Tag Archives: Earth

Santa Claus

Not believing in Santa Claus doesn’t mean there isn’t one, you are responsible for your own belief.

Don’t give me grief.

At one time people believed the Earth is flat.

Fancy that.

So therefore you could be wrong.

Can you sing a song?

You may think so but what do others say?

Go away?

Are you looking forward to a Christmas present, be youPagan, Christian or Jew?

Or Muslim, to name but a few.

Possibly one will come.

Son of a gun.

The circulation of the blood and many other things were not believed.

Are you easily deceived?

Who gets your vote, who has you by the throat?

Speak up, spit it out.

Have you found out?

What makes you so sure?

Do roses grow well in manure?

Wherein lies your expertise?

Birds and bees?

Almost no one knows anything, that’s a fact.

Some actors don’t know how to act.

Consult yourself, what do you know?

One thing is sure, a snail moves slow.

Therefore, hang up your sock on Christmas Eve.

Santa Claus will tell you what to believe.

Or maybe he did long ago.

What do I know?

The Earth is round.

Sound.

I may speak the truth incidentally.

Do you know many like me?

Tich Ennis

11th October, 2017

 

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Full Flower

Art and science walk hand in hand, shall we allow them to despoil the land?

At their best they are wonderful, supreme, at their worst an adolescent dream.

To be mature or immature, wine aged in the wood.

Or whiskey ten year old, its good.

Thought and imagination find their flower now and then.

Oftentimes we wait and wait, saying oh God when?

At any level good is good, trees and shrubs make up the wood.

Some stand tall and stately, magnificently made.

Affording, as someone said, the weary traveller shade.

Tich Ennis

28th September, 2017

All Roads

All roads lead everywhere unless it’s a cul-de-sac.

If it’s a cul-de-sac turn back.

On a straight road you can’t go round the bend.

A long road seems to have no end.

May the road rise up to meet you and the wind be at your back.

A long straight road is called a tramp’s heartbreak, that’s a fact.

Boreen means small road, or maybe a lane.

Here I mean, not in Spain.

Dark alleys have a bad reputation.

In more or less every nation.

Don’t believe you can’t get there from here.

At the end of the road enjoy a beer.

Tich Ennis

9th 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

Seriously

Am I taking things too seriously, are things not as bad as they seem?

Should I eat ice cream?

Myself, I’m not a serious guy.

Here is the reason why.

I like fun, laughter, joy.

Since I was a boy.

With a nod or two towards the transcendental.

Just this side of mental.

I prefer a happy place, a smiling face.

This is what I want for all.

Cinderella, have a ball.

Should I leave it at that, say that’s it?

I never quit.

Tich Ennis

5th September, 2017

 

What You Say

No one thinks anyone means what they say like have a nice day.

Could they care less if you fell into a hole and shrivelled up your soul?

I am a fool who cannot lie.

I don’t know why.

I don’t fit into this world, this Earth, this planet.

I never met a girl called Janet.

I cannot work out a subterfuge.

My brain is not huge.

If you meet me, tolerate.

My suffering is very great.

Who treats people as meaning what they say? I do.

I mean you.

I suppose I was not treated exactly as a fool at school.

Where we were taught the golden rule.

I believed it but others went straight out into the yard and beat up small boys very hard.

Into their faces they would spit.

A cynic might say I was taught to be a hypocrite.

That’s something I did not learn, I treat words as true.

How about you?

To say I am perfect would be to create a wrong impression.

Others in my place suffer from depression.

In a mad bad world remaining sane gives me a pain.

I cannot pretend I neither hear nor see.

Who is blind and deaf? Not me.

I believe I see things as they are.

Including the guiding star.

You are what you are.

Should I tear out my eyes as in a myth from Greece?

I considered suicide but prefer peace.

No, I will not kill myself, I leave that to you.

You who spit in people’s faces, the rotten crew.

Among the slaves on board this boat are some brave and honest men.

Lest they suffer in silence I take up my pen.

The pen, they say, is mightier than the sword.

When you speak should I believe a word?

Big and small dictators I’m watching you.

When you stop your parrot talk you will be true.

You drive many round the bend but not me, I was born a fool.

As I said I met your kind at school.

I had and have a friend or two, that old word, good.

I see the tree, I see the wood.

Don’t let me be misunderstood.

Is understanding what you fear?

Then don’t lie into my ear.

I do understand you, the spitting kind, all too well.

You make life Hell.

You wish to create fear, and do.

There are degrees of course of all things.

Stop behaving like kings.

Don’t sneer, don’t condescend, don’t act superior.

Stop making people feel inferior.

Because I don’t mention you by name don’t think I don’t know your game.

You are responsible for worldly ills, drug addiction, madness, suicide, your treatment kills.

I am an old fool, on that we can agree, I speak of what I saw and see.

Who would listen to a fool like me?

Inhumanity is wrong.

I love a song.

To list all cruelties would take all day.

Be careful what you say.

I have not gone away.

Tich Ennis

4th September, 2017

 

Bits Of Time

While I wait.

For my fate.

I have a date.

A date with doom and gloom?

I hope not soon.

In between I wait and wonder.

My heart is torn asunder.

No wonder.

I live in hope.

This dope.

I don’t need rope.

This seems rather sad.

I like glad.

But then I’m mad.

Fools rush in they say.

This is a good day.

I asked for a receipt but you did not give me one.

I gave you a tip, have fun.

I said I would pay at the desk but you walked away.

Do you never listen to what I say?

A poem is never finished it is abandoned, said a poet to me.

I agree.

So you came back and said my receipt is on the bar.

Can I walk that far?

Later still you left it on my table the receipt, not a bill.

So okay things are not as bad as at first appears.

Postpone your tears.

Then I sold a cd of me singing for full price, ten.

He said his ninety-two year old mother will listen to every word, when.

Then I sold another to a woman who lives across the street.

Good to meet.

She will pay at my front door.

I have one foot on the floor.

So all in all so far a good day.

All things come to he who waits.

Our postman does not shut gates.

Tich Ennis

1st September, 2017