Albert Ahearn Poems

Conservatism’s ideology
Is static. For that reason, everything
It touches stagnates and thus decays.
We live in a universe that expands:
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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.
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It’s surrealistic in what I see
In the most unlikely places, in fact.
Especially when unexpectedly
They appear before tiredly eyes, abstract.
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Other than the slight ringing in my ears
The only other sound I hear is the
Computers low droning inner gears.
Monotonous sounds that drive me a
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A time is reached in life if one remains
Alive to tell the tale: those certain things
He once performed routinely, ascertains
The notion, habits must desist which brings
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Political science...In other words
The study of who gets what, where, when and
Why. Striking a balance of one accord
Between the individuals demands,
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The day is brilliant with sunlight,
songbirds serenade the season,
maples sway to music of the spheres
melodies only they can hear.
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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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The autumn sun shines through the near naked trees exposing recent abandoned thrush nests those months before were hidden from Mans eyes. The lingering colored, crisp, dying leaves precariously cling until late November winds and rain end their brief lives leaving only their scented remains on the ground.


A scorpion sun shines through near naked
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This poem was written after the seasons last snowfall, a few days before spring 2009.

It began with a single flake of snow
That fell upon my brow so gently down.
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