Albert Ahearn Poems

In life the only thing we can call our own is our memories.

I’m Irish and I’m a proud Irishman.
Oh, not for the usual sentiments.
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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.
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It is simply shocking how a teeny
Conjunctive word, a tiny little but
Becomes precursor for the agony
Of some. I will explain exactly what
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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,
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His manic mind this particular night
Was dulled by the fractured waning moonlight.
Standing alone amongst the monoliths
Of stone and marble, cold and spiritless.
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I am a pacifist, I despise war.
It’s the only thing I actually hate.
I’m never able to brace myself for
Diplomacy that deteriorates:
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The quiet solitude of the early
Hours of morning while Humanity
Is still asleep, soothes and heals my Psyche.
The hum of my computer while I type
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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.
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Most of us at one time or another take this marriage vow. At the time it is usually a rote recitation because we are young and our attention is on other imminent matters. And that's the way it should be. Nevertheless, if we remain married and outlive a spouse we are faced with the same thoughts, doubts, questions and helplessness as the man in the following poem.
On line 14 he does the only thing he can do to express his love for her before the casket is closed.

She lay upon a cold and stony bier
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This morning I went on my daily stroll.
Only this time it was quite different:
I permitted my mind to take control
How much I knew not or to what extent.
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