I have been here all the time, writing rhyme.
Defeating crime.
My long lost love I speak to you.
True.
I was locked out, lost.
At what cost?
I said before I’m always here.
Drink beer.
Good cheer.
My saviour is here.
In female form, keep warm.
I’m back again, I never went away.
Good day.
I love you.
Be true.
Tich Ennis
Thursday, 24th September, 2020
Never ask an Irish person a direction it has been said.
We’re mostly off our head.
You were probably born in bed.
That does not mean you should stay there all the time.
I write rhyme.
Pardon me for being obvious although I am not nude.
Nor am I a prude.
Somewhere in between if you know what I mean.
Since when has the naked body been obscene?
Beauty and whatever else you’re having is in the eye of the beholder.
Everyday I get older.
If I knew when I was young what I know now God knows what would have happened, I don’t know.
It only goes to show.
Ok, I could have been Leonardo or Van Gogh.
I’m not, you know.
Look me up in the telephone directory.
You may discern my trajectory.
If I was a woman I could have been a nun.
But no, no fun.
Soon I will be old enough to be Pope.
Is there any hope?
Or Dalai Lama, throw me a rope.
I could be a long lost illegitimate son heir to the throne.
If so call me on the phone.
Otherwise leave me alone.
For an entirely inexplicable reason I named this poem as I did.
Once I was a kid.
Now I’m an old goat.
Get it, get it, get it, must I grab you by the throat?
Tich Ennis
Wednesday, 4th March, 2020
I want to be with God, I’m not much good here.
What can I do here, drink beer.
Its almost impossible to tell the truth in the land of lies.
I try all the time beneath blue skies.
And other colours, grey.
Every day.
What thanks do I get none, or almost none.
I am glad of those I do, from you, everyone.
God must be very strange if he made me, but yet he did, and you.
There are two of us in it, we two.
Also, I seem to know he is forgiving.
Loving him makes life worth living.
Loving God is loving love and truth and fun and everything you love.
Yet we seem so far from Heaven above.
I do my very best to bring the two of them together, make them one for now and all time.
I love you in my rhyme.
That means you and God too, you and I and all are one.
As I say often in fun.
My sense of humour comes from God, my flaws are mine.
The best I can do is turn words into wine.
When you love me as I love you we love each other too.
We are what and how we do.
How is more important, what could be a cup of tea.
Or writing rhyme if you are me.
I seem to have a gift for explaining, sometimes from fragments of the past.
I want the truth at last.
What is given to us is for us to love and gifts are for giving.
The greatest is caring.
This is what the world needs most of all.
As you know we are said to live after the fall.
So our job is to rise, together we work best.
Try it in your nest.
Having said all that I lay my pen to rest.
Tich Ennis
Tuesday, 3rd March, 2020
Have you noticed my poems contain their own commentary?
If I have a lapse of memory it will be momentary.
Also, they rhyme, but as I said, not all the time.
Some lines contain an internal rhyme like say a drunkard who contains a bottle of wine.
Or whatever, you know what I mean.
I hope you do, I come clean.
Leonardo said simplicity is the highest form of sophistication, that’s what he said.
Who says its easy, paint the Mona Lisa instead.
I saw the original in Paris, where else, reproductions are useless compared to the real thing.
I also saw one Van Gogh in Dublin don’t you know.
So what, I appear to have meandered from the plot.
This poem is about noticing things.
Peasants and kings.
Whatever, a butterfly, you and I, a cup tie.
I sometimes write a note at a poem’s end, to you or maybe to a friend.
Maybe in poetry or maybe not.
I have an aversion to being shot.
Peace I much prefer to war.
Who doesn’t, what is life for?
The eternal question, asked many times before.
I could list many answers but don’t want to bore.
Whatever you think that’s your philosophy.
I have mine, some of you agree.
By order of the law this pub is shut.
No, I’m not a raving nut.
This poem may be inappropriately named.
I am not ashamed.
Tich Ennis
Monday, 17th February, 2020
Writing poetry is not just fooling about although sometimes it may be.
When its funny don’t take it seriously.
Its meant to be what it is and how, it is what it is.
So is a kiss, although that doesn’t rhyme.
For God’s sake understand, I can’t rhyme all the time.
Poetry is meaning, so are you when you are true.
I joke, I cry, I laugh, I live, I die under the sky.
And in a poem too.
Your poem is you.
Tich Ennis
Monday, 17th February, 2020
Have you been pestered by a poet?
He might tell you something you don’t know and then say I told you so.
You may have known it all the time, in that case end of rhyme.
Tich Ennis
Tuesday, 11th February, 2020
I can’t be funny all the time.
In rhyme.
Conversation is a different matter.
Thin is not fatter.
I mean I mean things, do you know what I mean?
Things are not as they seem.
That in itself is funny although not widely known.
Call Trump on the phone.
In a crazy world is it funny to be sane?
Sooner or later I’ll explain.
Tich Ennis
Wednesday, 5th February, 2020
The chimes on the BBC are fake, can you believe anything you hear?
Maybe next year.
They are a mere recording, not the real thing.
Has England a queen or a king?
Must I doubt my sanity, where is reality?
Only in hints and whispers, ask your sisters.
I know the BBC is rather good, its better than nothing and at other times as useful as touching wood.
The real news is almost everything is fake, made by people, dare I say it, on the make.
How much truth can you take?
I want no substitute, don’t give me plastic fantastic.
The opposite of the truth is drastic.
I’m rather old, so what, I see through you lot.
No, I should not be shot.
Truth is all we’ve got.
The rest is rot.
Why did it take so long for me to sing my song?
You fooled me, I was wrong.
I believe in science and know how and a man behind a plough.
I don’t believe in nothing, anyhow.
I don’t believe you and your lies.
Get wise.
Whoever you are, I know you rule the roost, what you say goes.
I hold my nose.
Some of you mean well I know and some of you are good.
I won’t consign you all to Hell for good.
You know the truth, you know it very well.
I feel like saying go to Hell.
Just one word, I don’t need to say it, you make it here.
Hell, that is, so disappear.
Forget half hearted measures and half truths, when I buy milk I want a pint, the same when I buy stout.
The truth will find you out.
Find me behind a pint of stout.
You corrupt children, have you no sense?
Its not all about pounds and pence.
Or your self esteem and any other dream.
Give a kid ice cream.
Why should I work it out for you, you make me sick.
Life is not and should not be a dirty trick.
I could say more, I won’t test your short attention span.
You will hear more from this old Irishman.
I don’t want to live in lies, I just want to live.
Look up the word forgive.
I could go on forever and people like me will, mostly in despair.
Give us fresh air.
Don’t judge me for what I did not say.
Liars, go away.
When will I say you’ve had your day?
Putting yourself first is the law by which you’re cursed.
Rather than what you do.
I feel like I’m speaking to a child of two.
I speak to you.
If you want more go on as before.
Who or what do you adore?
Break your mirror on the floor.
Must I go on writing endless rhymes?
Until real Big Ben chimes.
I love poetry, friendship, jokes, if you don’t want to understand you won’t.
Obviously you don’t.
That’s why I speak.
I am Irish, I live now, I am not an ancient Greek.
See you next week.
May your words be real and mean what they say.
Good day.
I don’t want to be merely tolerated.
That is second best to being hated.
I have more to say, I said some of it here.
I look forward to a beer.
As I said, I can’t go on forever.
What about you, never?
Or hardly ever?
I said I don’t condemn you all, you know who you are and so do we.
Set truth free.
If I am mad who drove me there?
People who don’t care.
I dispute that I am mad, the boot is on the other foot.
My words burned make soot.
Mad things are done by madmen, who drove them mad?
May they be happy, may they not be sad.
Others are mad for power, putting themselves first.
Land of the cursed.
I know I have not said it all.
I’d rather kick a ball.
That’s why I say set us free.
Including me.
If I could say it all in one word or two those words would be truth and love.
May they mean something to you.
They do if you do.
Its all about love and truth.
Ask a child, or failing that, a youth.
Why should I say it all when you already know?
Tell yourself I told you so.
Big Ben is bonkers while I’m at it, and so is ceremony and pomp.
See children romp.
May I add a touch of humour?
Love is not a rumour.
I am sorry for telling you what you know.
I am old but still have time to go.
Preaching to the converted is a waste of time.
Be that as it may I end my rhyme.
Tich Ennis
Tuesday, 14th January, 2020
Don’t expect people to do what they say.
They say yes and go away.
They have other calls on their time.
Meanwhile I write rhyme.
They may have said maybe or might.
Don’t give up without a fight.
Joe might come tonight.
Joe more or less does live up to his word, that’s Joe.
He comes when he says and goes when I say go.
Tich Ennis
Tuesday, 31st December, 2019
For the sake of balance I mention Hitler and Stalin in the same breath.
They scare me to death.
Luckily for me I was not a Jew at the time.
Or else this never would have been, this rhyme.
Tich Ennis
Monday, 30th December, 2019
Tich Ennis 