Category Archives: Character Defects

At Last

The poem to end all poems never came.

I am here all the same.

Who to blame?

For shame, for shame.

Alright, I’ll get down to it.

I’ll do it.

If it takes me a lifetime.

I’ll write your rhyme.

Written in snail slime.

Tich Ennis

17th November, 2018


I didn’t say forever said the groom.

To the room.

People change their mind, you will find.

I’m not the settling down kind.

Romantic love is just that, romance.

A man has a mistress in France.

Bonjour, aujourd’hui, au revoir.

What is life for?

Will we live happily ever after?


It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Cynical rhyme.

Tich Ennis

15th November, 2018


Suppose a priest said many masses drinking altar wine then was breathalysed would he pay the fine?

If he said that was not wine that was God’s blood would he be understood?

What is a miracle anyway?

Something that defies the laws of nature, have it your way.

Some priests were called whiskey priests for reasons I won’t go into now.

They’re only human, anyhow.

Priests are a disappearing tribe in secular times.

Bless me father for I have sinned, my confession rhymes.

Tich Ennis

13th November, 2018


I am an intellectual, I prefer Adrian Mole to Harry Potter.

Is Sue Townsend a better plotter?

I revel in the prose, God knows.

Mole appears pedantic, to me.

Is Potter frantic, do you see?

I only read one book of each, the first in each case.

Will Potter vanish without trace?

There appears to me to be more brain power in the one I prefer.

Both written by women, long live her.

Am I out of touch with popular taste?

For this are forests laid to waste?

Mole is, unfortunately for him, chaste.

Sue Townsend is R.I.P.

J.K. Rowling is still writing, she.

I said she because it rhymes with R.I.P.

Tich Ennis

6th November, 2018


I committed perjury twice.

I was not nice.

I did it to keep my job.

Was I a slob?

I suppose it wasn’t very important what I swore.

It made no difference really, it really happened, I could say more.

Do you believe me when I broke my oath?

As requested by a man living in Ratoath.

It went against the grain, made me feel sick.

Browbeaten into a dirty trick.

Smiling the boy fell dead.

I lived on instead.

My employer was a man in the legal profession.

This is my confession.

Later I left that job of my own volition and had fun in another.

I am somebody’s brother.

If I am a saint its of the plaster kind.

Is my soul my mind?

By the way, nice is fake good.

I wish people understood words, I wish they would.

I sailed, I swam, I flied.

Until now I have not died.

My goodness is hypothetical.

I end before becoming anasthetical.

Freud was a fraud, applaud.

Though held in high esteem.

Don’t ask me to interpret your dream.

I was young, not spelled with a J.

If that means nothing to you look the other way.

I met Marianne today.

Finally the end, finis.

That’s me.

Tich Ennis

2nd November, 2018


People respect you more when you’ve achieved.

Achieve fame and be believed.

This truth is not absolute.

Respect a gunman, he may shoot.

People can believe what they want, a person said to me.

I do not agree.

What people say they believe and do believe may be different, you see.

To revert to the matter of respect.

Who is worthy, who correct?

Can you believe anything that is not true, yes, if someone is fooling you.

Then you are a fool too.

I value respect, truth and belief with this proviso.

Some serve only their own ego.

I called this poem Respect.

Was I correct?

I touched on other topics too.

Some may apply to you.

Tich Ennis

1st November, 2018

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