Poetry - Lynn White

I was Always Afraid Of Rabbits “I was always afraid of rabbits” said the purple dragon. I knew it to be true. I’d known him for a long time, long before I became a witch and took to the water to watch over him. It’s the white ones he fears most and they are mostly white ones down here. He won’t eat them. He used to eat fish but now he is afraid to eat them now he’s seen them eating the rabbits. They’ve eaten the fur off this one, but he believes it was white and believing is seeing after all. The fish have eaten everything except for the head and eyes the most fearsome parts for the purple dragon. It’s found him now, he pushes it away in panic but it won’t go, it won’t go. It’s covering his face, taking it over and getting ready for the rest. It won’t go, not unless I can grasp it, and hold it peel it off take it away, then bewitch them both. http://withpaintedwords.com/view_submission.php?news_id=1307 @  www.withpaintedwords.com  - home of Short Stories ...

The Grey Men It was an ordinary outing to the cinema for the little girl and her mother. But first, the Pathe News showing a large meeting - “the United nations”, her mother said. A fat, bald mad was shouting angrily. Then he took off his shoe and banged it on the table. Next came a shot of the listening faces. Grey men - well the film was black and white, but she thought they would be grey even in Technicolor. They were frozen speechless with shock. “What’s it all about?” she asked her mother. It seemed he was angry because  of  some perceived injustice or hypocrisy. It sounded reasonable to the little girl. “But it just isn’t done”, said her mother. “you just can’t do that. Not there. Not in such a place”. “But he did do that”, said the little girl. And she thought of the shocked expressions on the faces of the faceless grey men and thought: “I would do that”. She pictured them again and thought: “I will do that” and I think she did. The gr...

Gloria I called the doll Gloria. I no longer know why. My father bought her for me on a trip to the seaside, on my first trip to the seaside. I was bored with the endless sand and the cold grey sea and with the effort of pretending to enjoy myself on my expensive treat, at the seaside. We went to a toyshop after and my father bought me the doll. I called her Gloria. I no longer no why. Perhaps it was the name he suggested. Or maybe my mother suggested it when I couldn’t decide. I don’t remember. But I remember the doll. She had real hair that I could comb. But it turned out to be plastic, nylon, I think. And after I had combed it a few times, the whole lot came off leaving her bald. Yes without her wig she was completely bald, my Gloria. http://www.quailbellmagazine.com/…/poem-gloria-by-lynn-white

Next Time It was a hard landing but I’m all in one piece and maybe, I’ll have fallen on my feet and be able to try again, to make it an opportunity to build something better when I step in from the cold. Are you coming with me? https://the13alphabet.wordpress.com/…/the-2nd-issue-of-bon…/ About This Website THE13ALPHABET.WORDPRESS.COM The 2nd Issue of BONSAI JOURNAL: Read It Here Welcome to the Second issue of BONSAI journal (a part of The 13 Alphabet Magazine), an online magazine dedicated to the creative. Featuring creatives in the fields of literature & arts. And to …

The Old Curiosities Shop “Curiouser and curiouser”, cried Alice as she rummaged through the remnants of other people’s lives, now offered for sale, to become part of another person’s life. “Curiouser and curiouser”, she said holding up two fat schoolboy salt and pepper pots. “They look like real characters, I shall name them Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dumber, for now.” She searched in vain for a looking glass to see if she could walk through it. She had heard this was sometimes a curious possibility. But among the objects in a large shiny bag, she did find a set of playing cards with a fearsome looking Queen of Hearts. “I could write a good story about her”, she thought. She found the butler with his empty tray somewhat unsatisfactory. So she removed the tray and hung a tape measure round his neck and put a thimble on his finger. Now he could measure his former master for a new suit, she thought. She was pleased with the transformation and thought that maybe it was now time t...

Good Thick Darkness The darkness enfolds me like a cloak, a good thick winter one with a deep velvety pile warm and comforting matching it’s shape to mine, the good thick darkness. It was blue before, then blue black turning purple purple black before the good thick blackness came the good thick blackness that I need to wrap me, the good thick blackness that I like. And I know that all too soon it will be broken penetrated, first by the harsh, pinpoint lights of stars glittery things pointlessly breaking up my dark and then as the day breaks through splitting it open cutting it blue, the blue day breaking like a knife opening up a wound ripping through my comfort, my darkness. Not thick enough at all. https://visualverse.org/submissions/good-thick-darkness/

Photo Opportunity I watched the man crossing the path underneath the cascade of the waterfall. It had been part of the route wine was carried from the high lands, to be sold on the coast. Back in the old days, that was. But the old days weren’t very long ago. He seemed confident as he placed a foot carefully in each of the footholds hacked into the precipitous rock face. He gripped the thick metal hawser attached to the rock with strong metal rings. Gripped it firmly and proceeded slowly one step at a time. I had a camera and I thought that it was a picture he would like to have when he was dry and safe back on terra firma. Then I thought, suppose he falls, falls into the waves, to be smashed against the rocks far below. I didn’t want to have such a picture, a picture of someone’s last moments and I thought, to take it may jinx his journey and even cause him to fall. So I never took the picture. But it made no difference. The man fell anyway. First published in Bold + Italic, ...