Author and Book Feature of 'Late Snows and other Selected Facebook Poems'
About the Author, John Anthony Fingleton: Born in Cork City, the Republic of Ireland, John has lived in many countries including the UK, France, and Mexico, as well as six tours to different states in Africa seeing service with the French Armed Forces. He is now living in Paraguay, Latin America. John has poems published in journals and anthologies in Ireland, UK, USA, India and France, as well as three produced plays. His poems have been read on Irish and American radio as well as in Spanish on Latin American broadcasts. He has contributed to four books of poetry for children. John's poems have been published in Spillwords, Alien Buddha, The Red Door, Piker Press, Super Poetry Highway, The Writer's Magazine, Ariel Chart plus numerous other national and international journals, blogs, reviews and anthologies. Since beginning this collection, many of his poems have also been selected for other anthologies as far away as India, UK and USA, copied in the local language. John Anthony Fingleton was Poet of the Year (2016) by Destiny Poets International Community, Poet of the Month (March 2019) by Our Poetry Archive, Poet of the Month (April 2019) by The League of Poets, Author of the Month (December 2020) by Spillwords and nominated for Author of the Year by Spillwords (2020).
Below, Photos (Front and Back Covers) of John's book: "Late Snows and other Selected Facebook Poems"
'Late Snows and other Selected Facebook Poems' is John Anthony Fingleton's eighth collection of poems. Previous anthologies, 'Poems from the Shadowlands' (November 2017); 'Words That Found Me', (December 2019); 'Poems From The Banks' (January 2020); 'Poems from a Restricted Place' (April 2020); 'Secret Fjords' (May 2020); 'A Gathering of Words' (June 2020), and 'Lost Places and Other Poems' (January 2021), all of which are available on Amazon. The poems in this volume are in no chronological order, except the final poem section which represents the author's Norse/Viking writings. All of Author Anthony Fingleton's poems can be found by clicking onto the Amazon links we have highlighted above.
Along with John's feature, we've decided to present readers with some of his poems (he graciously granted permission) from being chosen as "Poet of the Week" at various times, on our ILA Magazine Facebook Group. Replenish that beverage of yours, kick off your shoes and relax while reading the poetry of this amazing Author.
"A THREATENING STORM OFF THE WESTERN COAST" Great waves from the Atlantic sea, Break hard along the Cliffs of Moher, Sea birds swoop - dive through the spray, To search the flotsam shore. Off the Aran Islands, Weathered fishermen haul in nets, Then row their curraghs toward the shore, Before the tempest sets. The dry stone walls take some comfort, From the ancient fort on Inishmore, It faced a million storms, and stood - Strong enough to withstand a million more. Across the Burren wasteland, Which Cromwell, cursed as Hell, Medb,the Connacht warrior Queen - Her ghost - still unrepentant, that the Hound of Ulster fell. The Skeletons of dolmens, Stand high above this land the ice age scored; Past storms have taken up their bones, This one will take some more. © John Anthony Fingleton (Löst Viking) From his book, 'Poems From a Restricted Place'
"THE BENCH" The bench has stood there many's the long year, And endured all season's weathers, The harsh rain from Atlantic storms, The cold snow from winter showers. It knew the secrets of young lovers, When they sat there on summer nights, Their kisses and caresses, Their break-up's and their fights. The old men that came on afternoons, To talk of times gone by, It knew of wars in foreign lands, And the names of those that died. It knew the lonely people, Without a soul left in this world, That would sit there for hours on end, As muttered memories were unfurled. It had been painted up many times, Sometimes red, and sometimes green, But it still bears the scars of hearts and names - Of people now it never sees. © John Anthony Fingleton (Löst Viking)
"I HAD A TOY SOLDIER" I had a toy soldier when I was a boy, As proud and as brave as could be; He guarded the Queen when she went for her walks, And sometimes she would invite him for tea. But the years went on by, just like the wink of an eye, My childhood was left there afar; I suppose my toy soldier with nothing to do, Just got up and marched off to war. Then one winter's day when the snow was too high, My grandchildren wanted to play; We climbed up to the attic for something to do, A place where past lives, are long stored away. There amongst bunting from Christmas's past And boxes with hats of odd shapes, In one cobwebbed corner by an old teddy bear, Lay my little toy soldier asleep. And so my toy soldier had come home from the war, His body was riddled with rust, His bayonet was missing and his tunic was torn; His boots were all covered with dust. They say there's a place where old soldiers go - Some say they just fade away. And what of toy soldiers whose duty is done? There must be a place they can play. © John Anthony Fingleton (Löst Viking)