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Poems By Poet Albert Ahearn  9/18/2014 2:37:41 AM
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  ALBERT AHEARN
 
 
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  185.     

Fool’s mate

(1. f3...e5 2.g4...h4 mate!)

Unwise for White to push the pawn to three;
Exposing royalty to Black’s attack.
With pawn at Bishop three, one must agree
f3 was not the move to play on Black.
The Black opponent counters with e5
A sure maneuver yielding enterprise.
His queen has open space and hopes to strive
To leave her home and head for White’s demise.
The fool's deficient understanding, moves
His pawn obliviously (seals his fate)
To square g4. A move I disapprove
Of. Black has won the game, h4! The mate!
The lesson learned from this experience
Don’t play a fool with inexperience.
 
Albert Ahearn
   
 

   
   
 

  186.     

For this I write

I write not for consensus sake
Why should I? People don’t partake
In my insights, designs and schemes
Nor inhabit my nightly dreams.
I write because it’s a passion
My own particular fashion.
Whether those enjoy what I write
Or find fault with it, that’s alright!
The satisfaction I receive
Is from the notions I conceive
Expressed in rhythmic poesy.
This from me is a guarantee:
When inspiration finds me home
I am sure to write a poem.
 
Albert Ahearn
   
 

   
   
 

  187.     

Forgotten

Dame's Rockets grow atop her grave:
Pinks, whites and purples flourish here
in this cemetery enclave
where no one has visit in years.
Her oblique, weatherworn headstone
stands aside a nearby roadside
hidden amid weeds, unbeknown
to motorist who pass where she lies.
An effortful deciphering
failed to clarify her birth year
Born April first [obscured] in spring
Died forgotten this much is clear
except for these fragrant bouquets
that perfume above her grave today.
 
Albert Ahearn
   
 

   
   
 

  188.     

Forgotten Prose

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.
Myself, I prefer the Classics. The others prefer the modernists’ works of prose.
Consequently, due to our democratic process, my choices rarely are voted for.
Anyway, the situation inspired me to compose a sonnet for all the great forgotten prose of
yesteryear.

On dusty shelves the books of dated time
Have stood for years. Abandoned, slighted lore
Those years before were favorite pastime
Discussion topics, literati lords
Adored. Among the seasoned aging tomes,
A rather large imposing book secured
It’s stately charm amongst the few unknowns.
The title slightly injured and obscured.
Author and faithful readers long ago
Deceased, along with fragmentary bits
Of time. Until uncovered, read to know
About its past distinction, this poet
Aroused, composed a special poem for it.
It’s often called: Shakespearean sonnet.
 
Albert Ahearn
   
 
 
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Poems By Poet Albert Ahearn