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Daily Selected Poems : John Anthony Fingleton

John Anthony Fingleton   |   Tuesday, 02 November 2021 | Print

Daily Selected Poems : John Anthony Fingleton

John Anthony Fingleton

Do you remember when we spoke of swans?


Do you remember when we spoke of swans?
The seasons pass so quickly,
While age passes by so slow,
It seems like only yesterday –
That I was there.
I can still see the colours
Of the sunshine on the lake,
I can still see the white cob,
As he rose into the air.
‘Do you remember when we spoke of swans?’
(Now I’m talking to myself,
That’s a sure and certain sign of getting old)
I told you that they loved just once,
And when their partner died,
They were destined to live on the lake alone.
You thought that was so very sad,
And I, at the time agreed,
Not knowing all those years ago –
I was talking about me.


Evening Choir


As the shadows dragged out slowly,

The birds commenced to sing –
Urgently- before the light would end.
In the trees along the country road,
A choral choir struck up –
Unrehearsed since time immemorial began.
The evening seemed to pause just then;
As if enraptured by the sounds,
Shadows held, without flickering a shade.
As if encouraged by this stillness,
The repertoire increased –
To reach a new crescendo serenade.
It felt like the whole world stood still,
As if blessed by unseen hands,
Heaven and Earth assembled in one place.
Then the wind gave a little sigh-
As if remembering its task at hand-
And softly moved the shadows back in place.

The Wanderer

(Poems from the Norse-lands)

The Wanderer has many faces,
And many different types of clothes;
He can step out from the shadows,
Without a sound.
He wanders throughout many lands,
Some unknown to men,
And those that were reshaped
By Ymir’s bones.
He ferry’s on the rivers,
That the giant spilled on this earth,
Long before Ask and Embla did appear;
He walks in the same melting frost,
From which Audhumbla did emerge,
Before passing through the snowlands,
To disappear.
Yesterday I met him,
On that same old road down by the fjord,
Near the same place I had met him years ago,
Back then I had been skimming stones,
With Erik my boyhood friend,
When he told us,
To count the ripples from each throw.
‘I know you, we have met before’
He said as I drew near,
‘You and your friend were making puddles in the fjord,
I told you to count the waves, so you would know the years of life,
Now your friend rests in peace in my abode.’
‘And you, I’ve watched many times,
You have had your share of life,
The up and downs, the trials of many wars,
But you have pulled through all of them,
It has made you stronger with each fight,
This has all been noted in your lore.’
He passed on with a nod of his head,
Just too, where the road took a sharp curve;
There he slowly turned around, and said,
‘I also have to tell you, I’ve read your each and every word.’

Crystal Night Dream


I dreamt last night the pavements glimmered,
As if the sky had been reversed,
Or the stars had fallen from their place,
And landed here on the earth.
It had a surreal beauty,
That I often get in dreams –
It was then I heard the sounds of shouting,
And the echoing of screams.
I realised that the glimmering light
Was coming from the fires,
Spread abundantly all around the place –
Like six million funeral pyres.
I attempted to get closer
But was repelled by the heat –
And an angry voice calling out an order –
Nehmen Sie den jüdischen Jungen von der Straße!!
(Get that Jew boy off the streets !!)

©John Anthony Fingleton (Löst Viking)

Photo. Kristallnacht Nov 9, 1938 – Nov 10, 1938



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Posted 1:00 pm | Tuesday, 02 November 2021 |

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