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

a poets playground

alone

alone
with no supports
no one to lean on
as the seasons change
and ageing continues
a little weathered
but firmly rooted

a crushing blow
to suddenly be abandoned
one part of a grouping
suddenly standing solitarily
shaking uncontrollably
from fear
where does

gray

gray
dark
damp
and dingy
stay in bed
pull the covers
over your head
kinda day

 

days are shorter
nights are longer

shadows are absorbed
into the gray state

no colored leaves
barren trees

the

a sit in solitude

well
………well
my dear friend…
you sit alone in contemplation
may i sit without disturbing your thought
may i sit and share a time
…………………………..of solitude
may i sit and learn the lessons
that other’s have sought

 

may we sit together
on a wordless wandering

November Full Moon in Taurus

there is an agitation
in the atmosphere

waiting
for you

to clear the path
of conflict

to break the habits
of struggle

to recognize
obstructions

to acknowledge
your security blanket

balance
with breath

whacked back

i do not have a happy back
it’s out of whack
i do not have a happy back

it hurts to sit
it hurts to stand
i can not lay down
for then i can not get up

my back is not happy
nor am i
i do

hideaway

a hideaway
a stay far from
the trodden path
a place of relax
unwind
ease from this day to that
ease from this thought to that
ease from being plugged into
to disconnecting
with no regret
with leaving only a question lingering in the air

a poets notes