Rosebush
By
Lynn White
Many offered a hand to set me free.
I told them to wear gloves
and to beware of the thorns
hidden amongst the blooms,
ready to penetrate their skin,
but no one heeded my warning,
they were enchanted
by the fragrance,
bewitched by the beauty,
the pastel pink delicacy
of petals pleading to be picked
and blind to the thorns
ready to pierce
ready to strike,
thorns as hidden as the worms,
the maggoty munchers
now metamorphosing
into manifestations
of new growth,
hands
ungloved
and unmarked
elegantly enticing them
to join me in the dark
unsettling heart.
First published in Eccentric Orbits 5, Summer 2024
The Breathing Days
In the days when I still breathed air,
the days before
living took my breath away,
the days before
I knew my soul was there.
I thought about this time,
this time of no light,
the forever night time
with no breath, no air
to breathe.
Just dust and darkness.
And I pondered.
Would there be slow decay
or fast.
Stillness or movement.
Now I know.
I know everything about
the dust and darkness.
But I can't tell you.
Not now
in these days
of no breath,
no air
to speak.
Only my soul can speak.
Who can forgive me
my past trespasses
who will hear me?
First published in Fragments of Chiaroscuro, Summer 2016
Holiday
Even Death needs to take a break sometime.
Needs to sit on the beach in the sun
with his scythe hidden,
so as not to frighten the swimmers.
Well,
everything about Death has to be hidden.
There can be no exposure
beyond a few inches of face and hands,
hardly more than a woman in a burka.
Yes,
everything has to be hidden,
so as not to frighten the swimmers
ready
for when the holiday is over.
First published in Scryptic, June 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. https://lynnwhitepoetry.blogspot.com and https://www.facebook.com/Lynn-White-Poetry-1603675983213077/
By
Lynn White
Many offered a hand to set me free.
I told them to wear gloves
and to beware of the thorns
hidden amongst the blooms,
ready to penetrate their skin,
but no one heeded my warning,
they were enchanted
by the fragrance,
bewitched by the beauty,
the pastel pink delicacy
of petals pleading to be picked
and blind to the thorns
ready to pierce
ready to strike,
thorns as hidden as the worms,
the maggoty munchers
now metamorphosing
into manifestations
of new growth,
hands
ungloved
and unmarked
elegantly enticing them
to join me in the dark
unsettling heart.
First published in Eccentric Orbits 5, Summer 2024
The Breathing Days
In the days when I still breathed air,
the days before
living took my breath away,
the days before
I knew my soul was there.
I thought about this time,
this time of no light,
the forever night time
with no breath, no air
to breathe.
Just dust and darkness.
And I pondered.
Would there be slow decay
or fast.
Stillness or movement.
Now I know.
I know everything about
the dust and darkness.
But I can't tell you.
Not now
in these days
of no breath,
no air
to speak.
Only my soul can speak.
Who can forgive me
my past trespasses
who will hear me?
First published in Fragments of Chiaroscuro, Summer 2016
Holiday
Even Death needs to take a break sometime.
Needs to sit on the beach in the sun
with his scythe hidden,
so as not to frighten the swimmers.
Well,
everything about Death has to be hidden.
There can be no exposure
beyond a few inches of face and hands,
hardly more than a woman in a burka.
Yes,
everything has to be hidden,
so as not to frighten the swimmers
ready
for when the holiday is over.
First published in Scryptic, June 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. https://lynnwhitepoetry.blogspot.com and https://www.facebook.com/Lynn-White-Poetry-1603675983213077/