Friday, 20 May 2022

 Out Of The Blue


Blue skies splashed white

to hide the horizon.

And then, 

out of the blue,

you.


I knew you from the back, you said,

the cut of your hair, 

your old blue dress.

and I wanted to see your face again.

I wanted to 

abate the sadness.


So no blue moods

on this bright blue day 

where the future is as hidden

as the horizon.


We’ll go together now, 

for now, I said.

After all,

everything ends in tears

one way or another,

so let’s take our now time

and chance the rest.





https://www.ekphrastic.net/ekphrastic-writing-challenges


Tuesday, 17 May 2022

 Off With His Hair


“Off with his hair!” Cried the Red Queen.

“I don’t think that’s quite right,” said Alice.

“It should surely be, off with his head”.

The Red Queen’s frown deepened.

She didn’t make mistakes.

It was a well known fact.

Never the less…

She shouted to Jack 

who was reclining lazily as usual.

“Which is correct, hair or head?”

“Well, you are quite right, of course

as everyone knows.

But consider..

As all strength flows from hair to head,

Cutting off his hair may make it unnecessary

to cut off his head

even though all around are losing theirs.”

“Of course”, cried the Red Queen.

“Off with his hair!”

“They’re as mad as hatters” thought Alice.

But she didn’t say so,

Just in case an unfortunate judgement was made.

One couldn’t be too careful in a mad world.


https://lothlorienpoetryjournal.blogspot.com/2022/05/three-poems-by-lynn-white.html



 Entertainment


One tank drew the crowd

down in the museum’s aquarium.

It was not the tank with pike

gawping threateningly,

teeth bared ready 

for an audience.

No,

though there was a monstrous pike in it,

swimming with its mouth wide open, 

in wonder at its strange environment.

Well,

it’s not often that a pike gets to swim

in a drawing room

furnished from times past.

It was a crowd puller, 

though still not enough

to satisfy such an audience

the pike reflected 

as it considered the strangeness 

of its un-fish-like companion:

the young girl costume-dressed 

to match the drawing room,

standing there dreamlike—

or maybe drugged— 

steadying herself

with the chair.

Perhaps earlier she was seated

when the water was lower.

But now she has to stand.

The water is already

up to her waist

and rising slowly.

The audience gets larger,

their eyes bulging fishlike

as they gawp at the spectacle.


It’s almost supper-time.


So it goes.



https://lothlorienpoetryjournal.blogspot.com/2022/05/three-poems-by-lynn-white.html




 Shrouded


They’re following me,

like black vultures circling.

They’re shrouded in winter’s mist 

almost as dark as the shrouds

they wear to cover themselves,

to cloak themselves for their journey.

Shrouds like dusty abayas

once black, now

uniformly grey,

shapeless,

bloodless,

formless,

lifeless

grey.

Only their mouths still red

like vultures feasting

on death

mouths

stained by this final feast.

The feast of what was left

of the harvest.

And now there will be

nothing,

nothing any more.

Nothing.


https://lothlorienpoetryjournal.blogspot.com/2022/05/three-poems-by-lynn-white.html



Wednesday, 11 May 2022

 Ghouls


Is it ghoulish

to think

that life 

is more

than a small collection of cells

in a uterus.


Is it ghoulish

to think

that 

the life of the mother

and the spillage

of her blood

count for less

than the small collection of cells

in her uterus

that are unable to bleed.


Is it ghoulish

to think

that infant life

needs love

as it grows

and support networks

and things that cost

society

dear

through life

if it does not supply them.


Is it ghoulish 

to ask

how 

the highest court

in the land

was taken over

by ghouls.



https://newversenews.blogspot.com/2022/05/ghouls.html




Friday, 6 May 2022

 Sweet Heart


He’d seen it glint earlier

when a shaft of light hit

the open box.

He kept watch till they left.

Back now, still watchful.

Turn his head this way,

then that. 

No cats.

No humans.

Upturned the box 

and seized his prize

glinting gold among the dull

browns and creams.

Carried it off.

Then carried it home,

a home now fit for his new lover,

his sweet heart.

But he didn’t unwrap it.

Didn’t discover the greater prize

lying under the surface glitter.

Didn’t find the jewel 

of sweetness in the centre.

Soon life dulled the surface glitter,

screwed it up.

And  the sweet heart 

melted in the warmth,

Melted into sticky goo.

Melted away as

sweet hearts do.


https://uglywriters.com/2022/05/06/sweet-heart/



Thursday, 5 May 2022

 I’m Tired


I’m tired of trying to see the good in people.

I’m tired of making decisions about good and bad.

I’m tired of endless discussions in armchairs

judging and justifying what is good or bad.

I’m tired of procrastination,

of enquiries and commissions designed

to delay until death or forgetfulness.

Tired of time servers,

jobs worths,

pocket liners.

Tired of them all.

So where shall I go now?


https://drive.google.com/file/d/1N22wp9dXIqJj3r-YgzZbvPMEkwqD1Vq2/view