Poetry - Lynn White

  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. https://f...

  The Last Word On The Last Bird It’s almost done. We’re close to the end the too wet too dry too bright too hot bitter empty end If I could turn back time I’d see flocks of birds flying into the sunset migrating  as they did for millennia. I’d see the too loud gulls swooping and diving in raucous frenzy  to fill the sea and the sky. Now there’s just one. I’ve nothing more to say. https://fourfeatherspress.blogspot.com/2025/10/42-poets-and-artists-have-been.html?fbclid=IwY2xjawNqy-xleHRuA2FlbQIxMQABHnYW4CeYdiQMNmwaS7UfGAGv6I2GoO_4tUjiNS2eC2JwMQ7cDU7vmSuVRAQK_aem_KB43WkjQ0L3Odb2rDGZCrg

  Too Darn Hot Once we were able to shield our eyes from the occasional brightness but the sun has grown angry and too bright for our eyes.  It’s turning our dreams into sand and raging so fiercely that it threatens  to bring Africa  to us, to all of us everywhere it’s too hot now, too darn hot. https://fourfeatherspress.blogspot.com/2025/10/42-poets-and-artists-have-been.html?fbclid=IwY2xjawNqy-xleHRuA2FlbQIxMQABHnYW4CeYdiQMNmwaS7UfGAGv6I2GoO_4tUjiNS2eC2JwMQ7cDU7vmSuVRAQK_aem_KB43WkjQ0L3Odb2rDGZCrg

  The Spider’s Solace She tries to square the circles of a world in chaos. She weaves her threads preying to bring some solace and order, some colour and pleasure when the light shines through. It’s all she can do. https://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2025/10/listen-to-heron.html

  The Eyes Of   The Storm What does the owl see when the lightening flashes light up the night sky with sheets of light horizontal flashes with vertical   floor to ceiling punctuation from heaven to earth. What does the owl see when lightening strikes. What did the owl see when awestruck by lightening. https://stortellerpoetryreview.blogspot.com/2025/10/super-sized-series_0322883787.html

  On The Day Of The Dead At last the party is over. Friends and family are gone, long gone in some cases, though with us in spirit earlier. Now I’m the only one left still dancing all alone until the ravens came to join me bringing with them more guests, not only the souls of the dead but the souls of those we had taken care to exclude. They’re with me now, the souls of the damned ready to join in the dance. And they won’t let me leave. https://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2025/10/the-devil-it-is.html

  Samhain It’s the time when bonfires are lit when it’s easier to cross into another world when places are set at the table to welcome the dead,  to consume the witches so the evil in the world dies  in the heat and the smoke and the flames. But this Samhain in Gaza the evil is spreading in the smoke and ashes. Everywhere is aflame nowhere is safe and everyone is a witch, the old, the young and even the dead must burn. Gazans have become the new Nemeds having already given their corn and milk now they must give two thirds of their children and watch as they are consumed in the fire. It’s the custom after all.