Taking Flight
—Poetry by Lynn White, Blaenau Ffestiniog,
North Wales
—Photos by Katy Brown, Davis, CA
ALL OF A FLUTTER
Here I come
all of a flutter,
a flapping frenzy of feathers
determined to find a space
in the cooing crowd.
A space that fits me.
A space befitting
a bird of a feather.
And now I’m ready,
red legged and pigeon toed ready
to strut my stuff with the rest.
We’ll take those tasty tourist titbits
with a bow here,
and a coo there.
We’re their strutting stars
shining iridescently
making their day
until our finale
when we rise
up as one,
all of a flutter,
a flapping fluttering frenzy
ready for the next audience.
Here I come
all of a flutter,
a flapping frenzy of feathers
determined to find a space
in the cooing crowd.
A space that fits me.
A space befitting
a bird of a feather.
And now I’m ready,
red legged and pigeon toed ready
to strut my stuff with the rest.
We’ll take those tasty tourist titbits
with a bow here,
and a coo there.
We’re their strutting stars
shining iridescently
making their day
until our finale
when we rise
up as one,
all of a flutter,
a flapping fluttering frenzy
ready for the next audience.
(prev. pub. in Blognostics, 2018)
COCOONED
Sometimes the finest of threads
can be the stickiest,
the hardest
to escape
from.
Sometimes the silkiest of threads
can hold the fastest,
can surround you
and engulf
you.
Sometimes the most beautiful of threads
are woven into a tight web
from which there
is no means of
escape.
So you stay,
trapped
by what was once beautiful
and now forms a prison,
a cocoon
seemingly comfortable.
but ready to eat you up
in the end.
Just ask the spider
and the fly.
(prev. pub. in Scrittura Magazine, 2018)
DUMBING DOWN
Words have power.
The generals know it.
The dictators know it.
Know they must stop the flow
of words.
Arrest it.
Arrest the poets,
the singers and songwriters,
the graffiti artists, the comedians,
the speakers and shouters.
Make them dumb.
Words have power.
So we must swallow them
in fear
as they rob us of our culture.
As they make us dumb.
Dumbed down.
Dumb.
(prev. pub. in Vagabonds, Weasel Press, 2018)
LOST IN THE ICE
The ice sheets came down
little by little at first,
layer upon layer,
but relentless.
That was the last time and
there were no survivors
to tell the story.
The mysteries
and secrets
were buried,
lost in the ice.
No one stayed to describe the forests
standing still
clothed
in silver spangles,
dressed as if for Christmas,
shining with sparkling baubles,
or their last survivors in the whitened landscape,
wearing their silver ball gowns
ready for their final dance
before they too
joined the
buried
branches
and bones
the mysteries
and secrets
now covered over in new white sheets.
Buried.
Waiting
to reveal themselves,
to tell their stories
when the ice receded,
waiting,
waiting,
only
to be washed away
in the thaw.
(prev. pub. in Spider Mirror, 2018)
The ice sheets came down
little by little at first,
layer upon layer,
but relentless.
That was the last time and
there were no survivors
to tell the story.
The mysteries
and secrets
were buried,
lost in the ice.
No one stayed to describe the forests
standing still
clothed
in silver spangles,
dressed as if for Christmas,
shining with sparkling baubles,
or their last survivors in the whitened landscape,
wearing their silver ball gowns
ready for their final dance
before they too
joined the
buried
branches
and bones
the mysteries
and secrets
now covered over in new white sheets.
Buried.
Waiting
to reveal themselves,
to tell their stories
when the ice receded,
waiting,
waiting,
only
to be washed away
in the thaw.
(prev. pub. in Spider Mirror, 2018)
FREE FALL
I was on the way up,
full of can-do confidence.
Fearless.
In control.
Now I’m falling.
I’m in free fall.
Still in control,
but barely.
I stretch out my arms
wishing for wings
to help me up,
help me soar again.
I’m still in control,
but barely,
knowing that below
there’ll be nothing.
Nothing
that will
break
my fall.
(prev. pub. in Event Horizon, 2017)
___________________
Today’s LittleNip:
Faith is the bird that feels the light when the dawn is still dark.
—Rabindranath Tagore
___________________
Our thanks and welcome back to Lynn White, another of our pals from Wales, and to local poet/photographer pal Katy Brown!
There will be an open mic tonight at the TooGood Cellars in Placerville; click UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS at the top of this column for details about this and other future readings in the NorCal area.
___________________
—Medusa
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