Poetry - Lynn White

  Coming Together It was your idea to take shelter here, warm and dry you said and we could have a drink until the rain stopped. So we did. It was fun. But still the rain kept falling so we played a game took turns two at a time   placing one hand above, one hand below pushing each other away so we could create space for us to come together that first time. And still the rain fell so we stayed a while longer. It was fun. We didn’t notice that the others had left. We didn’t notice that the rain had stopped. It still makes us smile together. https://uglywriters.com/2024/06/14/coming-together/?utm_source=ReviveOldPost&utm_medium=social&utm_campaign=ReviveOldPost&fbclid=IwY2xjawFnfnpleHRuA2FlbQIxMQABHXFeWFXW9FXYZrSGCDYkVsy1A6bVdvos1_9DGcHMYcLpqCY15d3wekXFfg_aem_6B4wWwaGIZY3Wcv1vbLl1w

We Should Have Known We thought we would last forever but nothing lasts forever. Only change is eternal. Night always follows day blocking out the light into eternity. We should have known. https://dsmag.in/the-magazine-pages/poems/

Passed As each day ends I tick it off on my calendar. Finished! Done! Gone! Lost! But days some remain intact to be pictured  even heard almost re-lived as my memories. If only  I could choose  the ones to remember, open a window and look through, revisit those days and throw away the rest. But I can ’ t. They’re self selecting, those memories of passed days ebbing and flowing outside my control. https://dsmag.in/the-magazine-pages/poems/

  Sandcastles She’s standing on the beach with a small suitcase. It’s unclear if the suitcase is full   or empty. Once she packed it full   of her dreams,   but it’s unclear if any remain. She thinks now that they were built on sand, sandcastles on the beach to be carried away on a storm tide, or washed up   and buried   in the sand. All that is clear is the emptiness   of a long horizon. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CPWDP39F/

  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DHZXJDK7?fbclid=IwY2xjawFkmpJleHRuA2FlbQIxMAABHbCiUtAfDxvItY__LaqVkaG3wGIAHV1Mi8piln8PKDUrvXU9ziiE3j4Y_g_aem_Jq5TrYAfjv2qRBiEEiZETg Rosebush Many offered a hand to set me free. I told them to wear gloves and to beware of the thorns hidden amongst the blooms, ready to penetrate their skin, but no one heeded my warning, they were enchanted by the fragrance, bewitched by the beauty, the pastel pink delicacy of petals pleading to be picked and blind to the thorns   ready to pierce ready to strike, thorns as hidden as the worms, the maggoty munchers now metamorphosing   into manifestations   of    new growth, hands ungloved and unmarked elegantly enticing them   to join me in the dark   unsettling heart.

  Corner Shop The Gould’s had the corner shop opposite the church. You could buy anything there, at a price. Row upon row of tinned goods, sliced ham and spam at double the price. You could buy anything there any time, even on Sundays, especially on Sundays, when the queue snaked outside. It was a gold mine, everyone said so. They sold everything there at double the price always without a smile. https://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2024/09/skeletons-in-woods.html

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  Charming the Snake I was all dressed up and ready to go! The spiny snake had seemed a great idea, it fitted my pricklier than a hedgehog mood when I hired it yesterday. I imagined myself slithering  round the drinkers, the canapé eaters and the dancers, snapping at their ankles. I imagined their surprise and how I would laugh! I hadn’t reckoned on the musician, the piper who played me, played my tune so I danced to his and then we danced together. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DHXT4854/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&dib_tag=se&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.gB6sX24pRejVQlNU_yTmjYywHe41_14F1rofi5b6R_zGjHj071QN20LucGBJIEps.P0NM51OP5x6zmNWHHSphkDoBTqB-16wcMPcENDoAim8&qid=1727363985&sr=8-1

  Stuff It’s easy for me. Even though I’ve planned it and psyched myself up, when I walk into the shop   and see rail upon rail of stuff it overwhelms me, I can’t be bothered to look, can’t be bothered to sort through it all. It takes only seconds for me to realise that my jacket, or jeans, or coat, or shirt are good for a few more years. It’s harder for those who shop as a hobby, who get a buzz like a shot of tequila from the pleasure of buying new, especially when it’s so cheap, but we’re drowning in it all the stuff. It’s squeezing us out of our homes, filling up our land stifling our oceans, burning up our planet with it’s non stop production and speedy conversion to rubbish. It’s those little things and some people just don’t buy it! https://www.amazon.co.uk/How-Save-World-Compassiviste-Anthology-ebook/dp/B0DFZL5MZJ/ref=sr_1_3?crid=3VQGNWF6HSG0&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.h2K84MScBr9F-JP5LM1h2Ybv-RU4bCmsBg8PC5zsgfdZ7H0m9eqrPuljpkux0SDy.MvvC0jUXTcpGLCWRGQJXd9e0Dr5t5QKt94g3sfzoUiY...

  On A Sunny Sunday It was a sunny Sunday, a perfect day. So he dressed them in their Sunday best and they went to the park to play on the swings and roundabouts. My father. My half brother and sister on a sunny Sunday. They were surprised to meet her as they walked home. They were surprised to see that she was carrying a suitcase. They were surprised when she said goodbye. They didn’t believe it   so they went home to their new council house to wait. She never came back. It had not been a happy home. She could be violent. But it was their home. She never came back. So they moved to his parents where they were   only grudgingly accepted. It was not a happy move but it was the best he could do. Sometimes on a sunny Sunday she would leave the hospital, escape in search of her family. But they never found each other again. https://stortellerpoetryreview.blogspot.com/2024/09/storyteller-of-week.html