He Who Drowned The World
I used to see him lying there
stretched out atop the Moelwyn
in his favourite position
head on Mawr
feet on Bach
water pouring
from fingers
and toes
flooding the fields below
on its way to the sea.
Then one day I saw him leap
on to the top
of Nyth y Gigfran
right behind my house.
I watched him as he sat there
his face turned away
his water pouring
the back field
already flooded.
I think he would have to swim back.
But I have no way of knowing.
I will have drowned by then.
We will all have drowned.
First published in Brave and Reckless Feb 7 2024
It’s Only Make Believe?
The little cinema was packed,
even if fictional, films about the locality were rare.
And later, in the bar there was much discussion.
The shots of the sheep blocking the road were appreciated.
Well, our sheep were famous for their techniques of blockade.
This was no fiction.
There was insider knowledge here!
It was the mass action that was shown.
It brought the occupants out of their cars
to wave their arms and shout in angry frustration.
But the individual acts of defiance by escapees
were not shown.
This was considered regrettable.
It was felt the film should have acknowledged the action
of a single ewe lying nonchalantly chewing
on the tarmac while the cars stopped
and drivers moved rapidly from
“awww cute sheep” to louder and more frantic hooting
and then to arm waving and shouting outside,
There was no discrimination, after all.
Old cars, new cars, large cars, small,
the ewe would eyeball them all impassively.
Locals just drove round her.
But the main discussion centred on the two elderly sisters
who lived up the mountain.
They drove a very old car.
One of them had learned to drive in the War
and no one had thought to check if she still held a licence.
But, no matter,
she could still drive well enough
even though blind.
Her sister could see fine.
And even though she could not drive
she was adept at giving instructions.
Well, it was only fiction!
Or was it?
The audience doubted it.
All could almost remember these women,
or similar ones.
More insider knowledge was suspected
as they argued happily
about the identities of the eccentric drivers.
First published in Politics/Letters Live, Car Poems: A Collective Vehicle, Oct 2018
The Neighbourhood of Make-Believe
My grandma said I lived in a dreamworld.
But it was just a different neighbourhood
one where almost anything could happen,
one where almost anything could be found.
Even so I’d searched the rainbows for so long,
I’d given up hope of finding it
and then it happened!
It was sitting there
on the top shelf
in grandma’s kitchen,
in her own neighbourhood,
just waiting to be discovered.
It was hidden in a brown jug.
Such an ordinary
piece of crockery.
The perfect place
for my grandma
to hide her secret.
As I reached up to bring it down,
some of the contents spilled out
in a scatter of golden buttons
gleaming so much more brightly
than the foil wrapped chocolate ones
I was used to.
I felt guilty to have discovered it
before she shared her secret.
I knew she would share it.
She always did.
Perhaps their light would capture rainbows.
I would have a surprise for her then,
a secret to share
when she returned
to our neighbourhood.
First published in Mocking Owl Roost, 2024
Beauty
Once I was whole
a smooth skinned beauty
standing tall
in a palace garden
celebrated,
admired,
seen
with awe.
Then came the war
that destroyed it all
and stole me away,
carried me far
but not as far
as intended.
For then came the wave
that drowned me
and them,
broke me,
and them
and left me
alone
down
below
in that garden in the depth.
But I’m still beautiful
and still admired.
I have a home here
and now I give a home here
better than the garden of a palace.
First published in Philpot Challenge, Ekphrastic Review, August 23 2024
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 Pushcarts, Best of the Net and a Rhysling Award.
https://lynnwhitepoetry.blogspot.com and https://www.facebook.com/Lynn-White-Poetry-1603675983213077/
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