Poetry - Lynn White

  Aliens They emerged from the eggs  of our snow white Silkies. Every one a cockerel when grown, we decided to have one for dinner. The skin was blue, under the white plumage, which was quite a shock, a little alien, but cooked, it was fine. Normal. And the flesh was white, But when carved, the bones were blue. Disconcerting. A little alien. And now these red feathered birds have appeared as if from nowhere, their eggs pink.  When they hatched and grew, all were hens,  their clutches carefully hidden, each batch of chicks larger than the last. A little strange, a little alien. And then, at last, there were cockerels, too many and too large.  We decided to have one for dinner. The skin was pink under the red plumage which was quite a shock. A little alien. But cooked it was fine. Normal. And the flesh was white. But when carved the bones were pink, Disconcerting, more than a little alien. There are more of them now, growing ever larger. I think that soon the dinn...

  Thunder And Lightning As a child I loved them, the light and darkness at any time of day or night, the sky purple with anger, the lightening flashing and Roger’s mum   running up the street in terror of a thunderstorm, and seeking to get behind   the closed doors   of our house where she felt safe with my mom and me together. There we would spend the hours playing Ludo or Monopoly, Rummy or Newmarket, the four of us   together in our sanctuary.   Roger loved them too. https://stephdaich3.wixsite.com/phoenix-z-publishing/post/thunder-and-lighting-poetry-by-guest-author-lynn-white

  Un-Coloured Sadness leaches the colours from life. Even the bloodied black hole of death is bleached white. https://www.lastleavesmag.com/last-leaves-issues https://www.lastleavesmag.com/_files/ugd/dccfc8_a63fb400e0e94a54a1eba26321bafce1.pdf

  Summer Holidays We all holidayed   in Britain when I was a child and no one swam in the seas. The water was empty beyond it’s edge even on the warmest of days. Parents sat in deckchairs closely packed wearing overcoats for the wind and a newspaper hat in case of sun. Paddling was as adventurous as it got. Nothing wetter was allowed, nothing wetter was desired in that cold, cold water. Affluence and climate change changed our traditions. It was the costas for us now in clothes purpose made   for playing splash, for warm water swimming and stretching out to sun bathe on closely packed sun loungers. Then we’re back in Britain. Sent home by fear of infection and contamination carefully keeping our distance from each other as we scurry to British beaches only to be sent home again as travelling was not allowed nor was paddling   even though the sea is warm, nor was sun bathing, or beach games on the warm sands. Soon we’ll really feel the heat. We won’t go anywhere then....

 All That Glitter It glitters like gold. But is it gold or base metal being worked on by an alchemist.. undergoing transformation, perhaps with a touch of magic, with an elixir of immortality, an illusion. Or perhaps base oil transformed to sparkly plastic glitter with all too real immortality. Glittering, littering with everlasting life, all that glitter. https://www.thekolkataarts.online/2023/04/poemslynn-white.html

  Suffocated In this society of masks and miasmas we are allowing ourselves  to be suffocated with pillows of power and prejudice, hardly hidden, in the institutions we thought would protect us all. We have to do something. We know we must do something. So we put on our mask carefully to protect ourselves.  We know  we are all  George Floyd potentially later or sooner. And we know we are all his killers potentially later or sooner behind the mask. https://www.thekolkataarts.online/2023/04/poemslynn-white.html

  Midas Touch The sorcerers and scientists of past times experimented with their powders  dissolved them, fired them up in their laboratories. searching for the glows and gleams from base metal, the Midas touch that would create the riches of gold for them. They never found it. Now, the sorcerers and scientists have discovered how to dig deeper, scrape harder and stand by while we dig and scrape for them. And watch the gold flow, watch it pour like magic making wrinkles and scars suffocating our skin. https://www.thekolkataarts.online/2023/04/poemslynn-white.html

  https://www.motusaudax.com/2023/04/it-takes-all-kinds-issue-10.html

  Inappropriately Dressed I wasn’t dressed for snow, or clouds, or wind, or for walking at all, if I were honest. But sometimes you just have to give it a go and trudge through the clouds, kick up the snow in passing, challenge the wind with the size of your hat. It wouldn’t dare to blow it away, would it? Sometimes you just have to don your dark glasses and stride out to the sun, regardless of snow, or clouds, or clothes. Sometimes you just have to go. https://www.motusaudax.com/2023/04/it-takes-all-kinds-issue-10.html

  The Brighter Side In medieval Europe climate change brought chaos. The sun forgot to shine for 20 years the clouds forgot to leave the sky so the rain fell and fell and fell. Nothing grew except death   and disease for twenty years. And then the sun woke up and chased the clouds away but few were left to work the land. Wages rose. https://www.lulu.com/shop/jay-chakravarti/spring-offensive/paperback/product-w9drn4.html?page=1&pageSize=4