Poetry - Lynn White

Giants It takes a giant to take hold of the sun and wrap it up like a lantern antler shaped, and hold it there shining gold. There were such giants once, so it is said. They would light the way of travellers, guide them through the darkness and shine a light for all of us, guide our way, so it is said. It is said that we killed them all. Even though it is difficult to kill a giant. We worked out ways to do it, worked out ways to kill them all. So now we just have only the sun and now it shines less than before. Now we have no giants to capture it and wrap it up like a lantern. Now we have no lantern to guide us through the darkness anymore. http://www.withpaintedwords.com/view_submission.php… http://www.withpaintedwords.com/view_submission.php?news_id=1245 Read Giants by Lynn White on www.withpaintedwords.com - home of Short Stories & Poetry WITHPAINTEDWORDS.COM Comments Write a comment...

As The River Flows The river flows by but doesn’t carry me with it as I sit solidly on the bank side watching my reflection fragmenting and reforming. It can’t carry away my reflection either, can only move it around, destroy and recreate it with a bit of a breaking backdrop which, on reflection tells me little about where I am, or who, or why. It leaves me behind. It always will, unless I enter and let it float me away. First published in New Reader Magazine, March 2018 https://www.newreadermagazine.com/download

The Circus of My Dreams In the circus of my dreams the unicorns are are prancing, rearing up, flashing their rainbowed hooves, pointing with their golden horns, with their unique golden horns. Then, ridden by Leprechauns, they’re dancing round and round the circle of the ring. Kicking up the gold dust ground from their droppings into shimmering sawdust. In the circus of my dreams there is a rainbow. A rainbow which has painted their hooves with it’s light as they climbed their way up and slid their way down to the crock of gold at the end. Time for the little people to dismount and mould the gold into hearts of love. Time for the unicorns to use the gold to nurture and replenish their golden horns, their unique golden horns. https://btwnthelines.com/ Between the Lines Publishing BLP's bookshop offers something for everyone. From an anthologies challenging traditional norms and stereotypes in folklore and literature to a cozy mystery with characters who will wra...

Snowman We rolled the snow to make a jolly body to the soundtrack of your cascade of laughter. And as we did, a couple walked by, she said “hello,” like her joy was blowing bubbles. She gave us a pipe to put in his mouth, but he could blow no bubbles from it, which was a shame. But with his jaunty hat and bright scarf he mirrored her joy and your laughter as he stood on his icy dais, before both of you melted away. http://breadcrumbsmag.com/

https://issuu.com/…/docs/scrittura_magazine_issue_11_spring_ https://issuu.com/scrittura_mag/docs/scrittura_magazine_issue_11_spring_

Night Light There are light spaces in the dark Places for light to shine through, for stars to dance, for neons to cast their artificial glow. Hidden places where glowworms call to their mates. And the infinite space where lightening cuts through the night time storm like glass and finds a home in some dark place and lights it up. http://voxpoetica.com/prompts/

Lost In The Ice The ice sheets came down little by little at first, layer upon layer, but relentless. That was the last time and there were no survivors to tell the story. The mysteries and secrets were buried, lost in the ice. No one stayed to describe the forests standing still clothed in silver spangles, dressed as if for Christmas, shining with sparkling baubles, or their last survivors in the whitened landscape, wearing their silver ball gowns ready for their final dance before they too joined the buried branches and bones the mysteries and secrets now covered over in new white sheets. Buried. Waiting to reveal themselves, to tell their stories when the ice receded, waiting, waiting, only to be washed away in the thaw. First published in Spider Mirror, January 2018 https://www.spidermirror.com/b…/poetry-2-poems-by-lynn-white