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

a poets playground

those not here

it shouldn’t be
a task
to remember those
not here
it shouldn’t
burden
a heart
to keep them near
we love
we lose
those close
hold
the hand
of the 1
who stands
by you
hold
the

get comfortable with chaos

get comfortable
pull up a chair
sit back
take a deep breath

try
try to relax

get comfortable
with chaos
the daily insanities
the craze
of sleepless nights
fretting over
the past blunders
agonizing
on future gaffes

whatever is presently
on your

mom

mom
you made me
you gave to me
asking nothing in return
mom
you showed me the way
sometimes
pushed & shoved me
but always
hugged me
when i returned
mom
you were there
in times of despair
but

stream

discover your meaning
no thinking
no direction
no inflections
no reactions

the result
astoundingly
empowering

find your flow
the stream
is a formidable
force

no longer masking pain
with band-aids that
won’t stick
the water

look who’s smiling

there was an inkling
in the air
for those
in or out
of despair
to wake
decidedly different
to take on
a new
perspective
put on those old
rose colored glasses
the ones hidden
on the top

Wednesday’s malaise

was it the wrong side of the bed
that started the day
as if your out of step
the feet seem to work
as you mull about
but
something ain’t right
not battling
a cold or flu
can’t say it’s the blues
but

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