Stanzaic Stylings

Perchance A Dream 'To sleep perchance to dream'. Who said that? Sounds so gentle, but there's a rub, a rough edge to it. Not the long deathly sleep, though  but drifting away in night time slumber. It can take you anywhere. Take you to places you haven't been and may not want to go. Send you spinning, tumbling, raging, spiralling, crashing out of control to an indeterminate end, with demons and dragons as companions. Daytime dreaming is preferable, more gentle than it sounds fitted into a busy schedule. In wakeful dreams you can determine the beginning, at least, and invite the participants. Sometimes they may act out an old story with a predictable end, sometimes  they can drift into a new story and then the demons may join in your daytime dreaming as well, perchance. First published by Pilcrow and Dagger, Midsummer Night’s Dream Issue, June, 2015 Bio: Lynn White lives in north Wales. Her work is influenced by issues of social justice and events, places and people s...

On the Edge I’m standing on the edge, on the rim  of the perimeter, on the outside, looking.... I’m not sure where I’m looking, outwards over the horizon or inwards to the inner depth, the inside of something. The inner void or the outer space. Face or about face. But there’s no confusion. Both faces are the same, I think... Can somewhere be full of emptiness? First published in Calliope, June, 2015 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. Her poem 'A Rose For Gaza' was shortlisted for the Theatre Cloud 'War Poetry for Today' competition 2014. This and many other poems, have been widely published, in recent anthologies such as - ‘Alice In Wonderland’ by Silver Birch Press, ‘The Border Crossed Us’ from Vagabond Press and ‘Selfhood’ from Trancendence Zero - and journals such as A...

Dreams One day soon they'll try to dig up your dreams. You'll be dead by then, unable to protect them any more. They'll let you rest in peace, but not your dreams. They'll want them for sure, they'll want them. They'll want them to try and find you, to try and discover who you were. They'll dig them up, scrabbling amongst the dirt, seeing what they can find. Digging up the dirt to see what they can find  in there. They'll discard this piece here, another piece there. Dross from the dried up remnants, They'll hang on to the moist bits. The juicy bits are worth further analysis. You may be in there. In your dreams. Someone else will scrabble to catch  the dry pieces, those fragments of dreams thrown away. The little pieces blown away in the air. Little snippets, dreamlets. But there are flakes of gold hidden there. I hope they don't find them. First published in Anti-Heroin Chic, February 2016 Bio: Lynn White lives in north Wales. Her work is i...

Aftermath How can it be that someone I don't see,  only think  about sometimes, but never contact, or try to, leaves such a gap, in their final leaving. My life has not been changed. All is the same. So why the difference now that you're really in the past, when you were already part of my past and not of my future. Nothing has changed for me, not really, not in reality. So why do you occupy my thoughts in a different way. Why does my future feel different now you cannot be part of it, even though you never would be and I knew it. Perhaps because I can no longer dream you there. But why not when you could never be there and I knew it the same then,  as I know now. Why is it different, now even to dream? First published in With Painted Words, July 2015 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 ...