Category Archives: Harmony

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

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Computer

A computer means exactly what it says, they’d drive you crazy.

Or am I lazy?

Why are they so complicated?

I awaited enlightenment, I waited and waited.

Sooner or later it came along, I was doing things wrong.

Ask exactly the right question, that is my suggestion.

You too must mean what you say.

Have a nice day.

Hello world, I’ve seen the world, I didn’t like it.

Will I catch a bus or bike it?

Tich Ennis

3rd October, 2017

Strange Prayer

I’d have to be better than God to give up smoking.

Only joking.

I am pretty old but I haven’t given up yet.

Living that is, and the old wine cup, you bet.

Alright, beer, or as I call it, stout.

Am I found out?

Lord make me good but not yet was Saint Augustine’s prayer.

Before he became a saint, I am not there.

To be smoke free would improve my financial position.

Otherwise I am in good condition.

Heal thyself, physician.

To give up would make one or two people glad.

And I would be less mad.

Not bad.

If God is doing the right thing then its up to me.

The rest is history.

Or should I say the past.

I was a trawler fisherman, my years before the mast.

I end in inconsequentiality.

Wait and see.

Tich Ennis

12th September, 2017

Mental Health

Is the world driving people mad or is it just each other?

Civil war is brother against brother.

There are more in mental institutions than before.

Indifference and contempt are part of the cause.

And I suppose ridiculous laws.

Officialdom has a lot to answer for.

Who wants war?

The sheer insanity of what is treated seriously.

Have people forgotten the meaning of humanity?

Madness is not sanity.

I blame the ones who say that they are sane.

They give gentle folk a pain.

Tich Ennis

12th September, 2017

To Do

I want to fix the world and bring an end to war and want.

The truth is staring me in the face, I can do it and you can’t.

I left home today without eating porridge.

I ate from the tree of forbidden knowledge.

As I walked to the café I saw litter on the ground.

Sometimes I pick some up, it would make a mound.

I ordered a breakfast, it costs eight ninety-five.

I want to stay alive.

When will I get around to doing the things I want to and should do?

Would it incur your displeasure if I say the same to you?

Tich Ennis

11th September, 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

Oh Soul

Does my soul matter to anyone except me, and God, the ultimate mystery?

I pour my soul into my writing, poetry, rhymes and what have you, a pot pourri, an Irish stew.

Is my soul immortal in any sense at all, am I talking to the wall?

The soul according to the ancient Greeks is where we feel and give expression to love, there’s more to say, I could go on for weeks.

A soul, one tattered remnant, I offer up to you.

How will I end this rhyme, I haven’t got a clue.

Over to you.

Tich Ennis

5th September, 2017