Sunday, November 23, 2014


On entering, we are assailed by the smells:
sausage and sage, butter, brown sugar,
cinnamon …
commingling, tempting.
Then the warmth
oven on long before dawn,
steam rising from various sized pots…
not to mention body heat—
for everyone gathers here in this room.
Johnny Mathis, Frank Sinatra, Nat King Cole
echo from the wooden console radio
in the next room;
two sisters croon out their favorites;
a third—younger—swoons, exclaiming once again
how she “loves that skinny Italian boy from Jersey.”
A cacophony of voices and laughter
rise and fall.
The house becomes a budding entity
breathing,  beating with the life
of those gathered here…

We carry these images from our past...
family, friends, gatherings
spinning together as one.
Defining; reminding where we come from,
who we are
...and we pass it forward
to our children,
this gift of unconditional love
in a place we call ‘home.’

©  Ginny Brannan 2014

Family photo, 1956. 

Shared: dVerse Poets Meeting the Bar: Thanksgiving Turkey with a side of Poetry
Also honored to have it shared here by Women's Spiritual Poetry

Monday, November 10, 2014

A Good Man Goes to War

How soft the scarlet petals fall
upon the pale and ashen ground
a shock of red against steel gray
a bit of green naivete’
…we watch the tin men falling down.

Crimson stains on barren earth,
shattered limbs and splintered bone…
only trunks where once life stood;
screams inscribed in human blood,
forgotten names now etched in stone.

On fallow ground the seeds are sown,
on vermins’ back  discourse is spread,
in ignorance disease is grown…
At what price a name renown
or victory tallied by the dead?

Underneath a pewter sky
still echoing  from engine’s drone,
deep sanguine petals gather ‘round
the young man lying on the ground…
he closes eyes and journeys home.

©  Ginny Brannan 2014

Image courtesy Tess Kincaid/Magpie Tales

Saturday, November 8, 2014

Fence Posts

Image C. Parant, Appetite for Photos, shared with expressed written consent.

On pale November morn,
we listen to the cadence of our footfalls
as they rustle dry leaves
along this old familiar pathway.
We speak in cryptograms,
as we tick the weathered
fence posts of our years.
We pause a moment to linger
in this judgment-free zone,
as we walk familiar path
on this pale November morn.

© Ginny Brannan 2014

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.