Category Archives: Senility

Full Stop

My best friend Michael O’Brien agrees I should stop giving my stuff away for nothing on my blog. I have written various things and not put them there recently, too busy.

I have only 75 or 76 followers on my blog. My nephew said people liking and following other people’s blogs often only want a like or a following in return. I don’t want those likes and followers. I know at least one is genuine, the only one I wrote to and who replied. Thank you.

My plan is to have a book printed and sell it locally, quite a few people, maybe 43, have said they will buy. I will sell it for almost nothing, the printer will make more than me.

I ordered a book on self-publishing from Amazon today, by Rick Smith, which seems the best on the subject. So my work may be available as a print on demand book (POD) and also electronically when I can get my head around how to set up writing for those and uploading and all that.

That way is known as going over the heads of the gatekeepers, who are very good at slamming doors in people’s faces and ignoring them. Going direct to the public.

25 per cent of the top selling books on Amazon are self published, usually half POD and half digitally. Digital books have a 65 per cent market share, and growing.   People buying digital books buy more books, presumably because they are cheaper than on paper, as well as instantly delivered and other advantages.  Being old and traditional I prefer paper books and do not own an electronic book reader. Also being broke.

The paper method costs more, including to me to get my book printed locally for which I will have to borrow.   Selling as a self publisher through Amazon involves a steep learning curve, hopefully I get to the top of that hill!   But no cost to the writer, except time and know how.   The know how I do not have but hope to learn.

Of course not every book sells, I am well aware of that. Today I heard I failed to win a short story competition. A friend of mine said, when you’re starting you have to do everything for yourself.

Contrary to my title here, this may not be my last word ever on my blog. Look forward to Full Start.

I’m a crazy mixed up old man, not a crazy mixed up kid.

Tich Ennis

4th August, 2017

My Mind Wanders

I am quite old.

A story retold.

What holds my interest right through?

Anything well done by me or you.

Quite or rather good or even sometimes when I should, my mind moves away.

The best should stand the test, I can go back another day.

I focus like a laser beam in a dream.

Which sometimes occurs when reading his or hers.

Dreams are best, God bless imagination.

The Garden of Eden requires restoration.

Tich Ennis

2nd July, 2017

Toddler

Bemused, confused, I toddle on.

Who knows right from wrong?

Excuse my look of consternation.

I overhear your conversation.

So, some are older even than me.

Some younger too, I toddle on.

With whom shall I agree?

Someone, somewhere set me free.

Am I a slave until my grave?

Fortune favours the brave.

Each step I take nearer to my maker I make.

Should I put him right on a thing or two or is that me or is it you?

What’s a guy to do?

Ask you?

When all else fails observe jet trails.

Birds fly in the blue.

They know what to do.

Tich Ennis

30th June, 2017

Fix The World

Right said Fred.

I’ll do it when I’m dead.

Its too late then said the undertaker.

Who will pay my cabinet maker?

I’ll try to fit you in on Monday after Coronation Street said Fred, speaking again.

Alright said the undertaker, that’s alright then.

Are you a man of your word?

You wouldn’t believe the rubbish I have heard.

I don’t believe it myself said Fred to me.

Any chance of a cup of tea?

I’ll put the kettle on said she.

Wait and see.

You took the words out of my mouth said he.

I will be back. Probably.

No mention of infinity.

That means so much to me.

After all I’m no Einstein or only relatively.

You workmen are all the same!

Promises are your game.

Still, I’m glad you came.

I’ll expect you when I see you.

Until then, do you take sugar? One or two?

Oh, thank you.

Tich Ennis

13th June, 2017

Fear

I am afraid of learning new things.

Okay, I’m over forty, older than some kings.

A friend said when you get to forty you don’t want to learn anything new.

Has that happened to you?

Einstein made his great discovery before the age of twenty-five.

For the rest of his life he did more or less nothing except say he is alive.

And so also with some other famous men.

When my uncle and aunt were middle aged he said they are two setting suns.

Children are more or less learning machines then they forget everything they ever knew.

I am an old child not knowing what to do.

That friend of mine is eighty-two.

What’s more he still cuts his grass.

I do not, alas.

If you don’t move with the times you’re dead.

I said.

A nephew of mine said when you stop learning its over.

His dog is not called Rover.

Einstein, relatively speaking, was right.

Though not absolutely, I could go on all night.

Scientists keep disproving the last one’s work.

What about me? I shirk.

Its too much like work.

Why doesn’t a man on a white horse come riding by and solve my problems in the wink of an eye?

I suppose I’ll have to do it before I die.

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

Though not that age I am still alive.

All my faculties are alive and kicking.

When will I stop tricking?

I was not put on Earth to disappoint.

Come priest, anoint.

When I die will I make a wonderful corpse?

People may say, he died waiting for a horse.

Come, pale rider, is the pale rider me?

As Shakespeare said, to be or not to be.

Instead of doing things I write poetry.

That’s me.

I have an awful lot to say.

Some other time, I’ll be on my way.

My mother said if you won’t go to school you’ll have to get a job.

Big nob?

She also asked do I take anything seriously.

Not me.

A cup of tea.

Seriousness is morbidity, morbidity is death.

I’m not there yet.

I lament Tibet.

How about girls with slashes in their jeans at the knees?

Designer poverty, puhleese.

In times like these.

I am God’s misbegotten son.

Not the only one.

Have fun.

Should I say more about why I am so slow?

A snail gets there, you know.

Shell rhymes with Hell.

Self inflicted wounds are hardest to cure.

Endure.

Roses grow in manure.

Do I mean a word I say?

Oh everything.

Meaning is king.

I mean to say I go.

Words no one wants to hear, I told you so.

Tich Ennis

10th June, 2017

 

Mad Poet

I wrote two poems yesterday, one called Care. I rang a friend and read them to him.  He said I sounded angry. I don’t want to sound angry.

Me: Do you think I was always mad or am I going mad in my old age?

He: I think the former rather than the latter.

Me: I’m glad to hear it. I wouldn’t like to think I am deteriorating in my old age.

He laughed.   I asked another friend if I got rich and famous might I become obnoxious?   Do you mean more obnoxious than you are, he asked?

An English girl barmaid in the same place said the Irish are very friendly until you get to know them. She chooses to live here. Is she a masochist? Join the club.

In life we must choose the least worst option. It’s a matter of choice.   My brother and I had a car accident when an English couple drove head on into us. My head hit the windscreen and I was temporarily unconscious. Did your whole life flash before your eyes, a barman asked? It was like a porn movie I said.

An Irish writer said a friend of his swore he saw a headline in an Irish paper, Irish girl killed by English train. They’re still doing it to us said another person.

Being Irish is defined as not being English, said an Irishman, not me. We’re Irish, we don’t do rules, said someone else.

If I am a poet why am I writing prose? What is prose, asked a barman who reads five books a week? Anything that isn’t poetry I said. Is a poet mad to write prose? Quite likely. A politician said we campaign in poetry, we govern in prose. A would be senator who failed to get elected said the people have spoken, the bastards. Similarly, the British voted for Brexit.

Do people know what’s good for them? They vote for heroin, cannabis, obesity, eating disorders and many other fads and fancies, with their feet and their mouths. What is populism? Giving the people what they want, not what they need. They don’t want that. Self inflicted wounds are the hardest to heal.

Populism is popular, the easy option. Its always someone else’s fault. Like blaming the English in Ireland. Who runs this bit of it anyway?

The Irish are an acquired taste. I dislike the term love-hate but it will do to be going on with. Says I who am Irish. Yours madly,

Tich Ennis

30th May, 2017

Dream Poetry

I dream poetry.

Is something wrong with me?

Sometimes I write them down.

Sometimes I am a clown.

Sometimes I shut up.

Sometimes I put up.

Like this one here now.

Its better than nothing anyhow.

Tich Ennis

26th May, 2017