Poetry - Lynn White

  Cloth of Gold I called it my cloth of gold it was so special with a bit of this and a bit of that remnants reclaimed and woven with love woven with tenderness into a cloth of shining colours making memories to wear wrap round memories like threads of time for all our time, memories that   in time became our shroud. I didn’t know it then. https://fourfeatherspress.blogspot.com/2026/04/50-poets-and-artists-being-published-in_5.html

    Orange Light Orange is at the cheerful end of the spectrum. It should spill out it’s zest so I can live and love in a golden shower, taste exotic fruit, engulfed in an ecstasy of orange light, be part of a story with a happy ending, full of sunshine. Bright gleaming reds and yellows are not far away. Orange is their combination, inevitably.   Yellow and red. Cowardly, acidic and dangerous when parted from each other.   Colours have different moods when separated. As we do. So this palette can hide more than it reveals. And now it forms a mask on the face of black despair, a bright new dawn   that breaks the surface, but one which is not wanted, not desired. A flash of lightening breaking up the continuum of my horizon. There’s a cloud of bright dust swirling in a stormy sky,   with darkness following blocking out the sun,   destroying the light Rain like tears must follow as the light disperses and the golden sun is cracked open to reveal it’s inne...

  Shades of Grey They’re placed together   like a still life by Morandi,   opaque vessels drably clad in multiple shades of grey. I would have preferred the bottles shiny and green, like the ten that once stood on a wall and dazzled the sunlight with their emerald and leaf. And the little jug should stand in brown and homely contrast, though terracotta has a certain cool. But style is important and pots in shades of grey have a certain elegance, but, it’s eloquence they lack. Greyness doesn’t speak in colour doesn’t sing or paint a picture, so I know it may be no accident if they fall. https://fourfeatherspress.blogspot.com/2026/04/50-poets-and-artists-being-published-in_5.html

  Gone Fishing The fish were there gathered at the shoreline almost asking to be caught. But that was then. They’re all gone now replaced by plastic replicas. https://www.patreon.com/posts/issue-2-purple-154765573?source=storefront

  Into The Silence Is the Pope a Catholic. It is said so, and a Humanist It would seem so. Or just a human speaking out into the silence speaking of   “cruelty not war”   in Gaza and of “genocide”   there in Gaza, speaking out in a small act of rebellion.   Is Joe Biden a Catholic. It is said so still. The unanswerable question is   why the Pope allows lets him be. Why   he doesn’t have a word in his ear direct, why   he doesn’t use his power to act where he can direct   action to excommunicate   the Catholic arming this cruelty blind to this genocide. Such a small act of rebellion speaking only   out into the silence. https://coldrambler.blogspot.com/2026/04/into-silence-by-lynn-white.html

  Diamonds Of April Vera was an April baby, a diamond, though she never owned one, never owned much at all she left me my name as her legacy. She was Vera so I should be Lynn. My mother liked things right though she was more a fan of Bing than the Forces Sweetheart. Not everything can be explained! She was not a forever diamond, none of us are and she did not get to meet the diamond with me now, his birthday coming soon, but I still have her legacy. I always will. https://stortellerpoetryreview.blogspot.com/2026/04/super-sized-series.html