Perchance A Dream 'To sleep perchance to dream'. Who said that? Sounds so gentle, but there's a rub, a rough edge to it. Not the long deathly sleep, though but drifting away in night time slumber. It can take you anywhere. Take you to places you haven't been and may not want to go. Send you spinning, tumbling, raging, spiralling, crashing out of control to an indeterminate end, with demons and dragons as companions. Daytime dreaming is preferable, more gentle than it sounds fitted into a busy schedule. In wakeful dreams you can determine the beginning, at least, and invite the participants. Sometimes they may act out an old story with a predictable end, sometimes they can drift into a new story and then the demons may join in your daytime dreaming as well, perchance. http://stanzaicstylings.blogspot.co.uk/…/perchance-dream-by… Perchance a Dream by Lynn White Perchance A Dream 'To sleep perchance to dream'. Who said that? Sounds so gentle, ...
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Out Of Place There’s something out of place. I can see it now but I’m still not sure of it’s implications, or my inclinations. Will it cause me to trip up and fall flat on my face? Perhaps I have already and not yet noticed. Or perhaps I’ll take a step up, grasp the opportunity to grow. Take the first step towards learning to fly away. http://voxpoetica.com/prompts/ prompts Here's your prompt! Submit poem responses to: voxpoeticasubmissions@gmail.com. And if you have a photo or piece of artwork you took that you'd like us to consider as a Prompts image, send that as w... VOXPOETICA.COM
Barcelona Sandals Standing in the Andorra snow shivering in our Barcelona sandals. Glad of a lift down to Foix as darkness was falling. And the driver knew a hotel, Hotel du Centre. Very grand and full of people looking down long noses. But the driver knew the owner who was a kind man, a nice man. So we shouldn't worry about the cost, he said. A lovely room and in the morning, breakfast! We must eat the owner said. Warm bread and jam. Coffee with hot milk which tasted sour. But I don't like the taste of milk, anyway, so most likely it was sweet. And then the bill. But there was no bill. Save it for the journey, the owner said. A kind man, a nice man, who believed the driver's story, whatever it was. A few years later, we returned to Foix and went to find Hotel du Centre. But it wasn't there. No one knew it. It didn't exist. Did it ever exist? Did any of it happen? Or did we somehow share a memory from our imaginations. http://beneaththerainbow.com/poet...
Buzzing I can hear the flies buzzing since I died. In life I could shoo them away, open a window to persuade them through, though usually they were too stupid to grasp the chance of freedom offered and escape. Now there is no window to be opened. This is a closed space. Eternal night. No possibility of freedom, or escape. Not for me. Not for them. First published in Armageddon Issue, Pilcrow and Dagger, February 2017 http://pilcrowdagger.com/
God Save the Sheep God save the sheep baa aah. Where would we be without them. Who would lead if no one followed? Why bother to whip up their storm of frenzy, to feed them on blades of rumours ready to become knowledge, to become fact. Baa aah. Say it again, baa aah. And only white sheep allowed, of course. No black or pink or purple to shatter the consensus. Colours cannot be tolerated, along with druggies and drunks and survivors of abuse. Oh dear me, no, not appropriate here. Baa aah And suppose they stay? Baa aa aah Plant their hooves in our cheap wet fields, sneak inside our friendly flock and contentedly munch a thistle here, a spikey rush there. Baa aah. Drown them out baa aah, baa aah. God save the sheep. http://www.lulu.com/…/issue…/paperback/product-23227558.html Issue II (Special Access) by The Borfski Press (Paperback) - Lulu Buy Issue II (Special Access) by The Borfski Press (Paperback) online at Lulu. Visit the Lulu Marketplace for product d...
Don't Go When I’m with you I feel I am whole. Captured and completed. Engulfed by you. When you kiss me all my fears disappear in the kiss. Where do they go? I don’t know. Do you wrap them round your tongue and swallow them whole? I don’t know. I only know the comfort I feel, such peace. So don’t go. Don’t go. Please, don’t go. https://www.cyberwit.net/publications/998 Taj Mahal Review VOL. 16 NUMBER 1 JUNE 2017 Taj Mahal Review VOL. 15 NUMBER 1 JUNE 2017 CYBERWIT.NET
A Disappointing Day If they hadn’t asked her to smell the nice scent. If she hadn’t remembered the scent from before. There would have been no screams, no stamping up and down on the trolley. The nurse would still have her cap on and the doctor would have no fist or feet marks on his white coat, no red hand mark on his pale cheek. There would have been no shock, horror reports to those who had put away Red Riding Hood and were waiting anxiously for news of their little girl. But they did ask her. They did ask her. The scent wasn’t nice. She knew it. And there was no ice cream afterwards either. They’d lied about that as well. A disappointing day. http://beneaththerainbow.com/poetry-by-lynn-white/
Fragment It’s all that’s left. A gossamer fragment, The headband still attached but nothing left to cover the face. I wonder, what happened to the rest of the veil. I wonder, if it went the way of the marriage. The way of the faces hidden behind the net curtains. It’s all that’s left now. A gossamer fragment floating like a cobweb in a dusty room Ready to be swept away with the rest. https://www.createspace.com/7206291 "Metaphor Issue 7" by April Mae M. Berza Sergio A. Ortiz Terri Muuss Ann Christine Tabaka Drew Pisarra Michael C. Seeger Lena Ziegler Lynn White Adrian Ibarra Don Kingfisher Campbell Volodymyr Bilyk Gary Beck John… CREATESPACE.COM
Tomorrow Never Comes The orcas decreed that the dolphin’s wedding should be delayed by a day. Delayed till tomorrow, if tomorrow ever came. This would give more time, they said, to decorate the wedding gowns, to weave more shells into the kelp, the tiniest of muscle shells for him in every shade of blue, sweet pink cockle shells for her, sometimes veering towards red as if warning of danger. The music was to be rock ‘n’ roll, played by the Killers, of course on improvised pianos. The octopus was responsible for the wedding breakfast. He had enlisted the help of every friend to enlarge and beautify his garden. To transport rocks with anemones attached and bring a multitude of coloured pebbles and shells to enclose the fishy titbits collected specially for the feast. But in spite of their reassurances, still he worried about the guest list. So many orcas and dolphins who did not have a good reputation so far as the octopuses were concerned. But the garden was beautiful and sure...
Days As the days go by, I know that I will remember some of them in their passing. If only I could choose the ones to remember, put them on a spike and keep them safe so I can revisit them with a smile, while I throw away the rest. Watch them blow away in the wind, uncared for these days. But I can’t. They’re self selecting, those memories of my passed days. Looking back, it’s the ones they chose themselves that I remember and I wonder if they will spike my choices all my days. First published in Light Journal June Summer issue - Solitude http://www.light-journal.com/so/fLna04ek…
Beached He’s standing on the beach with a small suitcase. Not sure if he’s coming or going, if it’s an arrival or departure. It’s unclear. It’s unclear if the suitcase is full or if it’s empty. Once he packed it full of his dreams, but now it’s unclear if any remain. If any remain caught in the lining, perhaps. Or if all have been carried away and are gone forever on a storm tide, or washed up and buried in the sand. It’s unclear. All that is clear is the emptiness of a long horizon. https://www.amazon.com/Along-Shore-Select…/…/ref=pd_ybh_a_2…
Sea Horse It was on the first day of our seaside holiday that I found him washed up, stranded, spat out by the sea and swimming alone in the rock pool. I had never seen a sea horse before, only pictures in a book. I used my shoe to fish him out and ran back quickly, one shoe on and one shoe off, before the water leaked out. I put him in the sink and watched him swim. He didn’t seem quite right. Or maybe it was the pictures that were wrong, or my memory. He couldn’t stay in the sink. My mother made that quite clear. So I found him a jar in the cobwebby shed and put him in that. I fed him on bits of bread, minced meat and mashed banana. He spat them all out angrily. I thought he would die from lack of food and my mother said he couldn’t come home with us. So I took him back to the waters edge and released him, gave him back to the sea. The next day I found him lying on the pebbles. The sea had rejected him, spat him out, just as he had spat out my food offerings. I carried him bac...
Parrots It was a large structure, metal and conical shaped perhaps an arbour awaiting it’s climbing plants or a cage for a very large bird. It seemed empty unless something was hiding in the undergrowth. I asked the woman sitting reading in the garden, “Do you have a parrot?” “I’ve got two”, she answered. I peered into the structure and looked at her questioningly. “Oh, they’re not there now, they’ve gone out. One’s round next door don’t know where the other one is! When it’s a nice day they go for a wander” Well, it really was a beautiful day! https://theflyingdodojourn.wixsite.com/the-flying-dodo/issue-4-january-2023
The Keys of the Kingdom The kingdom had so many keys, keys to its doors, keys to its gold, keys to its time, keys to its secrets. Nothing moved without a key. Everything was controlled. Nothing was free. Then came the Great War of the Keys and the kingdom collapsed. Its doors stayed open, its secrets exposed. Its gold melted away. Its locks grew rusty. Time stood still. All it had valued rotted away, decayed, collapsed into a heap of useless keys. https://cavalcadeofstars.wordpress.com/ Jeanette Cheezum's cavalcadeofstars A place to read fiction and poetry from some of your favorite online writers. Don't be surprised if you see some of mine sprinkled here and there. I love to write with great authors. CAVALCADEOFSTARS.WORDPRESS.COM
Turning to Ice Snowflakes lit by sunbeams blowing gently, fragile as shadows making rainbows in the sun. Smiling in the soft light. So soft. So soft. Catch them quickly in your hair to melt them. Time has past and they're already harder now, even though the sun is still shining and smiling. Blindingly bright. Crunchy crystals. Jewels glistening still. Shining like diamonds, but harsh in the sunlight while it lasts Cooler now as the light starts fading. The surface is melting. Shiny where the sun still catches, but fading, giving way to ice. Losing it's smile. And we're skidding, sliding beyond control. slipping away, blinded by tears of ice. http://poetrypacific.blogspot.co.uk/…/2-poems-by-lynn-white… poetrypacific.blogspot.co.uk POETRYPACIFIC.BLOGSPOT.COM Boost post