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Poems By Poet Albert Ahearn  10/22/2014 10:01:13 PM
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Here Today, Gone Tomorrow

This sonnet was inspired while celebrating my daughter’s birthday. Everyone was eating cake except me. I hardly ever eat sweets. “A moment on the lips, forever on the hips”. Anyway, while they were enjoying the moment, I began to muse. Later that evening I composed this:

My daughter is older by a year today.
She is thirty-seven. I wonder where
The time has gone It seems to melt away.
It’s like an imperceptible glacier
Receding slowly, leaving once unseen
Destruction bare, exposed to view, behind.
I see what time has etched on me between
A youth of yesteryear and current time.
The mirror reflects wrinkled lines and spots.
And not to mention, but I will! The gray.
And like the ice, receding hair, a lot
Is lost. My exploratory survey?
It can be said, expressed this way: Ahem!
I once had youth but now it’s gone, Amen.
Albert Ahearn



Home Delivery

The dark dinginess of the room
And its odoriferousness;
Obviously, it wasn’t broomed
In an age, the place was a mess.
The odor was suffocating
And it needed ventilation.
Unfit for a human being
and beyond my expectation.
“One lives in this filthy rat hole?
God! It’s an insult to a rat.
The center for disease control
wouldn’t enter this place.” She sat
alone, half naked from the waist
up on an overstuffed green chair
that’s when I got to see her face
and was totally unprepared.
“Umm! Madam, you ordered Chinese?
I rang the bell at least three times
and…” never mind that…sit down please! ’
“Sit? ” I asked. “I can’t. Its noontime
And I have four more deliveries
To make; perhaps some other time”,
I lied. Damn! I hate telling lies
But exiting called for a line
Regardless how outlandish.
I needed to buy extra time
to escape this kettle of fish.
“Madam that will be six dollars”
‘Six dollars, don’t you want a tip? ’
“Yes! ” trying to avoid her stare.
“I’ll come back after my last trip.”
She handed me the six. ‘See you! ’
Then I hurried out the door, “Phew! ”
Albert Ahearn




Mouth-watering Honeysuckle!
Your irresistible scent lures
Me to your tubular flowers
As you do the lone hummingbird
And moth and for the same reward:
To taste your abundant nectar.
Thousands of your golden flowers
Have quenched my springtime craving
For your flowery sweet liquid
Hidden deep within your dark spathe.
Once more I slowly extract your
Center stamen out through your scape
Dragging behind your small pistil
And the bead for my waiting tongue.
Albert Ahearn



Hope: A worthless Virtue

Wherever you find Mankind, two plagues follow Him: War and poverty, both preventable but impossible to eradicate. The reason: greed. The sorrier of the two is poverty; war sometimes is a necessity, poverty never is.
Man is forever looking for more but always that pursuit is misdirected. He never includes his fellow human beings, only his narrow clique’s self-interests. The rest are left to fend for themselves. Often an impossible task to achieve, the result is poverty.
Once a victim of this state of being, what is left is hope- worthless hope.

The poorest are the ones who hope
They hope against (all) hope it seems.
They pray to god to help them cope
Yet fruitless as their faded dreams
They hope someday for better stead
A worthless virtue I suspect
Adding to misery instead
That propagates in that respect.
Look to the past to see their plight:
Dreaming of castles in the sky;
But that isn't all, not by a long sight:
The chance it will happen? In a pigs eye!
The “haves” are a self-centered breed
Who rarely help people in need.
Albert Ahearn
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Poems By Poet Albert Ahearn