Category Archives: Universe

Birthplace

Land of my birth what are you worth?

In pounds shillings and pence, have sense.

Foreigners choose to come here to live, why?

Is it a good place to die?

If you come looking for logic you came to the wrong place.

We are from another planet, outer space.

We are great at complaining, that’s a complaint.

Am I a foreigner, I ain’t.

Saint Patrick was a foreign saint.

Pubs used to be expensive, now you couldn’t give them away.

Are drink driving laws here to stay?

If young people ran things would everything be better or are they too busy boozing, or choosing?

Why doesn’t someone do something, who, me?

Wait and see.

If talking was a cure we’d all be well.

Make your own Heaven or Hell.

I’m stuck here anyway, I’m lazy.

Land of the crazy.

When someone says jump do you ask how high?

You are not I.

I did not choose my place of birth, I had no choice.

Land of James Joyce.

Why do Irish people emigrate?

Can’t they stand each other or at least tolerate?

The wind is so blowy I can’t write my poem, it turns over the page.

Yet I don’t feel rage.

Nothing’s ever perfect here.

I take solace in beer.

I drink therefore I am.

Do you want bread with your jam?

Shaw the Irish writer said a patriot is a person who thinks a country is the best in the world because he was born in it, funny but true.

I’ve met the type, have you?

They bore me to death, things are good because they’re good, not because of where they’re from.

There are good things about Ireland, don’t get me wrong.

Music, horses, pubs, talk, scenery to name a few or three.

Least of all me.

Can we agree?

I should have got a haircut today but that will have to wait ‘til Monday now.

Some say poets should have long hair anyhow.

En passant means in passing in French, so I speak.

When will I get through to you, the middle of next week?

Read between the lines, not all the time.

Talking too much is an Irish crime.

The Irish romanticise their history, don’t you?

I’ve got news for you, romance is not true.

Tich Ennis

7th July, 2018

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Sunshine

Sunshine

Sunshine smiled on me today when the showers went away.

I was happy and content, is this what the weather meant?

Forget the rain, forget the snow, what wind may come, what breezes blow.

I am happy here below.

Tich Ennis

2nd May, 2018

Intelligent

He must be very intelligent, I didn’t understand a word he said.

Is that what they say about you before you’re dead?

Listen to me instead.

Tich Ennis

20th March, 2018

My Rubbish

I’m dumping my rubbish on your doorstep and hope you find something interesting there.

The detritus of a life made of moon and stars and many, many bars.

Something to rhyme, care.

Sweep up after me pick up the orange peels and potato skins.

Once upon a time love begins.

No gold here just beer mats and memories of kisses, girls and all the rest.

Love is best.

A life spent looking and searching, did I find?

Only what you find here I have my secrets never, never mind.

Is it true if I was behind the bar no one would buy a drink?

Let me think.

Here is the kitchen sink.

Tich Ennis

21st February, 2018

Appearance

The Sun appears to go around the Earth but that is not the case.

Do you believe your eyes, have you a pretty face?

I am a handsome poet or so some lady said.

She might like to be called that, she is not dead.

Your opinion may differ from others, mine does from my brother’s.

Do less obviously attractive girls get asked at a dance?

Do men deserve a kick in the pants?

Things are not as they seem.

Wake up from a dream.

Tich Ennis

17th January, 2018

Oh Human Race

I gave you a chance, you spat in my face.

You are a disgrace.

You had a chance, you blew it.

Look at me, there’s nothing to it.

I’ll have a word with your superior, you are irredeemably inferior.

Rich and poor alike, get on your bike!

I cannot depend on you, human zoo.

You may say, pot calling kettle black.

Don’t answer back.

Ignore me at your peril, Gerald Durrell.

Cyril and Beryl.

I’m glad I’ve got that off my chest.

I do my best.

You are my test.

I’ll change my vest.

You write the rest.

Tich Ennis

22nd December, 2017

Prestige Project

This is my prestige project, I am what you see.

Are you another me?

To see means understand, I’ll let that pass.

I am trees, green grass.

It fails to pass my understanding why prestige projects exist.

I kissed a girl who never kissed.

You are on my list.

A monument to your own glory, hang the expense.

Does it make sense?

Your achievements speak for themselves, such as they are.

Who made a shooting star?

You are what you are.

I am ordinary, you are extraordinary.

Far be it from me to gild the lily.

This poem might become silly.

I am the Sun, the stars, the Earth, the flowers.

Holy hours.

I warned you this might happen, now you see.

Elvis sang now and then there’s a fool such as me.

And Hound Dog, Don’t Be Cruel, All Shook Up.

I love a simple flower, e.g. buttercup.

Now like a flower I shut up.

Tich Ennis

6th December, 2017