On A Small Quiet
Country Road
Sitting
near a country wall,
Pausing the time of day,
Watching shadows dance on fields,
As the breeze blows clouds astray.
The sun runs down the mountainside,
As if chased by unseen feet;
While the stream, sparkles like a diamond,
As it glides towards the river and the sea.
Pausing the time of day,
Watching shadows dance on fields,
As the breeze blows clouds astray.
The sun runs down the mountainside,
As if chased by unseen feet;
While the stream, sparkles like a diamond,
As it glides towards the river and the sea.
Cows
resemble statues,
In different shapes and forms,
Some standing still, or sitting,
Inside the dry stone walls.
In the distance a dog is barking,
Working sheep into a pen,
And on this small quiet country road -
I’ll rest awhile - before moving on with my best friend.
In different shapes and forms,
Some standing still, or sitting,
Inside the dry stone walls.
In the distance a dog is barking,
Working sheep into a pen,
And on this small quiet country road -
I’ll rest awhile - before moving on with my best friend.
©John Anthony Fingleton (Löst
Viking)
Passing By A Forest
In Evening
This
place I passed as evening fell,
A forest of the sweetest smells;
Preparing its fragrance for the night,
As acorns silently closed their shells.
A forest of the sweetest smells;
Preparing its fragrance for the night,
As acorns silently closed their shells.
I paused
to watch through melting light,
As the sunlight filtered out of sight.
Seducing colours to appear,
Calling day birds back from flight.
As the sunlight filtered out of sight.
Seducing colours to appear,
Calling day birds back from flight.
With
flapping wings, they circled there,
Then into green leaves to disappear,
Singing their last songs in the trees,
A choir of nature, for all to hear.
Then into green leaves to disappear,
Singing their last songs in the trees,
A choir of nature, for all to hear.
But
that evening they just sang for me,
As if they choose this hour for to see;
If they could tempt a soul to flee -
With a swan song as their final plea.
As if they choose this hour for to see;
If they could tempt a soul to flee -
With a swan song as their final plea.
Evening Swan
I
watched the wild swan in the distance,
Spreading white flares of light,
Lifting the rays of the setting sun,
With the grace of its evening flight.
Spreading white flares of light,
Lifting the rays of the setting sun,
With the grace of its evening flight.
A ballet
without music
A dance with breath of wings
A poem that held the line just right
A song that natures sings
A dance with breath of wings
A poem that held the line just right
A song that natures sings
It
rose into the evening sky,
Without effort full of grace,
Before flying towards the wetlands island,
Then disappeared without a trace.
Without effort full of grace,
Before flying towards the wetlands island,
Then disappeared without a trace.
©John Anthony Fingleton (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. Contributed to four books of poetry for children. Has poems published in numerous national and
international journals, reviews, and anthologies. Poet of the Month (March
2019) Our Poetry Archive. First solo
collection ´Poems from the Shadowlands´ was published in November 2017, which
is available on Amazon. Web
https://lostvikingpoetryjohnanthonyfingleton.wordpress.com/