Behind The Mask
A blank sheet of stationary
lays speechless beside a keyboard.
Scores of single letters and marks-
Inert symbols invented years
Lost to man’s recent memory.
Instruments of mental fury
And human eventemperedness.
What does fate hold in store for it?
Will it be a fiery paper
With memorable rhetoric
Or the birthplace of a poem?
Both are conceivable concepts
Yet the unsullied cellulose
Is mute waiting to be unmasked.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Just before the rain
I'm happiest when the weather
is gloomy and threatening rain.
Its tendency, this low pressure,
forces most people to remain
inside comfortable houses.
Outside becomes much quieter
assuming a shushed quietus
that wouldn't normally occur
if the day were a sunny one;
so I pray that this low holds fast
concealing the intrusive sun
behind the looming overcast
while I revel in its stillness
and its lugubrious bleakness.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Temporal tenure
I stood on shore at rivers edge
And gazed at it as it streamed by
Me. I was mesmerized by its
Uninterrupted babbling voice
That captured my receptive ears.
I thought about eternity:
Thinking how insignificant
I[we] are in the scheme of things.
This majestic river flowing
Through time endlessly to the sea
While I a humbled sojourner
Standing on forever’s shoreline
Realizing temporariness
Even for a moment like this.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Inconspicuous Queen
A slab of cracked concrete pavement
Permanently fixed in a row
Of similar, less damaged slabs
Exists a miniaturized realm.
Within the fracture grows a few,
Tiny clumps of unnoticed grass
And a single dandelion.
Deep within the dark cavity
A colony of zealous ants
Ruled by a single fertile queen
Work in well defined labor crews.
A team of seven working high
Atop the yellow nectar globe
Begin their long laden descent.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Contentment
Contentment: Kenny G blowing
“The Moment” in my ears while I
Sit in front of my monitor
Typing these verses, stopping once
In awhile to sip a diet tea
And read an interesting short
Piece from my monthly magazine
Scientific American
Ricocheting sleet off the pane
Made me aware of the weather
Only for a moment, mind you,
Then back again to poking keys.
“The Moment” has timely ended
And so too has my contentment.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Behind The Masque
Looking into a mirror at
That person staring back at you
Is not what other people see.
What you perceive is a minds-eye
Aspect of a parallel clone-
An apparition in a realm
Manifested by your ego.
You look into its soulless eyes
That blinks a lifeless mimicry;
And what you think you see is not
On your side of the looking glass.
You conjure up the counterfeit-
A clownish mask- then masquerade
Not fooling nary one of us.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Futility
Idealists speak out all day
And wonder why the worlds this way;
They ask, why can’t we live in peace
Instead of being ill at ease;
Where all men live in harmony
And war is just a memory.
A realist responds in kind
I’m of a difference of mind.
I see all good and evil reign
Both equally in one domain.
Their efforts for a win must fail
The vying is to no avail.
Mans personality is split
Espousing both you must admit.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Winter Rhapsody
The leafless, arthritic branches
of the sycamore and maple
trees stretched their grotesque, naked forms
now stripped by the blasts of winter;
splaying drearily overhead
casting cold, rickety shadows
over recently fallen snow.
A prevailing wind rushes through
the trees and a choir of creaks
begin their rasping rhapsody.
A momentary lull begins
and the wooded composition
in a Larghissimo tempo
ends on a melancholy note.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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A flower indeed!
I am a beautiful flower
That is rooted in this bower.
Off limits for the likes of me
A nuisance most all will agree.
The bees do visit me daily
Sweet as the white trumpet lily
Who resides with me in this bed;
But still my life’s in constant dread
Of toxic sprays and solutions
A sentence of execution
They’ll spray on my bright yellow head.
I am prolific and spread
But tomorrow I will be gone
Because I’m a dandelion.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Just a Dream
The entire world was silenced
And from the darkness emerged, Truth;
Lost since the paradise garden
Abandoned for cupidity;
And out of Truth the advent poet
Appeared with imaginative
Zeal and clarity of purpose:
To rhythmically shape our hearts
And minds with eternal verses
Instilled with His intuitive
Enlightenment from the cosmos
Taking the form of a poem.
Although pleasant it may have seemed
In reality, just a dream.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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