Tag Archives: Poem

Why Am I?

Apparently since time began people wondered why am I a man?

Or woman, as the case may be, eternal she.

What is it to be, why me?

Is there rhyme or reason, if so let me see.

So far it has not been figured out.

There are conflicting opinions, some shout.

Who am I to say why?

Ask the big eye in the sky.

Let me know if you hear tell.

You might as well.

Tich Ennis

26th November, 2018

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Lost Poem

I had a poem but I let it go.

Into the great unknown where dead poems go.

Stillborn, not born at all, never ever to be.

Oh well, at least it was not me.

Next time, next time what will I do?

Write it down come rain or shine for you and me too.

That poem was to be called Curse, perhaps its better that it should never be.

But I don’t know, it could be worse, unwritten history.

Tich Ennis

20th July, 2018

Theory

In theory I am a genius but in practice no.

I have a long way to go.

I am an apprentice millionaire, just starting out.

When I find out how I’ll give you a shout.

I am the world’s greatest lover, I have some practice in that sphere.

I just say to a girl, come here.

Theory means nothing if not put into practice, learn that first.

Then do your thing, shut up, or else you’re cursed.

Dream while you’re asleep, not all day.

That’s more or less all I have to say.

Mere words are a waste of time.

Is this a poem or a rhyme?

Don’t live only in theory, don’t you see.

Leave that to me.

Tich Ennis

21st January, 2018

Converging Concepts

Maths, art, science, literature, philosophy, religion are converging to a single point.

A Russian scientist said that, whom the saints anoint.

Speaking for myself, I concur.

I who infrequently err.

Love is where you find it wherever that may be.

An old pop song or a cup of tea.

Did Adam and Eve do wrong or did they make a mistake?

The Reader’s Digest said that in my years of heartache.

I made mistakes in my time.

Who is without crime?

Everything should rhyme.

I do be and I does be talking rot.

That’s not all I’ve got.

Whoever is responsible, thanks a lot.

I think this poem is rather good but who am I to say?

Have it your way.

Perhaps the last two lines should be in parentheses or, as you might say, bracket.

If you have a bad child do you smack it?

Tich Ennis

4th December, 2017

Am I Wrong?

Is everything alright, is this the way you want things to be?

I don’t mean this verse, the universe and you and me.

Do you see?

If you think so, I’ll go.

I could be crazy or just lazy.

I want to clear up the mess but not if you like things as they are, I confess.

I see myself as the universal dustman, clearing up rubbish, righting wrongs, singing songs.

A garbage disposal operative you might say I am.

I am the little boy with his finger in the dam.

Tich Ennis

6th July, 2017

Depend

You can’t depend on the weather in Ireland or anything else at all.

Hear politicians talking, they might as well be talking to the wall.

They make no sense at all.

Ireland is rather small.

Does it punch above its weight in anything or is it fate?

We’re not bad at talking, when will we start walking?

We wrote some books, we sang some songs, we tried to right some wrongs.

Occasionally, once or twice, we get it right.

We emigrate, take flight.

Beannacht De libh, good night.

Alright.

Another wonderful day, as Beckett said.

Cheer up, you could be dead.

Tich Ennis

30th June, 2017

 

Quantum Computing

When it comes it comes, if it does.

Who will own it, the big boys because?

Will it serve a good use or let Hell loose?

Well both, I suppose.

Heaven only knows.

All that power, holy hour!

For good or bad or sane or mad.

The uranium atom is more or less the same.

To kill or cure, which is your game?

They are absolutely not the same.

Who to shame or blame?

In whose name?

Yours or mine?

May hearts entwine.

Life is a glass of wine.

Tich Ennis

26th May, 2017