Three Poems by Lynn White

 

Temptation

 

She was flattered,

flattered by his power and passion

as she watched him

master the currents and swim across

guided by her light

every night of that long hot summer.

 

He brought her flowers,

sweet smelling oleanders.

She knew they’d been culled

from her garden

but his audacity amused her

and so she gave in to temptation 

and invited him in

every night during that long hot summer.

 

But later their ardour cooled.

He found the water too cold

and she found him too cold.

So she turned out her light.

It no longer shone for him

and he knew it.

But on the night of the storm

he thought he saw it again

and so, tempted and mis-guided

by the fairy lights

he braved the cold tempest.

 

She mourned his loss

thinking that to join him in death 

would be her final temptation.

but then she turned away

and cut all the oleander flowers.

 

They would join him in the water,

and be a fitting memorial 

not her, 

no, not her.

 

 

Underworld

 

The book belonged to my cousin.

A relic of her childhood

it was thick and heavy.

Greek legends,

she told me,

myths and fantasies,

gods and goddesses,

not quite fairy stories

and not many pictures,

not enough to interest me,

the eight year old me, 

so we both thought.

 

But then it fell open

and so entranced me

that I was afraid

to look

at the dark

fearsome picture,

the god of the underworld,

a king and his queen 

both dark as night.

 

I closed it quickly,

then opened it

just as quickly

again and again.

I did this each time I visited

just to feel the pleasure of the fear.

 

She gave it to me eventually,

sacrificed her book to my fear

which wore away 

with familiarity.

 

But the book remained,

so did the underworld

and it's dark god.

 

 

First published in Cajun Mutt Press, February 9 2022

 

 

The Empty House

 

It fascinated us as children,

the empty house in the countryside

where we walked the neighbour’s dog.

Why was it empty?

Who had lived there?

We imagined secret passages

leading to priest holes,

walled up dead bodies

and buried treasure.

No one knew.

But we knew

that the dog was reluctant to go near

and we had heard that dogs were sensitive

to the spirit world.

So we knew

it was haunted.

That ghosts lived there,

spirits of the past.

We dared each other to enter

through the broken window.

Maybe we broke it first,

but I don’t remember that.

In the end we all went in,

leaving the dog outside.

But there was nothing.

Just a house.

Empty.

Ordinary.

Not spooky.

Just empty.

I passed it today,

all these years later.

There’s no entering now.

Police tapes surround it.

Maybe the dog knew

that the ghosts were of the future,

not the past.

 

Secret Passages, Pilcrow and Danger, July 2018

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 has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize, Best of the Net and a Rhysling Award. Her poetry has appeared in many publications including: Consequence Journal, Firewords, Capsule Stories, Gyroscope Review, Blue Pepper, Arachne Press and So It Goes. 

https://lynnwhitepoetry.blogspot.com and https://www.facebook.com/Lynn-White-Poetry-1603675983213077/