Poetry - Lynn White

  Shrouded They’re shrouded in mist almost as dark as the shrouds they wear to cover themselves, to cloak themselves   for their journey. Shrouds like dusty abayas uniformly grey, shapeless, bloodless, formless, lifeless grey. Only their mouths still red, stained by their final feast. The feast of what was left. And now there’s nothing, nothing any more. No more. Nothing. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09HG2TY6R?fbclid=IwAR2Cr_izUh5gisn2pUAt-RaSQC3HYV7ofpiuTtVKq4UAIibGvEQMaXcx4BY

  Bejewelled This little piece of gold will not be enough to feed the fruit   of my swelling belly. And it will take bigger scales   to weigh out the quantities we will need to survive. But I still have jewels to sell and I think they will be enough. I shall weigh them carefully. It’s in the balance but I think there will be   enough. https://www.inkpantry.com/poetry-drawer-bejewelled-to-the-time-of-the-season-god-given-by-lynn-white/

To The Time Of The Season It’s that time of the season midwinter coasting from   one year   to the next from old to new facing both ways   still unable to move   on watching a gleam of light caught in the falling all too briefly before it becomes part of the old before it turns to mush and decays like all things passed. https://www.inkpantry.com/poetry-drawer-bejewelled-to-the-time-of-the-season-god-given-by-lynn-white/

  God Given   If such a creature didn’t exist we’d have to invent it for sure. Whether Zeus or Allah, Jehovah or any of the rest, all fulfil the same   purpose. All create a framework   of behaviour, the laws of god which must be obeyed without argument, without thinking, without due process. All create a framework of rights. Some have them, others don’t. They’re god given so no argument, no thinking, needed. And all need a territory, a god given territory from the beginning of time and for evermore No argument, no thinking, god given. https://www.inkpantry.com/poetry-drawer-bejewelled-to-the-time-of-the-season-god-given-by-lynn-white/

  Brides of Fire Who will be the chosen one, the one to join the virgins wedded to the fire the one to keep it burning until the new prince comes. Who will wait for him to put it out   remodel it then rekindle it as the new era begins. A new fire for new times. What will become of us then. https://freeverserevolution.com/2021/09/25/issue-iii-released/

 NOMINATED FOR BEST OF THE NET 2021 From The Beach Nature is the best of artists,   able to render down to beauty the decayed life forms of the past into a form that can grace my walls and shelves and remind me of the stories about where I found them, about where they washed up,   the chances they took. I strain to hear their stories, strain to hear the trees from Loch Ellen once blown by the wind   now rustling silently. But I think the dragon fish can hear them. He looks as if he’s speaking,   telling them all about his journey   from a living tree to driftwood on the shore and now he’s here on my wall. waiting for the next wave to break waiting to see what happens. http://www.activemuse.org/

  Caterpillar When I was nine I stepped on a caterpillar accidentally   stepped on one end of a caterpillar and it’s caterpillar shape, bright emerald green, shot out the other end. Since then, I have taken great care never to step on a caterpillar again. http://pikerpress.com/article.php?aID=8733

  Are We Any Older? Am I any older my dear, tell me I cannot tell   can you tell me, are you any older, my dear tell me if you can   tell, can you tell? Can you tell if we have aged   from the inside out or the outside in or is it just on the outside only on the outside. I think   we should keep it outside. Tell me that we can keep it outside my dear, tell me. https://ephemeralelegies.com/2021/08/30/are-we-any-older-by-lynn-white/

  Come On In “Come on in the water’s lovely” they called out to me   with their arms outstretched and the sweetest of smiles. And I was tempted for sure, their smiles were as entrancing as sirens but their arms waving a welcome reminded me of spiders with their stretched out legs waiting to pounce in this watery web, or the tentacles of sea anemones whirling and waving while awaiting their prey. Come on in the water’s lovely lovely lovely lovely. The word echoes through my head enticing me for sure, entrapping me perhaps. I’ll soon find out. https://dansemacabreonline.wixsite.com/neudm/lynn-white-137

  Sirens Call I wanted to know her. With her silken hair hanging past her waist, yes, I do believe she   was sitting on it and it was everything   that mine was not. It hung straight down, Straight as a dye,   not in the crinkly waves   and corkscrews that were the bane of my life.   And where did she find the lippy to make those bright red lips while sitting there on a rock in the middle of nowhere. They told me that she was a siren who would lead me into temptation. I told them that I would take a chance. https://dansemacabreonline.wixsite.com/neudm/lynn-white-137

  The Lady In Red They called her the ‘Lady in Red’ Seen only in winter walking near the trees she emerged from the mists and muted colours so vibrant so colourful so elegant, so they said. Should I believe them? Could I believe them? I hid in the trees and waited watchful. I think I saw her. I don’t think she saw me, except maybe as a figment of her imagination or a face hanging out in her dream. https://dansemacabreonline.wixsite.com/neudm/lynn-white-137

  Flight Of Fancy Fly with me my fancy man and I’ll take you to places   that you haven’t been, but only if that’s what you fancy. We’ll flit over mountains flapping our wings   on our magical flight of fancy. We’ll hover above cities of silver and gold, and stopover wherever we fancy. Come fly with me, my fancy man, and find a little of what you fancy. But hold on tight as we climb up close to the sun, then go   sliding down moonbeams avoiding the planets, way over the spires and the earth towers, over the clouds, right out of the rain showers. There’s no plain sailing for us in my fancies. Then hold on tight as we start speeding down,   down under the clouds in our fancy we’re still tripping the light fantastic. But we’re frantic to find our fantasy land at the end of our flight of fancy. https://spillwords.com/flight-of-fancy/? fbclid=IwAR3JbnkeoM8feH803pBZuQsLROGN1A99MaK_YnzUya1tnY8BujdZkvUT7is

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  Voice Of An Angel Once I thought love would be enough to fly us away spinning   past planets and stars reaching up to them breaking through   the atmosphere to grasp that moment and put it in a glass, our own shining orb that would stay forever gleaming and shimmering and singing at my touch with the pure notes of the voice of an angel breaking through   the atmosphere, your voice a voice so pure it will never shatter the glass. It’s lustre has faded now but it will stay forever a still shining sphere in my memories   and dreams. https://www.ekphrastic.net/ekphrastic-writing-challenges/ekphrastic-responses-joseph-cornell?fbclid=IwAR2_Tua6_EUVJyv8MBUp3XvLspLRRgLyJwAyQvPG8-ogoC4jeXhCDI7_7L0

  Seagulls She’d always loved to watched them as they swooped and swerved riding the thermals raucously as they waited for the tide   and it’s flow of fish. She could see them now from the mouth of the cave and she wondered   if it would be enough to sustain her she wondered   if it would be enough as the tide flowed in. https://www.amazon.co.uk/Scissortail-Quarterly-4-August-2021/dp/1955814449/ref=sr_1_1?adgrpid=1289727496319819&dchild=1&hvadid=80608056598932&hvbmt=be&hvdev=c&hvlocphy=42057&hvnetw=o&hvqmt=e&hvtargid=kwd-80608176505703%3Aloc-188&keywords=scissortail+quarterly&qid=1631206123&sr=8-1

  Holding On I love the rock pools when the tides are gentle   and the sea creatures survive their comings and goings sucking at the rocks holding on tightly or hiding in the sand in the gravel under the stones always holding on. But now the tides are angry and few can hold on tightly enough to survive the ebb and flow. The crabs and molluscs the shiny stars all lose their grip and are washed up   then washed away disappearing like a dream, a dream   which becomes a nightmare crashing them into reality   on the turn of the tide. https://www.amazon.co.uk/Scissortail-Quarterly-4-August-2021/dp/1955814449/ref=sr_1_1?adgrpid=1289727496319819&dchild=1&hvadid=80608056598932&hvbmt=be&hvdev=c&hvlocphy=42057&hvnetw=o&hvqmt=e&hvtargid=kwd-80608176505703%3Aloc-188&keywords=scissortail+quarterly&qid=1631206123&sr=8-1

  Scorpio’s Secrets I’ve kept our secrets a long time,   the mystery of our passion and, ever resourceful,   I stored them deep in the watery underworld. But now I’ve forgotten   where   they were buried and my crabby comrades are long gone. Their hard shells tell me nothing, perhaps they never did, but they was guarded by Pluto to make sure they were safe. We had a deal then, back in the days   when I thought him reliable now I’m not sure if I can trust him. Perhaps he’s already dug them up, he wouldn’t want them to rest in peace but I won’t know till I find him, if I can find him, and when I do   their resting place will remain my secret. I’ve already lost our passion, it’s buried for ever. And now it’s ended I shall transform myself, become a hermit, give up my hard shell keep myself secret, I need no one else to judge me. https://www.amazon.co.uk/Scissortail-Quarterly-4-August-2021/dp/1955814449/ref=sr_1_1?adgrpid=1289727496319819&dchild=1&...