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John Trainor

John Trainor

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
And eat a mean foie gras,
On fresh baked bread with figs and fruit,
And sweet wines from Alsace.

(2012)

Autres oeuvres par John Trainor...
Faif wivout Fought

I like to pause and make a note in… I write them spare with meaning ye… A reconstitution of dehydrated mom… It’s good to share. Divine!
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Ode to an old man

Christs day is here, You’re sitting alone. No presents or cards, The loved ones all gone, It’s the most wonderful time of th…
 1
Maspalomas Pride 2015

I don’t do drugs, I don’t do sex. I don’t like hugs, I don’t like pecs. I don’t do dunes or nudey beach.
Love is?

Nobody loves you. They say that they love you. Love you. Love you. But you can’t hear!
Fingers

If I had fingers, I would find things. I would fumble, feeling through drawers of cards and notes. Fond felicitations of folk, friends from days gone by; five new pence; four candles;...
Hunting for fire dragons in the park

Crisp cold crunch of boots through… Silent, skeletal trees, hiding lit… Yet, you must watch for movement i… For fire dragons can sleep in stea… Still.
 1
Christmas 2022

Christmas may be merry, Or then it may be not. It may be filled with loss and mis… People who’re not there and wishin… They were.
Eternal Life.

I do not believe the soul goes on… Ordinary, small, events of chaotic… A butterfly here, a feather there,… Insignificant. That I think this way, does not m…
Why write?

Do I write my poems and prose and… Cowardly! Do I publish them and say, "this… How indulgent! Do I say nothing?
For Good Night Paula XXX

I wanted to say that my friend die… She’s gone from this world for goo… We’ll never meet up, eat some lunc… And I’m sad about that for good. She was adversity’s friend but was…
 1
An easy ending?

In the mists of time, Before the dawn, Your name was written with mine. And so we met. And became,
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Lighten up

You cannot live your life in fear! Each moment missed as looking here… You watch your step; diet; drinkin… Mind your manners; Ps and Qs. Wakeful worry of what might or mig…
Life Without Faith

If I had wit and words to write my love for you. I would not construct a poem whose rhyme and rhythm would pulse the beat of steady heart. For I do not possess the skill and wordsmith...
 1
Mothers Day

I lost my mum when I was 6! I was a careless lad, For at this age I did not realise… It strikes me strange to have one… This wonderous woman we all have w…
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Black Dogging

It’s the blackest of black dogs, That steals your will and runs wit… Like a stick in its mouth, Not towards but away. Away.



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