Poetry - Lynn White

  For Love 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 for love. This is my season for living and it’s now that I need them. The flowers you carried  in that season are for me. Later they should be for you for all of you that I left behind and all of you still to come to life. Don’t let them die for love of me. Nobody wants dead flowers, least of all, dead people. https://4fplove.blogspot.com/2026/02/lynn-white.html

  Don’t Go When I’m with you I feel I am whole. Captured and completed. Engulfed by you. When you kiss me all my fears disappear in the kiss. Where do they go? I don’t know. Do you wrap them round your tongue and swallow them whole? I don’t know. I only know the comfort I feel, such peace. So don’t go. Don’t go. Please, don’t go. https://4fplove.blogspot.com/2026/02/lynn-white.html

  Some Of Them Are Brave Everyone knew it was happening the unheard story the tens of thousands dead, the millions displaced, the decades of rubble, the destroyed schools. hospitals, universities everyone knew. Everyone knew it was happening the unheard story even though the journalists were dead or expelled and banned everyone knew. Everyone knew it was happening the unheard story of the hundreds or thousands, or tens of thousands who had disappeared uncharged with any crime or misdemeanour everyone knew. Then three Israeli workers blew their whistles loud and everyone heard what everyone knew. Now the trick is to listen. https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/a-new-season-jacalyn-eyvonne/1149050459

  We Will Not Be Silenced We found a gap in the wire. Someone had made it,  that gaping hole in the wire, hoping to climb through,  hoping to head towards the light,  to leave the darkness behind, to escape the madness here, hoping, hoping. But the light became too bright. And now it’s blinding us. We can see less than in the darkness. Our mouths open, aghast with the horror of it all, gaping, gaping but determined to speak determined our voices are heard as we crawl through the gap the gap that leads nowhere. https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/a-new-season-jacalyn-eyvonne/1149050459

  A Rose For Gaza Gaza is a garden full of roses. Stone roses. Rock roses. No petals to crush and bruise to release their fragrance. Only dust. Dust and the stench of death. No green space left. No sweet tranquility, peace or quiet. No escape. No garden of Eden here. No gateway to paradise. Rubble and rock roses. https://scarlettanager.com/convergence-poetry-on-environmental-impacts-of-war/

  Outside In They didn’t know they were watched as they placed the presents carefully wrapped  in bright paper in place beneath  the evergreen branches decorated with shiny baubles. Everything was ready now in their house, ready for Santa. It was the last house for Santa for another year. He raised his glass of sherry and toasted his hard working elves whilst the reindeers waited impatiently nibbling the undecorated branches outside. No one noticed the shadows they cast. https://cajunmuttpress.wordpress.com/2026/02/18/3-poems-by-lynn-white/?fbclid=IwY2xjawQC1mdleHRuA2FlbQIxMQBzcnRjBmFwcF9pZBAyMjIwMzkxNzg4MjAwODkyAAEeCoV69AWi01XkiVlakntcEny0WunLef8h3gb4cFByJIjqPcqXEab2R4RY0-U_aem_BIj82sfWo-Y-Xx0xn-oqSw