Poetry - Lynn White

  The Taste of War Peace is more   than the absence of war though that would be a start. But the dissolving of boundaries constructed by humans to cordon off one from the other must follow so there is no need to shout across the divide in our different languages. Only then can we whisper and hug our way to peace. What we have now still tastes like war to me. https://braveandrecklessblog.com/2022/01/11/the-taste-of-war-lynn-white/

  Home Fire They told us it wouldn’t be long but still we’re waiting for our boys and girls to come home. Waiting   still waiting no one knows how long the wait   for their return, especially not them. No one knows how long   we must keep it burning the fire in our home and hearts. If they never return it will burn the house down.

  Puff Of Smoke I remember the children’s party. There was a magician. I’d never seen a magician before. He waved a stick called a wand and a puff of blue smoke came out, like magic. And hidden in the smoke were flowers, real flowers showing through a gap in the smoke. Since then I have discovered that some people can usually find a gap in the smoke where the light shines through, like magic. Usually. https://uglywriters.com/2022/01/11/puff-of-smoke/?fbclid=IwAR2VIQ-smaavpZYhPUGa-Cg65fJqKckGTgTpOW4ej0VgFp6yF48jg_BErHA

  Rhubarb Rhubarb, rhubarb, rhubarb. So began the book of difficult fruit. No prompt was needed on stage or off. Only rhubarb. No one knew what was being said but it didn’t seem to matter when so much cannot be understood on the stage of life. So no matter the lack of clarity, in its essence. It was neither fish nor fowl, fruit or vegetable. No one could define it, but no one needed to in the book of difficult fruit all one needed to know from the beginning to the end, was rhubarb, rhubarb, rhubarb. https://braveandrecklessblog.com/2022/01/10/rhubarb-lynn-white/?fbclid=IwAR1qP3Rx9RIKBGFL0Q6sVMgpuqDLWSF1LljlJIbxsZGZ2oOlThnpPXJhPPk

  Gulliver's Wife It is not commonly known that Gulliver had a wife but she accompanied him on all his journeys and Lilliput was her favourite place. Swift never wrote about her. Perhaps he found her just to daring, even though she was careful   to be on her best behaviour and hide her painted nails in public places. When alone she didn’t care. She wiggled them with joy each time she took a bath. Only the Lilliputian sea creatures were invited to join her. She loved to watch them as they played in the water. Which came first, she wondered, the mermaid or the seal.   She tried to work it out. They told her it didn’t matter, was no importance. Having fun was what mattered, wiggling and jiggling in the water, size didn’t matter either. She could only agree. https://visualverse.org/submissions/gullivers-wife/

  Give Me A Hand Many of them offered to give me a hand to paint the town red. The background was to be in a different palette, darker, more sombre befitting these times. I asked them to wear gloves so that I could  preserve their memory like the long dried up palette, peeling their outer skin just like the gloves. And like the gloves, I hung them all out to dry. https://nevermorejournal.com/anthologies/anthology-ii/give-me-a-hand/

  Empty Space Has this space always been empty as I passed by tonight I wondered if anything had ever stood here. I’ve never noticed   it’s emptiness   before.