Poetry - Lynn White

  Fizzing Sometimes  I long for those childhood days When the sun shone everyday and lemonade was kitchen made from lemons and sugar  and tap water, refreshment without fizz scooped from a bowl not poured from a plastic bottle filled with gas and tightly sealed filled with artificial flavours to bring a hint of lemon to the sweet fizz. Oh yes, take me back to those lemonade days of my childhood. https://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2024/04/lemonade-days.html

  Me And Five Pears There ’ s something about the shape of this fruit about the way it makes the light reflect  the colours from yellow to green and from pink to red. The green ones were my first choice. Green turning to brown  with yellow and gold highlights. I thought I liked them best. But in the end it was the brightness of the red that won me over, convinced me of its perfection  for incorporation  into my painting. I chose them carefully  and arranged them in a dish spilling them out onto the table top. Then I threw away the dish and held them myself. I struck a pose. Look! https://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2024/04/lemonade-days.html

  Strange Fruit “If this is justice I’m a banana,” I remember this being said and I liked the sound of it humour and pathos  combined incongruously. So sometimes I used those words to express how I was feeling in various situations. But strangely the oddness, and incongruity of the expression impressed no one. So I moved on to express myself with different words,  forgot about it, until now when the sight of a banana hanging singly by it’s stem on a hook not made for the purpose (how could it be?), made me realise that the banana, a fruit with no juice and usually no seeds, is always incongruous always out of place wherever it appears. https://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2024/04/lemonade-days.html

  Wild Fruit I like the wild berries best. Juice spilling over. Bursting, staining my tongue purple or my lips red. Each one a new sensation. A little harder to come by, than the bland clones, the cultivars. A bit more of a struggle. And, it must be said, not always sweet. One never knows with these wild fruits. With each taste comes a surprise. Spit out the sour, take in the sweet. Such joy! Oh yes! the wild berries are the best. https://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2024/04/lemonade-days.html

  What a lovely sign of Spring is a field yellow with dandelion flowers.  On  Day 508  of the daily new poems our poet  Lynn White  clocks a field of sunshine … Dandelion clocks The field was yellow with dandelion flowers only a week ago. A field of sunshine. I caught it at that moment, a moment in time. And now the moment has passed, clocked off, has become a field of clocks which can’t tell what time it is. Only that the yellow sunshine was fragile, as fragile as a dandelion clock. Only that time has passed leaving only clocks that will soon be wished  away in the wind.               https://poetrywivenhoe.org/todays-poem/

  Quicksilver Always on the move, darting here, dipping there, blowing hot, blowing cold, mercurial as quicksilver dispensing woe or joy in clouds of dust, fairy dust, falling like starlight and landing somewhere. I’m just the messenger, she said, I don’t get to choose, gold or silver, coal or shale, it’s just dust blowing in the wind and landing somewhere, I don’t get to choose, she said. But I wonder. http://www.theworldofmyth.com/