Category Archives: Writing

Dream

Sometimes I dream things, should I say what I dream?

Things are not as they seem.

Its very complicated and simple at the same time.

They really are simple, the crooks stole the wine.

The Devil has been described as the master of confusion, may I also say illusion and delusion?

In truth the truth is true, all else is lies.

An honest fool is wise.

Who is called a fool today, an honest man.

There are some of us left to fulfil God’s plan.

Is it pointless writing words, do words mean a thing?

They do to me and you I hope, after Winter Spring.

Mere words are not enough, actions speak more loud.

Sooner or later you will wear a shroud.

Words mean nothing if not put into action and words of course tell lies.

I was called a wordsmith by someone not so wise.

The word comes first it has been said, I speak, I am not dead.

May we find the truth in words and then for God’s sake do it?

I’d like to say there’s nothing to it.

Who said it would be easy, the easy way is wrong.

The effects are all around you, is it time to end my song?

Don’t keep the truth a secret, you know right from wrong.

A million fake breathalyser tests by the guardians of the law.

That’s the world we live in, I say, I see, I saw.

Use your eyes and use your ears and use your tongue and all.

You are alive, do not act dead, it does not work at all.

You took your first step as a child, take another now.

Never give up, the truth is real, how can I say it anyhow?

People with better brains than me are going the wrong way.

Do not join them, be yourself, that’s all I have to say.

Until another day.

Words themselves do nothing, I said that before.

Do not do nothing, I am Irish so I talk, we need something more.

This is a pretty hopeless poem but I live in hope.

I’ll say it better one fine day, yours faithfully, a dope.

What do I dream? I dream of a world that’s true.

For me and you.

Tich Ennis

20th September, 2017

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To Do

I want to fix the world and bring an end to war and want.

The truth is staring me in the face, I can do it and you can’t.

I left home today without eating porridge.

I ate from the tree of forbidden knowledge.

As I walked to the café I saw litter on the ground.

Sometimes I pick some up, it would make a mound.

I ordered a breakfast, it costs eight ninety-five.

I want to stay alive.

When will I get around to doing the things I want to and should do?

Would it incur your displeasure if I say the same to you?

Tich Ennis

11th September, 2017

Most Hated

The truth is what is most hated said T.S. Eliot, do you agree?

I do, so it seems to me.

T.S. Eliot is my fellow poet, now alas dead.

I agree with what he said.

Who speaks the truth to power, who is brave?

One or two, a few, some who have yet to shave.

I am old, to tell the truth.

Enjoying my second youth.

Tich Ennis

6th September, 2017

Butterfly

My writing is like the flutter of a butterfly’s wings and makes as little difference as far as I can see to things.

Some guy said fluttering of a butterfly’s wings can cause a hurricane somewhere else, oh well.

Can I make Heaven out of Hell?

Everything means something we were told at school.

I heard that, I am not a fool.

Every action provokes an equal and opposite reaction is a well known fact.

And so I act.

Do things matter, yes they do to me.

A flower, a river, a Christmas tree.

I write this on a napkin having left behind my book.

It flutters in the wind while I look.

I hope to bring about a book.

I have been to the printer, I have a little work to do.

Who will enjoy it?

Maybe you.

Me too.

Tich Ennis

6th September, 2017

Oh Soul

Does my soul matter to anyone except me, and God, the ultimate mystery?

I pour my soul into my writing, poetry, rhymes and what have you, a pot pourri, an Irish stew.

Is my soul immortal in any sense at all, am I talking to the wall?

The soul according to the ancient Greeks is where we feel and give expression to love, there’s more to say, I could go on for weeks.

A soul, one tattered remnant, I offer up to you.

How will I end this rhyme, I haven’t got a clue.

Over to you.

Tich Ennis

5th September, 2017

Knife

A surgeon and a murderer have reasons for cutting with a knife.

One to give and one to take a life.

Motive matters, above all else the reason why.

One wants you to live, the other die.

A knife is neither good nor bad, the person using it is sane or mad.

Is a person how they want to be?

Yes, so it seems to me.

Whether they be rich or poor or somewhere in between.

Or from wherever or whoever, they write and act their scene.

Tich Ennis

2nd September, 2017

Some Things

We are vehicles for the truth.

I was told that in my youth.

I thought I don’t know the truth, perhaps I will when I am older.

I was shy, now I am bolder.

To me the truth was something said in words, now I know its what you do.

Words can be untrue.

I love words, I could read when I was three.

But I could not understand, that’s me.

I meant to say some things the Brother said.

Maybe I will before I’m dead.

I believe what you do not what you say an old man said.

I take his words as read.

Tich Ennis

3rd September, 2017