Poetry - Lynn White

  A  Dormouse Dreams  “Let me out, let me out!” cried the dormouse. “I don’t want to live in a teapot, not even in a dream! Let me out, let me out before the water boils for tea!” “Boiled dormouse! Now that could be a tasty morsel” Hatter said thoughtfully. “But would it be worth the risks of mousicide? We must consider” All nodded in agreement. “Let me out, let me out!” cried the dormouse. “Escape is difficult.” said the March Hare, “To escape you must go back,  through the glass like she did,” nodding towards Alice, “but backwards and as we know, time only moves forwards.” All nodded in agreement. “It’s getting late,” said the White Rabbit. “But where is the glass, there is no glass!” cried the Dormouse.  All nodded in agreement. “It’s time for tea!” cried the White Rabbit. And time waits for no one, not even a mouse. https://lothlorienpoetryjournal.blogspot.com/2025/12/four-poems-by-lynn-white.html

  Cabbage Dreams I am dreaming my cabbage dream. I’m peeling off the outer leaves to find what lies hidden beneath. Looks much the same as the outer leaf, a little less battered and crinkled but fundamentally the same. Now for the next layer. There’s a drop of water  shining full of light and something darker, more solid, the leavings of some hidden creature. Another layer reveals the holes and the sleepy caterpillar dreaming... without his pipe  without his crown, so unsure of  his own identity,  much less mine. If I peel off  layer after layer until I get to the heart of it, will I understand where I’ve come from and be able to unpack the dream, find the pipe and put the pieces  together, make sense of the cabbage, crown the king. https://lothlorienpoetryjournal.blogspot.com/2025/12/four-poems-by-lynn-white.html

    Through the Glass Alice saw herself in her looking glass and walked through into a topsy turvy world where everything was back to front and inside out. She drifted into a dreamscape of madness and unreality,  without breaking the glass. Uncut by the shards of her mirror  or the place she entered into. She had only to wake to make  things the right way round again. But walking through a clear glass, a transparent window, it would have been different. Her reflection would float  towards a place where everything  seemed the right way round. Where everything made sense and added up sweet with reason. A place without madness, which looked easy to enter and had no sharp edges. Apparently. But this glass forms an invisible barrier to the other side and the life that seduces and entices her. And to get through she has to break the glass, whose sharp edges cut her and propel her crazily into a place where she cannot wake. A jagged, topsy turvy place  w...

  All That Was Left Drink me  the label said. She drank it all,  then threw the bottle aside, so all that was left were the words. Eat me was iced on the cake. She ate it all,  every last crumb, Then she licked off the icing so nothing was left of the words. https://lothlorienpoetryjournal.blogspot.com/2025/12/four-poems-by-lynn-white.html

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  Father Christmas I was so excited. It was nearly Christmas and I was going to meet Father Christmas himself. I was so excited,   wearing my best coat and bonnet, hopping from one foot to the other in the long queue of children waiting with their mums to be allowed into Santa’s Grotto. I was so excited. We were nearly there. I could see the grotto with it’s tinsel and fairy lights twinkling. I was going to sit on his knee   and have my picture taken, and that was in an age when photographs were even rarer than Christmases.. I was so excited. There were the elves... But wait.. they were cardboard. Where were the real elves, the magic ones, why weren’t they there? “They’re much too busy”, my mum said. “But Father Christmas will be real”. We paid our money and there he was. He really was. I couldn’t wait to climb on his knee and examine his beard. I’d never seen a beard before. But he was very tetchy when I pulled at it and told me to stop. Then it went lop sided and I real...