Tag Archives: Life


Things weren’t all wrong in the old days and now they aren’t all right.

The best of the old and new suit my appetite.

Finding the best takes time.

What suits you suits you, life is a hill to climb.

Tich Ennis

17th July, 2019



I spend more time writing my diary than doing it if I do it at all which I don’t, the writing is on the wall.

How can I have time to do it when there’s so much to do?

I ask you.

Yes, I and she have irons in the fire.

Many it appears, the flames grow higher.

Still, life goes on, it’s a happening thing.

Turn on the radio, hear someone sing.

It will come together in the fullness of time.

More or less like this rhyme.

I have life, wishes, hopes, desires.

A poet never retires.

Until he expires.

His words live on.

In truth he is not gone.

Tich Ennis

5th July, 2019

Need For Poetry

There’d be no need for poetry if life was a poem, everything was true.

If that is the case I haven’t noticed, have you?

Perfection leaves a poet with nothing to do.

We’re not quite there yet, it is quite rare yet.

When we have spoiled what’s left of it I’ll let you know.

Until then enjoy the holy show.

Tich Ennis

19th June, 2019


If you’re good at something you like doing it and if you like doing it you do it and get better at it.

Like this bit.

You should do what you like, that’s what life is all about.

For who? Me and you. Its true. Talk, don’t shout.

Get out and about.

Sometimes it’s a struggle.

My doctor is called Buggle.

So what, you may say, who is mine?

I don’t like wine.

Too much of a good thing is bad for you, don’t be obsessive.

That’s not progressive.

Anyway, I like good.

Everybody should

Tich Ennis

1st June, 2019


You appear to think people should live their lives for themselves, at least half.

They laugh.

Why should they when you can, they say and think.

After a drink.

Help the helpless, not the lazy ones.

Or ones with guns.

Allow us to enjoy ourselves, improve things, you can’t change the weather.

Pull together.

Science says we kill ourselves by how we do.

Or not, as the case may be, do they mean you?

Me too.

Lead us in the right direction, show by example.

This is a sample.

If I put my hope in you must I do something too?


Sort out the mess.

Tich Ennis

29th May, 2019

My Fellow Citizens

My Fellow Citizens

(To Sylvester Bourke, Pat Hoey, Pier Leonard and Chantel Kangowa, my preferred candidates in Arklow local elections. As of now. Please circulate widely.)

         I fully intend to vote for one or more of you in the forthcoming election or elections. Why? I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt. Whose doubt? Mine. You have yet to prove yourselves in this great façade we call life, or something like that.

As far as I know, but who am I to say, you are reasonable facsimiles of human beings. Robots can be very realistic and getting more so all the time. Once I vote for you, if I vote for you, that’s it. I’ve burned my boats. I’m stuck with you until the next election, if you get elected.

Speaking as a semi-lunatic, driven mad or half mad by circumstances beyond my control, but that’s life, isn’t it, yes, as I said before, I strongly intend to vote, if I get around to it, which I expect I will. But don’t count on my vote, let the counting officer do that.

My point is I will have to put up with you for 4 years if you get elected but you will ignore me completely. That may be mutual. I have better things to be doing than thinking about politics all the time.

People like me are the electorate, for better or worse, and require representation. How can you be one of us and not one of us at the same time? Can you square that circle?

This may be a joke but someone said all politicians should be taken out periodically and shot. That’s fairly funny if you’re not a politician. There is still hope. You may not be elected.

To quote Samuel Beckett, everything is futile, it would be better never to have been born. He also said try again, fail again, try again, fail better.

He was more or less a comedian, not to be taken too seriously.

I too am Irish. So what? If I was born somewhere else I would be something else. And equally ashamed or proud, or probably both at once.

All good things come to an end, including life itself, good or otherwise. So you are going to make my life better. Says who? I didn’t make much of a job of it myself. I can’t really blame you. Not yet, anyway.

The torch was passed to another generation and they lit a marijuana cigarette with it. Fine words butter no parsnips. But they’re better than nothing.

To quote Dean Swift, and why not, in his self-written obituary:

He left the little wealth he had

to build a house for fools and mad,

and showed by this satiric touch,

no nation needed it so much.


End of quote.

What is your price? Will you fulfil my requirements? Do you endeavour to give satisfaction? Or do you just want to get elected?

I will sign my vote in blood. That sounds good, doesn’t it? Not mine, I hope.

A cynic is a person who knows the price of everything and the value of nothing – Oscar Wilde.

I know the price of a pint of Guinness, four sixty in my favourite hostelry, less in some places, more in others.

Have you read Less is More? Or Small is Beautiful? Neither have I. I recommend them to other people. Not written by Irish people, but we can’t all be Irish.

What’s wrong with Ireland that you want to make it better? A patriot is a person who says a country is the best in the world because he was born in it – G. B. Shaw (also Irish).

Karl Marx said something else but he wasn’t Irish. He once said smokers of the world unite, you have nothing to lose but your chain smoking. Or something very like it.

So, okay, if you get elected we won’t have to put up with each other for four years. I look forward to that. An amicable divorce. We all make mistakes.

Any of you could turn out to be another Hitler, Pol Pot or Shane Ross. God help us all. At least you’re not Nigel Farrage, not so far, anyway.

Are you good at soundbites? Do you tweet often? What have you learned from Donald Trump?

Okay, that’s it, fateful Friday approaches, the day of reckoning, when the sheep are sorted from the goats, the men from the boys, the girls from the women, the good things from the bad things. I’ll see you in Heaven, Hell, Purgatory or Nirvana, whatever you’re having yourself. Destiny awaits. Many stirring words have been spoken, I am stir crazy hearing them.

Ok, I’ll vote for you, something is better than nothing. Or so they say. That’s for me to know and you to find out. Take it on the chin. Roll with the punches. Let Katy Taylor be your role model.

Arklow forever! Or the time being, anyway. Sorry for taking up so much of your time and mine.

Still, you could be in jail. Cheer up!


I asked a woman was she a politician, she said she hasn’t sold her soul. A man I repeated that to said politicians have no soul. He used the eff word.

Anglo Saxon is a gift bestowed on us by the English on their departure. We are fluent speakers.


Tich Ennis

22nd May, 2019


Why Jog?

Why do people jog?

Cut a log.

Or walk.

And talk.

Why not walk to school or wherever?

You see more, life is not forever.

Your legs wear out if you don’t use them, so does your tongue.

You are not forever young.

You want something to remember, don’t you?

You will remember nothing if you don’t do.

Who am I to speak?

Ask me next week.

Tich Ennis

18th May, 2019