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/

Midas Touch

The sorcerers and scientists
of past times
experimented with their powders 
dissolved them,
fired them up
in their laboratories.
searching for the glows and gleams
from base metal,
the Midas touch
that would create the riches of gold
for them.
They never found it.
Now, the sorcerers and scientists
have discovered how
to dig deeper,
scrape harder
and stand by while
we dig and scrape for them.
And watch the gold flow,
watch it pour
like magic
making wrinkles and scars
suffocating our skin.


**First published in Visual Verse, June 2018

Monsters

It’s the monsters who come out of the light
that are the most fearsome,
but those that sneak up from the dark
are the ones we fear the most,
even though they’re smaller,
and often as afraid as we are.
That’s why they
hide and sneak
in the dark places.
The ones hiding in the sunlight
are the more difficult to see
and the most monstrous.
They lie in wait
blending in
and waiting, 
waiting to pounce
and destroy 
destroy
us all
to destroy
all.

** First published in Sirens Call eZine 43, February 2019

Spread The Words

Words of love, words of hate,
the conjoined twins of freedom.
Spread the word.
Psst… have you heard… pass it on..
Chinese whispers spreading
truth and lies,
the conjoined twins of freedom 
in the age of misinformation.
They’re spewing out of mouths
clacking and clicking
in the scrabble
to be free.
Wave after wave
crashing
breaking up
washing up.
A tsunami
of words.

I’m drowning.



**First published in Pine Cone Review, Issue 2 Pandemic Section, Summer 2021