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Poems By Poet Albert Ahearn  7/10/2014 6:59:34 PM
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  ALBERT AHEARN
 
 
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  213.     

Insomnia

Laying quietly in the dark
Alone in bed on my right side
Listening to the tinnitus
In my ear, praying sleep will come;
Not that I have obligations
To meet in the early morning;
I am an old retired dude
With a lot of time on my hands
But damn it to hell, I need sleep.
I try composing poetry
But my wandering tired mind
Can not remain focused for long
So I turnover my left side
And begin all over again.
 
Albert Ahearn
   
 

   
   
 

  214.     

Inspiration

Mans inspiration steals its way
Unobtrusively to mind
Like a cat burglar on a heist:
Stealthy, but it comes not to rob
Intellectual property
But to deposit a priceless gem
Still unpolished yet nonetheless
Precious to a creative mind.
Unlike a diamond in the rough
this gems luster is most fleeting
whose innate beauty potential
is measured in nanoseconds
thus leaving little precious time
to create a faceted gem.
 
Albert Ahearn
   
 

   
   
 

  215.     

Insurgents Mission

The following, it seems, happens almost every other day in the occupied territories of the left bank, Iraq and Afghanistan.

Summer sights so seemingly serene, yet
Beneath this fraudulent facade, the day
Is fraught with unexpected, unforeseen
Carnage. It all began begrudgingly
At first, but soon ruin and death loom large.
He waited years for this chance; now it’s here.
A time to offer up his life to God.
For Allah and the Cause he must succeed.
The sticks of death are strapped to his body
And are uncomfortable; but that's okay.
He walks to the designated target
Then strolls cautiously, calmly amongst them.
Looks around himself, thinks of his loved ones
Then detonates- sees a flash, hears nothing.
 
Albert Ahearn
   
 

   
   
 

  216.     

Into The Night

I walk alone into the night;
into its shadowy silence
where myriad diamonds light
the sky with twinkling luminance;
where its nocturnal clutch conjures
imaginary images:
wierd, phantasmagoric specters
with unworldly, frightful faces.
Luna, mother of night shadows
beams down through naked boxelders
their swaying branches cast below
cimmerian moving creatures:
malevolent fabrications
of my grotesque imagination.
 
Albert Ahearn
   
 
 
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beautiful poems
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friend poems
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war poems
 
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Poems By Poet Albert Ahearn