Above It All and Other Poems by Lynn White

Still Shining

A Ponder Savant regular, Lynn White, has impeccable poems to shower over us on this lovely Friday! If you haven’t seen her work before, now is a great time to rectify that and see what you’ve been missing!

Above It All


I need to be out of the fray,

above the drama

and the darkness,

look down on it all,

be part of the scarlet sky

and the jagged skyline.


I will climb so high

that I’ll have no way back,

no wish to go back

only to stay

above it all.

First published in Visual Verse, April 2018

Joining The Dots

She saw the night sky as a join the dots puzzle.

She was an expert

far better than the adults

who could never work them out.

They told her that these formed a plough

and those a bear, well two bears,

Great and Little.

She couldn’t see it.

They were quite wrong

she knew

the stars

were glittering cairns

pin point sharp

marking the pathway to the moon,

to Venus,

to the sun

and beyond.

You just had to join the dots

and follow the paths

to find your way

to paradise.

First published in Scrittura, Summer 2019

Only Dream Harder

If you dream hard enough

you’ll find castles in the air,

or build them.

If you dream hard enough

you’ll find secret cities

under the waves

ruled over by a fishy king

with his beady eye on you

as you walk on by.

If you dream hard enough

you’ll find unicorns

and ride them across the desert

to discover lost oases hidden there

amongst ancient cities

once in ruins

now recast

in shimmering perfection

by harsh sunlight.

If you dreamer harder

you’ll rise above the waves of sand

which threaten to engulf you,

float in the sunlight

instead of being buried

head first.

It’s all possible

if you only dream harder.

First published in Event Horizon, Issue 6, November 2018


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. She was shortlisted in the Theatre Cloud ‘War Poetry for Today’ competition and has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and a Rhysling Award. Her poetry has appeared in many publications including: Apogee, Firewords, Capsule Stories, Light Journal and So It Goes.

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A Child’s Prayer for God’s Intervention and Other Poems by Pentecost Mate

Still Shining

Pentecost Mate is a Zimbabwe poet! He has written poems of prayer during these difficult times.

A child’s prayer for God’s intervention…

Caged in our confined homes,
Obedient to all elders we are.
Respectful to laws of our land we remain.
On bended knees Lord, we bow before you.
Nourish us with the spirit of survival,
And the will to keep worshipping you.
Vaccinate us from our vast fears
Improve our immune systems
Rinse us with the healing blood of Jesus
UK is crying Lord! So is the rest of the world…
Shower us with your grace…oh Lord we pray. Amen

A poem of reflection, hope and appreciation 3 April 2020

The dust of the world is one…

From dust, a product of weathering,
we were created into human beings
in the very image of God,
and given dominion over all else…
Like the dust we are,
we were either blown to different regions of the world,
or transported by water to all surfaces of the globe,
where we settled as organised particles,
living as individuals, families, groups and communities,
in homes, workplaces, churches, orphanages or prisons…
and in provinces, towns, cities, countries and continents…

Sustained by the lungful of fresh air
Breathed unto us by our only creator,
we became our own designers of human classes.
We invented soil structures and soil textures that brought to play
our assumed levels of superiority over one another…
the rich proclaiming being dust from mineral based parent rocks
and attaching the poor’s origins to organic parent material,
dust created through decomposition of other dust’s excretes…

This division by humanity,
of humans manufactured using dust,
portrays dust as an entity with a tribe, a race,
gender, religion, colour and creed.
Yet as dust, we are mere dirt particles
floating and settling on everything,
harbouring soot from industries,
carrying moulds and bacteria…
and now living with the coronavirus…

As the Biblical dust today,
we are hostages in our own homes,
living in quarantine or lockdown,
waking up each morning to see other dust settling on furniture
and wiping it away,
for it reminds us that we too are dust particles
waiting for our turn to be cleaned up…

While we wait for that turn,
which everyone made of dust,
has an equal chance of experiencing,
we should pause to reflect
on all those that put their lives on line;
the medical personnel who prevent or prolong
our return to the dust which made us.
While we stay indoors and enjoy our cookies,
they work round the clock amid the wrath of the virus,
the journalists who inform us,
on what is happening around the world,
the soldiers and the police,
who ensure we don’t breathe into each other’s noses,
the pastors, priests, evangelists, prophets and preachers,
who help us connect to the spiritual world,
the scientists who look the bacteria into the eye
so they can see its deceptive looks and outwit it…

We should also acknowledge teachers,
the greatest consultants at home
who help guide all children-adults’ activities indoors
and have a hand in all decisions workers arrive at in the battlefield,
for covid 19 is an old syllabus component that needs completion…
some educators out there need to lay on the line
Noam Chomsky’s transformational-generative theory
Which implicitly states that dust has innate competence
but needs motivation to push it to perform…
when all are under lockdown,
the educator at home steers the submarine…
We should draw our lines skillfully,
to avoid being out of line with precautionary measures taken,
of what we do as dust particles and what we ought not to.
Let’s not shoot these lines marked by medical experts
but toe these global lines which stand to benefit us
as one huge cloud of dust…

Reading between the lines, it’s crystal clear that
all the world’s dust, with all its multicellular functions,
working together as one body of official dust,
with Christ living in it and fueling its mechanisms,
can claim its dominion over the coronavirus,
if from now on, it unites and sieves the virus out…
by stopping its movement across the globe
and depriving it of powers to reproduce,
mutate, adulterate, multiply and destroy …

For in creation, the covid 19 wasn’t a part of God’s ingredients
It was never given dominion over man…
It is a weed that is finding comfort in us dust…
It is just vapour that will fizzle out,
when all the world’s dust chokes its breath out,
like it is choking ours right now,
all across the universe…
as one family of dust, let us maintain our social distance
but retain our social ties, in order to survive this,
as one world, one humanity, one cloud of dust…

Should we survive this as a world, which we will,
we should set aside one day to thank God as one world.
Even if half of the world’s population should perish,
Those that will survive should acknowledge the grace of God…
From Dr. Ian Ndlovu’s teachings [Divine Kingdom Baptist Church],
I learnt that God is our healer even if he doesn’t heal us,
at the time we expect him to,
just as electricians remain our electricians,
even when they walk out of our homes
after failing to fix our stoves …

…for all families across the globe. We share our grief and love as one family under one sky. Let us pray for God’s healing hand. Amen
© Pentecost Mate (2020) Gwabalanda, Bulawayo, Zimbabwe


Pentecost Mate

For better, For Worse and Other Poems by Banqobile Virginia Dakamela

Still Shining

In this series, you will be seeing artists from all over the world. Today’s art is brought by Banqobile Virginia Dakamela, a poet from Zimbabwe! She shares with us her words during these times of lockdown. Come enjoy her work!

For better, for worse

Sanitize, Maintain social a distance, Sneeze into your elbow
Did anyone stop to think
Of that man working in the far off lands
He is holding a hammer
The last nail needs to be hit
He is holding a syringe
He can’t put it down
Lockdown! Final warning
Mummy where is daddy?
Quiet, Princess, he will be here soon!
Inwardly she is conflicted
What if he has the virus–
Am I prepared to die with him
Somebody is there a law for spouses ?
He is knocking on the door
Stand back! She says
Open up darling , I missed you
I have to sanitize you
Did you really miss me?
I missed you but please I need to call help line
I need a home test kit
My husband might have Covid-19
Darling, can I get in?
Daddy is home, mummy
Stay back!
Honey ,you said for better, for worse
Let me in
Put on the mask ,Wash your hands ,Remove your clothes
Wait, you coughed
Are you scared l will infect you ?
But you said for better, for worse?

‘What Have You Brought Us’

She chants from the pavements
She is not a beggar
She is the queen of the black market
Her head is adorned with a white doek
She has more currency than the world bank
She is more powerful than a graduate
The rate is dictated by her mood
They envy her trade
They envy her dominion
She has no office
The pavements are her office
She is her own pay master
Her pay slip is engraved in her heart
Her skin glows in the city sun
Her bosom is round and warm where powerful currencies are shoved
In her business there is no room for negotiations
It’s a take or leave it .

I’m ebony black

Never been bleached.
Beautiful like a black petunia
I walk to the interview room leaving other hopefuls behind.
He barks ‘enter’
I slide into his office, my resume in my sweaty palms
He frowns, I smile.
My African teeth crooked and pointed
Escape from my lips
The holes in my nose big and gaping
Suck the air in his office
My hair kinky and neatly combed
Stands at attention.

He weighs me and guffaws ‘ No job’
I mumble a weak ‘ thank you’

Unspoken thoughts fight for freedom to be heard
My brother , you didn’t check my resume
I have a masters, a bachelor’s, wait, a diploma underneath all that
I have ten years experience
I have an award and a certificate of excellence
I did voluntary work
I helped an old lady cross a busy street
I rescued a snared puppy
I decrypted an intriguing password
I worked twenty five hours a day
My black skin did not interfere
My crooked teeth stayed well inside my lips
I have never bleached brother, but I can work forty eight hours a day if you want.


Banqobile Virginia Dakamela is a writer who hails from Zimbabwe. She has written a story that was published in an anthology which was studied at high schools and is a set book in a local university. She has written extensively and is in the process of publishing some of her novels.