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  My Bag I have a lifetime of projects, that I carry round in a plastic bag. A paper bag would be better environmentally, but plastic is more durable. And it needs to be. It has had to last a lifetime, my bag. A lifetime of ideas, thoughts, doings and sayings carefully annotated and stored for use sometime later. To be finished, or started sometime later. I can add an idea, capture a thought, write it down, so it will be there, safe,   in my bag. It's getting heavy my bag. Who would have thought   that dreams could be so heavy, even encased in paper. It's getting full my bag. So is my life empty with everything on the inside. Perhaps now it’s time   to start emptying it out. Slowly though. One at a time,   and with care. It's getting late. But not too late, I hope, to empty my bag. https://poetrywivenhoe.org/2026/05/day-1272-my-bag-white/
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  When They Knew They Were Lost They were returning to their spaces at tables left only ten minutes ago, he from the cloakroom to the left, she from the cloakroom to the right. They paused together at the open door and saw him leaning back, a half smile on his face slightly bemused fascinated just a little fascinated. She was leaning forward, elbows on table, hands gesturing to help her explain the complexity of the issue.Lost She sat back. He asked her something they couldn’t hear but they saw it all, saw her vigorous nods and more explanation.   Saw her stand briefly   to demonstrate her meaning   then sat back down again. They saw it all. He was nodding now understanding   then suddenly he leaned   forward to take her hands, her clenched hands folded in his   as he smiles smiles and speaks. They still can’t hear, only see as they move   to retake their spaces but think they could be lost. They looked up,   surprised   to see them. In ...
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  The Third Man There was a third man   carrying the body, well, it was heavy, and Harry needed to hide   in plain sight just like Kim. But this Third Man did not hide he was an uncomfortable presence,   hidden only by the colour of his skin not white and his religion not Jewish. And so he was hidden, not like Harry not like Kim, this discomforting third man mentally ill made invisible ill fitting for the narrative. Three third men Harry Lime and Kim Philby hiding and Ishmail Hussein hidden in plain sight. https://oddballmagazine.com/poem-by-lynn-white-26/
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Midas Touch The sorcerers and scientists of past times experimented with their powders   dissolved them, fired them up in their laboratories. searching for the glows and gleams from base metal, the Midas touch that would create the riches of gold for them. They never found it. Now, the sorcerers and scientists have discovered how to dig deeper, scrape harder and stand by while we dig and scrape for them. And watch the gold flow, watch it pour like magic making wrinkles and scars suffocating our skin. https://latinosenglishedition.blog/2026/05/26/midas-touch-by-lynn-white/ 
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  In The Club Oh, the arrogance embedded there, that sense of entitlement of those who can   those who can and do. Our Lords and Masters pulling our strings while hidden away in that different world, a Rich Man’s Only Club where champagne corks popped as they pulled the strings for each other. Yes, a rich man’s club par excellence and, though druggies were plentiful, Welfare scroungers were absent and only a few black bodies gained admittance to this most in-decent society. So where do we go now after we’ve seen a lord in his knickers and a prince on his knees, where now   from that place where no crimes   were committed, “don’t you know.” Do you know where now? https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0H2HNZTQF?content_source=fb&fb_content_id=Q9-wBQEky0mjvG92v6sKoztA-QwSGFYnBrSQUFPW2PJ9qRlMCGRTqSLlre7oZc6mKw&channel_type=fb&fbclid=IwY2xjawR-P-xleHRuA2FlbQIxMABzcnRjBmFwcF9pZBAyMjIwMzkxNzg4MjAwODkyAAEeTgQMhkpldydikfqzse5ZfJXoD_EHMVHFDsm194zy5xcsRaKL1w9Uu-Pth2Q_aem_ZBoGi...
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  Faking It The search goes on to find it that golden transformation that makes base into precious and spins a thread of gold. Yes, there’s a new alchemist on the block and he has it to a T faking gold to make gold sneaking forth to guide and gild your path with threads of gold   spun   yarns. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0H2HNZTQF?content_source=fb&fb_content_id=Q9-wBQEky0mjvG92v6sKoztA-QwSGFYnBrSQUFPW2PJ9qRlMCGRTqSLlre7oZc6mKw&channel_type=fb&fbclid=IwY2xjawR-P-xleHRuA2FlbQIxMABzcnRjBmFwcF9pZBAyMjIwMzkxNzg4MjAwODkyAAEeTgQMhkpldydikfqzse5ZfJXoD_EHMVHFDsm194zy5xcsRaKL1w9Uu-Pth2Q_aem_ZBoGi69E0CYzUrrhSoYkvg
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  The Great Dictator He thinks he’s so fine resplendent well groomed perfectly dressed strutting and tupping to trump all their tricks. He’s an early riser and cocky as cluck his voice always loudest above all the rest his promises always fatter and juicier soon they’ll be kings of their castles, he says. Then he calls them to roost in the little shack that is their home.   His roost is grander. He rules it now and with his bone sharp spurs, he’ll defend it to their death. They’re all listening now, the powerful, the powerless obediently following his orders but one day all those fluffy chickens   will come home to push him off his perch. Then they’ll take him home. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0H2HNZTQF?content_source=fb&fb_content_id=Q9-wBQEky0mjvG92v6sKoztA-QwSGFYnBrSQUFPW2PJ9qRlMCGRTqSLlre7oZc6mKw&channel_type=fb&fbclid=IwY2xjawR-P-xleHRuA2FlbQIxMABzcnRjBmFwcF9pZBAyMjIwMzkxNzg4MjAwODkyAAEeTgQMhkpldydikfqzse5ZfJXoD_EHMVHFDsm194zy5xcsRaKL1w9Uu-Pth2Q_aem_ZBoGi6...
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