Poetry - Lynn White

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. https://www.amazon.com/dp/1091118191/ref=sr_1_4… About This Website AMAZON.COM The Stray Branch: Spring/Summer 2019 Poetry by Adam Levon Brown, Adrian Slonaker, Barbara Gurney, Carol Oberg,Christina Maria Kosch, Eduardo Escalante, Erren Geraud Kelly,Gary Beck, Gerard Caronna, John Grey, Joseph K. Wells, Julianne Fern Basile, Kellay Briggs, Ken Allan Dronsfield, Linda M. Crate,Liz Hargrove, Lynn White, Marc Car...

 In My Dreams I have such beautiful dreams inside my head.  Inside my head. Struggling to get outside into the ragged, jagged outside life which passes for normality. Such beautiful dreams. Such a perfect life lying inside my head. I would like it to be on the outside. https://www.amazon.com/Poetry-Leaves-Waterford-Township-Library/dp/1536841315#reader_1536841315

  Button Box I loved playing with the buttons in ‘Grandma’ Kirk’s button box. She wasn’t my real grandma but mum’s friend who used to have a Chip Shop nearby. When she died ‘Auntie’ Stacey, (who wasn’t my real aunt either), took the money that Grandma Kirk had hidden under the floorboards, even though it had been left to mum. She was a bad ‘un, my mum said. The £200 that was in the bank was all that was left. She showed the bank manager the hole in the floor. He looked amazed my mum said. He said to leave it with him and she heard no more. I inherited the button box. https://eighteenseventy.poetry.blog/…/three-poems-by-lynn-…/

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  Spider She hangs suspended, like a puppet dancing to the tune of the wind. Blown this way, blown that, buffeted, but only briefly before she takes control like the mistress puppeteer she is powerful free to spin her silk to weave her web as she wills. Or so she thinks. But it’s an illusion. She’s trapped. Trapped and wrapped by her dna as securely as any fly, her patterns pre-ordained pre-programmed destined to be repeated millennia after millennia in her genes. http://www.praxismagonline.com/lynn-white-three-poems/ Lest We Forget We think you can see us, you know who we are behind our masks Not everything is hidden. We are not hidden. We are out in the open in plain sight even if masked. So join us for a snack, a glass of wine, a coffee. Enjoy! Take a sip with us …

  Joining The Dots She saw the night sky as a join the dots puzzle. She was an expert far better than the adults who could never work them out. They told her that these formed a plough and those a bear, well two bears, Great and Little. She couldn’t see it. They were quite wrong she knew the stars were glittering cairns pin point sharp marking the pathway to the moon, to Venus, to the sun and beyond. You just had to join the dots and follow the paths to find your way to paradise. https://pondersavant.com/…/above-it-all-and-other-poems-by…/ https://pondersavant.com/2020/05/15/above-it-all-and-other-poems-by-lynn-white/?fbclid=IwAR1j6cr9FWWrXqmLiNxjNjvK-MhYZCTsKQ_A8_W78XKTWd-19e3Zdlhc2p0

  Nightmare The sun is standing still for them Standing still for the streams of dreamers. Dreamers streaming down the roads to somewhere else. From somewhere that has become nowhere destroyed by the money men, the vultures who feed on their misery. Dreaming of escape. Dreaming of a future, any future. Dreaming of better things to come. Dreaming of the life they once had. Dreaming, dreaming, dreaming. Dreaming of returning when the sun comes up again, hoping it shows more than the vultures that follow them circling overhead waiting patiently for those left in a nightmare. https://freeverserevolution.wordpress.com/2020/08/22/nightmare-lynn-white/ FREEVERSEREVOLUTION.WORDPRESS.COM Nightmare – Lynn White

  An Ordinary Moon It’s an ordinary moon. Not special like a harvest moon or a blood moon or a pink moon in April. It’s not even full. It doesn’t have to be. The tides still obey it and when it shines through the clouds it lights me up. Is that ordinary that mystic moonlight? http://www.praxismagonline.com/lynn-white-three-poems/ http://www.praxismagonline.com/lynn-white-three-poems/?fbclid=IwAR1TqO5j0VcCReHxSB80op0y-zNLimMZnrAzYCDB9xj28A3AStTbbsufxMk

  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. https://www.amazon.com/…/ref=cm_sw_em_r_mt_awdb_-m0.EbGADY3… Aulos: An Anthology of English Poetry About This Website AMAZON.COM Aulos: An Anthology of English Poetry Aulos: An Anthology of English Poetry

  Seed Shells The first seeds were sown a long time ago. When these small seed shells burst open they were scattered locally. They grew patchily at first, in Palestine, in Israel, in Lebanon and throughout the Arab world. There were only little streams to irrigate and fertilise them, so they often failed to thrive. But that was then. Now the shells have grown bigger and the seeds have flown further. Further and further. And the streams have grown wider and longer. And more nutritious. When the seed shells have burst in this century, they found ground that was even more fertile. So more and more has come under cultivation, irrigated and fertilised now from rivers, rivers of blood. So well irrigated, so well nurtured and tended that the patches of brown soil became rare indeed. But there were some. Later seeds spread wider over Gaza. As larger seed shells broke and splintered they found and colonised new areas outside the brown patches where it was now easy to germinate and thrive. N...

  Home Sweet Home Keep your distance! That means you in the hills, on the beach in the shops on the street. Keep your distance. Better still stay home turn-a-round and get the fuck back home. We’re closed. This is no holiday. Get the video instead or run a marathon on your balcony or in your yard. Or sit and contemplate the clouds. Put music on and listen in your living room. Turn it up and have a dance. Home is sweet. Home is cool. Enjoy! https://headlinepoetryandpress.com/…/rx-poetry-home-sweet-…/ Keep your distance! That means you in the hills, on the beach in the shops on the street. Keep your distance. Better still stay home turn-a-round and get the fuck back home. We’re closed. This is n… HEADLINEPOETRYANDPRESS.COM Rx Poetry | Home Sweet Home, by Lynn White Keep your distance! That means you in the hills, on the beach in the shops on the street. Keep your distance. Better still stay home turn-a-round and get the fuck back home. We’re closed. This is n…

  A Face In The Crowd Once I could be seen, was known by my face, my dress, my demeanour recognisable in a crowd. Now I have disappeared. Even if larger than life, even if upside down I would still be invisible. A few wrinkles is all it took to fade away to become less than a face in the crowd. To become no one. https://blognostics.net/…/a-face-in-the-crowd-by-lynn-whi…/… A Face In The Crowd by Lynn White Once I could be seen, was known by my face, my dress, my demeanour....READ MORE BLOGNOSTICS.NET A Face In The Crowd by Lynn White A Face In The Crowd by Lynn White Once I could be seen, was known by my face, my dress, my demeanour....READ MORE