Poetry - Lynn White

  Clouded Vision I knew you were there, out here somewhere. I tried to find you but my vision clouded. With my head in the clouds I could only dream. Now I know I must let you go free. Free with the birds. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0C6N39SH8/ref=sr_1_1?crid=11IL5W0YCJD4J&keywords=fevers+of+the+mind+issue+6&qid=1685480129&sprefix=%2Caps%2C532&sr=8-1&fbclid=IwAR1jjJ3Vz1eIK4FXCgyHUj-ZTheVhCNtijyfkOhpAGJ9i1H7TTnMl6a5QXk

  The Eyes Of     The Storm What does the owl see when the lightning flashes light up the night sky with sheets of light horizontal flashes with vertical  floor to ceiling punctuation from heaven to earth. What does the owl see when lightning strikes through the hail and snow, the wind and the rain. What did the owl see when awestruck by lightning https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0C6BZRDY5?fbclid=IwAR3P8gB1Z4C-x6GAuu84OS7xSRXbp7kAd4LL7VswnmelI_vdZ-c5WTz87aU

  Nothing Is Quite Right I thought I would go to the beach today but when I got there nothing was quite right. It was too cold for bikinis  in spite of being August with bright summer light it was buttoned up winter there. So I thought a coffee would be good, or maybe warming hot chocolate, but the cafe was topsy turvy, had tipped over  on to it’s side and I couldn’t find a way to get in, a way to sit down and place my order. So I walked down the streets and wondered how long it would be before they became topsy turvy too. Or perhaps they’ll stay the right way up,  I couldn’t say. I tried to cross the bridge to reach the pink castle, but it had become the wrong shape  too steep  to walk over and I was disconcerted by the paper shapes  that were replacing the buildings. They looked pretty, I liked them, but they still weren’t quite right. Even later, when I woke up it still looked all wrong and nothing was ever quite right  again. https://www.amazo...

  Another Country Their move to north Wales didn’t go to plan. It was so different from the south of England and the house, bought in a phone call was not as she expected. There was so much she hadn’t been told over the phone, and so much more she had forgotten to ask. There were more leaks than expected, but she had expected a bathroom, however basic and even the old toilet outside   didn’t work. There was a lot to think of a lot to sort out in their new home in this new place,   in a new country where she knew no one. So, she could be forgiven   for forgetting to warn him. She picked him up eagerly after his first morning in school. “Was it good?“ she asked. “Were the other children nice, did you have fun?” “It was great, Mum,” he answered. She sighed with relief. Something had gone right. “There was one thing   that was really strange   though.” She looked up alarmed. “Oh no, what was that!?” “They all spoke French!” he said. https://www.lulu.com/shop/pu...

  That Was Us That was us who wandered through Europe without maps or money,  or sense of direction. Who got lost a lot,  but didn’t get raped or murdered.  So far as we can remember. Who charmed hoteliers into letting us stay for free.  Who got up early (too cold to sleep), and cleaned the kitchen and the floors of the hostel in Laumiere  for the first time in many years. Then sat on the stairs and said ‘No Pasaran’ to everyone, until it had dried, explaining carefully in languages we did not speak,  why this was necessary.  Who, with wide eyed innocence and impressively bad French  failed to understand the policemen’s demands, ‘Vos papiers, s’il vous plait, vos papiers!’ Until our new friends with the nice smiles and no papers had disappeared. ‘Vos papiers, s’il vous plait, vos papiers!’  Sod off!  That was us who swam off the rocks, with a man we’d met in a cafe, because he said we could. And swam and swam until two policemen cam...

  Through the Glass Alice saw herself in her looking glass and walked through into a topsy turvy world where everything was back to front and inside out. She drifted into a dreamscape of madness and unreality,  without breaking the glass. Uncut by the shards of her mirror  or the place she entered into. She had only to wake to make  things the right way round again. But walking through a clear glass, a transparent window, it would have been different. Her reflection would float  towards a place where everything  seemed the right way round. Where everything made sense and added up sweet with reason. A place without madness, which looked easy to enter and had no sharp edges. Apparently. But this glass forms an invisible barrier to the other side and the life that seduces and entices her. And to get through she has to break the glass, whose sharp edges cut her and propel her crazily into a place where she cannot wake. A jagged, topsy turvy place  where ev...

  Reflection Tell me, mirror,  which face do you see  behind the glass? Perhaps it’s a pale face unsullied by sun,  moist and unlined, a glowing reflection shining unbroken, unlined. But, let me scrape away the surface to reveal the clear glass in places, as if it were old, tarnished and distressed. Tell me mirror which face do you see now? Perhaps the face seems hazy, patchy like the glass as it reflects lines and textures, blotches  and blemishes. Well, as time has passed both have picked up some dirt in passing. Maybe it’s darker still  in places, in the deep places not usually seen Did the scraping away the glitter reveal the treasure and texture beneath or is the new reflection a distortion of reality. Tell me, mirror,  which face do you see? https://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2023/05/which-face-do-you-see.html