what? This question has been answered before and if you don’t know you weren’t paying attention. For the word art substitute life. Or vice versa, whatever you like.

Look up the word dictionary in a dictionary. You might as well know something as nothing. The purpose of education if you are an egomaniac is to look down on others, be condescending and become an intellectual snob. Good luck with it.   There is no fool like an educated fool said Samuel Johnson.   He described a lexicographer as a harmless drudge. He should know, he wrote a dictionary, what did you do?

(Lexicographer, one who writes a dictionary. That’s telling you. Two can play at this intellectual snob thing.)   It takes one to know one. A little knowledge is a dangerous thing, when you think you know it all and you don’t. There is such a thing as inverted intellectual snobbery, being proud of knowing nothing. Equally repulsive.

Who says? I do. Who am I to speak? More or less no one, speak for yourself. What everyone knows is wrong, get that into your head. I believe what you do, not what you say. Liar, liar pants on fire.

So, are books, or indeed life, worthwhile? You get out of them what you put into them. If you get one good thing out of a book its worthwhile, said a brother of mine. Same applies to life, in all its forms. Art or otherwise, or digging roads or ploughing fields. As you sow so shall you reap, old saying. Life will do to be going on with.

Any day you’re above ground is a good day. Said a man now dead, but remembered. This is more or less all I have to say on the subject. Figure it out yourself.

I wrote this like Jack Kerouac wrote On The Road, more or less typing without stopping, like jazz improvisation. That’s not writing that’s typing, someone said.

Okay, I paused for thought between sentences, I’m not Jack Kerouac.

Tich Ennis

22nd November, 2017

 

Music Maker

Should I tell the truth as it applies to me or is that boring wait and see.

If you sing and record at home your song needs mastering, or maybe poem.

Here is a boring fact, ISRC code, what’s that?

You need one on each track for identification on a radio station.

They are free if you look around and do no harm to the sound.

Whoever duplicates your CD if you make one puts them on at no extra cost.

No one told me all this, not all is lost.

I found out by asking, looking around and a little luck.

There are good guys out there who read the book.

When you’re starting you have to do everything for yourself including finding who to use for what.

Quite a lot.

If someone lived my life before could they tell me more?

Little by little I find how, your way would be different, a different hand on the plough.

I still have more to find out will I get there?

Yes, if I care.

So there.

What’s good is rare.

And who, you?

Maybe me too.

It is a case of doing things one step at a time.

As I wrote this rhyme.

This has been a blog, online diary, my recent history.

Why anyone else would be interested is a mystery.

I said nothing about how many cups of coffee I had nor a photo of my coffee cup.

Now at last I shut up.

Tich Ennis

15th November, 2017

Finding

You find in unexpected places do not give up on the three graces.

Sometimes you only have to look the future is an unwritten book.

Go to source and there you’ll find keep searching and find peace of mind.

Its always obvious when you know someone might say I told you so.

Do I follow my advice?

Does a Japanese eat rice?

From time to time to my surprise the truth is there before my eyes.

All else is lies.

Will I walk and will I see?

If yes the future belongs to me.

Tich Ennis

8th November, 2017

Fancy Free

Money and me are passing acquaintances, money is fancy free.

I borrow from a friend to bring music to you.

You and you and you and me too.

Artists only buy from each other an artist said.

Are we all artists before we’re dead?

I wrote a book, I sang a song, how long, oh Lord, how long?

For a joke God made a money tree.

I sit under the apple tree.

My pockets are empty, can’t you see?

Tich Ennis

16th October, 2017

Smoke

Why is everyone so screwed up, including me?

I watch your faces, you see.

Okay, not always, not quite everyone.

Why do most look like they never had any fun?

Had or have, have it your own way.

All potential customers of mine walk by every day.

I went so far as to write a book, some enjoyed it, some won’t even look.

My brother gives my book away, for God’s sake why?

Alright, its not that bad, some pay for it before they die.

Would you die laughing if I told you a joke?

I am a living cliché, a poet who is broke.

And I smoke.

Tich Ennis

12th October, 2017