John Traynor – Three Poems

meJohn Traynor is twenty four years of age. An Art’s graduate from University College Cork. He works in the Kilkenny greyhound track.
The love of lust is a tale of distant dreamy romance, ruined by actual romance. Ya want what ya can’t have.


Nostalgic Love

Bow beneath the rainbow of rueful affection,
And voice a silent opinion that promises a today
Among the tomorrows-of-never-effort-land,
But she smiles and says no, not today,
I will love you tomorrow and the day after that,
And of course, par for the cure, the day after that,
But the future is false,
Yet I’ve no regrets as I opt to live in the past,
Pensively promising my muses conception.

The heart has that rare reflex which scares the intellectual,
Blind is all beauty, the soft touch of her teasing voice,
Trembling on a tune of fluent euphoric influence.

She kissed me,
Give a man a kiss and you’ll own his dreams forever,
She shagged me,
Give a man sex and he will love you never

A hope of life is the hope of death forever

A hope of life is the hope of death forever.
Your wide eyes shut and I surrender,
Swimming through shadows, damp and gloomy,
A shaky lantern trembling by your beauty,
Let me dream inside that intense embrace,
Begging to steal a chest-chin kiss,
My heart outruns the race.

We sleep, pretending to sleep on shared soft skin,
The open window calls a cool summer zephyr,
Down below on the starlit streets, the staggering swaggerers serenade our sensuous retreat,
Our legs entangled, locked by loose love,
Or is it loneliness that holds our hampered hearts together?

I walk with death at ease,
Yet then, in all life’s liveliness, strangeness holds out her hand and her four fingers split to connect our curiosity,
I walk with love on my knees,
And her cold thumb strums those saintly strings to cause a strenuous coiled-ring around my thorny heart.

She upturns that lily white palm,
And the stars and I trace inner poetic orgasms against the grain,
Only to be washed away,
By a wanderer lost in wanderlust,
Dancing in the faint fall of ripe rain.

Roses dwell on her wet cheek, and I rest there,
Hoping to helplessly lounge,
Forever uninterested, forever exotically interested.

She worried inside the nightclub on careless feet,
Far from the foggy moonshine and the shimmering beer garden mania,
She coaxed a stealth kiss from the loud speechless crowd,
Dancing outta tune to spidery silhouettes.

Visions in the air, insightful souls fondling the drunken debonair,
Hungry lustful creatures, scared to love,
Scared of life, wringing worms chopped up by the heels knife.

At the worlds end,
A yearning holiness humbled by her heavy breathing chest, hot n soft,
And when she hugs I hear the swell of heaven fall on my lap,
And I am lost,
Lost to a lover living in a different dreamland.

A lonely tear in the shadow of my heart

The bawling of an August beer garden,
the moons mad music and all the lovely dresses undressing drunken eyes,
and all constellations licking the skies iridescent dancing lights,
had ravished the wreck of my reverie.

A girl emerged from drugs submerged in dreams,
the urging eyes, casting green lights over crimson coloured lips,
smiling, she turned a dainty shoulder, slowly walking away,
tears trailing her sagely shadow.

And all the silhouettes laughed,
Stilettos creating crazy sounds at a sun drenched dawn,
A faint raindrop crinkled my creased forehead,
A curious climax as the sky emptied it’s effort over my shadowed eyes.

Aside | This entry was posted in News, Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.