Gwynneth Green poet and lyricist extraordinaire, her poetry and lyrical background are gifts from her grandfather, Bud Green

a poets playground

in solitude

a mood
of colors that don’t clash

ripples of differences

drastically altering
one’s disposition

to still

waves of anxiety
in simple steps
conscious breath



in thought

agonizing over
the out come

the positive
seems the right approach

if i go left
will that unveil the wrong attitude

there is a slant
from point a
to b

to be
or not to be
the mind can’t decide

if i just ponder

a cleansing

it was day
it was night
at the exact same moment
of where inhale and exhale meet
all the beautiful colors
didn’t fade
all the dark shadows
enveloped a quieted space

it was a dance
of delight
it was a captivating celebration
of where breath

one more moment

i pray
to the heavens
that you are resting well

your pain has dissipated
and you now drift amongst
the clouds

the stars
light the sky
and fear no longer abides
for you

of course
i miss your laughter
your happy tears
the hugs and

town green

as a bird in flight
light on her bared feet
her dance
her expression

no music
the crowd quiets
no sound

and twirls

the unexpected spectators

in a trance
unleashing her soul
into a beautiful performance
of unrehearsed steps

it’s complicated

is it really so rude
to choose
not to use

a fork
a spoon
work so much better
even fingers
in a pinch
who’s idea
was it to eat with sticks

why spend time
fighting with the food
when satisfying an appetite

a poets notes