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:

Monday, August 11, 2014

L'Objet d'Heart

Art:Keith Haring/Photographer Unknown

















To judge or be judged?
it’s not important whom we love,
just that we love

© Ginny Brannan 2013

Written for Magpie Tales #232, image provided by Tess Kincaid. 
Come read what others are writing!

Sunday, August 10, 2014

Journey of the Heart/An Anthology of Spiritual Poetry

Finally the full moon has arrived! Today is the day! I am so excited to be one small voice among the many amazing women who have shared their stories and hearts through their words at Journey of the Heart: Women's Spiritual Poetry. Many thanks to Catherine Ghosh, who invited me to share on her site, and honors me with inclusion in this brand new anthology! 
Coming on the full moon of August 10th, 2014!

Journey of The Heart: An Anthology of Spiritual Poetry by Women,
edited by Catherine Ghosh and to be published this summer by Balboa Press, a division of Hay House, has woven together the voices of over 70 women of diverse ethnicities, nationalities and traditions. In meditative and insightful poems they offer us revealing glimpses of their sensitive souls engaged in meaningful dialogue with the world, others, themselves and divinity. 

This spiritual poetry draws from the timeless wisdom, power and beauty residing deeply within the hearts of all women.  Emerging within archetypal themes that deliver valuable messages, the inspiring and uninhibited chorus of voices beckons us to journey along with them into the wild, mysterious and uncharted territory of a woman’s heart.

This book emerged from an online project created by Catherine Ghosh, dedicated to encouraging and facilitating women to freely share their hearts, as they learned to express themselves through poetry. It is dedicated to the spirit of really listening to, and honoring, all women’s voices.
To learn more, please follow this link to the book site: 
http://womensspiritualpoetry.weebly.com
This link to the blog: 
http://womenspiritualpoetry.blogspot.com
and this link to the Facebook Page:

Wednesday, July 30, 2014

Discordance

Tension ignites the charged atmosphere
as sky oxidizes to gunmetal gray—
obscuring horizon where clouds meet the range...
a deep thrum advances, its levies unclear;
an ominous rumble, a rampant exchange.

Observed on the cloud-line a bright ricochet…
another, then strong scent of sulfur appears;
closer now, tremors are felt on the ground…
What is this insurgent and vapid display;
this building percussion, crescendo of  sound—
 conducted in part by some crazed cannoneer,
a maestro or madman—we’ve yet to decide.

The cymbals are crashing, the timpani rolls…
and yet the true threat hasn’t made itself clear—
just who will remain when campaign exacts tolls?
For now we stand strong while the forces collide.
Way off in the distance we watch the clouds swarm
the thunder approaches just over the rise…
with feet on the ground, trust our stance justified
soon we will know if the gods empathize.

One ear-piercing volley and we are forewarned;
            we rotate to face the oncoming storm.

© Ginny Brannan 2014

Saturday, July 26, 2014