Poetry - Lynn White

  Teacher Teacher We had a new teacher, a student still in college. He read us a long poem. I listened carefully trying to make sense of it. I thought it was funny. Was it meant to be funny? or was it the laughter of derision to what sounded like nonsense. Laughter seemed allowed and that was unusual. School was not a place for fun with it’s pointless rules, swiftly forgotten facts, and boredom. Boredom when thoughts would flood beyond their control. Maybe the poem was nonsense but I loved the imagery and the colours of the words. I wondered if 'pea green' was the colour of mushy peas from the chip shop, or was it those in pods fresh from the garden. I thought that nothing was clear, except our good fortune as I watched the wall crumble and was glad. https://latinosenglishedition.blog/2026/09/23/poems-about-school-by-lynn-white/

  Dr Green Bows Out We called her Flo, our formidable headmistress   who insisted on every girl achieving her own personal best. Competition was discouraged and no class positions were given, only individual achievement was celebrated and pupils were randomly selected for the Houses which were named after female achievers, Cavell, Darling, Nightingale, Marvell and Fry. Streaming was unheard of.   She was so far ahead of her time we’re still waiting for our time to catch up. She believed that women should step out   and be true to themselves always so ‘narrow’ skirts were frowned on as restricting our freedom. Black stockings were also forbidden, however fashionable. She remembered the campaigns against them back in her day when they were obligatory and unfashionable. I would have been leading, she told me so I should not wear them. She ended her days in a Care Home where she reclined in a hammock   and sipped her sherry as she swung. I would have expected nothin...

They Would Say That In confidence, they saw no plagiarism, only honest and reasonable citation errors in a still valid thesis. But they would say that, wouldn’t they? Deny deny deny, otherwise (crossing race and gender boundaries) the whole house may fall as others are checked and check-mated. Then there’s course work. Plagiarism doesn’t start at Doctoral level.   Plagiarism is a well learned,   well practiced technique, (in confidence) unchecked so widespread crossing race and gender boundaries (in confidence) Deny deny   deny. So, in confidence, none is found, nothing seen to be plagiarised, but, they would say that, wouldn’t they? https://latinosenglishedition.blog/2026/09/23/poems-about-school-by-lynn-white/

  Freire And Illich Are Dead No more need for free-schooling,   deschooling,   conviviality or purpose, Freire and Illich are dead. No need for anti-bullying   strategies, family therapy, strategies against exclusions voluntary or enforced. No need for Play Therapy or Adolescent Therapeutic Centres, they are as dead as Freire and Illich. The solution is as sharp and clear as the banning of blades for sale. No knives, no stabbings. And almost cost free, free as words are free. Just stay out of the kitchen. https://latinosenglishedition.blog/2026/09/23/poems-about-school-by-lynn-white/

  Miss Pass My first best friend was Susan. We were inseparable. Soon we would be starting school. Starting at the same school. It shouldn’t be a problem. But Susan was three months older and this was a problem. She must start earlier and we would be parted. Unthinkable!! Such concern from our parents. But all was well. It wouldn’t be a problem. And all thanks to Miss Pass, the headmistress, a wonderful woman who understood the feelings   of small children. We could start together and in the same class. She was a shining example   to teachers everywhere. We knew it as we hung our coats on pegs next to each other in the cloakroom. But a few days later   when we had settled in, disaster struck. We were to be in different classes. Such tears and trauma as we hugged and kissed and said goodbye at our pegs in the cloakroom each morning and afternoon. And all because of Miss Pass, the headmistress, a stupid woman who had no idea about the feelings of small children and sho...

  Orion’s Belt Orion is back.   He’s hunting again, his sword sharpened, his belt tightened. The animals insects   birds fish are all falling. And this time Gaia thinks not even the scorpion will survive. But she still has some hope   and pins it on the cockroach as she loosens his belt again.  https://carminamagazine.com/issues-main/2026/issues/sept-2026/orions-belt.html

  Frog She looked into the pond where the frog, sitting on a lily pad looked back at her alert   its eyes meeting hers. She remembered the story about a frog, how it became a prince when kissed. She thought of the sleeping beauty and how she awoke to the kiss of a prince. So, it seemed that kisses and princes must have some connection. The frog was very still. She thought it may be   still enough to kiss but she couldn’t quite reach though she tried and tried and tried while the frog stayed there still waiting.   And then it spoke. “I’m no prince,” it said. “But I’ll come closer, I’d still like a kiss.” https://carminamagazine.com/issues-main/2026/issues/sept-2026/frog.html

  Words Words Words I’ve been walking through myself everyday a different life I said I must stop and I will I will stop but my words             words my words are spilling                  out and nobody understands them and I can’t find myself in them. Oh for a draft of Dublin and I’ll walk through it                drink its words                           every step and then I’ll stop                     found I will I will stop still now      with so many words to be coffined       with me                 words my words     dying to be understood. https://mosstrill.wordpress.com/2026/09/22/lynn-white/