JOHN ANTHONY FINGLETON

JOHN ANTHONY FINGLETON

LATE SNOWS

Sometimes I fail to see the flowers,

Or the blossoms on the trees;

Sometimes I do not hear the songbirds

Or the breeze rustling through the leaves.

My mind takes in artificial things,

That always disappears,

But every time that happens,

The snows are late that year.

Sometimes I do not see the beauty

Of a raging savage sea,

Sometimes I do not listen

To the words that a love one says to me.

My mind becomes a captive,

Of things I do not wish to hear,

But every time that happens,

The snows are late that year.

Sometimes certain flowers defy the weather,

And bloom against the tide;

Sometimes I look at a thing of beauty,

And feel an emptiness inside.

My mind absorbs a numbness

And an image that’s not clear,

But every time that happens,

The snows are late that year.

©John Anthony Fingleton 2018 (Löst Viking)

THE LAST WINTER HUNT

Where is the voice I once heard?

The one inside I seek,

The wind has changed from west to east,

And the snow it sends, is deep.

All footprints have been hidden,

And the teardrops ensnared by ice,

That curse that let us whisper,

Also, destroyed the Paradise.

Whiteness, fills the shadows,

Like an artist's canvas sheet;

The portrait - over painted,

Hides in agony beneath.

Winter now holds its own performance,

Perhaps the last one I will see;

I draw on no conclusions,

Where my next one is to be.

©John Anthony Fingleton 2018 (Löst Viking)

WOODPILE

It snowed last night a heavy fall,

Making one colour of it all;

My footprints crunched a virgin path,

Like an alien on the Moon had called.

The woodpile seemed an odd shaped stack

Always covered in a sheet of black,

Now stood there like a marble tomb,

With no name on its front or back.

From inside the forest a sudden boom,

As clouds of snow tumbled down.

While branches sprung back into shape,

And flakes like white butterflies flew ‘round.

I looked all around this new landscape,

Not one position had escaped,

So moved on with a sudden haste,

To test the new ice on the lake.

©John Anthony Fingleton 2018 (Löst Viking)

JOHN ANTHONY FINGLETON

JOHN ANTHONY FINGLETON: He was born in Cork City, in the Republic of Ireland.  Poems published in journals and anthologies in, Ireland, UK, USA, India and France as well as three plays produced. Poet of the Year (2016) Destiny Poets International Community. Poems read on Irish and American radio as well in Spanish on South American broadcasts. Also on some blog poetry websites.  Contributed to four books of poetry for children.  Has poems published in numerous national and international journals, reviews, and anthologies.  First solo collection ´Poems from the Shadowlands´ was published in November 2017