Poetry - Lynn White

  To Paint A Tune   I’m sitting quietly now listening not looking at you anymore   as I rest for a little while. It’s a change for you to play for me, to paint my portrait in notes instead of paints and pastels, but believe me you are made of music full of it and soon all the notes will be freed from the shackles of the tune and re aligned on my canvas to become the brush strokes   of my picture of you. Just think about it play for me, contemplate, let yourself sing inside my head until I’m ready to paint you   a tune. https://www.amazon.com/STORIES-POEMS-Steve-SweetyCat-Press/dp/B09RFWSC95/ref

  Home Fire They told us it wouldn’t be long but still we’re waiting for our boys and girls to come home. Waiting   still waiting no one knows how long the wait   for their return, especially not them. No one knows how long   we must keep it burning the fire in our home and hearts. If they never return it will burn the house down. https://www.amazon.com/Nowhere-Near-Home/dp/B09QNZWTVY

  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. http://www.rulrul.4mg.com/

  https://www.mockingowlroost.com/blog/2022/01/15/mockingowl-roost-quarterly-jan-2022-exploration/

  A Cup Of Light I’m giving you a cup of light. It’s dark on the outside but  the darkness can’t penetrate inside. Just look how it shines from the inside out. Sip from it. Let it light you up from the inside out. I’m giving you a cup of light to replace the glass of dark. Glass lets the darkness through from the inside out and the outside in, lets it penetrate. Let’s break your glass of dark beyond repair and sip from my cup of light. https://7257abc3-c621-45d6-a429-f1443ee40fba.filesusr.com/ugd/737301_19d7227deb1e4ecda1bc314b6daeaef7.pdf

  Starlight They’re hanging like spangled banner draped over the night black globe. Pin pricks in the blackness. But no red blood flowing. Silver spangles oozing  gleaming white light. The red will follow soon enough as the sun plots its rise to power. As it schemes to flood the black, obliterate the white, drown them both, blind them in it’s  golden glow and blood red heat. https://7257abc3-c621-45d6-a429-f1443ee40fba.filesusr.com/ugd/737301_19d7227deb1e4ecda1bc314b6daeaef7. pdf

  Silver Baubles The little girl loved the glass baubles loved their shiny surfaces that could catch the light and shine it back loved the fragility that she was not allowed to touch. The oldest ones were especially fragile like old people, she thought, so easily broken. They had been bought by her grandmother, her old dead grandmother, so old she had never known her. Their colours had faded, it happens with time she was told. The glossy paint had cracked and peeled away, it happens with time, the heat and dryness does it like wrinkles and flaking skin even here where cold and damp prevails, yes, it happens with time, even here.  But the baubles were still shiny gleaming silver  underneath underneath their fading colours. The old people she knew weren’t glossy just wrinkled, dry and fragile. She wondered when they would become silver. She knew that just a touch could break a bauble shatter them  so they no longer existed just like her grandmother and the other dead p...

  Moon Pool I have left behind me the dark deep lake with the threatening shadows waving, with the wild waves crashing and breaking on the rocky shore. Walked away from it all. Taken the path to the sweet water, to the pool bathed in moonlight. Bathed in smooth bright light. Free of ripples. Free of shadows. Smooth and clear. As if it has swallowed the tranquility of the moon. Taken in all it’s peace so I can wallow in it. I will not go back to the dark lake. Not this time. Not ever.  Never. No more. https://facetspoetry.wixsite.com/openskies/downloads-and-recommended-reading

  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://facetspoetry.wixsite.com/openskies/downloads-and-recommended-reading

  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://uglywriters.com/2022/01/21/bejewelled/?fbclid=IwAR1YhzWaoKzfkNS16iALX-2Dg8yV-VfPhrlrV0NDgQC5GGeKYvYlouZFgHc

  The Grey Men It was an ordinary outing to the cinema for the little girl and her mother. But first, the Pathe News showing a large meeting -   “the United nations”, her mother said. A fat, bald mad was shouting angrily. Then he took off his shoe   and banged it on the table. next came a shot of the listening faces. Grey men - well the film was black and white, but she thought they would be grey even in Technicolor. They were frozen speechless with shock. “What’s it all about?” she asked her mother. It seemed he was angry because of some perceived injustice or hypocrisy. It sounded reasonable to the little girl. “But it just isn’t done”, said her mother. “you just can’t do that. Not there. Not in such a place”. “But he did do that”, said the little girl. And she thought of the shocked expressions on the faces of the faceless grey men and thought: “I would do that”. She pictured them again and thought: “I will do that” and I think she did. The grey men are still with us, ...

  Willow Willow don’t weep. I won’t keep my sadness inside your billowing summer canopy. I’ve waited   for the winter,   the winter of our discontent   which falls every year as another page turns and more leaves   are lost turning golden first then brown with decay then white with the silence   of the first snow fall I’m waiting now for the songs of spring to make me smile again. http://www.activemuse.org/2022_Collections/2022_Open/poems/Lynn_White.html

  Reaching Out 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. Now I’m reaching out hoping, searching for you. It’s hard now, it's harder to find you, to recognise your shape and form. You are becoming fragmented   and ephemeral and I’m reaching out to catch you. Don't pass me by.   Don't let me fade away. http://www.activemuse.org/2022_Collections/2022_Open/poems/Lynn_White. html

  Sandcastles She’s standing on the beach with a small suitcase. It’s unclear if the suitcase is full   or empty. Once she packed it full   of her dreams,   but it’s unclear if any remain. She thinks now that they were built on sand, sandcastles on the beach to be carried away on a storm tide, or washed up   and buried   in the sand. All that is clear is the emptiness   of a long horizon. http://www.activemuse.org/2022_Collections/2022_Open/poems/Lynn_White.html

  Tomorrow I must wait till tomorrow, that’s what I was told when growing up. Tomorrow would bring the sunshine, tomorrow   would bring the treats, tomorrow   would be glorious. It was always tomorrow. Now I know that tomorrow brings death and there is no glory in death. https://www.opendoorpoetrymagazine.com/

  A Plastic Pandemic Looking back to 1969 the words seem prophetic “He’s got a plastic heart, plastic teeth and toes, plastic knees and a perfect plastic nose. He’s got plastic lips that hide his plastic teeth and gums”.. so sang the Kinks then about their plastic man. Now in the twenty-first century it seems he’s here as plastics ingested from our food, and inhaled in from the air we breath are becoming part of our bodies, part of ourselves to be inherited   by our children. We’ve filled every hole in the ground with our plastic waste, our plastic excesses and soon the sea will be transformed into plastic land Now we re-cycle it by the shipload from rich places to poor, to places where the people don’t matter, where “plastic man don’t feel no pain”. There we dump it on the newly plasticised people   in the plastic land we’ve created for them. https://topicalpoetry.com/a-plastic-pandemic/

  Getting Better Things can only get better, that’s what she always told her little sister. Things are getting better all the time even though it doesn’t feel that way. So eat it up! It’s important as Jane Eyre said, to keep in good health and not die. So eat it up. And save a little for the cat. https://thedrabble.wordpress.com/2022/01/12/getting-better/?fbclid=IwAR3hCtjd2q1CtdDOLr_RcCH2u-RtaPzjQSQ_ELWMN3kcpMaIxJRM_9u_z_o