Poetry - Lynn White

Birth Or Death Death begins at birth for pro-lifers. The birth day is when interest is lost lost in those post foetal post natal moments which move us crying into hours smiling into days crawling into months running into years walking into decades slowing toward our death day. They’ve long lost interest these pro-lifers. They say that life must be lived according to the law of God as it is written and dispatched to them in nightmares and dreams. Only break it and they’re back with interest and concern those pro-deathers. https://issuu.com/freelitmagazine/docs/v5i4 https://issuu.com/freelitmagazine/docs/v5i4?fbclid=IwAR26M07g7QOn3nSKcmjyg7fABjlj-IaM-vl9-7M4kfRIAuD8AKhpQhe06_s

We Should Have Seen It Coming To begin with the dark parts were small tiny black squares in the brightness, we should have seen it growing recognised its full potential noticed the blurred edges allowing it to creep outwards imperceptibly almost invisibly. And now there’s hardly a space between the black parts and little space for brightness around them. Even the red no longer looks dangerous however vibrantly it tries to intervene the darkness is winning slowly but exponentially covering it all. We should have seen it coming. How did we not see it? I think it’s too late to halt it now. https://asitoughttobemagazine.com/…/lynn-white-we-should-h…/ ASITOUGHTTOBEMAGAZINE.COM Lynn White: “We Should Have Seen It Coming”     We Should Have Seen It Coming To begin with the dark parts were small tiny black squares in the brightness, we should have seen it growing recognised its full potential noticed the bl…

Breaking Through It needs strength to break new ground when it’s as hard and solid as silence. Or so I thought. It needs strength to break through, to break the mould and reform. Or so I thought. But just suppose, the ground gives up it’s power and allows the colour to break through, bright so the delicate flowers can form, can bloom, can flourish fragile. Will they then open up through the self shattered soil, and melt the frozen silence to make a space, an opening for a warmth, that will shatter even ice. I think so. http://www.florencepoets.com/p/silkworm.html

In the Clouds I’ve seen a dragon in the clouds and a humming bird and a tea table set for tea. Some say they’ve seen Christ or Mohamed, or fairy kings and queens. They have all stayed a while, my shapes in the cloud. None have left. Not until now. Now, when I saw the man with his tufts of hair growing haphazardly here and there. With his open red mouth already blooded. With the sunlight shining through his eyes. I have never seen such colours in the clouds. And now he seems to be leaving, not blown away, but stepping out looking hungrily towards me. SPILLWORDS.COM In The Clouds, poetry written by Lynn White at Spillwords.com Spillwords.com  presents: Spillwords Halloween - In The Clouds, poetry by Lynn White, who lives in North Wales. Her writing is influenced by issues of ...

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. http://www.quailbellmagazine.com/…/poem-pure-gold-by-lynn-w…

"Those who dream by day" Dreaming 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 revealing your secrets. Now it's harder to discern you, to recognise your shape and form. You are becoming fragmented and ephemeral,   floating forms in a damp mist of change holding on tight to your secrets Don't pass me by.   I still want to know you to discover you to learn what you’ve become. https://hereticsloversmadmen.com/2019/10/21/quotable-poe-week-4-lynn-white/

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1lkBPZHcpMt4UMiXhXx-xZq2EvlTF_NWo/view

Empty Chair You turned my head so many times I felt dizzy. I felt in a permanent state of dizziness my head spinning round full of sweet sayings, full of sweet thoughts Surrounding myself with hearts and smiley faces, happy faces turning to tears now, as the hearts turn blue and I stand, still dizzy, behind your empty chair https://godoggocafe.com/2019/09/21/empty-chair-lynn-white-guest-barista/?fbclid=IwAR2ZEvyCCo5e9i0Fw-KOwqLfAeAPdJ3WQ5P1WhnY_jgnm1r1vKUN_6_EsGs

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. https://www.amazon.com/CultureCult-Magazine-Is…/…/1080202609

The Breathing Days In the days when I still breathed air, the days before living took my breath away, the days before I knew my soul was there. I thought about this time, this time of no light, the forever night time with no breath, no air to breathe. Just dust and darkness. And I pondered. Would there be slow decay or fast. Stillness or movement. Now I know. I know everything about the dust and darkness. But I can't tell you. Not now in these days of no breath, no air to speak. Only my soul can speak. Can you hear me? https://pondersavant.com/…/…/existential-ponders-lynn-white/

Washed Away Cool cleansing water running over me, washing away my sins, my impurities, Cleaning me up, getting rid of the villainy and lack of chastity. Absolving me. But who’s to say they should be washed away like the scruffiness of childhood innocence. Who should judge these scents and tastes and sweats of a life cleanly and clearly remembered. What sins, what villainy? I wished they could remain unwashed and pure retaining their essence within my reach. Hanging about me in my lived in face. A testament to my life, an affirmation. It didn’t take much water to remove them. But I was already clean. I can remember. https://www.animalheartpress.net/p/purchase-from-ashes.html ANIMALHEARTPRESS.NET Pre-Order 'From The Ashes' Pre-order From The Ashes An international anthology of womxn's poetry Edited by Amanda McLeod & Mela Blust Official release date Nov...

Tell Me, Mirror Tell me, Mirror, which face do you see? Is it a pale face, fairer than fair, unsullied by sun, moist and unlined, unblemished by wind. Glowing white, white as virgin snow unbroken by footprints. Or is the glowing skin wrinkling, the shining white greying. As time has passed has it picked up some dirt in passing. Maybe it’s darker still in places as the whiteness decays. As it melts away like the snow. Tell me, Mirror, Which face do you see? https://godoggocafe.com/…/tell-me-mirror-lynn-white-guest-…/

Can Can They’re lined up ready to go on stage These dancers of the Folies Bergère their mouths reddened, stockings suspended heels high as heads ready to dance their Can Can. And yes they can they really can kick their legs that high and wave them around as if they are disconnected as if their bodies are barely held   together but they are together and they really can hold on at least to each other.

Red Car The abandoned car stood on the waste ground, rusting away, doors hanging off, leather seats ripped. The children played there on warm summer days but I was not allowed. The place was dangerous and the children were rough. It was the first time I had ever been in a car. I sat behind the wheel to drive it making engine noises like a bus. It was a black car. In those days all cars were black. Any colour you like, so long as it’s black. I thought that a red one would have been nicer. https://www.amazon.co.uk/Driving-Cars-Everywh…/…/ref=sr_1_5… AMAZON.CO.UK Driving Cars: Poems About Getting Here, There and Everywhere in Automobiles (Highland Park Poetry Presents Book 4) For the 2019 Summer Muses' Gallery, we asked poets to share their passion for driving and cars. Automobiles are a means of getting to a destination. In this collection, the car means much more. Car as machine and technological marvel. Car as identity. Car as culture. Car as freedom and lib...

Fish Out Of Water The birds swooped and dived, “listen carefully to us”, they sang to the fish. “We lived in water. Then we wanted to change so we came out of the water, left it below. Then we swopped scales for feathers, exchanged fins for wings. We soared on the thermals and perched in the trees so come fly with us now it’s your turn to leave.” The fish listened carefully they were intrigued. “How do we fly?”, they mouthed in response. “Come up and join us, we’ll teach you to fly”. “If you fall from the sky we’ll teach you to swim” the fish called up to them. But the birds didn’t hear until they joined in. http://www.ekphrastic.net/…/ekphrastic-challenge-responses-… EKPHRASTIC.NET Ekphrastic Challenge Responses: Dale Patterson ​ Guest Editor’s Note: Thank-you to all of the writers who entered the DALE PATTERSON CHALLENGE; I was impressed by the quality, quantity and variety of the interpretations to Dale’s...

The Earth Is Broken Hold the moon carefully, it’s very fragile so easily broken by the human touch, so easily broken just like the earth was broken, just like the earth is broken. http://thetypescript.com/the-earth-is-broken-and-with-ope…/…