Tag Archives: Truth

Explosion

God exploded and broke apart, we broke his heart.

God is past, present and future all in one and, oh yes, the Sun.

We carry a little piece of him in our heart and his mortal enemy, the Devil is also there.

Be careful which you choose, above all, care.

Someday in the future God will join together again when there is peace among men.

I am a heretic, burned at the stake, my question is, how long will it take?

When end heartbreak?

What difference can a poet make?

Walter Scott wrote The Lady of the Lake.

Be not fake.

This is my Sunday poem.

By their works ye know ‘em.

Tich Ennis

25th June, 2017

After All

I don’t know what to say or who to say it to.

You?

Do I make myself clear?

Have I your ear?

Before I disappear.

What is more or less a thing, am I right?

Subject, for want of a better word, goodnight.

I write.

I am not a nihilist, so there.

I care.

So I said something after all.

If you want me, call.

Tich Ennis

24th June, 2017

You

You never tell me whether you like my stuff, okay, what am I looking for, praise?

The end of days.

Lost in a maze.

See through the haze.

Is that the white flag of peace I see through the smoke or a bloodstained bandage, give my heart ease.

The turmoil and the tumult batter on.

When peace comes war is gone.

So I die and no one knows.

Do you prefer poetry or prose?

God knows.

Tich Ennis

23rd June, 2017

Tomorrow

Tomorrow is another day, it never comes, the present is here to stay.

If you like it, fine, if not, do your time.

I make mine.

Another glass of wine?

I dislike poems when you don’t know what they mean.

Do you believe a dream?

Oh well, I thought I’d write this anyway.

Tomorrow is another day.

That’s all I have to say.

I go away.

Tich Ennis

22nd June, 2017

When

When quantum computing comes all codes will be crackable, that includes Russian, American and Chinese and what have you.

And terrorists and drug dealers too.

It will be an open book if you want to take a look.

That will give the security services something to do, pornographers look out.

There’s a spy about.

The truth will find you out.

At leat I hope so, God willing.

Are you the full shilling?

I look forward to the truth.

I have since youth.

Okay, so your missile codes are known.

Will you be blown up alone?

Call a help line on the phone.

When secrecy and double dealing ends will we be friends?

When hatred ends.

I pen a line or two to you now and then.

I’m heartsick, sore and sorry until when?

Tich Ennis

22nd June, 2017

The Queen

Padraic Colum wrote a poem The Old Woman Of The Roads, “Oh to have a little house, to own the hearth and stool and all” and so on, its lovely. Simple. The best he ever wrote.

It was read out to us in school and I a boy of nine or ten, the teacher was very pleased with himself. I put up my hand.   “Brother, can I say something? When I walk to school along Eden road just past the railway bridge is a small house with a plaque on it saying Padraic Colum lived here”. The teacher looked at me with tolerant amusement.

“Why did you tell us that?” he asked. “I thought you might be interested because he wrote that poem. He lived near this school.”

I did not say so Padraic Colum existed and maybe one or some of the other boys might be interested. It appeared to be a rule that teachers were never spoken to on a basis of equality. The temerity of it!

The teacher apparently thought I was some sort of blithering idiot. Not to be spoken to as if we shared a common interest in the poem and its maker. That would never do.

He may have said “Is that all you have to say to us?” Condescension is perhaps not the best word to describe his attitude.

Now, royalty. Years later I spoke with a couple in a hotel telling them I write poetry, not the sort of stuff you see in books now that no one reads. “Big words!” said the woman.

I said I like poems we heard at school like that one by Padraic Colum, Oh To Have A Little House. I said the first two lines and the woman recited it complete.

The barman was standing by. I said that’s about an old woman who has no house and wishes she had one. It’s the queen’s favourite poem, she often recites it.

“Nice one David” said the barman.

Tich Ennis

20th June, 2017

Education

Is education any good?

Some people believe in superstition, touch wood.

To educate means to draw out not to force in.

Look it up, begin.

Half the subjects in university are there to make money for the university, they are not real, you see.

Can art appreciation be taught, can knowledge be bought?

What’s wrong with working with your hands, with tools?

The working class are taken for fools.

Maths and science, reading and writing, they are good. And some few others, use your common sense, you should.

Don’t let them turn you into a fool at school.

Tich Ennis

20th June, 2017