Poetry - Lynn White

  Grey At Times This is a grey place, there's no denying. Grey slate, grey granite rock and walls. And it rains a lot, there's no denying It floods the fields near the rivers, makes estuaries of the pastures. So much rain. But when caught by a sunbeam it makes glistening slides shimmering across the slate   and falls in bright white tails or snakes like silver spilling heavily over rocks and walls, cascades catching rainbows as they crash then spitting them back out in a fine spray of colours. No grey at all in this place now, step outside, there’s only joy, there's no denying. https://www.lulu.com/shop/sueann-wells/hope-is-humanity/paperback/product-e7nz7mz.html?q=Hope+is+Humanity&page=1&pageSize=4

  Gloomy Day It was a gloomy day still no wind blowing   the clouds away a good day to climb trees to saw to prune to cut up their branches log timber to make our fires burn a brighter night than that day. https://www.lulu.com/shop/sueann-wells/hope-is-humanity/paperback/product-e7nz7mz.html?q=Hope+is+Humanity&page=1&pageSize=4

  Burning Up The sun has risen and it’s burning, burning up   everything. And I’m raising my arms to worship or plead. Not sure which. Praise or prayer, perhaps they’re the same. That’s my thought for the day. Quite profound, I think, for the day when I’m sure I’ll be going home. What do you think? Are we of the same mind? Great minds thinking alike again. Come, it’s time to go. Hold my hand.

    Sunny The sun is burning melting away falling   full   of blown glass leaving   the earth alone   to shine alone.

  Africa Is Everywhere The factories closed for two weeks each summer and it was off to the seaside then! They would head for the beach and hire a deck chair there were no sun-beds back in those days and there they would sit on shell laden sands, the women in cotton frocks   and the men in grey flannels, sandals with socks and a sleeves rolled up, open necked shirt, there were no tee shirts back then and shorts were too daring for the over twenties. And most likely it was too cool in any case. The sun could be bright though so the women had a straw hat ready, but this was too exotic   and extravagant for the men, newspaper fashioned into a sailing boat shape was de rigour for them. And so one way or another   eyes were shielded from the occasional brightness. Nowadays the sun has grown angry, too bright for our eyes. It rages fiercely threatening all in its view. Africa is everywhere now and soon sun-beds will be out of fashion. It’s too hot now, too darn hot.

  Art Class In Miranda’s Art Class it didn’t take long for all the skeletons to emerge from their corners and cupboards. We let them join in posing   or painting   always revealing it all. https://publicreverie.com/three-poems-on-art-by-lynn-white/