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Poems By Poet Albert Ahearn  4/27/2015 5:29:04 AM
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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

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



Foutain Of Youth

The fountain of youth exists within us.
To find the rare elixir is the task.
Without it, life is destined for sickness
And brief existence; With it, life will last
A very long and joyous time it brings.
Imbibe the water that flows in the well
That is fed from five meandering springs.
Then daily sip and swallow; never tell
A soul and jealously guard its secrets
Of health, longevous treasure. Keep your mind
As pure as the liquid quaffed and get set
For spiritual uplifting. To find
This elusive potion I must profess:
Seek but don’t overlook the obvious.
Albert Ahearn




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 it’s only an ideal
one that can never be achieved.
Albert Ahearn



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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BEST POEMS:  (Click on a topic to list and read the poems)
• angel poems
beautiful poems
death poems
friend poems
• girl poems
home poems
hope poems
kiss poems
• life poems
loss poems
love poems
music poems
• nature poems
rain poems
school poems
sex poems
• soldier poems
summer poems
sun poems
war poems
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Poems By Poet Albert Ahearn