Been a while... This one is for my fiancee. And not my best. I need to get back into practice.
You
Your eyes;
So bright and blue,
Their sight so true.
Your smile;
That lopsided grin,
Brightning up everything.
And Your lips to touch;
These I miss as much,
They might be my crutch.
You heart;
So big and kind,
And yet all mine.
Your mind;
An intelligent creature,
Definately your best feature.
And your voice to hear;
So calm and clear,
To know you're near.
This is you.
-Kevin Traynor
The Screams Redux Redux Spectacular 2022 Edition
The screams dawn upon darkness still,
Held fast our hope, a nightly chill,
We run in fear, hide in thrill,
The sounds of death a darkly kill.
The hours pass, the minutes tick,
We hide, we fight, we try to trick,
When luck runs out, our time is slick,
A shield, a weapon... a brick.
A blood curdling scream rings out,
A battle cry, a deathly shout?
No time for fear, no time to pout,
Brick on skull, cracks with no doubt.
Undead shuffle, spattered in red,
Moss covered blood, no time to head,
No rescue to come, we fight or we're dead,
The burning sun rises, our hope is fed.
I stand exhausted in morning mist,
Covered in crimson, and sun-kissed,
We survivors won't be missed,
When night returns, our plight persists.
The screams.
-Kevin Traynor
This was written as a joke, however back between 2008-2015, I wrote a series of horror themed poems called The Screams, which were very popular, kinda zombie apocalyptic.
The Silence Waits - a WWI poem read by Kevin Traynor
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sPzMgKjLIrs&t=118s
The drums beat, the ground thrums:
The dirt, the dust, the grime.
Mud running thick with blood, cold, decaying;
And with each tumultuous thud, chilling screams.
A terrifying enthrall.
The drums fall silent, their tempest abates;
An ear splitting silence falls, loud, deafening.
Anxious eyes turn skyward, nervous, afraid;
Their hands grip ladders, guns; grim, resigned.
A moment of still, too long, but not long enough.
As whistles sound, a roar of voices,
Shouts, and battle cries, lead and steel;
The dead climb walls of mud, and blood.
Gunfire fierce, ringing out, across
A lifeless field of bodies, littered with death.
Howls of terror, of anguish, of the no longer living,
Of wasted life, now all silent; gone.
The drums beat, reverberating, repeating,
They strum senseless torment, confusion, loss;
The sludge of earthen debris, joined by a rain,
Now tainted, red, metallic in taste, and smell.
More eyes, unquiet in their anticipation, their fear.
Sodden in the deluge, cold, they steel themselves;
For them, like those before:
The silence waits.
-Kevin Traynor