Poetry - Lynn White

  Get Me Outa Here Hey, drop me a line I need a safe space. I’ve lit my torch and I’m signalling   just like you said to but you’re still withdrawing still drawing up the lines   to leave to leave me behind to leave me   alone in this alien place. I don’t like it here I don’t feel safe take me back with you   back into outer space. Get me outa here outa this space. https://www.lulu.com/shop/som/qutub-minar-review-october-2026-issue/paperback/product-84q7myk.html?page=1&pageSize=4

  Frankie’s Creation It was a childhood hobby carried out first  on the kitchen table then in his room, his shed, his workshop. He left childhood behind but never moved on from his hobby. Meccano and Leggo had their time but Frankie left them behind and began his collection of bits and pieces that might be useful a bit of wood or metal, plastic, nails, screws, rivets, wire, Frankie kept them all for his creations his men and machines. The boats and planes and trains had had their time long ago. Now it was the human form for him, not the outer veneer but what lies under the skin. He studied the complex joints and carefully fitted their metal muscles and wired them with nerve-like fibres. All that was needed now was the skin. Carefully Frankie began to put it in place. Soon his creation would raise its head  and open its eyes, then it would be ready, ready to go. https://lothlorienpoetryjournal.blogspot.com/2026/10/four-poems-by-lynn-white.html

Evolution It seems that animals, the cows and sheep and pigs are getting smaller. And they’re feral now eating everything including humans. It’s unavoidable when humans are so small, small as microbes and therefore invisible to them. It seems that birds are getting larger, so while chickens still live in the houses  that humans built they need bigger houses  that birds are so enormous patrolling the sky like gigantic robots  at their will. https://lothlorienpoetryjournal.blogspot.com/2026/10/four-poems-by-lynn-white.html

  Hospital Poems First they banned flowers. Unhygienic, you see. Unsafe. With their smells and susceptibility to spillages so people brought poems  to hospitals. Then there was a pandemic. And people were banned. No visiting allowed Unhygienic, you see. Unsafe with their smells and susceptibility to carry infection so robots brought the poems to hospitals. Now things have moved on, progress, you see. Now robots write the poems they bring to hospitals. Soon people won’t notice  the difference. Soon people won’t remember the difference. https://lothlorienpoetryjournal.blogspot.com/2026/10/four-poems-by-lynn-white.html

  The Village of Twee I am just arrived in the village of Twee with its little front gardens carefully wild, with its thatch nicely polished,  its flowers dust free. I wonder who tends them in the village of Twee. Who shampoos the pinks who waters the pots, who sweeps up the leaves  and prunes all the phlox. There’s no humans to see in the village of Twee, just cars with their robots, red, white and pink. They wave as they drive through with shopping piled high singing ‘tra lah lah, welcome and fiddle di di. There’s a welcome for all in the village of Twee.’ They park right outside, with the pavements long gone to give wider roads for motoring robots. So how did it happen, this robotic coup. There must be a story or legend to tell to explain the strange culture I came across there. Well, pavements weren't needed with no humans to walk and that’s how it started if truth it be told. And it’s ‘tra lah lah, welcome and fiddle di di’ as the robots drive smiling through the vil...

  Echoes There’s always a prequel   to any drama in the theatre of war, a rehearsal like Guernica for what is to come. History’s theatre was always misty but now the fog is so dense that we can see nothing, Hear nothing, understand nothing of the power play unfolding. It’s impossible to know as we sit here watching which will be the first step the harbinger of things to take us back   where they began,   Time’s echoes of the end. https://www.samjokomagazine.com/trick-of-the-light