Thursday, 28 February 2019

Crossing The Line
As the ship drew closer to the line
the sea king began to lick his lips in anticipation
of the fat fresh tadpoles which Big O and his waiters
would be serve on his return from the ceremony.
Of course,
tadpoles that could swim in the ocean were unknown,
but Big O knew that the frogs on the ship
would have given birth long before the line was crossed.
They were the king’s favourite party food
and he had already a collection of shells to serve them in.
He had been training the waiters for some time.
He always did when they heard
that a ship was approaching the line.
His octopuses were in great demand.
With eight arms they were the king’s waiters of choice
and he had more standing by ready to become wine waiters.
They would serve the rum that would be gifted
when the king went on board
and roared
and waved his sceptre around a bit
and struck the deck with three loud raps
to signal his judgement on which tadpoles
should become food for his homecoming party
and which he could call his sons and trust
to raise frogs to supply his future treats.
The octopuses waited wondering how hard they must work
before the king and his retinue were sated and sleepy
from fat tadpoles
and watery rum.
It would all depend on the bargain struck on board,
tadpoles for now or more tadpoles for later,
rum for the king, or more rum for the waiters.
Big O always tried to assess the king’s mood before
he made his judgement.
It would be a clue as to how many shells would be needed
after the ceremony.
Small shells were easy for the waiters to collect,
but the large ones to hide the rum for later
were hard work and needed several arms
to fill them and stash them in the sand out of sight
for when the king and his followers slept.
As always the sleeping king dreamt
of octopuses dancing drunkenly
on his table
and was that Big O wearing his crown?
He woke, combed the weed from his hair,
retrieved his crown from under the table and pondered.
Did he really see it on the head of Big O in his dream?
Recurring dreams were such a strange thing, he mused.
Then, puzzled he surveyed the broken shells
on the table.
He wondered how they came to be broken.
Had his dream come true?
He straightened his crown
and looked for his sceptre
to bang on the ground.
He really must speak with Big O.
Somehow, he thought,
a line had been crossed.
BLOGNOSTICS.NET
Crossing The Line by Lynn White As the ship drew closer to the line the sea king began to lick his lips in anticipation of the fat fresh tadpoles which Big O and his waiters would be serve on his return from the ceremony....READ MORE

Wednesday, 27 February 2019

Monsters
It’s the monsters who come out of the light
that are the most fearsome,
but those that sneak up from the dark
are the ones we fear the most,
even though they’re smaller,
and often as afraid as we are.
That’s why they
hide and sneak
in the dark places.
The ones hiding in the sunlight
are the more difficult to see
and the most monstrous.
They lie in wait
blending in
and waiting,
waiting to pounce
and destroy
destroy
us all
to destroy
all.

Tuesday, 26 February 2019

If I Were A Butterfly
If I were a butterfly
where would I fly?
I could grace every home
bringing good luck every time.
Make sure that my children
ate up all the weeds,
and recycled the waste
without judgement or hate.
In a world that’s at peace
I’d find my place.
Hmm, if I were a butterfly
I’d think this must wait.
If I were a butterfly
where would I fly?
If my soul were parochial
it would hang in my space,
It would look pretty in my garden,
propagate where I said,
and keep watch with indulgence
as my kids ate the rest.
If I were a butterfly
I’d think this was sad.
A life is too short
to live in the past.
If I were a butterfly
where would I fly?
Like all souls of dead warriors
for justice and peace,
I’d fly
down the throats of the haters,
war mongers, arms traders,
parasitic self servers.
Yes.
They’d choke on my body
and ingest my eggs.
My children would eat them,
feast on them, thrive
then fly on to the next.
Yes.
If I were a butterfly
that’s where I’d fly.
If I were a butterfly
then where would I fly?
I would grace every home
bringing good luck every time.
I would make sure that my children
ate up all the weeds,
and recycled the waste
without judgement or hate.
In a world that’s at peace
I’d find my place.

Monday, 25 February 2019

Bubbles
The bubbles reflect
my dream so perfectly
they could be made of glass.
Perhaps they are made of glass,
how else can the rainbows shine through.
BLOGNOSTICS.NET
Bubbles by Lynn White The bubbles reflect my dream so perfectly they could be made of glass....READ MORE

Sunday, 24 February 2019

Where Am I?
Where shall I sit
in this place
I don’t know.
Which side of the aisle
Should I be.
Or should I be at the front
conducting the ceremony
like a lecture.
I’ve done that
often enough
when I knew where I was.
Or maybe I should stand at the back
ready for a quick getaway.
I couldn’t do that at my wedding,
but if it’s my funeral
I think that’s the best place
for me.
But is it?
So difficult to know.

Wednesday, 20 February 2019

Harmony
We began so well, so in tune,
catching the notes dropped by angels
and playing with them before they fell,
creating a perfect harmony.
But then, we started to miss a few notes
which fell, crashing into our rhythms,
disrupting the flow of our music,
upsetting our harmony.
Just a few at first,
but they violated our space,
causing us to miss our step and
almost fall ourselves.
Then, bar after bar came tumbling down.
Cascades of discords raining down between us.
No longer dropped by angels.
Surely not?
Now we are finished and falling tunelessly.
Lost.
Loudly separated by discords.
Floundering.
Our past melodies out of reach,
devoid of harmony.
ACADEMYOFTHEHEARTANDMIND.WORDPRESS.COM
By Lynn White   We began so well, so in tune, catching the notes dropped by angels and playing with them before they fell, creating a perfect harmony. But then, we started to miss a few notes …

Tuesday, 19 February 2019

Lizard
The lizard ran out
quickly.
He sat on a rock 
and looked up
slowly
checking the progress
of the sun.
It suited him
so he stayed
and stayed
soaking up the warmth
relaxing.
Relaxed
but alert
only moving when disturbed
by food
or danger
moving quickly then
back
into his hideaway.



BLOGNOSTICS.NET
Lizard by Lynn White The lizard ran out quickly. He sat on a rock and looked up slowly....READ MORE

Friday, 15 February 2019


Superman With Angel’s Wings
It’s a place that needs a superman
a superman with angel’s wings
giant wings
big enough to fold
their soft feathers around it
encircle it
in a feathery hug
keep it safe
lift it up
paint out the grey
and bring it back to what it was
before
before the crash
took away the colour
took away the joy
took away the hope.
An angel alone couldn’t do it.
It wouldn’t have the strength.
Superman alone couldn’t do it.
He didn’t have the wings
to spread and circle
this place
to comfort it
to hold it safe
to lift it up.
It’s a place that needs
a superman with angel’s wings
to perform the miracle
and then fly away
to the next place.
ONLINE.FLIPHTML5.COM
Nightingale & Sparrow Literary Magazine is proud to present their first issue, flight. This volume features the poetry, creative nonfiction, fiction, and photography of more than 50 amazing creators from around the world. For this themed issue, Nightingale & Sparrow asked contributors to send "piece...

Wednesday, 13 February 2019

The Skin I'm In
I used to wonder
how I would grow
and yet still fit in the skin I'm in.
If we would grow together,
me and my skin.
Well, we seemed to have done
quite well
for a long time.
I used to wonder
how you would grow,
and if you would still fit
the skin you are in.
And if we would grow together
and stay intact in our
separate skins.
Well, we seemed to have done,
for a long time
anyway.
Now I wonder…
Am I still the same person
under the skin?
Are you?
I think I am.
The outside has changed.
But inside my skin
I am intact.
Myself as before.
I think.
Not quite so comfortable
in my new skin, though.
It doesn't fit me too well.
Doesn't always represent me.
Doesn't look like I still feel.
Like I still am?
What about you?
Are you still that person
in your new skin?
I'm not sure now if the inside
has also been renewed,
changed.
And if it is only on the outside,
that we have changed together.
MERAKMAG.COM
I used to wonderhow I would growand yet still fit in the skin I'm in.If we would grow together,me and my skin.Well, we seemed to have donequite wellfor a long time. I used to wonderhow you would grow,and if you would still fit the skin you are

Sunday, 10 February 2019


Pure Gold
We were the pure gold people.
The golden generation of
bouncing baby boomers
who had it all,
the best music, the most fun
and the security and optimism
of a golden future.
Now we have had our golden future.
it is done.
Tarnished, cracking up, fragmenting,
turning to sharp dust and black mud.
And ashes, darker still.
We were there at the beginning
of the gold rush.
Now we’re at the end
and we know there will be no more
future.
The gold has melted away.
Only base metal is left
and even that is fragmenting,
turning to sharp dust and black mud.
And darker ashes already
to bury all those golden dreams.
SPILLWORDS.COM
Spillwords.com presents: Pure Gold, by Lynn White, who lives in North Wales. Her writing is influenced by issues of social injustice ...

Friday, 8 February 2019

The Empty Room

When I was small
my grandparents occupied
the empty room - all eight of them.
I know now that my great grandparents
must have been there before.
But I hadn’t heard about great grandparents.
I knew about grandparents
because other children had them,
though I never knew mine.
They were always in
the empty room.
They left only to make way for my father.
My mother joined him later.
later still my brother displaced them.
He’s there still,
but fading.
But then,
he always was a flimsy figure,
hardly more real than my grandparents.
It’s still locked to me.
I still can’t get in.
But I will one day
when my brother leaves.
I don’t know when, though.
Don’t know how soon that
will be.

http://www.sirenscallpublications.com/pdfs/SirensCallEZine_December2018.pdf