Category Archives: Creation

Writer Singer

I am a writer posing as a singer although I never wrote a song.

A singer put one of my poems to music, they need to be quite long.

He played and sang it at my book launch, a woman was highly impressed.

I should do what I do best.

So a guy in Scotland said if I make myself famous for something else someone might publish my book.

You have ears as well as eyes, listen and look.

Read the book.

Tich Ennis

16th August, 2017

Sock

Deer Oirish Riters’ Soc, I want to rite but should I?

I can’t spell, but what the Hell?

Does grammar matter, should a thin person be fatter?

A writer must have something to say more than have a nice day.

Nothing rhymes with I except die.

That’s not completely true, are you?

I’ll put a sock in it for now.

Have a nice day despite the rain anyhow.

Tich Ennis

16th August, 2017

Deity

God is always there when you look.

Otherwise a closed book.

Bad news they say comes in threes.

They don’t always speak the truth in times like these.

Tremendous obstacles may be overcome.

How long to kingdom come?

Acceptance may be the best way.

Tomorrow is another day.

Leave no stone unturned.

The traveller returned.

Seek and ye shall find.

Peace of mind.

You must really mean it, really do it.

Giving your all is all that’s to it.

Give yourself to what you do.

Then you know God is true.

God is self effacing, his message is be the same.

You will be glad he came.

This world lives in shame.

Who to blame?

God seeks no fame.

Do your best.

Life is a test.

Testing you.

Be true.

That’s what I should do.

Must I spell it out?

Do not doubt.

Half measures always fail.

True is the holy grail.

Its there waiting for you to find.

Make up your mind.

Its never too late until you’re dead.

Enough said.

I’ll take this as read.

To read means to understand, if you understand, then do.

How to be you.

Me too.

This poem could go on forever.

When will you understand, never?

If you understand then do.

I leave it to you.

Tich Ennis

14th August, 2017

State Of Play

The situation is in a state of flux. Everything always is, said a friend. Metamorphosing he said. I dislike saying what I am going to do because it might not happen. As Spike Milligan said, I have no plan so nothing can go wrong.

Be that as it may Shinobu has said she can lend me 500 euros towards the publication and printing of my proposed book, which exists in the ether of this computer on which I write. Politics has been described as the art of the possible.

I texted my solicitor, Gus Cullen, asking should I buy an ISBN number for it, which is not a legal requirement. Mainly this book will be sold locally, perhaps through one bookshop and two hotels of a friendly nature, but 50 or so individual people have said they will buy. They need no ISBN, those individuals, of course.

ISBN numbers cost 100 euros plus VAT for one or 250 pounds sterling plus VAT for ten. I may self-publish on Amazon, not the book I am proposing getting printed locally, but a variation of it, of a higher page count. As a POD and also digitally, if I get around to it. I like to keep my options open, but not forever.

I would not have to borrow if I was not broke. There is some kind of Arts department of the local county council which apparently give grants in some circumstances. I spoke with their representative after a poetry reading I gave at Arklow culture night and she said they would give a grant towards the cost of bringing out a book.

A visual artist I know said they are no good, they promise a grant and fail to keep their promise.   My sister, who knows that artist, said that is just him. I said the silly bitch did not have a card. My sister said if I call her that I won’t get any money. I suppose she’s right, my sister.   She sometimes is.   I am trying to avoid being annoyed with the world and all its works and pomps but am having difficulty doing that. Restraint is a virtue at which practice makes perfect.   I’m not there yet.

Maeve Binchy said she does not agree with subsidised art, neither do I. Beggars can’t be choosers. There’s no harm in trying. They can only say no, although I foresee having to jump through many bureaucratic hoops before achieving a result, positive or negative.   Bureaucracy and me are not good friends. A bureaucrat thinks rules are more important than people.

I was never too proud to be on the dole. If the county council come up with the goodies I could return it at a later date. There is always that possibility. Bob Dylan took some time deciding whether to accept the Nobel Prize money. I myself walked to the dole office on foot, not barefoot. Through the snow.

That then is the state of play. Situation normal, all fouled up. A solicitor I worked for said to a client “We will wait until the situation clarifies itself”.   Situations don’t clarify themselves, you have to clarify them.   Or in this case, me.   I must be the clarifier. With help from my friends.

Thanks, Shinobu. Also to others who would blush if I mention their names.   Humility is the greatest virtue. But you know that already.

I will work it out as I go along, crossing my bridges as I come to them. That is my plan. But what did Spike Milligan say? “I’m walking backwards to Christmas”.

And so say all of us.

Tich Ennis

10th August, 2017

Explaining Myself

Or attempting to. What am I? Who am I? Do I matter? If so to who or, much less, what? Are these irrelevant questions? If irrelevant, irrelevant to what? To what matters. What does matter? You. You matter to me. Do I matter to you? You who hear or read these words. Does it matter if I matter to you? It matters to me. Does it matter to you if you matter to me? I suppose so. It should. Who says? I do. Am I what I say and do? To a large extent yes. In fact that is all that matters about me. You too? Yes. Questions are limited. How, where, what, why, when and who. Am I defined in those terms and are those things all there are to say about me? For me read you. What is the most important question? Not what, that’s for sure. Why is the question, the supreme question. Why am I? Why are you? Why not? Why a pear, an apple, a blade of grass? Our environment. The environment from which we spring and of which we are a part. Self aware matter. Does matter matter? Yes. For a while. Our life is a while. We could not exist in material form except in a material world. Or universe or galaxy. Does matter last forever? No. It changes form. Will I or you last forever? No. Not in material form. Life is a life sentence. Hard labour. I mention that in passing. Life is a passing thing. Why and how are important, more than what. Reality is the essence of the real. I am my essence, you are yours. You are how you are what you are. I attempt to explain myself but explain you. A poor explanation. Another word for essence is spirit. When the spirit leaves the body we are dead. Dead to the world. We are no more. In the eyes of the world. We are our spirit. How we are. I am I. You are you. You are your spirit, me too. Does this matter? The word matter again. The soul of the thing. The thing I am, but more than a thing. What is my wish? That people not be treated as things. I or you. Anyone anywhere. Speaking for myself I know people have not much time for my longer pieces such as this. Unparagraphed now as I write. Should I care? Yes. About that? I don’t know. Should people care for each other? Yes. Who is the other? You. Me too. There are more questions than answers. Always. Here in this piece for example. The question why is all important. I must be talking to myself. You too. Have I answered those questions about myself? It seems not. I still don’t know. Do you? About you? Meanwhile I press on regardless. What have I said? I don’t matter, I am not matter, not a thing. If I matter to myself I am wrong. You matter. Who will read these words? Almost no one perhaps. Only you. That makes two. Me and you. A dream come true. Poets ask these questions and answer them better than I. Every man his own poet. We are part of a poem, you and I. The poem is the universe. Words are stars sprinkled in the sky. The question why. Maybe I will answer before I die.

I have a friend in hospital, maybe I will read him this. He will say it is too long. He is usually right. So long.

I read it to him. He said blog it. As is.

Tich Ennis

24th July, 2017

Coin

The good things and the bad things are both made by man.

Two sides of a coin, thats God’s plan.

Do you need to toss a coin to make your choice?

Choose good, then rejoice.

You made your choice.

A coin may balance on its edge.

Sucicides stand on a ledge.

In life we take rough with the smooth, good and bad.

Sane and mad.

Good makes you glad.

Tich Ennis

26th July, 2017

God’s Fatal Error

He made me. I let him down.

Into a hole in the ground.

The rest is history.

It is no mystery.

He trusted me.

I will exhume if I can.

To fulfill his plan.

God being God can rise again.

The question, when?

When I get down to it.

Should I do it?

I suppose so.

Here I go.

Call me mister Slow.

Now I know.

His mistake was mine.

It happens all the time.

Tich Ennis

26th July, 2017