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 Nov 2018 Nigel Finn
Gods1son
So, A friend called me a Poet
I said no, I don't think I fit in yet
I'm just like a photographer
I take pictures with my mind
Like a stenographer
I type what my mind says

Like a dam
I let my emotions, thoughts build up
And trickle on the paper
Like a cloud
Mass of condensed words falling on blank pages like precipitation

I use my ink as an outlet for my contemplations
Words as prints of my imaginations
I write to get rid of some thoughts like excretion
Writing, a medium of communication, inspiration, relaxation, meditation and therapy.
Why I write...
 Nov 2018 Nigel Finn
Valsa George
Through a narrow tributary flowing down
Flanked by rustling reeds on either side
The small boat made its lonesome way
Carrying two souls from all distractions

The current was dotted here and there  
With floating masses of water hyacinths
With lavender blossoms peeping through the green
That drifted to and fro as the boat made its way

Pleating gentle curls in the water’s swell
The boat moved, carrying him and her
Gliding away unhurried and unrushed
Over the heaving crest of pure delight

As it entered the river’s wider mouth
Waves began lapping on the boat
And jets of water splashing neck high
With their cool embrace, raising the spirits

Bobbing over waves, they quietly watched
The cobalt sky hugging the mountains far
Hills looming large, with clumps of trees
And their foliage swaying in summer breeze

Before them, the river gallantly stretched along
As a flood of fluid crystal, a current of liquid light
Expressing in turn, the silent meditation of a sage
And the noisy ebullience of a naughty kid

Leaving all cares behind, on the sullen shores
Hearing the lovely chanting of songbirds
Enjoying the river’s shifting loveliness
The two entered into the river’s inner heart

As the magic moments mesmerized their senses
They knew they had found a new love
A flower suddenly blooming in the wild
Drifting them to a world sans any fences !
 Nov 2018 Nigel Finn
Jen
Slip
 Nov 2018 Nigel Finn
Jen
Take away something real, fiction
Hold it in your arms, metaphysical
Friction, Oh, hyper-monitor diction to
Take hold of nonexistent, nonsensical
Non-fiction; How it slips from fingers
Ever distant, moving yet arthritic; much so,
This life fades, Drowning in indifference
In the future not far; Traces fill the spaces
That hold your heart back as if paralytic.
Become resistant, To feel alive in life here.
If only to replay the best yesterdays;
When tomorrow is clean-slated fate,
Today is an oil smudged rainy sidewalk,
There is a Specter, an owl on a high pole;
In the light of fluorescence a ****** there,
Eyes glow; what does the wise one know?
 Nov 2018 Nigel Finn
lins
you write beautiful words

you always amaze

the way your mind
forms each intricate phrase
to put on paper
for my eyes to gaze

some of your poems
are well thought out
others are thrown together
simply, without any doubt

you write beautiful words
they expose you
every little detail
exposes the reader too

you write differently
than I ever could
you speak honestly in I way
that I never would

your words are as beautiful as your mind
unfinished from months ago
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