Albert Ahearn Poems

I also loved Ginny, Edgar.
Though mine is an imagined love
It's nonetheless deeper than yours.
When I recite 'Annabel Lee'
...

Way atop a Sycamore tree
a black bird’s call reiterates
his three syllable poetry.
Caw! Caw! Caw! The feathered poet
...

I gaze above from my grassy station
While lying on my back, the cumuli
Traversed the sky in noiseless slow-motion.
Great day! I thought while fixed upon the sky.
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Am I the fool for not killing this fly
That persistently harasses me now?
Is my respect for life absurd, awry?
Should my philosophy be disavowed?
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I found myself staring at a blank screen.
I was clueless as to why or how long.
It could have been a moment or fifteen
Minutes for all I know. I’m sure I'm wrong.
...

I could have been a funny circus clown
With multi- colored makeup on my face.
I could have been the greatest fool around
My face on posters all over the place.
...

A man is standing alone on shore in darkness on a foggy night. He is looking out over the water when suddenly he hears a ships fog horn. He can not see the ship but the repeated sound of the horn and his present state of mind he begins to associate himself with this ship.
The man is at a crossroad in his life. He knows his life has been unsatisfactory up to now and is posed with a choice as to how to proceed in the future. One way is risky, the other is safe.

A heavy fog looms over the water.
...

I belong to a book discussion group at our local library. There are about a dozen of us
that meet once a month and discuss a book that we all agreed (voted) to read. At each
meeting, I am usually the oldest participant and I have noticed that our individual tastes
for prose varies exceedingly.
...

We are but grains of sand in life’s hourglass
Plures inter plures waiting our turns
That slowly penetrates the narrowness
Of time ending all our worldly concerns.
...

An opened fifth of hangovers
rests beside his dried driveled arm
(drug used by underachievers.)
Out cold, head resting on forearm
...