Poetry - Lynn White

https://magiquepublishing.wordpress.com/darkly-beautiful/  

  The Bitter Shadows The shadows fall as summer dies and fall rises damp wood crawling in decay bitter berries bright glowing gloomily as flowers rot   away impermanent as seasons. https://feversofthemind.com/2024/10/30/baudelaire-challenge-poems-from-lynn-white/?fbclid=IwY2xjawGQMiZleHRuA2FlbQIxMQABHctjLGhJJ1qdQuEzXgO_-vLzyH2Al5uQtHmbBzv-Zm6TQGqcTnJMqOxkNg_aem_zkpBr8t0GR5nAy7Nnij9Fg

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. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DL69YRSJ?fbclid=IwY2xjawGO3YBleHRuA2FlbQIxMAABHQFghluLmtZZDoUnFsnND_BKLINye6O8sDbHCFXp0TlprS2F_7CVhSFzNA_aem_QJnXB7KAVAjeJwOa0dIo0w

  Resurrection In search of a saviour they look to the father to forgive their sins. But what of the sins of the fathers passing down the family line waiting for resurrection. Who will forgive those sins? http://www.athinsliceofanxiety.com/2024/10/poetry-selections-from-lynn-white.html

  Dancer I’d expected the aching muscles and the sore, deformed feet, expected  that the applause would numb them and hide them away temporarily. But the expectations  of the well dressed and well connected lurking in the back stage shadows waiting to transport dreaming feet into a nightmare. They were unexpected. They were the low points, the bass line when the music played. http://www.athinsliceofanxiety.com/2024/10/poetry-selections-from-lynn-white.html

Keeping Up Appearances I’ve always been somewhat vain always creamed and combed, groomed and preened and wanted to look my best, not a hair out of place. Is such vanity sinful? Maybe it is. But vanity was not my crime. My crime was committed on the day the hair escaped. Just one hair  out of place. But they saw it. That was the crime I died for. http://www.athinsliceofanxiety.com/2024/10/poetry-selections-from-lynn-white.html

Life After Death Something has startled me  where I thought I was safest, where I thought I belonged, so I will follow Whitman in avoiding the still woods I loved and the fields where I used to walk. I won’t emerge from my home  to meet my friends in the open spaces, or hug them and share a coffee,  there are no cafes anymore, in any case. Even the ground has sickened. The men in white suits spray disinfectant  over streets and beaches to stem its diseased flow. But still I’m alive to the sounds of spring rising from the decay and death of winter. Still I’m alive to the prospect of summer when the fertilised ground shows the life that death has bestowed on it and blooms. http://www.athinsliceofanxiety.com/2024/10/poetry-selections-from-lynn-white.html

  Beauty Parlour Step inside my parlour, my pampering parlour and you will be remade,  reborn, stroked  and smoothed, petted and prodded, cosseted and curled, given the attention you deserve as well as a new face and shiny new hair. In Pampers Parlour we’ll recreate you reboot your confidence and give you a new chemistry as we gloss your hair and lips. As we shape your face with new shadows and glows. As we apply layer upon layer of chemical shit topped by nose retching fragrances. You won’t know yourself when  you step outside  dolled up to perfection, protected in your new mask. And what then? Will you go home  and comb it all out and wash it all off, preferring,  after all,  the person, with the old skin and fresh air colour to the new robotic doll. The pampers product is  designed to be disposable,  after all. Or will you keep it  as long as you can.. Try not to move your new face. Try not to upset your new hair. Place a ‘Do Not...

  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/