Category Archives: History

Lost

I left my belongings at the gate and hurried inward to my fate.

I rang my sister about my brother and did one or two or more things other.

Then I said, where are my things, who knows what misfortune brings.

I looked high and low and on the floor, then gave up, no more, no more.

I settled for a substitute, bitter fruit.

Later I went out again and discovered my belongings then.

Cigarettes, a lighter and a pen.

A lapse of memory occurred.

This is not my final word.

I found what’s lost, oh welcome home!

Turn of the tide, bedecked with foam.

Tich Ennis

10th October, 2017

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Commemoration

Am I the greatest thing since scrambled eggs or sliced bread?

Will I be commemorated when I’m dead?

Get your act together, I live in stormy weather.

Should I be awarded the Nobel prize posthumously it will make no difference to me.

I never won a beauty competition, I went fishin’.

The prizes I won in life would fit in a matchbox.

In the Victorian era people gave their lovers locks.

Of their hair, I mean.

I used Brylcream.

I remember Elvis Presley and James Dean.

Tich Ennis

7th October, 2017

Stupidity

Me: In the seventeen hundreds someone wrote a book which is still in print with the title Great Popular Delusions and the Madness of Crowds.

He: Brilliant.

Me: If he was alive today he could update it. It was about the South Sea Bubble and people paying ten thousand pounds for a tulip bulb. I can sell you a tulip bulb for only five thousand, do you want it?

He: No.

Me: Do you ever say to yourself how can people be so stupid?

He: I’ve given up asking that.

Me: In Cork there was a thing called Empowering Women. A man in England was said to have his tongue so firmly in his cheek no one knew it was there. I sometimes feel like laughing but don’t. What about men? Isn’t that sexist? It was a scam, a pyramid scheme. People who were taken in were interviewed, none of them said they were to blame.

He: They never do.

Me: One woman said she knew it was a racket but if she got in and out quick at an early stage she would make money, so she did. That’s like saying I don’t believe in prostitution but I have a brothel and it makes money, so that’s alright.

I said to a lawyer there’s a saying I can’t remember, when something seems too good to be true it usually is, sometimes is or always is. He said, usually.

When people are taken in by a confidence trick its because of gullibility, naivety, stupidity and greed. Stupidity can be defined as not thinking. Do they never read anything?

He: No.

Me: I remember saying years ago that my mother could spot a con man at twenty paces. Honest people can. They try to ingratiate themself with you, like Gay Byrne. That might be unfair.

He: To the conman.

Me: I said to an English couple, who didn’t talk at all, that Tony Blair was like a TV personality. Gordon Brown trained himself to smile.   You could see him doing it, it didn’t work. He should not become a comedian, maybe an undertaker. Television is a supeficial medium, its concerned with appearance, not reality.

Alec Douglas Home said there should not be television debates at elections. The best actor with the best script would win. Tony Blair.

         In the eighteen fifties in America there were snake oil salesmen, real snake oil salesmen. Methaphors come from something literal. When someone bought some as a cure all they would be followed onto the train and cheated out of their house. If they fall for snake oil they will fall for anything.

When Billy Graham was in London there were people going around local houses saying they were from the Billy Graham organisation and if you paid twenty pounds you would get into Heaven. Some people paid.  I read that out to my mother and said how can people be so stupid?

She said I’ll pay when I get there.

Tich Ennis

15th September, 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

Artist

I am an artist, I just want to make.

If I said I was in PR I’d be a fake.

Who wants to manufacture distribute and sell?

To me that’s Hell.

What price the Liberty Bell?

So almost no one knows of me or my output, my work, my art.

My breaking heart.

I don’t want to cry on your shoulder, I might shrink your collar.

Can you spare a dollar?

Nothing is free, not even me.

I am unwritten history.

I will have to learn to swim sometime.

Doing nothing is a crime.

I speak metaphorically of course, I’m a poet, not a horse.

Some idiot asked do I not know how to swim, that’s Michael O’Brien, that’s him.

Can I get anything into anyone’s thick head?

I’ll keep trying until I’m dead.

By swim I meant come down to Earth, get in the swim of things.

Knock on doors, try bell rings.

Must I speak simply as if everyone is a dope?

Including myself and the Pope.

Some hope.

Tich Ennis

11th September, 2017

Sloppy Guy

I am a messy sloppy guy, don’t ask the reason why.

I was born to feel not think, I can do things, I write with ink.

Technical explanations leave me cold, I have grown to be so very old.

When they tell me what to do but leave out how I’m all at sea I cannot plough.

So I should ask some other guy, less sloppy than you or I.

Maybe some guy says it clear, I wish he would show up here.

Or preferably do it for me while I drink a cup of tea.

Will that ever be?

Why leave it all to me?

Set me free.

Yours frustratedly.

I want to do things in the simplest possible way.

That’s all I’ve got to say.

Today.

Or for now anyway.

Tich Ennis

2nd September, 2017

Prize Poem

Should I enter for a poetry competition when I never win?

To quote myself, when do I begin?

Has it all been said before, who am I to speak?

A nobody yet somebody my voice has not grown weak.

I speak for all who speak for true, I speak for me, I speak for you.

Do I need to win a prize?

I walk under rainy skies.

A poet lives, a poet dies.

A prize would come as a surprise.

To an unknown such as I.

I dare ask why.

I do not believe a lie.

I butter up no buttercup.

So I am told to shut up.

My answer, no.

So on I go.

The fee is money down the drain.

Irish criminals live in Spain.

Is it a crime to write in rhyme?

I write for now and all time.

I mean what I say.

Meanwhile the world puts on a play and looks the other way.

I do not want a prize, acclaim.

Here below I write my name.

Money would be welcome, who pays for poetry?

Don’t ask me.

I live in Hell, all is not well.

An artist describes what he sees.

Who wants truth in times like these?

Who makes honey, honeybees.

So alone I wander on.

If I enter, money gone.

Am I sorry just for me?

No, I’m sad for history.

Will I, won’t I, should I do it?

Its only money, there’s nothing to it.

I am in two minds, as you may see.

A schizophrenic, that’s me.

Who will win, someone better?

Or in common parlance, wetter.

Come on world, must do better!

I’ll leave it at that.

As Shakespeare said, I smell a rat.

There’s something rotten in the state.

I hold my nose, await my fate.

This poem may go on too long.

Am I right or am I wrong?

Should I take up writing prose?

I don’t know, maybe, I suppose.

God knows.

Tich Ennis

2nd September, 2017