Monday 16 May 2022

Three Poems by Lynn White




They’re following me,

like black vultures circling.

They’re shrouded in winter’s mist 

almost as dark as the shrouds

they wear to cover themselves,

to cloak themselves for their journey.

Shrouds like dusty abayas

once black, now

uniformly grey,






Only their mouths still red

like vultures feasting

on death


stained by this final feast.

The feast of what was left

of the harvest.

And now there will be


nothing any more.






One tank drew the crowd

down in the museum’s aquarium.

It was not the tank with pike

gawping threateningly,

teeth bared ready 

for an audience.


though there was a monstrous pike in it,

swimming with its mouth wide open, 

in wonder at its strange environment.


it’s not often that a pike gets to swim

in a drawing room

furnished from times past.

It was a crowd puller, 

though still not enough

to satisfy such an audience

the pike reflected 

as it considered the strangeness 

of its un-fish-like companion:

the young girl costume-dressed 

to match the drawing room,

standing there dreamlike—

or maybe drugged— 

steadying herself

with the chair.

Perhaps earlier she was seated

when the water was lower.

But now she has to stand.

The water is already

up to her waist

and rising slowly.

The audience gets larger,

their eyes bulging fishlike

as they gawp at the spectacle.


It’s almost supper-time.

So it goes.



Off With His Hair


“Off with his hair!” Cried the Red Queen.

“I don’t think that’s quite right,” said Alice.

“It should surely be, off with his head”.

The Red Queen’s frown deepened.

She didn’t make mistakes.

It was a well known fact.

Never the less…

She shouted to Jack 

who was reclining lazily as usual.

“Which is correct, hair or head?”

“Well, you are quite right, of course

as everyone knows.

But consider..

As all strength flows from hair to head,

Cutting off his hair may make it unnecessary

to cut off his head

even though all around are losing theirs.”

“Of course”, cried the Red Queen.

“Off with his hair!”

“They’re as mad as hatters” thought Alice.

But she didn’t say so,

Just in case an unfortunate judgement was made.

One couldn’t be too careful in a mad world.



First published in Blognostics, April/May 2019

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. 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, Gyroscope Review and So It Goes. Find Lynn at: and

No comments:

Post a Comment

Five Poems by Richard Levine

    Blinded     There are thoughts I keep mostly to myself,   the way day and night mind their own business.       Would it surprise you to ...