Thursday, 1 December 2022

 The Haunted Saucepan


 “You’ll be in the soup 

if you go out in this”

she said,

“it’s a real pea-souper.”

I carried on stirring,

I wasn’t thinking of going out anyway.


I have to keep stirring

or I’ll be in the soup,

that’s what my saucepan says.

And I listen to her

as I peer through the fog

inside.

I know 

what a sticky mess she can make

if I don’t obey her.


So I keep on stirring,

hoping that soon 

she’ll let me eat.


I keep on stirring,

hoping that sometime

she’ll let me eat.


https://spillwords.com/the-haunted-saucepan/?fbclid=IwAR0ohJ77rJtG_dqR3oxX4fUsTeVg_vROCrEz_Pvz1PMStRMBap6mDZGTZlA


 United We Fall


The bodies are piling up 

again 

as past becomes present

again.

A different time,

a different place,

different victims

and survivors


united

by innocence,

by grief

by failure,

failure 

to protect

failure

to police


united

by the failure

of lawmakers,

of elected 

and electors.

Failure.

Failure.

Failure.


So we cry out,

we victims who survived

you failed us

failed us

failed us.


Even the dead whisper an echo

but only the deaf will hear.



https://impspired.com/2022/12/01/lynn-white-6/


 Talking Book


If my book could speak

I wonder

what it would say to me.

I don’t mean about

the words inside,

I’m reading them 

for myself,

but about it’s life outside

those written words,

its independent life,

its thoughts and dreams,

its own imaginings

that fill its days and nights.

What a conversation we would have!



https://impspired.com/2022/12/01/lynn-white-6/


 Out Of Focus


The evening light was sepia

when I looked upwards

like an old photograph

out of focus

and slightly misty

like an old photograph

of undeveloped technique.

But that was looking upwards.

Down below the sepia darkened

turning brown as primeval mud

in a frightful ancient swamp.

Not a place to bring into focus

not a place to sit 

and contemplate the sepia

of the fading light

with the foreground blackening,

becoming yet more dense

in the fading light

becoming a place to hurry through

not a place to sit 

and contemplate

the changes

of the fading light.



https://www.thewiseowl.art/lynn-white







Tuesday, 29 November 2022

 Metamorphosis 

 

It should be the dragon that breathes fire,

that’s him there above the horse,

but he’s quiet and calm 

in tune with the sweet music

quite breathless just now

while in flight

clearly 

still

in metamorphosis.

It’s the horse that looks dangerous,

his breath steaming

about to catch

fire

no doubt 

about it

they will surely change places

when their metamorphosis 

is completed

and the music stops.


https://lothlorienpoetryjournal.blogspot.com/2022/11/three-poems-by-lynn-white.html



 

 Green Dragon

 

Does the ghost believe what he's seeing

as the green dragon floats by

breathing rainbows

from flower filled puffs of breath.

Would you believe it?

Would I

believe it?

After all,

this is not the usual sort of dragon

whose fire filled breaths register alarm.

But alarm registers, nevertheless,

as this is not the usual sort of dragon

and none of us are sure

what will happen next.

 


https://lothlorienpoetryjournal.blogspot.com/2022/11/three-poems-by-lynn-white.html



Monday, 28 November 2022

 Regrets


Regrets are best forgotten,

laid to rest in peace or 

in restless confusion.

Dump them with the other debris,

the detritus of the past

no longer needed.

They will be taken away in time, 

disposed of

in the future,

by the future.

Displaced by more things 

to regret

and forget.

And by more things to keep

and remember.



https://www.pikerpress.com/article.php?aID=9468