Deferred Pen
It is five thirty and I am at my desk
With the intention of writing something.
I’m sitting waiting for inspiration
But the stimulation has not surfaced
Yet. All I hear are the sounds of children
Playing and the hum of my computer.
The thought occurred to me, don’t write just yet
Drop everything and sit out on the deck
And watch the indefatigable youth
Live life the way only a child can live:
Never thinking about the tomorrows
Only the present is all that matters.
Know what? I’m going to act on that thought
Inspiration or not, I’m out of here!
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Sterile sermons
An old church stands with a spired steeple
Amidst the townspeople at Fox and Main
Where the hypocrites pray for sinful souls
And clergy holds sermons that entertain.
Within this sanctuary lined with pews
And opalescent glass and glittering gold
Odoriferous breaths of morning booze
Betray inebriants among the fold.
The Sunday sermon lectures temperance
Its message they heard many times before
The spoken words make no difference
Because people don’t heed them anymore.
The pimps and sots, sinners all congregate
Buying forgiveness while passing the plate.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Yesterday And Today
Oh yesterday! I lost your innocence.
I used to sing and hold my head up high.
Today I am a prisoner of greed.
My wealth is restlessness and misery.
O yesterday! I was a singing bird
happily soaring free among the fields.
Today I am a slave to fickle wealth.
Conforming to mans’ strange and narrow laws.
The fields! The songs! My freedom! -Where are they?
The yesterdays are lost and gold can’t find.
Today my fields are bare, my songs are dumb
enslaved within my palace walls-entombed!
Yesterday I was rich in happiness
Today I am poor in gold and alone.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Foutain of Youth
The fountain of youth exists within us.
To find the rare elixir is the task.
Without it, life is destined for sickness
And brief existence; With it, life will last
A very long and joyous time it brings.
Imbibe the water that flows in the well
That is fed from five meandering springs.
Then daily sip and swallow; never tell
A soul and jealously guard its secrets
Of health, longevous treasure. Keep your mind
As pure as the liquid quaffed and get set
For spiritual uplifting. To find
This elusive potion I must profess:
Seek but don’t overlook the obvious.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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The Beast
The weirdest beast inhabits Earth;
A Human with a brain. It’s large but uses
a tiny bit of what's bestowed at birth.
Whatever primal concept Man chooses,
catastrophes usually soon arise.
Developed fire, but readily is burned,
Invents the wheel, then underneath he dies.
You'd think he would eventually learn.
Impossible you say? I think your right!
This is the beast who thought the world was flat.
Pathetic creature never was that bright.
But ask him if he is, he’ll laugh at that
inquiry. Arrogance asserts itself
when having high opinion of ones self.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Green Banana’s
A time is reached in life if one remains
Alive to tell the tale: That certain things
He once performed routinely, ascertains
The notion, habits must desist that brings
About awareness: His mortality.
Employment ends; Retirement is here.
The monthly saving wanes. Frugality
Submits to lavish tastes. The thirty year
Installment loan is paid. But now he’s glum.
Himself avoiding buying banana’s
That are unripe for fear his death my come
Before they ripen. Shakespeariana
Unfolding: Final act that brings a frown
The man’s demise. They ring the curtain down.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Rue
The seemingly moving white cumuli
Above me drifting aimlessly away
Like youthful fantasies: old passerby’s
With muted roles in an unscripted play;
Foregone dreams with only one performance
Like yesterdays unique morning sunrise;
Witnessing it should never be left to chance
For the moment may end in sad good-byes.
Oh! The many forsaken dreams that died,
Aspirations that never dawned a day.
Oh! If only my orbs were wide-eyed
Instead of my groping every which way.
Alas! The clouds are a constant reminder
Of youthful dreams I let fade and wither.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Daydreams
I lie amidst a pride of dandelions.
Odoriferous breaths overwhelm me.
Above, a sea with white wispy phantoms
Silently, adrift, like lost ships at sea.
I close my eyes but still see everything.
For what's perceived is also imagined.
A subtle April breeze whispers.. it's spring!
I smile with eyes still closed then I begin
Soliloquy: I need no gallery
Nor brush and palette to paint that which I see.
All I have seen is stored in memory
And abstract thought can launch this reverie.
I lie still among these yellow flowers
Lost in springtime daydreams by the hour.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Death beneath my feet
The dead brown maple leaves litter the path
Where I walk. Others of its kind dropping
From their lofty homes, victims of the wrath
Of autumns chilling gales, unrelenting
And tellingly- stark reminder of death-
Companion through life all of us must face.
I tread over brittle corpses beneath
My feet in their final resting place
And I am reminded of my sister
Poor soul! Who died one chilly October.
I remember the maple leaves that stirred
Around my feet that day she was interred.
Lifeless entities swirling, hurling down
Atop her casket deep beneath the ground.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Happy Thanksgiving
It's time for Tom to lose his wattled head.
He's designated martyr for the feast.
We pluck him naked and stuff him with bread
Then roast his hapless carcass whole or pieced.
We carve, dismember, separate his flesh
and pile it high upon a festive plate.
Oh, Butterball you juicy thing, so fresh
and tasty, every bite is simply great.
Although we never heard him gobble
without a head he cannot demonstrate.
A turkeys future cannot be squabbled
his life is brief and predetermined fate.
Without a turkey there's no misgiving
there would not be a Happy Thanksgiving.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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