J Michael Tynan hails from Cork City, Ireland.
He spends most of my time in the wilds of Co Clare with his partner Caroline, opinionated lakeland terrier Joey, cats Scomber Scombrus and Marmalade and a mob of 16 chickens (not counting the recent shock arrival of 14 chicks).
Every day must have some fun… writing plays a big part, as does rowing traditional Irish boats (currachs), which have transported him to the mystical Mag Mells of Ireland, the Grand Canal in Venice, and the Camino coast in Spain.
He worked for 40 years at the Irish Examiner newspaper as a sub-editor and equestrian correspondent.
His poetry has been published in Bindweed Magazine (Belfast) and The Broadkill Review (Delaware, USA).
He co-wrote the winning entry in the 2019 Cork International Folk Festival Song
He has staged exhibitions of works combining his poetry and photography. His first short film, ‘Sorry’, has been selected for Chicago Indie Film Festival, Fastnet FF, LA Mega Fest, Madrid Arthouse FF, Stockholm Short FF and Roma Short FF. He is making preparations for his second film.
Life is a designed futility Universal progress Abstracting divine advancement For synchronicity with intangible inexplicability A desert search by starlight More frantic with less time For a flower of disregard A perpetual bloom of meaning for no-one Forever in the shallows of substance, drowned By treacherous pleasure Unquestioned happiness Is the flagrant truth destroyer Fingers of despair scramble up the Cliff of Truth Infinite as the defining summit holds a lie of all faith bar one So, to be is one of liberty, to question: “To be who? “Or why?” Or why bother? As to see means looking to closed eyelids, the negative of perception flash-fading to nothing and inward vision To hold hands is to sense The sorrow scattered on the pain-rippled lake of destiny and Feel the joy of communion
When Naked Branches Mourned
My ache, I clutched A shard of sacred Burren limestone cold On opposite sides of the hastening November night drizzled road We walked In bleakest hurt so far apart Immeasurable void between our steps and shrivelled hearts And oh, when naked branches mourned In silent grief The blackest velvet cloak soft descending On transparent thoughts now ascending, So shedding my malice frost I formed Of feather, talon and sharp eye To rise away from the Hollow silhouette of our once-lush love And oh, the starry tears glistened
Craven I fear to escape the urge To care... who cares? But those too weak To break the snares (For I to know to kill to care to leave me free of humanity’s beware to dare) Shameful I bow to escape the want to satisfy... but why To always please You before I Pity I long to escape the need To know... all life Can ever hope Is to rise above unsatisfactory Scorn I to escape the everyday To awaken... and thrill Blind to gathering Rooks of remorse for acts not done Suffer I sad to ignore the need To be... liked Look to Lucifer And not the god extorting good