Poetry - Lynn White

My Sister Maud I had a sister once. Her name was Maud. I never knew her, never even knew of her. No one said. Not our father, or his son, not my mother, no one. No one spoke. All were mute for Maud. She never grew old, never even grew up. And her little life became engulfed in silence. My father cried when she died, I know it now more than eighty years later I know it. When there’s no one living who knew her. When there is no one left to tell me her favourite games, her hopes, her dreams. All are gone. I know it now. I even have a photograph so that I can see her, picture her as she was. And I won’t forget her, won’t forget that I had a sister once. Her name was Maud. https://ephemeralelegies.com/…/my-sister-maud-by-lynn-white/ I had a sister once. Her name was Maud. I never knew her, never even knew of her. No one said. Not our father, or his son, not my mother, no one. No one spoke. All were mute for Maud. She never g…

After The Party It was a good party. “you’ll be seeing pink elephants tonight” they laughed. I didn’t believe them I thought the elephants would be blue, a better colour for me. But it was me that was blue. The elephant I was riding was just elephant coloured. It was a very good party. https://dailydrunkmag.com/2020/12/12/after-the-party/  It was a good party.

Keep Your Hat On There was a time when going out was an occasion to be dressed for. You could not be seen, should not be seen without your hat. You would be ostracised, talked about, stigmatised, left alone shamed. Hats were mandatory, a smart felt trilby or bowler for the men and a fashion statement of flounces or formality for the women. Even later my visiting aunties kept their hats on while drinking their afternoon tea indoors. They left them on in cafes and bars, it’s the generational norm from the time when one knew the dress code and conformed. But not everyone did so even back then. Some were daring, daring enough to go without a hat and they still found company. Others followed the code and kept their hat on but still sat on their own the code didn’t admit everyone, some were left outside. https://blognostics.net/…/26/keep-your-hat-on-by-lynn-white/  Keep Your Hat On by Lynn White There was a time when going out was an occasion to be dressed for. You cou...

Rooks There are just two pieces left. Two fragments of our dreams. Two castles in the air, the remnants of a game we played where there was no winner. Like a game of chess with an improbable ending. Just two rooks left on the board. More flying over our castles in the air leaving them behind. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B087FJD9JF/ref=sr_1_15 … The Stray Branch: Spring/Summer 2020 The Stray Branch: Spring/Summer 2020

The Suitcase Back then, we had a theory. We thought that a suitcase was easier to get into cars than a rucksack and thus, drivers were more likely to pick up hitchhikers with a small suitcase. It worked like a dream and it carried our dreams. Yesterday I came across our old suitcase buried in a heap of debris in my attic. It was battered from it’s long journeys and even longer vacation. Its clothing was torn exposing its cardboard credentials. I haven’t opened it yet so it’s unclear if it’s still full or if it’s empty. Once we packed it full of our dreams, but now I wonder if any remain, caught in the lining perhaps, or if they’ve all have been carried away with our lost memories or buried in the debris of the past. https://cajunmuttpress.wordpress.com/…/cajun-mutt-press-f…/… The Suitcase Back then, we had a theory. We thought that a suitcase was easier to get into cars than a rucksack and thus, drivers were more likely to pick up hitchhikers with a small suitc...

Lakeside When I was a child Lakeside was my favourite family outing. I loved the freshness of the cool air, the grey bleakness of the water and the windblown beach that seemed to go on for ever. I would roll up my pants and race my sister to the water’s edge. We’d dare each other into the water. We knew it would be cold too cold to let it wet much of us, too cold to stay wet for long but we loved the comfort of the thick towels that would be wrap us round like blankets afterwards. We loved it like a perversion. We loved it all. I’m sitting there now all these years later perversely overwhelmed and overdressed. I hadn’t reckoned on global warming, hadn’t expected to see people swimming in the warm blue water, lying on the beach in the sunshine, hadn’t expected that I would be so overwhelmed and so overdressed. https://oddballmagazine.com/poem-by-lynn-white-7/  Remember nature? ODDBALLMAGAZINE.COM Poem by Lynn White Remember nature?

Broken Hearted Something new will come from it I’m sure. I tried so hard to hold it together to keep it from breaking even though the signs were all so ominous in the end there was nothing I could do. The darkness filled you to overflowing and split your heart in two. https://heroinlovesongs1.wordpress.com/…/lynn-white-broken…/

Marked Out The marks are fading now in the old playground. It’s deserted now, and since the crisis no one plays games anymore. I try to remember the the rules but my memories are fading like the laughter of children like the marks on the ground there are new rules now but no games to play. https://visualverse.org/submissions/marked-out/?fbclid=IwAR1zpN_keif_awaAqRDOlc-kOsfaIu42Wwu0uww9y1YCAsyz8IJNQ_BJ1fw Visual Verse: An Anthology of Art and Words One image, one hour, 50-500 words. The picture is the starting point, the text is up to you. Visual Verse: An Anthology of Art and Words One image, one hour, 50-500 words. The picture is the starting point, the text is up to you. VISUALVERSE.ORG Marked Out - Visual Verse Visual Verse: An Anthology of Art and Words One image, one hour, 50-500 words. The picture is the starting point, the text is up to you.

Jacko I saw him flapping around in the grass, one wing at an improbable angle. I chased him, caught him, wrapped him carefully in my cerise and navy school scarf. Jack, jack, jacko.. Then it was a bus ride to the charity vet who set the broken wing, wrapped it carefully in plaster, a heavy pot. He was subdued on the bus home, but still managed to greet my mother, Jack, jack, jacko. He perked up later after tea and explored the living room placing bits of straw artistically and decorating them with pooh. Which was why he had to live at school, home only for weekends. Jack, jack jacko! But he enjoyed bus journeys now and greeted all the passengers, hopping from shoulder to shoulder, waking them up with a wang from his pot, nibbling an ear here and a nostril there. Most were charmed, but some were not. He was close to becoming the only jackdaw to be banned from public transport. Jack, jack, jacko!! And then disaster! the wing had not healed. There was decay and gangr...

The Vase The kitchen looked tired and worn like my mother did, the last time I saw her there. I felt no nostalgia for it. It was not my childhood kitchen. It held no special memories, I thought. And then,   I saw the vase on the counter top. My friend found it on the Kings Road. Bought it and brought it home. I’d asked her to buy me something,   a souvenir of swinging London. She bought the vase. I never much liked it. Dark and bulbous, it spent most of it’s time at my mother’s, though she didn’t like it much either. Then time stole it away, took it from my memory, erased it. And now, here it is again, sharp as ever bringing the past home as it stands empty on the counter top. It seems that her death   invested in it a poignancy that it had not known before. I took it home with me. http://nowthenmagazine.com/manchester/issue-60/word-life/

Look This Way Look this way. Turn away from the salt wind. There’s nothing to fear. Let me see your face. I know mine looks a little strange, but there’s nothing to fear, nothing. It’s just that I’ve been away a long time. I have a long life history, you see. Look this way. I’ve brought you flowers. I found them when I woke up, when I rose up. I didn’t see who left them. I hope it wasn’t you. It would be discourteous of me to return your gift. But at least you know I’m no thief, no grave robber, just someone who has been away a long time. Look this way. Let me see the salt wind blow back your hair, let me see your face. http://www.sirenscallpublications.com/…/SirensCallEZine_Feb… http://www.sirenscallpublications.com/pdfs/SirensCallEZine_February2019.pdf?fbclid=IwAR2u2nBYBpw4_31OA5FEvu6QQP4YftjQtyj7dhA4BOIe-IfEjfauJv297Ew