Poetry - Lynn White

Freire And Illich Are Dead No more need for free-schooling,   deschooling,   conviviality or purpose, Freire and Illich are dead. No need for anti-bullying   strategies, family therapy, strategies against exclusions voluntary or enforced. No need for Play Therapy or Adolescent Therapeutic Centres, they are as dead as Freire and Illich. The solution is as sharp and clear as the banning of blades for sale. No knives, no stabbings. And almost cost free, free as words are free. Just stay out of the kitchen. https://therecusant.org.uk/poetry-w/#lynn-white

  Oh Those Sighs There’s a hole in my face where the love gets in. There’s a hole in my face where love has left   a hole in my heart. I sigh. But still the bird sings in the dark. I sigh waiting for a song to fill the space love left. I sigh holding my heart. Oh, those sighs. https://inalove.world/?s=lynn+white

  I Can't Help But Wonder I thought I’d been dreaming but now, though the mists are down swamping everywhere   in a gloomy miasma, I appear awake. It seems it was no dream and I’d been walking, sleep-walking, passing the effigies of my past times. Me   as a child growing up growing older and older. Me in my lost time. And now,   awake or asleep I’m disoriented sleepwalking into uncertainty living the dream as the future closes in like a structure of mutating cells. And the full moon approaches. https://poetsonline.org/archive/arch_uncertainty.html

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  Shrouded They’re following me, like black vultures circling. It’s still just October not yet Halloween but 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/2026/05/five-poems-by-lynn-white.html

  From the Clouds I’ve seen a dragon in the clouds, a humming bird and a tea table set for tea. Some say they’ve seen angels,  or fairy kings and queens. They have all stayed a while, those shapes in the clouds but none have left and none have returned until now. The angel who left earlier is now returning and she’s not alone.  She’s dragging them with her, all those who were hiding in the cornfield. They don’t want to go. They hang on to each other,  limbs contorting. But go they must. She has no mercy. Their corn spills out as she looks back one last time. https://lothlorienpoetryjournal.blogspot.com/2026/05/five-poems-by-lynn-white.html