Poetry - Lynn White

  Blowing In The Wind It was a windy day in a windy city a long time ago. A sudden flurry made me into the vortex and I was surrounded by sheets of paper caught up and blown from a doorway. When it had settled,   I collected a few. They were letters applying for jobs dated about fifty years ago, I forget exactly when. All were hand written   in the most beautiful cursive scripts. I could visualise the care with which nibs had been dipped in ink, the concentration in the touch of pen to paper. These were the stuff of unknown dreams. The names are long forgotten now but I wonder what became of them, those ghosts of a past who touched my life in a flurry of wind only to be blown away. https://stephdaich3.wixsite.com/phoenix-z-publishing/post/blowing-in-the-wind-poetry-by-guest-author-lynn-white

             Lay Me Down Lay me down  in the tall meadow grass and I’ll lay there deep in your arms. Lie with me there in the sun ripening flowers where the blue of the sky hides the clouds. Lay me down there beneath darkening skies and hold me close to your heart. And lying there deep with our love complete we’ll sleep covered over in stars. But the future lies with us heavy and dark. It has bitter sweet memories of now. With the tastes of the past buried deep in our love the tastes of the future are sharp. So lay me down deep in the tall meadow grass and I’ll lay with you deep in my arms. Lie with me here in the sun ripened flowers where the blue of the sky meets the clouds. https://feversofthemind.com/2024/08/27/fevers-of-the-mind-first-poetry-art-writing-challenge-inspired-by-fleetwood-macs-rumours-album/ Reply Forward Add reaction

  Dreams For Sale I sold them all when feeling  bored and lost on a rainy day. I‘d wondered what they  were worth those dreams on that rainy day. But the price was right. So I sold them all, those dreams  we shared on sunny days. I’m dreaming  new dreams now and the sun is shining now. https://feversofthemind.com/2024/08/27/fevers-of-the-mind-first-poetry-art-writing-challenge-inspired-by-fleetwood-macs-rumours-album/

  Nothing In those streets of men and boys, in that country  for men and boys, she feels like a person with no face, her face space covered, her identity occupied by a swirling mist of confusion like nothingness being born. Sometimes  she wishes for a blank space that she could fill herself with a Magritte apple or even a woman even herself un-blanked and visible. Now, in those streets of men and boys, in that country  for men and boys, she feels like a person with no voice, Magritte’s apple is choking her, muting her so even in her home she whispers her songs and curses. Only in her head does she shout that something will come of nothing, that something must come of nothing. https://www.abc.net.au/news/ 2024-08-27/taliban-bans- womens-voices-faces-in-public- afghanistan-un/104273178

  Scream Do you scream in colour or are your screams muted  monochromes flat and featureless, or stark black and white. No grey. No doubt. Are your eyes prisms to reflect the colour and l et it enter, or are you afraid, afraid to set it free to make a kaleidoscope of shades and tones in terrifying colour  which scream out to me. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DF7ZFDST?fbclid=IwY2xjawE7uJZleHRuA2FlbQIxMAABHQPUWyqF55KOTil5ALrQMHnrxhSd6Py2f83aCu3K_WgiQoTVYWpg1FSEsQ_aem_HPb9gcg90zL8ZA2LXYJDVQ

  Things That They Say They say that goldfish have no memory but those in my pond  would be waiting open mouthed when I approached. Now since I re-homed their friends they hide from me, But still they say  and believe it. And they must believe our memory is less than their goldfish though they don’t say it. They say that our vote can change everything for the better, that our votes will bring                                   homes                                   hospitals                                   happiness. That’s what they say That’s what they always say. They say that their side is good that the other is evil, that their weapons will bring                                  peace                                 whenever                                 and wherever.  That’s what they say. That’s what they always say. They say many things that only those with a memory  stretching back as far as yesterday could believe. The rest of us remember their past  sayings and doings. E

  Then And Now Once we were free               somewhere else                         or so they say. Then we were slaves               somewhere closer                        or so they say. Then we were freed                somewhere near                        or so they say. And now, what are we now                here? And what am I now a young woman                here? I don’t feel free                here                      whatever they’re saying now. I listen out for them still but now                       they have nothing to say for me                here                       me, a woman of colour. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DF7ZFDST?fbclid=IwY2xjawE7tmlleHRuA2FlbQIxMAABHQPUWyqF55KOTil5ALrQMHnrxhSd6Py2f83aCu3K_WgiQoTVYWpg1FSEsQ_aem_HPb9gcg90zL8ZA2LXYJDVQ