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

"Waterfall" by Lynn White |Praxis Magazine for Arts & Literature

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…

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

http://www.lulu.com/shop/peach-velvet-mag/the-poets-tarot/paperback/product-23855640.html

https://veronicamattaboni.wixsite.com/peachvelvet/fall-18

I was Always Afraid Of Rabbits

“I was always afraid of rabbits”
said the purple dragon.
I knew it to be true.
I’d known him for a long time,
long before I became a witch
and took to the water
to watch over him.
It’s the white ones he fears most
and they are mostly white ones
down here.
He won’t eat them.
He used to eat fish
but now he is afraid to eat them
now he’s seen them eating the rabbits.
They’ve eaten the fur off this one,
but he believes it was white
and believing is seeing
after all.
The fish have eaten everything
except for the head and eyes
the most fearsome parts
for the purple dragon.
It’s found him now,
he pushes it away in panic
but it won’t go,
it won’t go.
It’s covering his face,
taking it over
and getting ready
for the rest.
It won’t go,
not unless I can grasp it,
and hold it
peel it off
take it away,
then bewitch them both.

http://withpaintedwords.com/view_submission.php?news_id=1307

@ www.withpaintedwords.com - home of Short Stories & Poetry - Read I was Always Afraid Of Rabbits by Lynn White. Lynn White lives in north Wales. Her work is influenced by issues of social justice and events,...

WITHPAINTEDWORDS.COM

Read I was Always Afraid Of Rabbits by Lynn White on www.withpaintedwords.com - home of Short Stories & Poetry

@ www.withpaintedwords.com - home of Short…