I Made Her Cry
I made her cry today
with tomorrows promises
promised her just the other day.
‘So why does she weep, the missus? ’
Her tearful eyes are for
the many disappointments
borne a sadden heart to harbor
caused by me to a great extent.
Too many, too often, designed
dreams that I had painted for her
leaving to wither on the vine;
she ceased to dream altogether.
“Honey, is there any reason
for your tears, something I had said? ”
“It’s nothing; drink your coffee, hon.
Do you want whole wheat or rye bread? ”
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Song without a voice
A saddest song within me idly pursed
Is lodged in lyrical melancholy.
A muted voice attempts to sing a verse
But only soundless words escape from me.
Its somber composition might as well
Be blank without a pleasing melody.
The lyrics are lost as sinners in Hell.
The couplet verses filled with self-pity.
An aria within my doleful soul;
A piece that never will be heard by ears.
A single opus creation, surreal
And limited, saddening with no tears.
A song without a voice to sing its sad
Refrain, enough to drive me raving mad.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Kathleen
Oh Kathleen! You seem as distant from me
As some ancient nebulous universe
Yet near as last nights dreamy reverie.
Are you just luminous stardust dispersed
Into eyes of a starry-eyed lover
By some celestial fairy sandman?
Only to awaken and discover
That your loveliness is nothing more than
A dream imagined. Must I wipe away
This besprinkled magic dust that beguiles
me? To watch your lovely image this day
Fade from view, then reappear with a smile
At days end in a dream again of you.
Oh! Hasten sleep that I may dream anew.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Beauty Is Truth
Natural beauty of nature
Is like a beautiful damsel.
She needs no makeup or perfume
To enhance her physical beauty-
Her beauty is truth, period.
An anonymous wildflower
Growing with delicate fragrance
Beside a forests time-worn path
Can't be anymore lovelier
If plucked and placed within her locks;
Nor her comely grace be improved.
Their "beauty is truth, truth beauty"
Apart they are most beautiful;
In concert they accent the whole.
On a Grecian urn:
"Beauty is truth, truth beauty"
All we need to know.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Lose some, win some
I’m sitting at my computer alone
Playing a lost game of literati
With a person absolutely unknown,
Thus not knowing if he’s a he or she,
Not that that matters to me anyway.
I enjoy the game because of the words.
I try to play a few games everyday
And hope to gain some wordy rewards.
Believe it or not it helps my poetry
Writing. After all, a poet can not
Write a line of verse without words, agree?
It’s kind of like powder minus the shot.
Well, the game is over and I did lose
But gained a word subsequently I’ll use.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Rain or Shine, It's Divine
The golden fiery eye rises
In the east and sets in the west
And shines for a day in between;
Although at times there may be clouds
That shrouds its penetrating rays
From us, we know its radiance
Is like a god that can’t be seen
But still feel his omnipresence.
And when the heavenly tears fall
From the sky, they are tears of joy
Not to be confused with sadness
For this god is a loving god
That showers all of us with love
Yes, even the nonbelievers.
Rain falls from heaven.
Behind the clouds the sun shines
Patiently in wait.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Act the Part
I am an actor on this stage of life.
My role is factored into all the scenes
Beginning with an innocent delight.
My birth and babbling lines by any means
Directed all attention to this part.
A ham at birth and cute, I was a star.
The photographs and modeling apart
From some occasional fluffing thus far
I acted many roles that came my way.
Until my public image lost its lure
I found myself without a scene to play
Except the one where life shown me the door
A role I never played in my career
An empty lonely man, alone in tears.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Secrete Beauty
She was not blessed with comely grace,
spurned and shunned by cupids arrows
because of her displeasing face
and breasts like kneecaps on a sparrow.
Her scrawny frame one could infer
if dressed in red and eyed sideways
she'd mimic a thermometer;
no outward grace to be displayed.
Her real beauty was deep inside
hidden behind two large, brown eyes
where a beautiful soul resides
eternally and undisguised.
Beauty is a skin-deep grace
it's just a temporary thing:
a short-term asset on a face
that fades away like this years spring.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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A noise by any other name is just as loud
Today's so-called music is nothing more
Than repetitious, raucous rot performed
By untalented, unaccomplished bores.
Their cacophony is worthy of scorn.
Instead they are held in admiration
By tin ears insensitive to sound.
Instruments amplify modulation
Or it might be the other way around.
Nevertheless, its purpose is to drown
Out feigned singers who couldn’t hold a tune
In a shower lest risking being found
Out. The day will finally come, and soon
I hope when these hucksters who can annoy
Are replaced with music all can enjoy.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Rainy Day Blues
The rain is still coming down today
For gods sake! Will it ever
stop?
I’m sick to death of looming gray clouds
That are exuding their drizzling
drops.
For Pete’s sake! Get it over with
I’ve had about as much as I can
stand
Let me get back to my old self again
And out of this soggy
Wetland.
This slow moving low and me below
Make for one miserable
dude.
If it doesn’t stop soon this mini monsoon
I’ll be lethargic all day and just
Brood
I pray to sweet Jesus the rain will soon end
But the weatherman says rain all weekend.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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