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Lynn White

The Hunger Of War


They’re piling up

or splayed out

on streets

body after body



or ill advisedly


in haste

and heroism

their meat is needed

to feed the hunger.


It’s piling up

the rubble of lives

in flames


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.

Lynn White was born in Sheffield in 1945 and now lives in north Wales. Her poetry 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. She has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize, Best of the Net and a Rhysling Award. Find Lynn at: and



When can we count the dead in Gaza,

their dead are just a number,

a vague number, 

if that.

In Ukraine we know the numbers,

precise, not vague,

in Israel we know the numbers,

precise, not vague.

Soon we’ll know the names.

But no need to count the dead in this war

on women and their children

born or unborn.


How can we count the injured in Gaza.

No one knows the number,

no one  can count those numbers

when there are no hospitals left.


Now the starved and starving 

have joined them,

the bags of baby bones

the unaccounted numbers

of intentional famine

in Gaza.


A Class Act


Post war Britain

laid out

for you.

Straight streets,

curving crescents,

row upon row

planning perfection

public and private


orderly amenities


within a walk

all catered for

everyone housed.


And there was class,


of course

and all were working.


Those were the days


of full employment

and garden estates


climate change


twenty minute cities.

bedroom tax
Sheriff Stars

thistles stretch their prickly arms afar

Black Triangle
Disrupt and Upset

Militant Thistles

prickling the politics of "permanent austerity"

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