Poetry - Lynn White

One Last Time Before the trees begin to fall I’ll take a walk through the woods one last time, hear the leaves glistening and shaking in fear of what is to come some are already fallen lying dying, it’s the season for it after all. I’ll see the light shining lighting on the leaves of grass that push soft spikes of green life in between the fallen see the light shining through the trees one last time. It lights up the white crosses chalked on the trunks as it passes by too many white crosses all ready to mark the graves of the fallen. It’s the season for it after all, always the season for it one more time. https://www.amazon.com/Poets-Come-Walt-Whitma…/…/ref=sr_1_1… About This Website AMAZON.COM Poets to Come: A Poetry Anthology In this poetic call of his, he urges the poets of the generations to come after him to pick up the torch and carry the tradition onward. What better way to celebrate Walt Whitman's 200th Birthday than put togethe...

Stripy Jerseys There were a lot of ragwort plants around the library. Some were bare of leaves and covered with orange and black stripy jersey caterpillars. Others were lush and green with leaves and devoid of caterpillars. As usual the family planning strategy of the cinnabar moth left much to be desired. I began to transfer them carefully from the leafless to the lush. I stood back to admire my achievement, momentarily disconcerted when a rather stern looking stranger asked what I was doing. I explained. “Huh”, she said, “I’ve been doing the same over the other side. I though it was only me who does this.” It was a strange way to begin a friendship but it lasted all her life. I think maybe I should go to the grave in the woodland, where her body lies and scatter a few ragwort seeds. Maybe the moths will come each year and make a living memorial. She would like that, I think. https://sparksofcalliope.wordpress.com/…/stripy-jerseys-by…/ SPARKSOFCALLIOPE.WORD...

The Only Way We stood in line ready for our marching orders ready to march all in order one step at a time, or all together now just as ordered. What a blast that was. What a blast we had following the orders of our masters. It’s the only way to settle the squabbles of our masters, and the grievances of their paymasters, just for a time. Then they’ll do it again! Then we’ll do it again following our orders. And again. and again. It’s the only way forward or back. https://blognostics.net/blognostics-an-innovative-experience-in-literature-poetry-and-art/2019/07/25/the-only-way-by-lynn-white/

Predictable I feel such a bright energy flowing, zipping through my veins. I can’t wait to move with it, to uproot myself, to be transplanted and reborn, to recreate myself at the time when all of nature is recreating itself and starting afresh. I will be reborn too in another place. I’ve done it before and felt the new buds open, bursting and shooting into a new life. I've felt the excitement of the new spaces, embraced the interest in the new peoples’ faces. And then.. I’ve opened up my blowsy petals and let my heart show through pulsing, exuberant, ready to turn towards the summer sun, not believing it will destroy my bloom, make my petals fade and fall when the shock of the new wears off and the fresh green shoots start to brown, and prepare for the season of wrinkles, which always follows, as my life folds out as before. Soon I’ll be getting ready for the ice of winter in this new place. A new place, but with the same person in it. To change where I am is the easy pa...

No Place The buildings line the street. Such bright colours lining the street of the holiday resort, a place near the beach, a living place. But if I should transform the cars, into their metal box shapes. If I should paint out their windows and doors, and the windows and doors of the buildings in the street, it would leave me with coloured squares and rectangles dividing blue from green or white with no life left there. No place, no place for life at all. BLOGNOSTICS.NET No Place by Lynn White No Place by Lynn White The buildings line the street. Such bright colours lining the street of the holiday resort, a place near the beach....READ MORE

A Private Affair She chose the quilt colour carefully, bright red blood red so when she lay down no one would see her bleed out emotionally drained empty of the bright sunshine that had filled her full of joy. It was always a private affair so no one should see and no one would see as finally she put it to bed. https://ninemusespoetry.com/20…/…/19/one-poem-by-lynn-white/

After Time “I’m late, I’m late again”, said the White Rabbit staring at his pocket watch with exasperation. He turned the minute hand back a little and perused the new time with satisfaction. He knew the effect would be limited unless he could turn back the hands on all the clocks everywhere, but it made him feel better briefly. He had pondered this issue of time many times. He knew that clocks and watches were irrelevant to it’s passing, which made him feel better about his manipulation. Philosophically speaking, he knew that he could change the time. He could break the watch and freeze it. Break all the wheels that turned inside. Smash them to smithereens. But even then, even when broken, he knew the wheels of time keep turning, time after time. https://capsulebooks.com/product/capsule-stories-summer-daze

All That Glitter It glitters like gold. But is it gold or base metal being worked on by an alchemist.. undergoing transformation, perhaps with a touch of magic, with an elixir of immortality, an illusion. Or perhaps base oil transformed to sparkly plastic glitter with all too real immortality. Glittering, littering with everlasting life, all that glitter. https://beakful.blogspot.com/…/all-that-glitter-by-lynn-whi… About This Website BEAKFUL.BLOGSPOT.COM All That Glitter by Lynn White Photograph by Quincemedia from Pixabay First published in ‘All That Glitters’, Silver Apples, Issue 10, 2018 It glitters like gold....

https://www.amazon.com/CultureCult-Magazine-Issue-12-Summer/dp/1080202609

Frankie’s Creation It was a childhood hobby carried out first on the kitchen table then in his room, his shed, his workshop. He left childhood behind but never moved on from his hobby. Meccano and Leggo had their time but Frankie left them behind and began his collection of bits and pieces that might be useful a bit of wood or metal, plastic, nails, screws, rivets, wire, Frankie kept them all for his creations his men and machines. The boats and planes and trains had had their time long ago. Now it was the human form for him, not the outer veneer but what lies under the skin. He studied the complex joints and carefully fitted their metal muscles and wired them with nerve-like fibres. All that was needed now was the skin. Carefully Frankie began to put it in place. Soon his creation would raise its head and open its eyes, then it would be ready, ready to go. https://visualverse.org/submissions/frankies-creation/ VISUALVERSE.ORG Frankie's Creation - V...

Turn Of the Tide We will wait for the tide to turn. It will carry us away wave after wave gathering up the debris which surrounds us sucking it up like so much dust getting rid of it all, everything going with the flow. We must wait for the tide to turn. It will bring us home leaving new things there with us. Bits and pieces. Leaving them for us to find so that we can take what we need everything we want. Or should we swim against the tide? See where it takes us. We could try. It couldn’t be worse. https://theliterarylibrarian.com/2019/07/05/turn-of-the-tide-by-lynn-white/ https://theliterarylibrarian.com/…/the-pantheon…/lynn-white/

Me And Five Pears There’s something about the shape of this fruit about the way it makes the light reflect the colours from yellow to green and from pink to red. The green ones were my first choice. Green turning to brown with yellow and gold highlights. I thought I liked them best. But in the end it was the brightness of the red that won me over, convinced me of its perfection for incorporation into my painting. I chose them carefully and arranged them in a dish spilling them out on to the table top. Then I threw away the dish and held them myself. I struck a pose. Look! http://www.ekphrastic.net/…/ekphrastic-challenge-responses-…

The Fox Poetry Box 12 hrs  ·  THE FOX POETRY BOX is very happy to be displaying Poet  Lynn White Poetry 's beautiful poem today! Lynn lives and writes from North Wales, UK. Her work is very  centered on social justice, something we need more of during these turbulent times. She has been published widely and nominated for the prestigious Pushcart Prize. Readers, enjoy the colors!  🌼 🌻 🍀 🌷 🌸