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

"Sisters"

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.

But…
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

Friday, October 3, 2014

Our days of future passed…













Into the morning I have come
groggy...foggy…eyes at half-mast.
Another day calls.
I answer tentatively,
unsure what’s in store—

No matter…
for it's not the journey
but who's beside you.
Over uncertain pathways
through variables unseen
we’ve travelled...
steadfast, synchronic;
two complementary souls—
we move ever forward
through these—our days
      of future passed.

©  Ginny Brannan 2014

For my dear husband of 33 years. To the more than 12,000 days that have passed since our first meeting. To our yesterdays, todays and tomorrows and all our days of future now and passing... Happy Anniversary.

*‘Days of future passed’ was borrowed from an album of same title by the Moody Blues. 

Saturday, September 27, 2014

Autumn Days

At first the slightest hint of red
understates the deeper green
the hint of changes yet to come…
unfettered now to run its course—
meandering through last warm days,
numbed by chill of early eves.

Delirious we drink this change
as if by absinthe, undermined...
Yielding to elliptic spin,
so comes autumn once again.

© Ginny Brannan 2014

Image taken by author taken at Old Sturbridge Village, MA