Poetry - Lynn White

  Beauty Once I was whole a smooth skinned beauty standing tall in a palace garden celebrated, admired, seen with awe. Then came the war that destroyed it all and stole me away, carried me far but not as far  as intended. For then came the wave that drowned me and them, broke me, and them and left me  alone down below  in that garden in the depth. But I’m still beautiful and still admired. I have a home here and now I give a home here better than the garden of a palace. https://lothlorienpoetryjournal.blogspot.com/2026/03/four-poems-by-lynn-white.html

  The Neighbourhood of Make-Believe My grandma said I lived in a dreamworld. But it was just a different neighbourhood one where almost anything could happen, one where almost anything could be found. Even so I’d searched the rainbows for so long, I’d given up hope of finding it and then it happened! It was sitting there on the top shelf  in grandma’s kitchen, in her own neighbourhood, just waiting to be discovered. It was hidden in a brown jug. Such an ordinary piece of crockery. The perfect place for my grandma to hide her secret. As I reached up to bring it down,  some of the contents spilled out  in a scatter of golden buttons  gleaming so much more brightly than the foil wrapped chocolate ones I was used to. I felt guilty to have discovered it before she shared her secret. I knew she would share it. She always did. Perhaps their light would capture rainbows. I would have a surprise for her then, a secret to share when she returned to our neighbourhood. http...

  It’s Only Make Believe? The little cinema was packed, even if fictional, films about the locality were rare. And later, in the bar there was much discussion. The shots of the sheep blocking the road were appreciated. Well, our sheep were famous for their techniques of blockade. This was no fiction. There was insider knowledge here! It was the mass action that was shown.  It brought the occupants out of their cars to wave their arms and shout in angry frustration. But the individual acts of defiance by escapees were not shown. This was considered regrettable. It was felt the film should have acknowledged the action  of a single ewe lying nonchalantly chewing  on the tarmac while the cars stopped  and drivers moved rapidly from “awww cute sheep” to louder and more frantic hooting  and then to arm waving and shouting outside, There was no discrimination, after all. Old cars, new cars, large cars, small, the ewe would eyeball them all impassively. Locals just...

  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://lothlorienpoetryjournal.blogspot.com/2026/03/four-poems-by-lynn-white.html

  A Season For Living I’d always loved flowers. You helped me surround myself with them to bring me joy. I would like to lie in my garden in the mist of the soft sweet smelling mist of them   for ever. But everything has it’s time, its time to live, and its time to die and only the flowers   will bloom eternally each in its season. This is my season for living and it’s now that I need them. When I’m dead I won’t see them on my grave, won’t know that you’ve brought them for me won’t know if you haven’t, or care. The flowers you carry   in that season should be for you, for all of you that I left behind and all of you still to come. Don’t let them die for me. Nobody wants dead flowers, least of all, dead people. https://feedthehol.blogspot.com/2026/03/a-season-for-living-by-lynn-white.html