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Best Poems From
ALBERT AHEARN
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57.
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Foul-mouthed
The sordid words from his foul mouth
are enough to make a crow blush.
though unknown morphemically
despite this fact his vulgar sounds
are numerous syntactic f-words.
His nouns resound all who have ears
his verb usage quite disturbing
adjectives objectionable
combined theyre quite poetical.
Though universally profane
he utters these words unashamed
in perfect alliteration.
And if his diction should fall short
hell add this as a last resort:
......................../΄―/)
......................, /―..//
...................../..../ /
............./΄―/'...'/΄――`Έ
........../'/.../..../......./¨―\
........('(...΄(..΄......, ~/'...')
.........\.................\/..../
..........''...\.......... _.΄
............\..............(
..............\.............\
Albert Ahearn
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58.
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Fourteen Verses
My passion is to write modern sonnets
Yes indeed modern not traditional.
Iambic pentameter I regret
Is too restrictive and conditional.
I had observed that many years ago.
Expression of thought is more important
Than any well-placed iamb, apropos.
These little songs* are not songs at all; shant
Pretend when they're not. Mine are messages
That I compose within fourteen verses:
Some assurances, other presages.
They are my work for better or for worse.
If I fail to convey in fourteen lines
I'd nothing to say and wasted your time.
* Sonnet means little song.
Albert Ahearn
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59.
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Freedom
Standing high atop a canyon
wall, a rising, thermal current
warmed my weathered face with gentle,
smoothest, invisible fingers.
Overhead a lone eagle glides
effortlessly, circling, dipping
downward, ostensibly playing.
His iterate screeching echoes
loudly through the narrow chasm.
Genuine freedom on the wing
but unaware how free he is;
and I who deems to be as free
knows that its only an ideal
one that can never be achieved.
Albert Ahearn
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60.
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From My Window
A robin perched upon a branch
outside my living room window
His lighthearted disposition
roused within me a reverie.
With eyes closed firmly I conjured
a heretofore different scene:
A naked limb laden with snow
and a cold loneliness prevailed
gazing through a closed, frosted pane
My eyes opened, the thrush was gone
no trace vestige of abstract snow
though out of sight his song was heard
Cheerio, Cheeriup, tut tut! !
from outside my open window.
Albert Ahearn
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