Poetry - Lynn White

Reach Out Where are you? There was a time when I knew where to find you, knew the places and spaces you inhabited in my dreams, in my day and night dreams. You would be waiting there, waiting to be found, waiting to come to me. Now it's harder to find you, to recognise your shape and form. You are becoming fragmented and ephemeral, floating forms in a damp mist. Reach out. Hold on to me. Don't pass me by. It's such a long time since you left, perhaps it's me who's letting go, me who has forgotten how to reach you. Forgotten to reach out to you. Reach out. Hold on to me. Don't let me fade away. https://drive.google.com/…/1wsIYp5VC0gGkc0H3dXTQ9-73uf…/view https://drive.google.com/file/d/1wsIYp5VC0gGkc0H3dXTQ9-73ufvynpRS/view

Tangle What a tangle we’re in even though we’ve moved outside Tanglewood it still exerts it’s presence, it’s determination to snarl things up. We thought moving out would be better, would straighten us out, bring us into the light but it’s still dark only the tangle finds the light and shows us that things are even worse than we thought, even more tangled up. http://voxpoetica.com/prompts/

Raindrops Just raindrops falling, falling, falling into wetness running down the glass. Just raindrops falling, like silvery teardrops from glassy eyes, teardrops which will run their course and splatter splatter like rain, then disappear. Disappear into wetness, and become invisible as if by magic. https://thelightekphrastic.com/november-2018-issue-36/richmond-white-november-

The Shadows of Secrets Secrets always lie in the shadows, the dark spaces where they can hide undiscovered. Until a light shines through, a dark drawer is unlocked, a letter freed once more from it’s cover, the missing piece of the puzzle is found when the dust is disturbed. And what then? Then, when the secrets lie exposed to the light. What then? Then, when the secrets create a new shadow even darker than before. https://thepangolinreview.wixsite.com/my…/issue-7-nov-8-2018

Black Cats I’m puzzled. You can see it in my face, can’t you? Traditionally, black cats were lucky, especially if they could be persuaded to cross your path. Now they’re unlucky. No one wants them, not even to cross their path. So, you can see why I’m curious as I wonder what happened to bring about this change. Did they, ever catlike, decide not to co-operate with the path crossing business and turn tail to scarper in the opposite direction? Or maybe stand their ground and snarl and spit and bare their teeth like fearsome demons. Perhaps that was it or perhaps it must always remain a puzzle, a curiosity. https://eventhorizonmagazine.com/

Sweet Heart He’d seen it glint earlier when a shaft of light hit the open box. He kept watch till they left. Back now, still watchful. Turn his head this way, then that. No cats. No humans. Upturned the box and seized his prize glinting gold among the dull browns and creams. Carried it off. Then carried it home, a home now fit for his new lover, his sweet heart. But he didn’t unwrap it. Didn’t discover the greater prize lying under the surface glitter. Didn’t find the jewel of sweetness in the centre. Soon life dulled the surface glitter, screwed it up. And the sweet heart melted in the warmth, Melted into sticky goo. Melted away as sweet hearts do. http://nowthenmagazine.com/manchester/issue-60/word-life/

Waterfall They put a fence by the waterfall all along the high bank near the path. It was ugly, an eyesore but it was supposed to make it safer stop people climbing up the rocks at it’s side and jumping in though no one could remember an accident. It didn’t work. The children went under. The adults went over. It was more dangerous as the approach was much narrower now and slippery from the increased footfall   on the restricted area. But at least   there was no accident it was just ugly an eyesore until someone took a saw to it and threw the bits into the water to float away down river. They built it higher then a bigger eyesore and difficult for children to climb over. But they still do. After all they’ve been doing it for centuries. It’s probably in their genes and no one can remember an accident. https://www.praxismagonline.com/waterfall-lynn-white/ PRAXISMAGONLINE.COM "...

The Fishermen The wall ran all along one side of the bay, steps up from the port at one end, down to the beach at the other. I climbed up the steps and looked over. So many fish. Huge fish. Swirling silver moons in a day blue sky. A net would have scooped them up and broken with the weight. The fishermen were there with their rods set up, like the fish almost touching, so many and so close, making parallel black lines against the sky like a blue print for lunch provision. I walked down the steps to the beach. Few people were there so early. Morning was the fisherman’s time of day, not the sunbather’s. I went back along the wall when the fishermen were packing up, heading home for lunch. Carrying their fish, I thought. But no, it was a delusion to imagine they would eat fish for dinner. Not those fish, anyway. All were returned to the sea. Such is the sport of the fisherman. https://www.odyssey.pm/?p=4174

Only Dream Harder If you dream hard enough you’ll find castles in the air, or build them. If you dream hard enough you’ll find secret cities under the waves ruled over by a fishy king with his beady eye on you as you walk on by. If you dream hard enough you’ll find unicorns and ride them across the desert to discover lost oases hidden there amongst ancient cities once in ruins now recast in shimmering perfection by harsh sunlight. If you dreamer harder you’ll rise above the waves of sand which threaten to engulf you, float in the sunlight instead of being buried head first. It’s all possible if you only dream harder.

Blow It Away I’m thinking that every grain of sand represents some part of my life as I lie wet on my towel. I’m thinking that every speck has some meaning, some significance for me. And now I’ve shaken them up to dry them off and I’m watching them float away. Float away likes motes in the sunshine leaving me ready to begin again with a clean towel. https://blognostics.net/…/2018/03/30/blow-it-away-by-lynn-…/ https://blognostics.net/blognostics-an-innovative-experience-in-literature-poetry-and-art/2018/03/30/blow-it-away-by-lynn-white/ BLOGNOSTICS.NET Blow It Away by Lynn White Blow It Away by Lynn White I’m thinking that every grain of sand represents some part of my life....READ MORE

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