Poetry - Lynn White

  Quicksilver Always on the move, darting here, dipping there, blowing hot, blowing cold, mercurial as quicksilver dispensing woe or joy in clouds of dust, fairy dust, falling like starlight and landing somewhere. I’m just the messenger, she said, I don’t get to choose, gold or silver, coal or shale, it’s just dust blowing in the wind and landing somewhere, I don’t get to choose, she said. But I wonder. http://www.theworldofmyth.com/

  Red Car The abandoned car stood on the waste ground, rusting away, doors hanging off, leather seats ripped. The children played there on warm summer days but I was not allowed. The place was dangerous and the children were rough. It was the first time I had ever been in a car. I sat behind the wheel to drive it making engine noises like a bus. It was a black car. In those days all cars were black. Any colour you like, so long as it’s black. I thought that a red one would have been nicer. https://ephemeralelegies.com/2024/04/22/red-car-by-lynn-white/?c=6809#comment-6809

Still Counting When can we count the dead in Gaza, where dead or living the people don’t count. Those buried in named graves we know but those buried in the rubble are unknown uncounted. In Israel where people count, we know the numbers, and the the names. But this is no war of equals so no need to count the dead in Gaza. In this war on women and their children how can we count the injured in Gaza. No one knows the number, no one can count the numbers when there are no hospitals left and its people don’t count. Now the starved and starving   have joined them, the bags of baby bones the unaccounted numbers of intentional famine in Gaza where still no one counts. https://oddballmagazine.com/poem-by-lynn-white-15/

  Being And Nothingness If all the world is a stage then nothing is happening in this theatre of the absurd. Nothingness is being played out now the gods have lost control of the merry go round and freedom reigns in a world   where gods are meaningless as Santa in summer or stars in the sea. They have walk on parts   to give the audience a laugh but nothing to say anymore. Meaninglessness raises a laugh. They can’t work it out so it must be funny surely. Otherwise what remains but to look around the stalls and the circle and the gods to see   what that company of actors, that company of strangers make of it. They’re looking at each other searching for something to make sense   of what’s happening on stage, of what’s happening in life now the merry go round has stopped turning and there is no meaning, no purpose anymore. https://edgeofhumanity.com/2024/04/21/being-and-nothingness/

  The Ache Of My Bones Time moved so slowly then used to take forever,   an eternity from birthday to birthday, Christmas to Christmas. My bones filled with longing for it to speed up a bit and ready itself   for the long summers of memory when it quickened   quick, quick, quicker. I felt it in my bones as time and me   sped seasonally and painlessly towards a autumnal slowdown readying for a long slow winter. And now in my slow time, it’s quickening again   quick, quick, quicker I can feel it in my bones in the ache of my bones   which tells me to go slow, slow, slower this time everything has slowed except time. https://hereticsloversmadmen.com/2024/04/20/the-ache-of-my-bones-lynn-white/

  Do You Remember Do you remember when the future stretched endlessly ahead, when the older looked forward  to a contented retirement and the younger to all the joys of life and living. Now the mists are down swamping everyone  in a gloomy miasma and the future is closing in moving closer and closer, a cell-like structure of mutating cells. https://4fprememberwhen.blogspot.com/2024/04/lynn-white.html