Help Me Over
Help me. Help me over. Help me cross. I can see the sky framed by debris, by rocks, by wire, by dereliction. Framed by sharpness and impenetrable barriers. I want to see it clear, clear and unblemished creamy white and pink and blue. Help me see it. Help me over. Help me cross. I want want to see it framed by trees, I want to see the rocks become flowers again. Help me. Help me over. Help me cross to the place where the birds are singing breaking up the sky with flight. Does it still exist, this place? I must think so. Help me find it. Help me. Help me over. Help me cross *First published in Armageddon Issue, Pilcrow and Dagger, February 2017 Nightmare The sun is standing still for them Standing still for the streams of dreamers. Dreamers streaming down the roads to somewhere else. From somewhere that has become nowhere destroyed by the money men, the vultures who feed on their misery. Dreaming of escape. Dreaming of a future, any future. Dreaming of better things to come. Dreaming of the life they once had. Dreaming, dreaming, dreaming. Dreaming of returning when the sun comes up again, hoping it shows more than the vultures that follow them circling overhead waiting patiently for those left in a nightmare. *First published in Free Verse Revolution, August 2020 The Hunger of War They’re piling up or splayed out on streets body after body civilians unarmed or ill advisedly armed in haste and heroism their meat is needed to feed the hunger. It’s piling up the rubble of lives in flames fed by weapons and more weapons the tears of the displaced are not enough to douse them so they leave, when they can, a low priority as there’s no meat on them the women, children and elderly. But the meaty men must stay to fight like soldiers to the death and be spat out with screaming shells and fear. And their screams die with them as victory comes closer it is said day after day it is said as the leaders scream “no surrender” victory will be theirs when the hunger is sated. More weapons more bodies more lives in flames to feed the insatiable hunger of war. Bio: 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/
Fevers of the Mind 
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