Poetry - Lynn White

  Diamonds Of April Vera was an April baby, a diamond, though she never owned one, never owned much at all she left me my name as her legacy. She was Vera so I should be Lynn. My mother liked things right though she was more a fan of Bing than the Forces Sweetheart. Not everything can be explained! She was not a forever diamond, none of us are and she did not get to meet the diamond with me now, his birthday coming soon, but I still have her legacy. I always will. https://www.magcloud.com/browse/issue/3284018

  Gramsci He was a stray who knew all about wars of manoeuvres   as he invaded our lives, so, we named him Gramsci. He wanted to be a house cat and hid, scratched, bit and hissed   avoid the fearsome outdoors. It was the pterodactyls he feared and Jurassic Park was out there, he’d watched it on TV (it was his favourite film) sitting safely on a knee and glancing round, ears back to check   all was as it should be. But out there… Gramsci would take no chances. https://www.magcloud.com/browse/issue/3284018

  Glad To Be Gay Miss Bunch taught Geography She was rather gruff and masculine. She laughed a lot. Miss Tomlinson taught RE. She was rather timid but very smiley. They lived together. We all thought they were “you know”. The word “lesbian” was unspoken and “gay” meant bright and cheerful, which of course, they were. We had no issue about it. We thought them rather sweet and no one sniggered. Ever year at Speech Day many of the staff would appear wearing caps and gowns. Miss Tomlinson and Miss Bunch   only had one between them. Miss Bunch wore it one year and Miss Tomlinson the next. We did have a giggle about that. https://www.magcloud.com/browse/issue/3284018

  The Bitter Shadows The shadows fall as Summer dies and Fall rises damp wood crawling in decay bitter berries bright glowing gloomily as flowers rot   away impermanent as seasons. https://poetrywivenhoe.org/2026/03/day-1202-the-bitter-shadows-white/

  The Importance Of Being I wanted to explain my thoughts on   the nature   of light and dark, of sharp and soft, of circles and rings. I thought I’d succeeded but no one understood me and I wanted to be understood. It was a puzzle I tried hard to resolve but no one understood me unless I called them by their names. Unless I call them by the names that they had created I am misunderstood, misinterpreted unresolved. But now, I think that I like this mystery that I have created. Though   I am always open to interpretation. I am what I am. https://www.ekphrastic.net/the-ekphrastic-challenges/andrea-bogdan-ekphrastic-writing-responses-curated-by-kate-copeland

  The Sad Man I take my hat off to him the sad man of the leafy suburbs always smartly dressed dapper old fashioned smart carrying  all our problems  with all his silent grief on pinstriped shoulders. We all took our hats off to him that sad man, as we played in the streets as we grew older as we changed while he stayed the same still silent still carrying all those problems all that grief that we never understood. https://fourfeatherspress.blogspot.com/2026/03/52-poets-are-being-published-in-turtle.html