Tag Archives: Ireland

Must I?

Must I write poems all the time, must I say everything in rhyme?

My best friend said yes, keep writing, at least when you’re writing you’re not fighting.

Long ago, so we were told, Ireland was nothing but saints and scholars.

Now we sell ourselves for dollars.

Priests don’t wear collars.

Maybe this will never see the light of day, so what, its what I have to say.

I have not gone away.

Neither I nor the IRA.

I do as needs must.

Before I turn into dust.

Gold does not rust.

Tich Ennis

23rd November, 2017

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Nude Girl

Some man said I should have a nude girl on the cover of my book. Sexist pig!   I think it was the same man who said I should have rape, violence and bloodthirsty murder in my book.   For that sort of thing read the papers. Sex sells, it has been said, ask a brothel keeper.

My mother said nudity symbolises truth, the truth stands naked. Did I ever swim naked? Yes. In the presence of women? No. Would that this were for Ireland, said a man dipping his toe in the water.

In London when young I visited a sex shop, done up like a Boots chemists. The female assistant asked me could she help me, I said I was only looking. She was disgusted. No money in that. I bought nothing. I treated it like a museum, they are free.

In Moore street in Dublin the vegetable sellers at stalls ask are you buying? Think twice before you do. Nice white mushrooms on the stall, but brown ones from under the counter if you buy.   They sell throw outs from the fruit and vegetable market, a little known fact. I’ll scrawb the fatures off you said one to another, so my father told me.   The song Biddy Mulligan celebrates them and their ilk.

This is a long way from nude girls, my mind wanders. The female form has been celebrated by artists throughout the ages, not to speak of the male. See the Sistine Chapel, was that Leonardo or Michelangelo? Don’t tell me, don’t show off. I don’t care if the Pope has dirty pictures in his chapel, we’re not having them, said a politician in our parliament discussing censorship of books with W.B. Yeats, poet and senator. We’ve got over that now, we have sex shops.   There was no sex in Ireland before television said another politician of ours. We are all the result of miracle births.

I speak of course of the old days. We have grown up and got sense since. Or what passes for it.   You learned about sex by osmosis in the old days, but you did learn. What is the difference between education and training? There’s sex education in schools, not sex training. Now you know.

A pretty girl on the cover sells a book, said Laurence O’Bryan, novelist and editor, to me, so I had one there. Hence the remark of that man, the nude girl fancier. So far, no nude girls in or on any book of mine. You have to draw the line somewhere, as Picasso might have said.

Imagination is a wonderful thing. Use your imagination. Did you have any bad thoughts, a priest might ask a confessor. In totalitarian states there’s such a thing as thought crime. I have thoughts but I don’t agree with them, said a man when asked in those circumstances.

A pretty girl is like a melody said someone, maybe Shakespeare. They’re all the same in the dark, said someone else. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Beauty is only skin deep. Beauty comes from within. Make up your own mind, if you have one.

I leave you to your fantasies.

How about a nudist colony in the Arctic Circle?

Tich Ennis

3rd December, 2017

Answer

Is God the answer to my problems or is he the cause?

Do I defy all known laws?

How come everything is problematic, is the answer in my attic?

It appears doing things is easy, why is finding out how such a slog?

Ireland is one seventh bog.

This pilgrim’s progress is a mess.

If I keep going I will find out how.

I am my own God anyhow.

Back to the grindstone now.

One thing, go to source.

You’ll find the answer there of course.

Tich Ennis

27th September, 2017

Remember

We knew everything before and discover it anew.

Some ancient philosopher said that, I don’t know who.

Alright, he said it is as if that is the case.

I don’t want egg on my face.

In a flash of illumination and recognition we know, at last.

As if we knew it in the past.

What can this mean, is all time one?

There’s nothing new under the Sun.

Is my life nearly run?

Not quite I hope when I have not begun.

Tich Ennis

29th August, 2017

Corn

I don’t know why I bothered being born.

I am an unripened ear of corn.

Possibly sometime it will all make sense.

Or maybe, quite likely, I am dense.

In the meantime I sit on the fence.

This may be just a mood I’m in.

The question is, when will I begin?

When young kicking up a row someone said don’t start.

I hope I will not break my heart.

Tich Ennis

24th August, 2017

Up And Down

Things are looking up and down again, some things aren’t half bad.

Some things are only slightly mad.

Not quite as bad as I thought whoever or from whomever I bought.

Life is quite fraught.

Not quite as bad as I thought.

But still not quite completely all there.

When I trust them I go spare.

So the misleading mislead the misled.

I sometimes think I should have stayed in bed.

Tich Ennis

17th August, 2017

 

Wonder

Has it all been done before and said before and if so why say it again anymore?

Not all people seem to know or have heard the word, including me, I agree.

Truth is free.

In every age we rant and rage and fill a page.

We seek a sage.

The old is new and new is old, a neverending story told.

We wonder why we live and die and laugh and cry.

Beneath the sky.

So do I.

Tich Ennis

17th August, 2017