Poetry - Lynn White

  Samhain It’s the time when bonfires are lit when it’s easier to cross into another world when places are set at the table to welcome the dead,   to consume the witches so the evil in the world dies   in the heat and the smoke and the flames. But this Samhain in Gaza the evil is spreading in the smoke and ashes. Everywhere is aflame nowhere is safe and everyone is a witch, the old, the young and even the dead must burn. Gazans have become the new Nemeds having already given their corn and milk now they must give two thirds of their children and watch as they are consumed in the fire. It’s the custom after all. https://oddballmagazine.com/poem-by-lynn-white-17/

  Howling Wolf The howl of the wolf knows no curfew  for as long as the moonlight shines it’s a haunting hungry frenzy  of unearthly longing for restoration and respite from those who belong, from those who sleep  or feed snuffling quietly so as not to disturb, or draw attention to their night life. The howl of the wolf knows no curfew, it cries of anguish and loss a howling for home, the home he had before  he came here, an uneasy alien pleading,  longing, crying for a different moon, in another place, his place the place  where he is  complete, restored,  replete at rest at last. https://feversofthemind.com/2024/10/28/ekphrastic-wonder-art-challenge-from-lynn-white/?fbclid=IwY2xjawGMf4lleHRuA2FlbQIxMQABHcfOht8-4JjsaPY_t69vQyIREJ3OC8LXdoHf852EXX0J8xBWOcvO28aiBA_aem_-haTEVXE3VRl5kzki4v-cg

  Hey Joe Remember that you were once golden standing tall with dignity. Now the gold has darkened to sepia and dignity is dying. Sometimes the light shines through in flashes of the old gold when you remember but it’s less often now. Remember, nothing lasts forever so don’t be sad leave us now,   don’t be sad to leave us now we’ll remember   the gold, nothing lasts forever not even memory. https://www.unlikelystories.org/content/hey-joe-and-flagging-scotland

  Flagging Scotland Imagine a new flag for Scotland, a thistle soft purple   and prickly green growing on a background   of misted drizzly mountains. Imagine that new flag for Scotland I can almost feel those midges biting. https://www.unlikelystories.org/content/hey-joe-and-flagging-scotland

  Summer in Gaza In the rain of the rockets there’s no water. Metal rain. In the rain of the rockets there’s no sunshine. Smoke rain. Black rain. In the rain of the rockets there’s no life. Death rain. Life ending rain. Death without life rain. In the rain of the rockets there’s no hope. Deaf rain. Death rain Death refrain https://www.theskinnypoetryjournal.com/post/summer-in-gaza-by-lynn-white

  Jack It was a turnip long before it became a pumpkin, pumpkins weren’t grown here back then and, after our little party together I surely needed protection to keep the devil at bay. It had seemed a good idea to invite him for a drink and a good opportunity to part him from his cash. I thought robbing the devil would keep me in drinks all my life! But I was a fool, a mean and stingy fool now forbidden from both heaven and hell. And hell would have been kinder to me than this eternal wandering, my way lit only with a devilish lantern glowing grotesquely with my fool’s fire. So spare a kind thought for me on Halloween and let me close my eyes and sleep. https://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2024/10/cooler-weather-shorter-days.html

  https://twordsmithemagazin.wixsite.com/the-wordsmith-e-maga

  Parrots It was a large structure, metal and conical shaped perhaps an arbour awaiting it’s climbing plants or a cage for a very large bird.  It seemed empty  unless something was hiding in the undergrowth. I asked the woman sitting reading in the garden, “Do you have a parrot?” “I’ve got two”, she answered. I peered into the structure and looked at her questioningly. “Oh, they’re not there now, they’ve gone out. One’s round next door, don’t know where the other one is! When it’s a nice day they go for a wander” Well, it really was a beautiful day! https://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2024/10/rattling-cages.html

  Caged In Gaza She asked me why caged birds sang. I couldn’t tell her, not for sure. No mate will arrive this year, and no freedom will come. I wonder if they remember freedom, perhaps they still live in hope like us.  She asked me if they felt fear as we do when they heard the bombs falling. I couldn’t tell her,  not for sure. I wonder if they remember peace, Perhaps it will arrive this year, unlike last year. perhaps they still live in hope like us. She asked me if they knew they brought us comfort. “I think that’s why  they still sing, like us,” I said. https://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2024/10/rattling-cages.html

  Facade They were always sepia the old photographs and slightly misty, the technique not fully developed. But though sepia,  they seemed dark  and posed and staged, subjects unsmiling even the animals  sad and still. All were caged  in the strictness of the set and the strictness of the age when an upright facade hid the darkness behind where the sepia darkened and turned brown as primeval mud in a frightful ancient swamp. So much has changed. Now we have colours. Now we smile for the camera, it’s allowed. Even the animals look animated naturalistic free but it’s still a facade still hiding darkness in the background. https://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2024/10/rattling-cages.html