Lynn White lives in north Wales. Her work is influenced by issues of social justice and events, places and people she has known or imagined. She is especially interested in exploring the boundaries of dream, fantasy and reality and writes hoping to find an audience for her musings. She was shortlisted in the Theatre Cloud ‘War Poetry for Today’ competition and has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and a Rhysling Award. Her poetry has appeared in many publications including: Apogee, Firewords, Capsule Stories, Light Journal and So It Goes. Find Lynn at: https://lynnwhitepoetry.blogspot.com and https://www.facebook.com/Lynn-White-Poetry-1603675983213077/
Outside the night was filled with stars, a sky full of dead poets if van Gogh is to be believed. But he was inside now and all he remembered was the red curtain coming down over his eyes. Red first and then black. So black it turned everything black. They told him that he had died for a few seconds, or was it a few minutes. Then he was back looking out on the starry night. He wondered how long it took for a dead poet to become a star. Was a few seconds, or even a few minutes, sufficient. And now, now that he was back, was he still shining undead, living up there with all the dead poets. Unless the raising of the curtain put out his light.
Gleaming globes of gold, and scarlet and pink, the brightness of their colours masking the shadows within and the blackness at their heart. Too soon their coloured shapes will fly away like birds of paradise glistening in the sunlight, petals of paradise. But these are transient beauties already in their death throes as they soar, ready for the dusk to dull their colour. Ready to decay, to become dust, while their black hearts grow fat on what lies beneath, like the black crows that feast on the bright flesh of below them. Surviving to live another day. Surviving to make seed for another year. First published in Event Horizon, Issue 2, December 2017
Snowflakes lit by sunbeams blowing gently, fragile as shadows making rainbows in the sun. Smiling in the soft light. So soft. So soft. Catch them quickly in your hair to melt them while the sun is still shining and smiling. For only as long as it falls, can the snow renew them when they melt away.