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Poems By Poet Albert Ahearn  12/18/2014 6:28:49 PM
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With trusting innocence we've played
with nets and jars amid a field
of muted rustling blooms that yield
Their subtle breaths of perfumed air
where milkweed monarch's foraged there.
They were the prize and preference
of youth and trusting innocence.
Inexpertness with nets gave flight
elusiveness till next alight
on efflorescence's afield
Sedulity kept our eyes peeled
on tawny-orange and black, large wings
in hopes we would be capturing
these lovely regal butterflies
with gauzy wings and very spry.
Albert Ahearn



Moon Crazed

Oh, Oh! The full moon is almost full bloom.
I know what that means. Get the straitjacket.
Tie me down; lock me in a padded room.
They say I make a helluva racket.
I don't grow copious hair or large fangs.
Wish I did. This way a stake or bullet
Would end my monthly lunatic harangues.
Either suggestion hasn't been tried yet.
It's god awful, controlled by the damn moon.
I become a different kind of person-
Jekyll in the morn, Hyde by afternoon.
You'd think over time that it would lessen
A bit. Yea, right! I'd have a better chance
Of seeing god perform a song and dance.
Albert Ahearn




Mother gave me my first taste of sweet milk
While I snuggled helpless and voracious
Amongst two large breasts that were soft as silk:
A comfort zone where I heard loquacious
Chatter on a daily basis, foreign
But always a soothing tone for my ears
My meal was always interrupted when
Mom would pull me off still hungry and steer
Me around facing over her shoulder
And begin patting my back tenderly
Until strange noises began to occur
That emanated from both ends of me.
Is it any wonder why I love her?
This source of life I know as my mother.
Albert Ahearn



Mother Earth

Billions of journeys round a fiery eye
This watery celestial traveler made.
Untiring, spiraling route through the sky
Always returned from yearly crusades.
She carried her children on top her back
And nurtured their needs until they have grown.
Some may have suffered; those may have cracked
But never through any fault of her own.
Forever and always maternally
This wondrous, aging beauty shall remain
Our source of life atmospherically.
Through time and space her dimensions attained
Despite her journeys she manages to bring
Life's gifts: summer, autumn, winter and spring.
Albert Ahearn
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Poems By Poet Albert Ahearn