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John Trainor

Faif wivout Fought

Choose to think

I like to pause and make a note in verse or prose of peoples points of view that strike me still or make me smile.
 
I write them spare with meaning yet to form within from you.
 
A reconstitution of dehydrated moments of meaning.
 
It’s good to share.
 
Divine!
 
A modern book of proverbs.
 
I would that folk should ponder on the wonder that one grand and dusty thome has in some archaic whim sacred validity.
 
And wish that they would stop and sift and sort the gems displayed before their eyes, examining every facet.
 
Decide.
 
Diamond or paste?

(2012)

#Faith #Secular

Other works by John Trainor...
The knowing

I’ll never be quite sure how you g… Still you are here. Inside. Moving me. I packed my trunk with memories of…
 1
Nowhere

Where are you going? Eyes of blue. With your car crash of a life. Displayed for all the world to see… Bloated face and gut.
Holiday in France

I want to smoke Gitanes. I hate the smell of smoke! I ache to light Gauloises And cough and wretch and choke. I want to watch the world pass by
Dangerous Games

When life was young we ran with th… Voice of the vortex shouting in ou… Our arms spread wide, coat edges e… Our hair ran in rivulets riding th… Joy, fear, fire in our veins as ob…
Poetry

I threw all my poems into the bin When I was young, I’d studied the way of the human p… By Freud and Jung. I felt they would make me feel
HeartBroken

When you can’t do this, What do you do? You do that! My heart is broken. And I can’t do this.
Invisible

What if I won’t be found? As the world turns white. As the winds turn cold. As a young gay man Turns grey and old.
Life in the fast lane

Living in the city is like, Not living. Bodies beaten and blown, As if by a blizzard, Swerve, stumble and slam against e…
Love is . . . .

I feel you, Know you are there, Pressing close, Behind me. Yes.
Drunken Poetry

I’ll write some drunken poetry, It may not even rhyme. It doesn’t rhyme. It’s not even poetry. You soft lad!
Plea to parent

I don’t want to hear that. What it was you said. No son of mine could be like that. I’d rather you were dead! Things we shouldn’t talk about.
 1
Who You Talking to?

I thought my heart was broken But now my heart is fixed I wished I had a cocktail And now the cocktail’s mixed. I’ve finally reached the age,
A thought for the grammar police

I wanted to drink it, I drank it, It’s drunk. I wanted to sink it, I sank it,
Why write?

Do I write my poems and prose and… Cowardly! Do I publish them and say, "this… How indulgent! Do I say nothing?
Not Long

I am not long for this place, I am short, Of patience, Of temper with fools, Of money,
 1



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