Poetry - Lynn White

  Burning Up The sun has risen and it’s burning, burning up   everything. And I’m raising my arms to worship or plead. Not sure which. Praise or prayer, perhaps they’re the same. That’s my thought for the day. Quite profound, I think, for the day when I’m sure I’ll be going home. What do you think? Are we of the same mind? Great minds thinking alike again. Come, it’s time to go. Hold my hand.

    Sunny The sun is burning melting away falling   full   of blown glass leaving   the earth alone   to shine alone.

  Africa Is Everywhere The factories closed for two weeks each summer and it was off to the seaside then! They would head for the beach and hire a deck chair there were no sun-beds back in those days and there they would sit on shell laden sands, the women in cotton frocks   and the men in grey flannels, sandals with socks and a sleeves rolled up, open necked shirt, there were no tee shirts back then and shorts were too daring for the over twenties. And most likely it was too cool in any case. The sun could be bright though so the women had a straw hat ready, but this was too exotic   and extravagant for the men, newspaper fashioned into a sailing boat shape was de rigour for them. And so one way or another   eyes were shielded from the occasional brightness. Nowadays the sun has grown angry, too bright for our eyes. It rages fiercely threatening all in its view. Africa is everywhere now and soon sun-beds will be out of fashion. It’s too hot now, too darn hot.

  Art Class In Miranda’s Art Class it didn’t take long for all the skeletons to emerge from their corners and cupboards. We let them join in posing   or painting   always revealing it all. https://publicreverie.com/three-poems-on-art-by-lynn-white/

  The Lost Leaves The trees are bare where the leaves have fallen somewhere. Not there. Not here where the ground grieves for all its lost leaves as the dance goes on. https://inalove.world/2026/06/17/the-lost-leaves/

    The Funeral of Bosco Jones Over twenty years ago Bosco Jones died after a long and purposeful life. His children, (long departed from their roots), returned. “Don’t worry, Mum”, they said, “we’ll see to everything. We’ll make all the necessary arrangements.” They arranged a splendid funeral with a vicar and hymns and flowers. A lot of people went, for Bosco had made an impact during his life. They left the doors open so that all those outside could hear And join in the proceedings. There was nice churchy music and an atmosphere of peace and serenity. The vicar began the service with a lot of talk of God and Mrs Jones stopped crying. She started to look around her and take in the proceedings. She seemed somewhat agitated and alarmed. Then she stood up and shouted at the vicar, shaking her fist, “I’m having none of this!” she cried, “My Bosco didn’t believe in all this claptrap and nonsense!” Some people cheered in agreement and she sat down again. The vicar, a dedicated pro...

  Stardust I saw stardust   in your eyes. I caught it, breathed it in and felt its magic transform me, light me up, give me wings   release my spirit. I exhaled   to give something back and watched as your beard turned white, I watched   as the paper grew blank. My portrait was no more. I was no more, blown away flown away into blankness. https://books2read.com/TRQP-Balm-3

  Ruined The tides had turned and the Man in the Moon   was bleeding, dissolving withering away as he melted down. He cried out to   Father Time hiding there on Earth but there was no help to be had There was no time for it, no hope left only deaf ears and everything in ruins. https://books2read.com/TRQP-Balm-3

  Cycle I felt such bright energy flowing I couldn’t wait to move with it and be transplanted and reborn at the time when all of nature was recreating itself and starting afresh, I too would feel the new buds open bursting and shooting into a new life. I would open up my blowsy petals   and let my heart show through pulsing, exuberant, ready to turn towards the summer sun, not believing it would destroy my bloom, make my petals fade and fall when the shock of the new wore off and the fresh green shoots grew brown, preparing for the season of wrinkles which always follows. I am only one part of nature’s cycle where nothing will change, except that summer will have gone, winter will surely follow fall and spring will be a long way away. https://www.thegsj.com/current-issue-spring-2026.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://rochfordstreetreview.com/2026/06/15/lynn-white-words-words-words-bloomsday-supplement-2026/