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, best of the Net 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/
A Not So Still Life
What a strange tableau, a still life still living in a dream. The birds flew over and looked down on it, but there was no place for them to hang out, to roost, to dream. So they didn’t care about the dust motes escaping into the sunlight floating like fairy dust getting themselves organised to follow their dream. Did they escape from the jar? Perhaps. Though the bull is wondering if they were ever inside and the birds don’t care as usual, hardly notice her dog emerging from the mist to inspect them. Unmistakably her dog just more amorphous than usual. It doesn’t look inclined to chase the motes or stick its head inside the loop they’re making. But the birds don’t care as usual.
Only Dream Harder
If you dream hard enough you’ll find castles in the air, or build them. If you dream hard enough you’ll find secret cities under the waves ruled over by a fishy king with his beady eye on you as you walk on by. If you dream hard enough you’ll find unicorns and ride them across the desert to discover lost oases hidden there amongst ancient cities once in ruins now recast in shimmering perfection by harsh sunlight. If you dreamer harder you’ll rise above the waves of sand which threaten to engulf you, float in the sunlight instead of being buried head first. It’s all possible if you only dream harder. First published in Event Horizon, Issue 6, November 2018
An Ordinary Moon
It’s an ordinary moon. Not special like a harvest moon or a blood moon or a pink moon in April. It’s not even full. It doesn’t have to be. The tides still obey it and when it shines through the clouds it lights me up. Is that ordinary that mystic moonlight? First published in Praxis, August 2020