Category Archives: Life

Apple

An apple fell from off a tree right into my lap, lucky me.

You can’t expect everything to fall into your lap, you sap.

At least sit under the tree, like me, why not pick one, one that’s ripe?

Don’t believe tripe.

Its not all luck, you make your own.

Call the right person on the phone.

Hermit, alone.

An apple waits for you, you’ve got to do.

I was like you, look at me now.

Under the bough.

Tich Ennis

12th January, 2018

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Near Death Experience

I had a near death experience the other day while passing by a graveyard.

I tried to smile, not very hard.

I thought how convenient, they won’t have to carry me far.

If I must be run over let it be a Rolls Royce car.

Don’t put a plaque on my house yet.

I am as alive as you can get.

Life is an each way bet.

I don’t know what the Hell that means but say it anyway.

Just passing time of day.

Tich Ennis

1st January, 2018

 

Orbit

It seems odd that poems often revert to source.

You may have noticed this, of course.

Back where they came from, they began.

This may be the poet’s plan.

Walk in a circle as the Earth around the Sun.

Back where you came from, where you begun.

You may say orbits are elliptical, of course.

That is if you studied in a bourse.

Look it up in a book if you must before you return to dust.

Or, as I now say, source.

Tich Ennis

27th December, 2017

Every Son

Every son is a heartbreaker, every mother is a peacemaker.

How was I, how will I be, my mother is ancient history.

If I said I would do something when I’m good and ready when would that be says I to she a very long time says she to me.

So I had my feet on the table and she said she would rather I had not, I thought of girls and rock’n’roll that was all I got.

Now I am the oldest, my older brother died, there was a break in my voice, I almost cried.

I was there when my mother died.

My brother, I have more than one, said to my mother how good she was to look after us when she was left alone.

She said she thought others had done it so she could do it too, from a choking dog’s throat she removed a bone.

Everyone’s life is their own.

Need I say more, must I gild the lily?

In my life I have been silly.

My favourite singer is a hillbilly.

My likes vary from time to time, that is no crime.

My favourite music is what I’m listening to right now.

Well chosen, yes, I love it anyhow.

That’s all for now.

So how on Earth is this poem about every son?

I don’t know, I am only one.

Many are called but few are chosen may be said as many are cold but few are frozen, so my father said.

He is also dead.

Well I’m not quite.

Alright.

Goodnight.

I never quite know when to stop.

Am I the good or bad cop?

Have a lollipop.

Full stop.

Tich Ennis

19th December, 2017

Memo

I haven’t been happy with your work lately. I prefer to smile.

Its been a while.

Perfection is hard to attain.

I know that, do you?

Me too.

It is worth the pain.

There is much to gain.

You may not seek my approval.

Are you ready for removal?

God knows I’m a patient man.

At least I think I am.

To end my report, must do better.

Don’t cry when you read this letter.

I’ll see you in my office after work.

May I quote Edmund Burke?

I may, and many others too.

Do Shakespeare’s words mean anything to you?

To be or not to be and so on.

Mull over my words, I won’t go on and on.

See you later on.

Tich Ennis

7th December, 2017

Midnight Hour

At the end of the day it’s the midnight hour, that’s self evidently true.

I’d believe it if I were you.

Twelve midnight, not half past two.

Truism is a word you may not have heard.

It means self evidently true, not false, absurd.

One and one makes two.

That’s an example, a free sample.

We’re born, we live, we die, all that stuff.

If you don’t like it, tough.

There’s no getting away from it, the truth is true.

Believe it or not its up to you.

To believe in the true.

I would if I were you.

I do.

Tich Ennis

30th November, 2017

 

Reaching Out

Reaching out to people who don’t know me, never heard me, never smelt me, never felt me.

Oh well there are many I don’t know, into the sea the rivers flow.

Will my voice ever be heard and read and seen, I, an unknown human being?

Maybe someday they will shake my hand, say good on yeh, that’s grand.

Or maybe not.

How can I be remembered if I am not forgot?

I don’t matter any more or less than any other person.

Of that at least I’m certain.

Tich Ennis

17th November, 2017