Category Archives: Emigration


You can’t depend on the weather in Ireland or anything else at all.

Hear politicians talking, they might as well be talking to the wall.

They make no sense at all.

Ireland is rather small.

Does it punch above its weight in anything or is it fate?

We’re not bad at talking, when will we start walking?

We wrote some books, we sang some songs, we tried to right some wrongs.

Occasionally, once or twice, we get it right.

We emigrate, take flight.

Beannacht De libh, good night.


Another wonderful day, as Beckett said.

Cheer up, you could be dead.

Tich Ennis

30th June, 2017



Endless Traffic

Going where?

Here or there.

So I travel on.

I’m here, I’m gone.

Is there more to say?

I’m on my way.

The weather may be good or bad, sunshine or rain, happy or sad.

However, we keep going, as I said, where?

Breathing air.

Like, I mean, where to?

Enjoy the view.

Has my journey any point?

My destination is another joint.

Finally, home.

Ballinaclash or Rome.

End of pome.

Tich Ennis

26th May, 2017

Cold House

It’s a cold house for poets who have no money.

If I had a sense of humour I might think that was funny.

Do we need the internet in the internet age?

Yes we do, we write on a page.

I want feedback, some, some voices bring me joy.

How may I communicate with them through a broken toy?

My internet is down, I have not paid their bill.

I ought to ring them up and say I will.

I postpone things, that is my sin.

When do I begin?

I’ll go to the café and have a coffee and a smoke.

I am a joke.

I have a sense of humour, that is no rumour.

Just when things appeared to be starting to go well I descend into Hell.

Oh well.

I hold back, that’s my crime.

Have I endless time?

Is it best to know the worst, does the worst come first?

I should try before I die.

Things are not as bad as you think, it is better to swim than sink.

I guess I’ll do it after all.

I’ll give them a call.

Can a cold house become warm?

I’ll give it a chance. Sure where’s the harm?

I believe in charm.

Fortune favours the brave.

I have my soul to save.

Could I save yours too?

That’s the thing to do.

Can poetry save my soul?

Make me whole.

To be precise I’m nice.

Don’t think twice.

That’s my advice.

Okay, I’ve done it and its done.

I am my father’s son.

Tich Ennis

21st March, 2017


Set sail for a star wherever you are.

It will guide you home though your home may not be Rome.

In interstellar space do you know your place?

We live in the Milky Way, wash your face.

Did I say the Milky Way?

This is all I have to say.

(I could be more intelligent but you know what I meant.

You and I are Heaven-sent.

That’s what I meant).

Tich Ennis

8th March, 2017


Then I died.

People cried.

They wept and rent their clothes.

This could happen, I suppose.

At least my debtors, if not my betters.

I look forward to the end, there’s nothing else to do.

Do you?

Tich Ennis

28th February, 2017


Not a moment too soon man went to the Moon.

Not a woman to be seen, not even the queen.

A golf game was played, that’s why man was made.

No burgers or cola and no pianola.

Finally he returned to Earth which gave him birth.

He had a story to tell, people said oh well.

Tich Ennis

28th February, 2017

A Simple Man’s Prayer

Oh God, are you there?

It’s me on the line.

Turn water into wine.

But not all, we need a shower now and then.

I’ve been waiting for you since I don’t know when.

Some say you don’t exist, I know the feeling.

Wounds need healing.

If you’re busy another time will do.

So far I’ve left it up to you.

Will I do?

Tich Ennis

27th February, 2017