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

a poets playground

perfect balance

 

peeling away
the layers
that once belonged
exposing
a core
that has stored
an emotional
trunk
stemming from
the good
the bad
the sadness
and blessings
of the past
recognizing
why
trust
and faith
are irreplaceable

endurance

a forgotten time
a displaced space
neglected
then ignored
the history
washed away in the waves

yet they stood
weathered
and torn
with a strength
no one foresaw

the elements testing
fortitude

you
are secretly aware
of the inner might
that quietly

to be free once more

there was something left
unsaid
when you departed
something under
your breath
that you couldn’t
quite spit out
for lack of courage
or
fearful
that you might be caught
in the truth of a lie

it’s besides
the point
you tucked your

1 nation

oh say can you see
down the street
the mayhem
that shouldn’t be

through the dawns early light
put down
your weapons
we were not meant
to fight

what proudly we hail’d
our rights to be free
to love one

beware of the storm

 

lightning struck
he ducked
it saved his skin
he was a little singed
but not burnt
to a crisp

it cleared up
his limp
and his lisp
being scared
to death
but he didn’t die

he had learned
never to hide
under

who looks at you

step away
from

the drama of the day
a mindful engagement
hours upon hours
wasted
like standing in a line
that never moves
close your eyes
penetrate the dark
turn on the light
of your inner sanctum
where serenity &

a poets notes

step-a-holic

Well it is official now I have been classified as a step-a-holic. Anyone else out there ready to admit to this classification. It really started innocently with the purchase of a Fitbit, one year ago. Just to get me on track to taking more steps in a day, shed a few pounds and boost my