Poetry - Lynn White

  Gramsci He was a stray who knew all about wars of manoeuvres   as he invaded our lives, so, we named him Gramsci. He wanted to be a house cat and hid, scratched, bit and hissed   to avoid the fearsome outdoors. It was the pterodactyls he feared and Jurassic Park was out there, he’d watched it on TV (it was his favourite film) sitting safely on a knee and glancing round, ears back to check   all was as it should be. But out there… Gramsci would take no chances. https://www.thesunlightpress.com/2026/10/19/poetry-by-lynn-white/

  His Shed He stands back and surveys it all. There’s everything in there. Everything for a lifetime of projects, jobs around the house where nothing stayed   the same for long. Everything for a lifetime of car repairs, in every spanner a story. Too much of a wrench to part with any of it, those nuts and bolts of a life well lived, its tools   well used well ordered and tidily placed so that every screwdriver could be found except the one he’s looking for. https://www.thesunlightpress.com/2026/10/19/poetry-by-lynn-white/

  https://www.choeofpleirnpress.com/

  Carousel Round and round,   go the galloping horses   round and round and up and down with smiling faces on the merry go round. But as time passes and smiles fade, gaudy colours   become drab, faces pale   and worn. look, they’re   all disheveled   now lurching and   staggering round and round on the   treadmill of the merry go round. Round and round. Round and round. One more revolution and they may be ready. Ready to bite the hands that refused to feed them. Round and round. Round and round. Only one more revolution, to sharpen up the teeth.   Round and round, just another revolution on the not so merry go round. https://4fpbite.blogspot.com/

  Dragonfly It was so beautiful, gleaming huge and iridescent gold and green and blue and black. With wings that should have been clear, filled with shining rainbows   not like this, twisted at strange angles   and dulled with sticky silk. Not stuck there waiting to be prepared for some spider’s supper. I held it gently   and took it from the web. I carefully removed the sticky silk and saw the rainbows sparkle as they should, saw it’s eyes brighten and gleam   with the prospect of freedom. It took a while, this disentanglement, a delicate task to free this fragile creature. And when it was ready, I opened my fingers and let it fly away. It bit me then. No parting kiss, but a bite that left a bruise. Such gratitude! https://4fpbite.blogspot.com/

  The Curse Of Consumption I can hardly remember my early life when I wiggled and wriggled   embryo-like blindly   consuming all before me. I know I sensed the warnings not to bite off more than I could chew, but consumer of cliches that I was, I carried on regardless making a meal of everything I could swallow, even the words. I could feel   that change   was coming and eventually it happened! I made it happen! My curse became a blessing and I broke out   of my hard carapace, split open the shell that had become my prison, did my best to leave it behind to have a look at the world outside and continue my cruise of consumption. Nothing was sacred I ate it all and grew fat, so fat, too fat. So fat I felt ready to explode. And then it happened,   I swear, it was like a nuclear explosion inside me all the dust and debris of decadence   solidifying   into something unspeakable, mushrooming into something unintelligible to be spewed out of my big ...