Thursday, October 30, 2014

…Or Was It?

Into the twilight I went walking
vestige of daylight taking flight,
threshold of evening fast now falling
revealing a veiled and moonless night.
Dry leaves give chase along the footpath
tree limbs stretch bare for all to see...
boney, their arms move in the darkness
—boney wood fingers reach for me—
“Faster” I will my legs, “keep moving.”
“It’s only the wind that creaks the tree.’
Overly active imagination
says: ” No…something darker waits for thee.”
I sprint up the hill past stone wall sentries
as rational thoughts give way to fear—
even the streetlamps flicker slightly
familiar surroundings become austere.
Ever so softly, I hear strange voices…
inaudible words chant spells unknown;
shadowy creatures dance in the half-light
lying half-hidden in the gloam.
“Reveal yourselves!” scream becomes a whisper
—heart palpitating anxiously—
Over my shoulder a chill breath answers
can sense stranger’s eyes intent on me.
Clearing the mountain,  full moon rises
annulling the fears that spirits roam
‘Twas only aberrant imagination
to wrangle my thoughts as I turn home.

© Ginny Brannan 2014
*Image from author's hometown.

Sunday, October 26, 2014

Changing Partners

Come October wind and rain,
the chill that to November calls—
bright harvest moon long come and gone;
crisp brittle leaves converge on lawn.

We pull our wooly sweaters down,
the heavy socks, the warm knit shawl…
find brief respite in waning sun—
while season’s final song is sung.

© Ginny Brannan 2014

Written for Magpie Tales #243, Image provided by Tess Kincaid.
Come visit see what others are sharing!
Shared also at dVerse Poets October Open Link Night—Homecoming. Check it out!!

Monday, October 20, 2014

Dark Gray October Day (10/15/1963)

Image taken: Tess Kincaid, Dublin, Ohio cemetery

The autumn leaves were swirling ‘round
the young girl barely uttered sound
that doleful day she said goodbye.
The autumn leaves came tumbling down
as polished oak slipped through the ground
and sun resigned to charcoal sky.
The autumn leaves are turning brown
  as I recall our last goodbye

©  Ginny Brannan 2014

Written for Magpie Tales #242, Image provided by Tess Kincaid.
She provides the image, we the story!

Thursday, October 16, 2014


Wikipedia: The Pleiades, 1885 by Elihu Vedder

Sailing on a moonbeam,
sojourners of the night;
seven silent sisters
surrendering their light—
slipping through the cosmos
suspended in the stream…
sustaining winter’s dream.

© Ginny Brannan 2014

The Pleiades is a cluster of seven stars, also known as the “Seven Sisters,” primarily viewed in the winter months in the Northern Hemisphere. Trying a new poetry form called “Pleiades” invented in 1999 by Craig Tigerman. It consists of seven lines, each line starting with the same letter as the title. The title is always a single word.

Tuesday, October 14, 2014

Balancing the Quill's Edge...

Life calls us to participate
to be involved,  appreciate
at times diverting from our dreams
     —that other world where we exist 
     among the words; between the lines—
ever poised upon quill's edge
stretched and bent, not letting go
till something snaps or something gives.

The time arrives for us to choose
between two lovers courted long:
impassioned mistress that we love
or family and common bond
    — only we can weigh the cost
      of which we can afford to loose.

Our choice it seems was always clear
     —  ambivalent as we may be
       to have to choose between the two…
we must defer to loved ones near,
relinquishing the stranger's pull,
just for a time we sever ties
to re-embrace our blood and bond.

dreams cannot be pacified
nor circumscribed, nor stilled for long
We type a word, pick up the pen
slip in a moment now and then…
    —for to ignore our muse’s call
      would mean we do not "live" at all

©    Ginny Brannan 2014

For a friend I observed being 'torn between two loves,'  family and writing; and for all of us who've felt this tug of war.

Friday, October 10, 2014

A Little Night Nonsense

Long day brakes to find the night…
manic roamers make their rounds,
Hands keep moving, best step lively;
melting minutes can’t be found.

Skip the curb to dart asunder,
missed a kiss by just one slip—
petals light on concrete steps;
tempered-crystal dreams encrypt.

Fluffy felines filled…felled…snoring,
find the soft and lose the shoe;
hear the feathers, pale moon calling;
pirouette, and bid adieu.

©  Ginny Brannan 2014

d'Verse Poets Meeting the Bar: Verbal Cubism and Tender Buttons invites us to release that flow of word without restraint to grammar or meaning, similar to what a cubist painter would do, break it apart and present it again. A late attempt, but thought it might be fun to try! (Oh, and rhyming is not a criteria, but I somehow slipped into it anyways. Long day, this is where I bid adieu!)

Monday, October 6, 2014

On the Southbound Skyway...

Over hills and rooftops
on moonless nights we soar;
as ancient siren calls us
to travel south once more.

“Keep moving” her song echoes
“for winter rides your tail.”
“Head down that southbound skyway
before north winds prevail.”

Abandoning the northern ponds,
the grassy lakeside shore—
the feeding grounds we’ve come to know
 for coastal corridor.

We’re called to heed the shifting change
on rising currents, sail
underneath the star-filled nights,
through morning’s pensive veil.

You hear our clamor overhead—
our cries hard to ignore,
we fly the southbound skyway
in seasonal encore.

© Ginny Brannan 2014