Category Archives: Environment

Santa Claus

Not believing in Santa Claus doesn’t mean there isn’t one, you are responsible for your own belief.

Don’t give me grief.

At one time people believed the Earth is flat.

Fancy that.

So therefore you could be wrong.

Can you sing a song?

You may think so but what do others say?

Go away?

Are you looking forward to a Christmas present, be youPagan, Christian or Jew?

Or Muslim, to name but a few.

Possibly one will come.

Son of a gun.

The circulation of the blood and many other things were not believed.

Are you easily deceived?

Who gets your vote, who has you by the throat?

Speak up, spit it out.

Have you found out?

What makes you so sure?

Do roses grow well in manure?

Wherein lies your expertise?

Birds and bees?

Almost no one knows anything, that’s a fact.

Some actors don’t know how to act.

Consult yourself, what do you know?

One thing is sure, a snail moves slow.

Therefore, hang up your sock on Christmas Eve.

Santa Claus will tell you what to believe.

Or maybe he did long ago.

What do I know?

The Earth is round.

Sound.

I may speak the truth incidentally.

Do you know many like me?

Tich Ennis

11th October, 2017

 

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Perfection

Perfection knows no flaw, maybe I never saw.

If scenery is any indication we have some good stuff in this nation.

Perfection, to which I aspire, is it always higher?

Before I expire in the mire.

How good is my best, I suppose I know.

Its good, alright, I’ll let it go.

Only best is good enough for me.

Whether it be gold or a cup of tea.

Or a meal at a hotel.

I dislike saying oh well.

Hell and Heaven are opposite extremes.

Must we be in between?

You know what I mean.

The middle way is not good enough.

If you don’t like this poem, tough.

This is my kind of stuff.

You probably know words like mediocre, mediocrity.

How about a plastic covered sea?

I say what I see.

Perfection, no, I have not found.

Music?

I like the sound.

Tich Ennis

9th October, 2017

Butterfly

My writing is like the flutter of a butterfly’s wings and makes as little difference as far as I can see to things.

Some guy said fluttering of a butterfly’s wings can cause a hurricane somewhere else, oh well.

Can I make Heaven out of Hell?

Everything means something we were told at school.

I heard that, I am not a fool.

Every action provokes an equal and opposite reaction is a well known fact.

And so I act.

Do things matter, yes they do to me.

A flower, a river, a Christmas tree.

I write this on a napkin having left behind my book.

It flutters in the wind while I look.

I hope to bring about a book.

I have been to the printer, I have a little work to do.

Who will enjoy it?

Maybe you.

Me too.

Tich Ennis

6th September, 2017

Rovelli

Everything is an illusion said Carlo Rovelli from a land where they don’t call jam jelly.

If everything is an illusion what is real?

Is it everything you feel?

If matter doesn’t matter what price spirit, what price quality?

Enjoy a cup of tea.

Or two with me.

Wait and see.

Can you believe your eyes?

You’re in for a surprise.

Rovelli is wise.

He joins the pantheon of wise guys.

Tich Ennis

24th August, 2017

Seventy-Six

I’ve heard so much rubbish in my life I might as well go deaf.

I don’t know if I’m right or left.

I see good and bad in everything, for every Winter there is a Spring.

It’s how you use it, not what you do.

Or how you do it, that is true.

Should I put my head in the sand like an ostrich and say everything is grand?

I have not shut my eyes and ears, you reduce me to tears.

Don’t realise my worst fears.

I am a man of seventy-six years.

Tich Ennis

23rd August, 2017

Beautiful

Beautiful, unquantifiable, the mysteries of the universe.

Some ask, is this a blessing or a curse?

Cheer up, it could be worse.

I am not averse to verse.

Ponder the mystery of a flower, holy hour!

Did you come down in the last shower?

Rain causes flowers and the grass to grow.

Now you know.

Is it rude to say I told you so?

On that note I go.

Tich Ennis

23rd August, 2017

Up And Down

Things are looking up and down again, some things aren’t half bad.

Some things are only slightly mad.

Not quite as bad as I thought whoever or from whomever I bought.

Life is quite fraught.

Not quite as bad as I thought.

But still not quite completely all there.

When I trust them I go spare.

So the misleading mislead the misled.

I sometimes think I should have stayed in bed.

Tich Ennis

17th August, 2017