Category Archives: The End

Memory

When tears come unbidden and grief can’t be hidden.

Life goes on, take refuge in a song.

A period of contemplation.  Never again.  Consternation.

It is, it was, it will not be.

Life’s history.

Sadness for what is gone.

Life goes on.

Still, memory is there.

And always will be for those who care.

Memory is in the air.

Tich Ennis

28th July, 2018

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Can

Can a perfect poem save the world? If so, let it be.

The world should be poetry.

To read means to understand.

People of whatever land.

Don’t have anything worth robbing and you won’t be robbed.

This poet is not double jobbed.

But enough of me, too much talk of me.

Who will make the blind to see?

Some other me.

Could it be I?

If not, why?

Something to do before you die.

How wonderful if everything would rhyme.

For all time.

Sublime.

Tich Ennis

30th June, 2018

Therapy

Why should I inflict my psyche on you?

Art is therapy for the artist, that’s true.

Understanding me, you too.

Snow is white, the sky is blue.

Diagnose me, I’ll diagnose you.

Tich Ennis

5th March, 2018

Last Option

Now at last I do or die.

Or at least try.

I cannot pay one who knows, I can’t afford new clothes.

No money, don’t you understand?

I don’t, things are not grand.

I myself must find out how, that’s the best way.

I may ring one last friend, today.

Writing this is postponement, I must make atonement.

For what I am not sure, maybe a lazy mind.

I am not the thinking kind.

Some things come easily to me.

Not everything, you see.

My best friend believed in me.

So I will try, and hopefully achieve.

I must myself believe.

Others have done it, so can I.

I tell myself that is no lie.

It will happen if I try.

I have no other choice, its up to me.

I will do it, wait and see.

Tich Ennis

15th January, 2018

 

Best Friend Dead

Michael O’Brien has died. There is a best friend shaped hole in my heart. I’ll have to make everyone my best friend. Tall order.

Tich Ennis

8th 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