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Poems By Poet Albert Ahearn  8/20/2014 11:32:53 AM
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Bee considerate

I wrote this childish poem for a group of fourth graders during the month of April 2008 in celebration of National poetry month.

A butterfly alighted gently on a flower.
Along came a honeybee that had the same desire.
Sir! Said she, ” did you not see I reached this blossom first? '
'I did', said he, 'but why can't we surfeit our nectar thirst? '
'Because”, said she, 'you must agree it’s but a tiny bloom.'
'It’s when I drink, I flap my wings....there isn't any room! '
'Perhaps you're right' he then took flight and hovered noisily.
She then looked up, and said, 'good luck! ” appreciatively.
Albert Ahearn



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.
Albert Ahearn



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.
Albert Ahearn



Blissful Bookworm

I sit in my soft easy chair in the silence of my study
Surrounded by a multitude of special books.
The humming sound of my computer breaks the silence
From where I normally work.
After awhile I don’t even notice the noise.
The books on the shelves have a special way of talking
To me. Some have scared me shitless with their stories.
Others filled my mind with facts and fiction.
Sometimes separating the two proved problematic
For me, but I managed. Yet through the years few have failed
Me. I wish I could say the same but I know I cannot.
There were times I abandoned a few. Finding fault
With what they had to say. Sometimes surrendering
The read, barely or half-read, but always blameworthy.
Albert Ahearn
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• nature poems
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Poems By Poet Albert Ahearn