Category Archives: Environment

Prestige Project

This is my prestige project, I am what you see.

Are you another me?

To see means understand, I’ll let that pass.

I am trees, green grass.

It fails to pass my understanding why prestige projects exist.

I kissed a girl who never kissed.

You are on my list.

A monument to your own glory, hang the expense.

Does it make sense?

Your achievements speak for themselves, such as they are.

Who made a shooting star?

You are what you are.

I am ordinary, you are extraordinary.

Far be it from me to gild the lily.

This poem might become silly.

I am the Sun, the stars, the Earth, the flowers.

Holy hours.

I warned you this might happen, now you see.

Elvis sang now and then there’s a fool such as me.

And Hound Dog, Don’t Be Cruel, All Shook Up.

I love a simple flower, e.g. buttercup.

Now like a flower I shut up.

Tich Ennis

6th December, 2017

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Must I?

Must I write poems all the time, must I say everything in rhyme?

My best friend said yes, keep writing, at least when you’re writing you’re not fighting.

Long ago, so we were told, Ireland was nothing but saints and scholars.

Now we sell ourselves for dollars.

Priests don’t wear collars.

Maybe this will never see the light of day, so what, its what I have to say.

I have not gone away.

Neither I nor the IRA.

I do as needs must.

Before I turn into dust.

Gold does not rust.

Tich Ennis

23rd November, 2017

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

Gift

Thanks for the gift of birds in the sky I wish I could fly.

Boy its cold today the breeze would bring me to my knees.

Perhaps I would say a prayer then if I care.

I come in out of the cold I must remember I am old.

I saw swans flying looking wonderful well designed, I took my coffee inside, I changed my mind.

I’ll ask for credit today if that’s okay.

I’ll pay back tomorrow when I get my pension from a grateful state.

Or else they’ll have to wait.

The pub is not open then, it opens at half ten.

I’ll wend my way up then.

Tich Ennis

23rd November, 2017

Angel Voice

Come to Heaven angel voices whispered to me.

I can’t go yet, the world is not yet free.

It’s a damp day, not warm, not raining, I hope not the calm before the storm.

I have things to do, I suppose I should do them now.

Get ready for better days, anyhow.

I had luck today, things are better than they seem.

I hear angel voices in a dream.

Why must some people suffer so?

God knows I am not God I do not know.

Tich Ennis

21st November, 2017

It

It all came out of nothing or almost nothing or so they say and made what we see today.

It they are right it will eventually implode after all they said it did explode.

Fragments returning to their preternatural state, is that our fate?

Well yes and no don’t say I told you so.

Once upon a time a long time ago all continents were one.

What, even the Sun?

Here I refer to the magical number one.

It’s a small step from infinity, goodbye, I’ve got to run.

Tich Ennis

16th November, 2017

Gentle River

I watch the river flow while dirty go.

Its cold I know.

A black bird in the shade well made.

Looking for a crumb or two in the view.

Its less cold than an hour ago.

Possibly Winter snow.

The bird found something but did not sing.

His voice is raw, a caw.

I see a duck and more wildlife, flying by.

Its peaceful here, never mind the time of year.

Where only man is vile a poet said.

One who’s dead.

Some traffic going gently by.

I smoke a cigarette.

Bye bye.

Tich Ennis

13th November, 2017