Poetry - Lynn White

  The dove has flown    away.   https://smolspoetryjournal.blogspot.com/2026/02/the-dove-has-flown-away-lynnwhite-p.html

  Party For Gaza The invitations were sent.   Some accepted.   Some declined.   Some were revoked, well, it’s cool to change your mind. And there are always some no-shows, too peaceful to party, too warlike for peace, but afeared of falling prey to imprisonment, afeared of falling prey   to paying or just afeared   of justice. https://oddballmagazine.com/poem-by-lynn-white-24/

  Fenland It stands alone there in the fen,   an old building, derelict now but still stately as a church, a cathedral like church, one of the many built   by those profiting from the wool of the sheep grown on those flat-lands and of the labour of poor men and women. Built to secure the rich man’s place in Heaven, and standing there still like this building, just one more elderly relic of the same trade with stories to tell of Heaven and Hell under those big skies with storm clouds rolling. https://figtreepoetry.substack.com/p/the-fig-tree-womens-poetry-special?utm_source=post-email-title&publication_id=2235385&post_id=184135626&utm_campaign=email-post-title&isFreemail=true&r=juknd&triedRedirect=true&utm_medium=email

  Fallen Skies I’m trying   to live under fallen skies, trying   to live among crashed clouds crying, trying to live when even the sun stops smiling under fallen skies I’m trying.  https://publicreverie.com/fallen-skies-and-echo/

  Echo It was the punishment of a jealous goddess. She was only following orders but it was no defence at that time. Now she can only repeat the last words heard, only repeat the past when she hears it following orders again and again.  https://publicreverie.com/fallen-skies-and-echo/

  This Winter My red all wool balaclava masks me   so warmly this winter and hopefully my colour choice will distinguish me from the local would be bank robbers, if there are any about on this cold morning when frost crystals congeal in the wool and hang crystalline in the space left for eyes and mouth. Even those who know me best would fail to recognise me especially if everyone in town was wearing a red balaclava. https://stortellerpoetryreview.blogspot.com/2026/01/super-sized-series_0771647070.html