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John Trainor

John Trainor

Poetry

I threw all my poems into the bin
When I was young,
I’d studied the way of the human psyche
By Freud and Jung.
I felt they would make me feel
The things they were written to heal
So the poems are gone!
 
The feelings live on!

(2013)

#Irony

Autres oeuvres par John Trainor...
World from my window

Four march hares dashing, Running right to left, From my window. Three march hares dash back, Running left to right,
Why did I say goodbye?

I choose to explain, Before I leave you, Again. That the warmth, Of your heart,
 1
Virus 2020

I will not ask for help. This virus has abandoned me high a… I locked down early. As a health professional I did no… Though I waited.
Living with an evil man

You know you do the things you do, And think I do not know. But what I see and feel inside, I will not ever show. So, carry on and cheat,
 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.
An easy ending?

In the mists of time, Before the dawn, Your name was written with mine. And so we met. And became,
 1
HeartBroken

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

I am not long for this place, I am short, Of patience, Of temper with fools, Of money,
 1
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,
She’s Gone?

She will stroke you in your dreams… She will expect you to know that o… She will journey on in a state we… She will hold within the love you… And never.
A dead man’s cellar!

I’m living in the cellar of a dead… Duncan, my usual purveyor of all t… Told me, “his wife just called and… So, I rooted round a box of ports and…
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,
Manic Depression

Creative genius, (I’ve heard it said,) Is nurtured in the madman’s head. His ups and downs, Frequent mistakes,
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…



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