Poetry - Lynn White

  Birdsong I close my eyes and listen to the birds. I can’t name them, but I can still feast  on their song for now. Some sing beautifully, others need to learn. I sympathise with them, I can’t sing either, but It doesn’t matter. No one will hear me if I join in now.

  Bubble The bubble reflects my dream so perfectly it could be made of glass. Perhaps it is made of glass as the sharp leaves don’t break it. it just rests there, waiting. https://inkpantry.com/poetry-drawer-bubble-birdsong-cloth-of-gold-by-lynn-white/

          Inspiration Outside the window the man stands, his hunger abating  as he ingests  the emptiness inside. He breathes it in, then he’s on his way, fast as the food being served behind the glass. Soon the bar stools and tables  will be peopled, the juke box will be playing above the buzz of conversation. Brushes and magic, that’s all it takes to fill the space with life. Hopper stands back,  satisfied. https://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2024/11/tableaux.html  

  River I look into the river and see myself in reflection. Colour fast but unstable, I move helplessly in its flow. I am constantly being moved and changed, but left stationary, moved but not moving on   like the fishes and pebbles.   Here I am, disturbed and abstracted, surrounded by this rippling, babbling, watery world,   which leaves me unclear who I am and, more unclear about the solidity of my background and what is happening around me. I look into two worlds which are intermingling, becoming inseparable before my gaze. My own distorted image fades and breaks with the images behind and beyond me in the background of my life. This river is becoming a metaphor for my own confusion. For the displacement and fragmentation I feel inside.   I am in danger of being broken up and washed away. Unable to bring myself together, I remain in pieces, undecided, lacking definition. It is also a metaphor which stretches beyond my person,   into the confusion and fragmentation beyond it’s edges,

  More Than Survive It may not look that way but I've done more than survive my time in this city. It may not look that way but I’ve done more than survive in the time since I left in disgrace. Now I'm ready to come back to make a success after failure to find a new way through the old streets to make my way afresh. And I will. https://www.poetryformentalhealth.org/lynn-white

My Detached Memory I think of it as a detached memory floating free engulfing me when I least expect it and then leaving again without a trace. I can’t recall it. Not for sure. But clearly it remembers me. https://www.poetryformentalhealth.org/lynn-white