Category Archives: Feeling


To say the usual unusually, is that what is given to me?

More or less, you see.

I don’t use strange words, avoiding the absurd.

A thought occurred.

I write, I put it down.

Maybe a feather floating, a crowd in town.

I sing of the ordinary, but not only.

I am not lonely.

Death of a friend, life’s end.

Happy, sad, funny.

Life is worth the money.

All things are one.

Rise, oh setting sun.

Tich Ennis

11th March, 2018



I’ve left it rather late to do anything at all.

I like writing most of all.

So I write, that’s what I do.

Do I sound anything like you?

I thought I couldn’t do it, now I don’t care.

I feel, the words are there.

I’m old, shall my story be told?

The most boring subject is oneself, that book stays on the shelf.

Everyone’s life is interesting, so I heard.

I believe in the word.

I wanted to write when young, and did some, sometimes I bit my tongue.

Don’t want to be, just do.

An old man’s advice to you.

Tich Ennis

17th January, 2018

Full Flower

Art and science walk hand in hand, shall we allow them to despoil the land?

At their best they are wonderful, supreme, at their worst an adolescent dream.

To be mature or immature, wine aged in the wood.

Or whiskey ten year old, its good.

Thought and imagination find their flower now and then.

Oftentimes we wait and wait, saying oh God when?

At any level good is good, trees and shrubs make up the wood.

Some stand tall and stately, magnificently made.

Affording, as someone said, the weary traveller shade.

Tich Ennis

28th September, 2017


Genius is of the Spirit

Genius is of the spirit not the mind.

You have it, be kind.

In every little thing you do be true.

And in big things too.

Goya said he was still learning at the age of ninety-five.

Learn while you’re alive.

You will be dead a long time, so the mournful people say.

You are not dead today.

Use your brush, your words, your hands and feet.

Joy is unconfined when lovers meet.

Life is your work of art.

Be of good heart.

Tich Ennis

19th September, 2017



Do I give good value? Does fresh air?

Thank you for nothing you seem to say, there, there.

More or less no one says they like what I do.

I am human too.

Alright, a few, now and then.

Whether for my voice or pen.

I guess I’m not the best self advertiser.

I have no money, I am not a miser.

What do you see, read, hear?

This, that and the other while you drink your beer.

Be of good cheer.

I am a king without a throne.

Throw the dog a bone.

Tich Ennis

14th September, 2017


All Roads

All roads lead everywhere unless it’s a cul-de-sac.

If it’s a cul-de-sac turn back.

On a straight road you can’t go round the bend.

A long road seems to have no end.

May the road rise up to meet you and the wind be at your back.

A long straight road is called a tramp’s heartbreak, that’s a fact.

Boreen means small road, or maybe a lane.

Here I mean, not in Spain.

Dark alleys have a bad reputation.

In more or less every nation.

Don’t believe you can’t get there from here.

At the end of the road enjoy a beer.

Tich Ennis

9th September, 2017



Must I beg, borrow and steal to bring the world to heel?

What about how I feel?

Far be it from me to impose, I speak in rhyme, not prose.

So it goes.

The fair name of poetry has been maligned but not by me.

People think poets speak no sense, they’re not far wrong, get thee hence.

To revert once more, where can I get money?

I want to buy your freedom with a book both true and funny.

Problem, no money.

Tich Ennis

8th September, 2017