Poetry - Lynn White

  He Who Drowned The World I used to see him lying there stretched out atop the Moelwyn in his favourite position head on Mawr feet on Bach water pouring  from fingers  and toes flooding the fields below on its way to the sea. Then one day I saw him leap on to the top of Nyth y Gigfran right behind my house. I watched him as he sat there his face turned away his water pouring the back field already flooded. I think he would have to swim back. But I have no way of knowing. I will have drowned by then. We will all have drowned. https://latinosenglishedition.wordpress.com/2026/01/05/5-poems-by-lynn-white/

  The Crimea Pass It was opened at the time of the Crimean War. This does not seem to be a legend. Though probably it was not built by Russian prisoners who left their boots behind. This does seem to be a legend. After all this is North Wales and ours is the land of legends and we all know that the pub at the summit  served ale on Sunday lock-ins right up to the time when the purple dragon was sent to burn it down to nothing. Only pine trees remain  miraculously unscathed to mark the spot for ever. And as for the dragon, he found a mate with our native red and made happy families in a slate cavern for many years. But when the time was right the still angry drinkers raised their glasses to cast a spell which transformed all the dragons. Changed them into the rhododendrons which grow like pink and purple miracles, breaths of dragon fire colouring the slate tips. It’s something to ponder when you pass over the Crimea in springtime. https://latinosenglishedition.wordpress.com...

  Niagara Niagara is the biggest, the grandest, the most magnificent no maybes at all. But the most beautiful? Maybe maybe only maybe.. when I think of Pistyll Rhaeadr frozen in winter, it’s icicles gleaming like diamonds in the sunlight. Or the Moelwyn leaking liquid rainbows catching the sun in cascading profusions after days of heavy rain and I think maybe maybe only maybe. https://latinosenglishedition.wordpress.com/2026/01/05/5-poems-by-lynn-white/

  And Here We Are In Wales This is a grey place,  grey slate, grey granite, grey houses built of both. And it rains a lot, vertical, horizontal,  or swirling rain falling greyly  from heavy misty clouds. But when caught by a sunbeam it makes glistening slides  shimmering across the slate  and falls in bright white tails  or snakes like silver where the mountains leak it to spill heavily over rocks, its foaming, frothing, yellow ruffed  cascades catching rainbows as they crash then spitting them back out  in a fine spray of colours. And now at night there's no grey  in the dark blue, black sky  filled with gold and silver twinkles. No grey at all in this place now, there's no denying. https://latinosenglishedition.wordpress.com/2026/01/05/5-poems-by-lynn-white/

  Oiling The Wheels The days of saving Vietnam from Vietnamese or Afghanistan from Afghanis, are here again. ‘We’ will run things especially in countries of long words like Palestine and Venezuela. Democracy is another of them. short words like ‘we’, ‘US’ and ‘oil’ will save Venezuela from Venezuelans. An unelected foreign government will save Venezuela from elections.   Oh, the words are getting bigger again, Venezuela and democracy are very big words so we must run things there, to oil the wheels of democracy, or something like that, and, with nice short words, save Venezuela from Venezuelans. https://thenewversenews.substack.com/p/nvn-extra-oiling-the-wheels

Times Gone By They were the best of times. They were the worst of times. Or so it is said. And now the new times look much like the old times. And now we look much like the old versions of ourselves looking for love, rejecting glory. Living in our time. https://www.jerryjazzmusician.com/the-sunday-poem-times-gone-by-by-lynn-white/