Tag Archives: Art


What’s wrong with me?

Can’t my heart and mind agree?

When my mind takes precedence is my brain dense?

Ok, I’m smart, don’t break my heart.

Is there a fall back position in this war of attrition?

It is not a matter of who wins, it’s a question of when love begins.

Heart start.

Brain don’t fart.

Does the heart rule the head or am I dead?

Heart and mind must be at one.

Together they make up my soul.

Then I am whole.

Sorry for using the word fart.

That was my brain not my heart.

May I make art.

My tortured soul.

Be whole.

Tich Ennis

17th February, 2019



Are newspapers gone out of date, who wants to read about hate?

The internet is full of it too, they want you to be a hater too.

I buy one newspaper a week, I’m not that mad.

You must be thinking of the other lad.

War sells, Hell’s bells.

I love wishing wells.

Long on diagnosis, short on cure.

Life at this price is something to endure.

I save money by not spending.

Happy ending.

Should I mention art the public hates?

My pen awaits.

Tich Ennis

3rd December, 2019


Will this poem change the world for the better?

This letter.

I urgently await an answer.

Can I cure cancer?

Not without trying.

Is living dying?

I wish to wake from a bad dream.

That things are as they seem.

Don’t wake me until then, don’t wake me up.

I shut up.

That appears abrupt.

Must the world be corrupt?

I look forward to a change of course, of course.

Back to source.

Tich Ennis

26th November, 2018

Sentient Matter

We have been described as sentient matter, some aren’t very sentient.

Think hard, you’ll know what I meant.

In the South Seas there is a limpet which when born swims around until it finds a rock it can lock onto for life.

Him and his wife.

Then it eats its brain because it doesn’t need it anymore.

Is that you when you left school or before?

Brains or their use are in short supply.

Maybe I’ll use mine before I die.

I laugh that I may not cry.

And sometimes sigh.

This poem is expressive of a mood.

At least it is not rude.

Is this too intellectual for you?

It will have to do.

Tich Ennis

19th November, 2018


I committed perjury twice.

I was not nice.

I did it to keep my job.

Was I a slob?

I suppose it wasn’t very important what I swore.

It made no difference really, it really happened, I could say more.

Do you believe me when I broke my oath?

As requested by a man living in Ratoath.

It went against the grain, made me feel sick.

Browbeaten into a dirty trick.

Smiling the boy fell dead.

I lived on instead.

My employer was a man in the legal profession.

This is my confession.

Later I left that job of my own volition and had fun in another.

I am somebody’s brother.

If I am a saint its of the plaster kind.

Is my soul my mind?

By the way, nice is fake good.

I wish people understood words, I wish they would.

I sailed, I swam, I flied.

Until now I have not died.

My goodness is hypothetical.

I end before becoming anasthetical.

Freud was a fraud, applaud.

Though held in high esteem.

Don’t ask me to interpret your dream.

I was young, not spelled with a J.

If that means nothing to you look the other way.

I met Marianne today.

Finally the end, finis.

That’s me.

Tich Ennis

2nd November, 2018


Concepts are converging and yet they drive us apart.

I am an organism, brain, lungs and heart.

When shall religion and mathematics, philosophy and art realise they are one thing, each a tiny part.

When we come together, flying on love’s dart.

Begin before you start.

Science, learn from art.

Consensus, you are my apple tart.

Brain, learn from heart.

You may be a better poet than me.

When may we agree?

The truth lies in poetry.

Tich Ennis

24th October, 2018