Poetry - Lynn White

  Dreamscape Soon the light will be fading and the crows are circling like winged messengers, a cawing cacophony,   harbingers of death   and confusion. We try to make sense   of our once familiar place searching in vain for the water which we know we must find and cross. Searching for something,   anything to give us a bearing, to help us find the river in this dreamscape of another world. But perhaps   we have already crossed over. https://books2read.com/TRQP-DREAM-2

  Unzipped Closed   up tight focused   seeing straight ahead into the dark black. Closed. Unzip, unbutton, loosen up   see the blue behind. Unzip unbutton loosen up. You can see it now if you look. You can feel   the brightness that lay hidden. Unzip unbutton   expose reveal all. You’ll feel better for it. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CCZXJH89?fbclid=IwAR1gWOmIvYCJz8-NbiQMiqxxx0PJxwfqLhC1j_b5Rw16y6kVYnrEP4bpDNQ

  Waiting For Rainbows Hardly a moment ago the sun was shining and we were singing our summertime welcome. Life was good and getting better. The future looked bright as the sky. Now the dark clouds have appeared and brought drizzly rain. So the music must stop and we must take shelter as best we can to wait for the rainbows. Wait for the sun to bring us rainbows. and hope   that the darkness will not last forever. https://mindfulphoenixreview.weebly.com/volumes.html

  When The Tide Turns We will wait for the tide to turn. It will carry us away wave after wave gathering up the debris  which surrounds us sucking it up like so much dust everything going with the flow. https://mindfulphoenixreview.weebly.com/volumes.html

  Ginger Beer Back in the day he was famous   for his hash cakes with ginger bread. Stoned was an overrated condition, it needed spicing up a bit, he said. Too many turgid conversations and drowsy dancing. Ginger’s the thing, he said. to liven things up. Later he got into home brew. Try some of this, he said offering a beery mug full. Well, I thought I’d be a mug not to have a go, no worries, no stress, everything natural, everything herbal suitable for vegans, only the best, best by the mugful, he said. Mugwort and ginger, the best of the best. https://www.amazon.com/Herbs-Spices-Flavorful-Poetry-Anthology/dp/B0CCCQZC2P/ref=sr_1_1?crid=2K3FB63MTYHUW&keywords=herbs+and+spices+poetry&qid=1690366027&s=books&sprefix=herbs+and+spices+poetry%2Cstripbooks%2C106&sr=1-1

  Marguerites I cut the marguerites from the garden and placed them in a vase. They stood there twisting and turning this way and that. I placed my glass carefully well out of range of their gold dust filled heads I spoke to them sternly, “don’t you dare drop your pollen in my wine!” They seemed to hang their heads in contemplation except for one. She turned her dainty daisy head with great deliberation and nodded so that a shower of bright yellow pollen floated like sprinkled gold onto my red wine. It left a bitter taste. https://poetrywivenhoe.org/new-poems-now/

  Mellow Yellow I’ve never been mad about saffron, or turmeric, come to that and the colour yellow doesn’t suit me, makes me look strangely   washed out, or so I think. I like the colour though, love daffodils and buttercups, even dandelions, so I could celebrate them by wearing it concealed. But no one would know if they couldn’t see so I don’t do that. Instead it graces my kitchen walls. There it’s timeless, part of the kitchen in every place I’ve lived from back then to eternity. https://www.pikerpress.com/article.php?aID=9781

  James It was still his favourite toy, that robot with the flashing eyes, a birthday present when he was only five. He called it James, he couldn’t say why. He didn’t know a James so he was pleased to be original. There was a lever called a joystick because it brought him joy and gave him perfect control. Back and forth, round in circles, blinking and winking away. He called all the shots. Now he’s grown up, almost nine and James is feeling his age (yes, of course he can feel) so his movements are slower and his lights less bright and sparkly. Age has undermined his splendour, it happens, he knew it would. The joystick is a bit wonky so control is imperfect but it doesn’t matter, the joy is the same. James is still James and will be forever. https://spillwords.com/james/

  Playthings It’s the need to possess that baffles me, the need to own   objects of no decorative or use value, objects destined to become   encumbrances sooner or later, passive playthings out of their time moved on into a time when even the box, it’s wrapping and ribbons fails to excite creativity. Playthings   destined to become   encumbrances sooner or later. Ever sooner as time moves on. https://backwardstrajectory.com/2023/07/16/playthings/

  Motherly Love I have spent a lifetime   trying to break away, trying to break out,   trying to find myself. Always on the edge, always on the outside, not quite a part, of it, not quite   a beatnik, or a mod,   hippy, or   punk. I was early to realise that what she wanted me to be was what she had wanted   for herself, about her, not me. I wanted to escape such love. I thought I could escape. I thought I had escaped. And I did, surely I did escape some   of it. But not all. Not enough. So even now I feel tethered. After all this time of leaving her behind,   I remain   unsure of my   own. https://feversofthemind.com/2023/07/15/now-available-the-poetica-sisterhood-of-sylvia-anne-print-kindle-with-links/?fbclid=IwAR0Fcb8ichDwDKlzLQOmIvHSEqYIi71CunbA0dlO9yDhsSRTigTYR_960gg