Lynn White

Trois poèmes


Sirens Call


I wanted to know her.

With her silken hair

hanging past her waist,

yes, I do believe she 

was sitting on it

and it was everything 

that mine was not.

It hung straight down,

Straight as a dye, 

not in the crinkly waves 

and corkscrews

that were the bane

of my life. 

And where did she find the lippy

to make those bright red lips

while sitting there on a rock

in the middle of nowhere.


They told me that she was a siren

who would lead me into temptation.

I told them that I would take a chance.


Come On In


“Come on in the water’s lovely”

they called out to me 

with their arms outstretched

and the sweetest of smiles.

And I was tempted for sure,

their smiles were as entrancing as sirens

but their arms waving a welcome

reminded me of spiders

with their stretched out legs

waiting to pounce

in this watery web,

or the tentacles of sea anemones

whirling and waving

while awaiting their prey.


Come on in the water’s lovely




The word echoes through my head

enticing me

for sure,

entrapping me


I’ll soon find out.


The Lady In Red


She called her the ‘Lady in Red’

Seen only in winter walking near the trees

she emerged from the mists and muted colours

so vibrant

so colourful

so elegant,

so they said.

Should I believe them?

Could I believe them?

I hid in the trees

and waited


I think I saw her.

I don’t think she saw me,

except maybe

as a figment of her imagination

or a face hanging out in her dream.


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 has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and a Rhysling Award. Bienvenue au Danse, Lynn.