Saturday, September 13, 2014

What Demons Haunt…

What darkened demons haunt her soul…
like one possessed she walks the halls—
on secret mission just she knows.
What is it that assumes control,
that she, herself, cannot express?
Her shadows race along the wall—
this tiny woman, now obsessesed
with need to move and not be still.
Time detracts, we can’t forestall           
when age gives to dementia’s will.

Just for brief moment, stops her quest
yet sensing mission incomplete,
once again the demon calls…
No cure for this unwelcomed guest,
and no reprieve once he befalls.
With no remission, no defeat,
the cruel affliction runs its course.
The victim is herself, unfeigned;
yet for observers, bittersweet—
with aching sadness, bear the pain.

still more apparent with each day—
    what birth endows, age takes away.

© Ginny Brannan 2014

In Frontotemporal dementia, people will often show signs of obsessive-compulsive behavior such as hand washing or walking back and forth from one area to another. They have the need to carry out repeated actions that are inappropriate or not relevant to the situation at hand. Breaking this cycle is difficult and the caregiver must decide if this behavior is simply annoying or unsafe for the person and decide if they need to intervene.
~ from

Thursday, September 11, 2014

Never forget...

Where were you on that day of darkness?
Heading to work or homeward bound?
When did you learn that the sky was falling?
Where were you when the planes came down?

Some days should never be forgotten
as we look back every year to view,
to honor the memory of the fallen,
to try to define with eyes anew…

Lest that the horrors should be discounted
and we turn complacent in our routine
To remind us be mindful and ever vigilant;
against all the evils that go unseen.

Where were you on that day of darkness?
Heading to work or homeward bound?
When did you learn that the sky was falling?
Where were you when the planes came down?

© Ginny Brannan 2014 

"There will always be those who mean to do us harm.
To stop them, we risk awakening the same evil within ourselves.”
Eulogy from Star Trek 'Into Darkness'

Monday, September 8, 2014


Shining beacon in the night
incandescent, phosphorescent
hollow glowing orb of light…
In my quest for something new
I flew to you, drew to you,
in blissful blindness I pursued…
—till ever late, I see the lie:
your brilliant luster misconstrued

© Ginny Brannan 2014

Written for Magpie Tales #236, image provided by Tess Kincaid.
She provides the image, we the story. Come by and see what others are sharing!

Tuesday, September 2, 2014

The Fisherman

N.C. Wyeth, Dark Harbor Fisherman

I navigate through rocky shoals
out to the canyons dark and deep,
where dolphins swim and monsters sleep.

The fickle sea exacts her tolls—
through stormy squall, the Sirens’ call…
on wind the cries of captured souls.

Yet there is little time to weep
while navigating rocky shoals.

               * * * * * 
Along the downeast coast I trawl;
every inlet and each isle
in memory, now reconciled.

The craft fills up with netted haul—
no fast return; it must be earned
before this boat may make landfall

…yet on this day the gods have smiled;
    while on this downeast coast I trawl.

©  Ginny Brannan 2014

Written for Magpie Tales #235, Image provided by Tess Kincaid.
She provides the image, we the story. Come see what others are writing!
(This is sort of a two-fer. Being a New England girl, we are familiar with both coastal and deep sea fishing, this captures a bit of both)

Thursday, August 28, 2014

When the Stars go Blue

A supernova, burning bright:
we worshiped every word you shared
while you sank deeper in despair

till darkness overtook your light;
sucked in black hole with no control,
you gave your soul back to the night.

And we continued, unaware
that supernova burned too bright.

© Ginny Brannan 2014
For RW Some stars are too hot and bright for this world, and burn out way too soon. We were in awe of your "light." Rest easy.

Sharing at Magpie Tales #234, Image provided by Tess Kincaid. 
She provides the image, we the story! Come see what others are sharing!

Starry Night by Alex Ruiz
"Dancing little marionette, are you happy now? 
Where do you go when you're lonely? Where do you go when you're blue? Where do you go when you're lonely? I'll follow you…
when the stars go blue…"

Monday, August 25, 2014

Until we meet again…

I will not say good-bye, my friend,
for that would mean our time must end.
Let’s linger here for just while,
it’s been so good to see your smile.

For just a moment, let’s pretend
to put aside good-byes, my friend.
We’ll reminisce on days long past,
on family, and friendships cast.

Then talk about what’s yet to be
the places that we’d like to see.
It’s too soon for good-bye, my friend,
there’s much to life we need attend.

How hard it is to see you go,
but there is one thing you should know—
  I’m sure one day we’ll meet again
    so this is not ‘good-bye, my friend

©  Ginny Brannan 2014

The Polish side of my family never said good-bye when leaving a gathering, but rather "dopóki się znowu nie spotkamy" i.e.: "until we meet again…" We don't know what will happen on any given day, but we hold onto the hope that no matter what, we will all meet again. This is for  one of my classmates. We were not close in school, but we reconnected on FB and then at class reunion in June. A heart attack took him suddenly on Saturday, August 23rd. For Tom..."until we meet again."

Tuesday, August 19, 2014

The End of the Line

We observe the sick and frail
the aging refuse life forgot
 the ancients leaving one by one;
we watch the sands of time prevail
cognizant when course is done.

A chronic tale with twisted plot
one that no one can forestall—
alone and holding stranger’s hand
the soul escapes this juggernaut;
there’s no repeal and no remand.

Who cries for those with none at all,
and holds their memory when their gone?
Who whispers prayers on their behalf?
You’re called to take your final bow
— no family left to carry on.

And learning that you’ve taken leave
  it's I, the stranger, who will grieve.

© Ginny Brannan 2014

Google Images/various sites

I work in a Skilled Nursing facility, and have grown rather fond of some of the residents. One of my favorites: a sweet Italian lady who reminded me of one of my aunts. She loved her bright red lipstick, and talking about life “back in the day.” Shortly after celebrating her 97th birthday, she spent a lovely day having her hair done and enjoying the sunshine and fresh air out  on the patio.  I learned the next day that she’d passed during the night. She had no family; she was the last of her line. 
I will miss her.

Related writings: