Category Archives: Universe

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

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It

It all came out of nothing or almost nothing or so they say and made what we see today.

It they are right it will eventually implode after all they said it did explode.

Fragments returning to their preternatural state, is that our fate?

Well yes and no don’t say I told you so.

Once upon a time a long time ago all continents were one.

What, even the Sun?

Here I refer to the magical number one.

It’s a small step from infinity, goodbye, I’ve got to run.

Tich Ennis

16th November, 2017

Explaining Myself

Or attempting to. What am I? Who am I? Do I matter? If so to who or, much less, what? Are these irrelevant questions? If irrelevant, irrelevant to what? To what matters. What does matter? You. You matter to me. Do I matter to you? You who hear or read these words. Does it matter if I matter to you? It matters to me. Does it matter to you if you matter to me? I suppose so. It should. Who says? I do. Am I what I say and do? To a large extent yes. In fact that is all that matters about me. You too? Yes. Questions are limited. How, where, what, why, when and who. Am I defined in those terms and are those things all there are to say about me? For me read you. What is the most important question? Not what, that’s for sure. Why is the question, the supreme question. Why am I? Why are you? Why not? Why a pear, an apple, a blade of grass? Our environment. The environment from which we spring and of which we are a part. Self aware matter. Does matter matter? Yes. For a while. Our life is a while. We could not exist in material form except in a material world. Or universe or galaxy. Does matter last forever? No. It changes form. Will I or you last forever? No. Not in material form. Life is a life sentence. Hard labour. I mention that in passing. Life is a passing thing. Why and how are important, more than what. Reality is the essence of the real. I am my essence, you are yours. You are how you are what you are. I attempt to explain myself but explain you. A poor explanation. Another word for essence is spirit. When the spirit leaves the body we are dead. Dead to the world. We are no more. In the eyes of the world. We are our spirit. How we are. I am I. You are you. You are your spirit, me too. Does this matter? The word matter again. The soul of the thing. The thing I am, but more than a thing. What is my wish? That people not be treated as things. I or you. Anyone anywhere. Speaking for myself I know people have not much time for my longer pieces such as this. Unparagraphed now as I write. Should I care? Yes. About that? I don’t know. Should people care for each other? Yes. Who is the other? You. Me too. There are more questions than answers. Always. Here in this piece for example. The question why is all important. I must be talking to myself. You too. Have I answered those questions about myself? It seems not. I still don’t know. Do you? About you? Meanwhile I press on regardless. What have I said? I don’t matter, I am not matter, not a thing. If I matter to myself I am wrong. You matter. Who will read these words? Almost no one perhaps. Only you. That makes two. Me and you. A dream come true. Poets ask these questions and answer them better than I. Every man his own poet. We are part of a poem, you and I. The poem is the universe. Words are stars sprinkled in the sky. The question why. Maybe I will answer before I die.

I have a friend in hospital, maybe I will read him this. He will say it is too long. He is usually right. So long.

I read it to him. He said blog it. As is.

Tich Ennis

24th July, 2017

Molecules

Does every molecule of matter matter, yes it does.

I am made of them, you too.

Me and you.

Read up about them, it will blow your mind.

It reads like fantasy, the strangest kind.

Electrons made of electricity whizzing around.

The speed of light without a sound.

How much is butter, a pound?

Gravity and other forces come into play.

It will all become clear some day.

Tich Ennis

14th July, 2017

Explosion

God exploded and broke apart, we broke his heart.

God is past, present and future all in one and, oh yes, the Sun.

We carry a little piece of him in our heart and his mortal enemy, the Devil is also there.

Be careful which you choose, above all, care.

Someday in the future God will join together again when there is peace among men.

I am a heretic, burned at the stake, my question is, how long will it take?

When end heartbreak?

What difference can a poet make?

Walter Scott wrote The Lady of the Lake.

Be not fake.

This is my Sunday poem.

By their works ye know ‘em.

Tich Ennis

25th June, 2017

Tomorrow

Tomorrow is another day, it never comes, the present is here to stay.

If you like it, fine, if not, do your time.

I make mine.

Another glass of wine?

I dislike poems when you don’t know what they mean.

Do you believe a dream?

Oh well, I thought I’d write this anyway.

Tomorrow is another day.

That’s all I have to say.

I go away.

Tich Ennis

22nd June, 2017

Cosmic

Far be it from me to mention Mars.

Even further away are stars.

They don’t all have names or if they have them I don’t know.

I have not been introduced here below.

I know one is called North, possibly South, the morning star is somewhere about.

Its strange to think they are always there but can’t be seen in daylight, so there.

We are neighbours in the milky way, I know that for a fact, our galaxy, okay?

I could go on for a light year and a day.

I appear not to have mentioned the Sun.

I have not time to name every one.

I notice I mentioned I a lot.

Am I big in the Cosmos?

Not a jot.

That’s your lot.

Tich Ennis

19th June, 2017