Poetry - Lynn White

  Desert Road Such a desolate road to travel waiting hoping for the sun. Such a desolate road to travel waiting, hoping, searching for the light when the sun breaks through the desert to nurture and feed  the earth again next year. https://ko-fi.com/haikushack/shop/magazine

  Desolation I can go so far, but no further along the desolate road. So far, but no further towards the light unless I climb. https://ko-fi.com/haikushack/shop/magazine

  Now When I’m Old I’m old now and still waiting for someone to make things right out there   where I tried where I tried   and still try to make something   my legacy. Not someone. I found someone and many someones   also trying succeeding and failing remembered   and forgotten, but something   they would say was mine something I left. I’m old now. but still   I can do some things and later I will watch the clowns as they tumble in the circus they have made their legacy. https://writingcafejournal.com/poem.php?slug=now-when-im-old

  To The Moon Come fly with me, my fancy man and I’ll take you to places   that you haven’t been, but only if that’s what you fancy. Come fly with me, my fancy man, hold on tight as we climb to the moon, and come sliding down moonbeams under the clouds, but only in our fancy. Come fly with me, my fancy man. We’re still tripping the light fantastic, still frantic to find our fantasy land at the end of our flight of fancy. https://masticadoresusa.wordpress.com/2026/08/16/to-the-moon-by-lynn-white/

  Morris Minors This is a tale of three Morris Minors, once upon a time. Liz had an old green Morris Minor. It knew the road between Liverpool and Derbyshire  intimately and she was generous with her lifts until the day the breaks failed completely. We had just passed the Cat And Fiddle, right on the tops   with the long steep decent ahead. Liz was a good driver. My Morris Minor was black with stripes of rust in its wheel arches and no floor at the back. Back seat passengers came away  with wet feet. Even the patching with beer cans  made little difference. It failed the test. Alan had a white Morris Minor with a perfect body, breaks and floor, but the gear box was shattered. The gears didn’t work. Still no one could steal it. The three of us put our heads together and came up with a solution. We would put the best bits together to make one car which we would share. Liz and Alan were cool mechanics and I made good coffee to keep them going. We were pleased with ...

  Red Car The abandoned car stood on the waste ground, rusting away, doors hanging off, leather seats ripped. The children played there on warm summer days but I was not allowed. The place was dangerous and the children were rough. It was the first time I had ever been in a car. I sat behind the wheel to drive it making engine noises like a bus. It was a black car. In those days all cars were black. Any colour you like, so long as it’s black. I thought that a red one would have been nicer. https://4fpcar.blogspot.com/2026/08/lynn-white.html