Procrastinator
I think I’ll do the wash today so much
Has piled up since. But then the shopping must
Be done, of this I am convinced. How such
Predicaments evolved? I guess I’m just
A lazy cuss who’d rather stay in bed.
Although the chores are pending still, I swear
By all that's holy, never let it said:
I yield my soul to folly. So I declare
Today, I must accomplish first, the wash
That was neglected worse than anything
I started. Now you’re thinking, all is bosh
Its all a bunch of crap, accomplishing
But empty talk. Indeed, my friend it‘s so!
My work has been deferred till tomorrow.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Signs of Autumn
The signs of autumn are upon us. Wow!
The Sun is heading south and harvesting
Is ready for a host of crops by now.
In early fall the days are warm as spring.
The leaves are turning yellow, some are red
And few are brown as yet. The oaken tree
Is dropping fruit and squirrels running ahead
Of other squirrels to claim a guarantee
Impending drops are won. The scent of leaves
Is carried by Septembers gentle breeze
Throughout the day bestirring memories
Of seasons past: A time of youth, who seized
The autumn moments with a measured scheme:
To laugh and play; to sing; to love and dream.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Birthday Soliloquy
Day of birth, it beckons me, my birthday!
Many, many moons have risen and set
Since this big baby's birth along the way.
I have no qualms, few querulous regrets.
Happy birthday you broken-down poet!
You managed to eke yet another year
Out of your life's allotted installments.
Happy birthday fella! You persevered
Once more. Eyesight poor but you see much more.
I guess they call it wisdom, gained from all
The years. Just hype! Nothing to underscore:
A bit part, few lines and no curtain calls.
The bard once wrote the world is but a stage
I’ll play the part. My role is middle age.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Doom and gloom
Oh, lordy! The nuts are at it again.
Their paranoiac claims abound today.
Oh! So often I heard their sick refrains
Expounding, predicting the end of days:
Armageddon is near! Sinners prepare
Yourselves! Never once have their claims come true.
The poor souls! Victims of hopeless despair
Terminal crazies, if only they knew
How ridicules they sound to the sane
Yes, sane! Those who bank on a bright future
Instead of those fantastic, inane claims.
I ask you, how much more can we endure?
Their latest claim is now two thousand and twelve.
Hold onto your bibles [laughs] brace yourselves!
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Inside The Box
Washington always “thinks inside the box.”
No wonder why we’re in the fix were in.
Their collective thinking stifles or blocks
The country’s progress and provides the spin
To sway the public view of uselessness.
This herd mentality is quite bizarre
To think that all these minds can not express
A single “out of the box' thought thus far.
It’s piteous, at least to me, to see
These coattail hangers we call congressmen-
Inane, inept reps of the bourgeoisie
constantly screwing us time and again.
One must conclude this simple inference
Vote in or vote out makes no difference.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Next stop...I get off
I blush when I think about the makeup
Of Man. At birth he's weak and insecure
He's helpless, ignorant- a little pup
Has more going for him than this treasure.
And when he matures, mental growth is slight.
He whines and pines and broods o'er picayune
Events: It's too hot! I'm cold! That's too tight!
I hate my job! That cost too much! A tune
That's sung ad infinitum- Maddening!
There's absolutely no relief from it.
He lies and cheats exaggerates most things.
Befuddles, muddles, meddles, throws a fit.
He battles, tattles, prattles-Stop! Enough
I say, stop the world I want to get off.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Devoid of Love
“My dear, do you love me? ” No, I think not.
A loving foundation is based on trust.
I lost that trust that ties true lovers' knots.
Without it, all love dies and turns to dust.
My heart's been broken many times before
Each love I lost left me uncertainty.
Love doesn’t live within me anymore
This I say to you with all certainty.
Love is like snow, beautiful while it lasts
But comes a time it thaws and disappears.
And what remains are traces of the past:
The painful heartaches, lonely nights and tears.
Ask not again of me, do you love me?
Love has died leaving painful memories.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Love
Few people love; most know not love at all.
Their feelings of feigned affection wane
By any measure. Cupid never draws
His bow for those whose passions are in vain.
His quiver filled with strait loving arrows
Wings among Man to shoot and penetrate
The truest of hearts where amour does grow
To dwell and thrive within ardor soul mates.
Love has no boundaries and lives forever
Beyond the shuffling off our mortal shells
And thus remains in our souls with fervor
Until Cupid once again casts his spells.
So if by chance your heart has been smitten
Cherish this love that Venus has christened.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Post Apocalypse
I walk alone, bewildered, scared to death.
I haven’t any memory... survey
Through ash and try to think...I snatch a breath
And try again. The air is foul today!
I must be dreaming. That’s it! I’m dreaming.
I’ll soon awaken from this craziness
And find myself aright again. Beaming
A smile and laughing at myself, I guess.
But something isn’t right. It’s what I see:
The people, where have all the people gone?
I see homes and autos, some leafless trees.
They are ash-covered phantoms. Begone!
I’ll waken soon. It's only imagined,
A dream. Oh God! Please help me comprehend.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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A petty Argument
Honey, just once, would you keep your mouth shut?
Why? Your mouth is the source of all our problems
That’s why. Oh, now you’re calling me a nut!
When you’re not calling me names you condemn
Everything I do or say. What’s with you?
Oh! Here come the tears! Turn them off my dear.
They always seem to appear when the two
Of us reach an impasse, crocodile tears!
Look hon, this is a silly argument
Over what I said at the beginning
I had no idea it would augment
Into this sideshow that’s never-ending
I guess I said some awful things untrue
I had no right to say those things to you.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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