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

Where Are They Now

In 1967 I hitch-hiked to Belgrade.
My friend and I would take an over-night train
to stay with our Albanian friends
in what is now Kosovo.
Until then we had some hours to kill.

The local cafe culture called
and we ate a modest meal,
two great slabs 
of the ubiquitous cheese puff pastry
washed down with colas.

We went to the counter to pay
but the Server refused our money.
He pointed to a table where some guys
were enjoying a few beers.
They had already paid, he said.

We were mystified.
They had made no contact with us
and we tried to tell them we could not accept.
They explained that
they wished to thank us
for the help Britain had given in WW2.

Fast forward to 1999 
when the right to self determination was all the rage.
and NATO bombs were falling on Belgrade.
I thought about them a lot back then.
I think of them now 
when territorial integrity is all the rage
and the right to self determination
a forgotten dream.

Yes, I think of them now
when the bombs 
fall in Europe
once again.

But I still have my friend in Kosovo. 
Sometimes we feel human,
sometimes not.


First published in Topical PoetryMarch 2022

Stripping Off

They started carefully
gently teasing out small pieces
so not to damage what lay beneath.
It was seductive work
like a striptease
or a cut piece
a revelation
little by little.
Later on though,
they became blasé
tearing off longer strips
wanting a speedier exposure.

Thus the damage was done.

And one deep scar revealed 
another layer beneath.
So they began again, 
carefully at first
then scraping 
and ripping 
off strips
in their haste for exposure.
But still the wall refused
to give up its secrets.
Still the wall refused 
to reveal all.


First published in Cajun Mutt Press, June 10, 2020