Poetry - Lynn White

  The Expert Shot I’m an expert shot. I can hit a child’s head   every time when I’m following orders and sometimes when I’m not. I’m an expert shot. I can hit a surgeon’s hand every time when I’m following orders and sometimes when I’m not. I’m an expert shot. I can hit a young man’s balls every time when I’m following orders and sometimes when I’m not. I’m an expert shot. I can hit a footballer’s foot every time when I’m following orders and sometimes when I’m not. I can do other things as well when I’m ordered and even when I’m not. This is Gaza.  https://ourpoetryarchive.blogspot.com/2026/11/lynn-white.html

  Performance Art He’s the last man standing. And whether comedian or statesman performance is all for the last man standing. Standing in the rubble of the city. Standing on the bodies of the dead heroes, those lions led by donkeys once again. No more laughter, no more tears, the final curtain came down on them. Hollow victory or glorious defeat it’s all the same to them. But the last man still stands, the star of the show temporarily. https://ourpoetryarchive.blogspot.com/2026/11/lynn-white.html

  God Given   If such a creature didn’t exist we’d have to invent it for sure. Whether Zeus or Allah, Jehovah or any of the rest, all fulfil the same   purpose. All create a framework   of behaviour, the laws of god which must be obeyed without argument, without thinking, without due process. All create a framework of rights. Some have them, others don’t. They’re god given so no argument, no thinking, needed. And all need a territory, a god given territory from the beginning of time and for evermore No argument, no thinking, god given.  https://ourpoetryarchive.blogspot.com/2026/11/lynn-white.html

  Victory No matter how hard they think it would be to get that kind of blood off their hands and clothes, they know that they should try.   But the killing has been so tiring they just want to sleep now and then it should be time to stand tall and proud ready to return victorious again. https://ourpoetryarchive.blogspot.com/2026/11/lynn-white.html

Now and Then Now the clouds are pressing down making everything grey, everything misty.  It’s impossible to discern which way people are facing. It looks like everyone is facing both ways, so it is impossible to know who to follow, impossible to know which path to take, which is the good and which is bad. Then, in the old days it was all so clear. This was the way. These were the good guys, the brave guys with the guns, sending out their scouts  from the circled wagons of peaceful pioneers in search of a better life in the vast empty land. Protecting them from  the bad guys, the savages, the cowardly braves with the bows and arrows  and scalping knives. It didn’t always go to plan. But the cavalry usually arrived just in time. And the good guys  always won in the end. Didn’t they? https://ourpoetryarchive.blogspot.com/2026/11/lynn-white.html

  Opening The Door I drew up the blinds and looked out to where the daylight, exposed all   before me. I slid the bolt open and unlocked the door. I hesitated but I knew it was time to leave this room to leave this place to leave the shadows   to put aside my doubts to open the door and leave my fears behind me. https://www.thewiseowl.art/lynn-white

    Shaken Not Stirred These people here, those people there. What do they know. What do they care. What will touch their little lives, to move them, shake them, disarrange them. What will pinch them, wake them, make them   sit up, stop their begging doglike, cringing. I don't know   what it will take to shake them up, to make them fizz and pop out of their straight jacket.  https://www.verse-virtual.org/2026/November/white-lynn-2026-november.asp?p=39&n=41