Tuesday, June 26, 2012

Speak Easy

So softly speaks the voice of likened hearts
within a secret language all their own
each sideways glance, each upturned lip, each nod
or knowing eye,  contented sigh expressed…
the finest orators cannot compare,
nor any poet’s adage set to rhyme
communicate~in stillness~words we share.

This intimate communion forged with time,
through many golden days and silken nights;
our syncopated breathing finely honed.
And still we’re far from perfect, you and I;
each silver thread and gentle crease well-earned…
with just one glance, the veil of time recedes
revealing what the heart itself has learned.

© Ginny Brannan  June 2012



An unrhymed sonnet of a sort, as some lines do rhyme. 
*For my husband, Ray.
Sharing at d'Verse Poets Pub Open Link Night #50.

Monday, June 25, 2012

Juke Joint

Website for this image: 16sparrows.typepad.com


Got her hair combed up and she’s dressed so fine
just a sweet young thang lookin’ so sublime;
men are flockin’ like moths to her slow burn
jus’ standin’ in a line, awaitin’ their turn.

Grindin’ to the blues, or some ol’ ragtime,
downin’ local hooch, tastes like ‘turpentine.’
Gettin’ liquored up, spoilin’ for a fight
o’er juke joint mama on a Saturday night.

Better watch your step while you’re on the floor,
she brings top dollar for the comp’ny store;
struttin’ her stuff could drive a man insane,
but one wrong move’ll bring a heap o’pain…

Still it can’t be wrong, ‘cause it feels so right
watchin' juke joint mama on a Saturday night.

© Ginny Brannan June 2012

Image provided by The Mag: A Touch of Evil
The Juke Joint from 'The Color Purple' came to mind when I saw this image.
Written for and shared at The Mag #123 --They provide the image, we provide the story!

A little background from Wikipedia:
The origins of juke joints may be the community rooms that were occasionally built on plantations to provide a place for blacks to socialize during slavery. This practice spread to the work camps such as sawmills, turpentine camps and lumber companies in the early twentieth century, which built barrel-houses and chock-houses to be used for drinking and gambling. Although uncommon in populated areas, such places were often seen as necessary to attract workers to sparsely populated areas lacking bars and other social-outlets. As well, much like "on-base" Officer's Clubs, such "Company"-owned joints allowed managers to keep an eye on their underlings; it also ensured that the employees pay was coming back to the Company.

Juke joint music began with the black folk rags ("ragtime stuff" and "folk rags" are a catch-all term for older African American music[7]) and then the boogie woogie dance music of the late 1880s or 1890s and became the blues, barrel house, and the slow drag dance music of the rural south (moving to Chicago's black rent-party circuit in the Great Migration) "raucous and raunchy"[8] good time secular music. Dance forms evolved from ring dances to solo and couples dancing. Some blacks, those seeking white approval, opposed the amorality of the raucous "jook crowd."

Monday, June 18, 2012

Reflections

Image: M.C. Escher, Puddle, 1952

Surreal silhouettes mirrored
in mud; refracted reflections…
upside-down negatives
reposed in rutted silence.

Beauty hides in fractured spaces
and unlikely places. Each nebulous image,
perfect within its imperfection,
awaits our discovery.

©  Ginny Brannan June 2012

Written for The Mag #122.  Image provided by Tess Kincaid.
Sharing at d'Verse Poets Pub Open Link Night Week #49

Sunday, June 10, 2012

Bits and Pieces

Still Life, 1670, detail by Jean Fran├žois de Le Motte


I saved them all, you know…
the first note that you wrote;
the ticket stub from our first date
that card that you gave me,
the one with the rose on it--
you probably don’t even remember...


While others look to money
and accumulated possessions
as proof of a life well spent,
I look to these simple scraps;
each one whispers another
precious memory, and I know
that I am wealthy…
indeed.


© Ginny Brannan June 2012

Sharing at d'Verse Poets Pub Open Link Night #48

Written for and shared at The Mag #121--they provide the image, we provide the story!

Tuesday, June 5, 2012

Beyond the Wall

You ‘took the black’ and chose to serve The Wall--
this last defense from wildlings in the night
and ghost white walkers, blue eyes shining bright…
doubt weaves its thread through head as you stand tall.

Here in this place, respect is something earned
though line may blur ‘twixt what is right or wrong
seen many things, though you’ve not come here long
with eyes wide open, each a lesson learned

Now comes the time to venture out beyond
to find that old Nan’s tales are coming true.
Will hope for seven kingdoms fall to you?
Perhaps the Spring will see a different dawn.

Up at the Wall, the Winter has arrived…
  all you need do Jon Snow, is to survive.

©  Ginny Brannan June 2012

Google Images:Credit and link below.


Inspired by The Game of Thrones Book 2, A Song Of Fire and Ice by George R.R. Martin.This is about Jon Snow, the bastard son of Eddard (Ned) Stark, Lord of Winterfell. He chose to "take the black", pledging to forego all personal wants, to stand guard against the dangers of the north. Second in my Game of Thrones series. For the first, click this link: Daenery's Song. (Apologies to my Irish & UK friends for my attempts at Celtic inflection in the reading. I do not come from the right side of "the pond" to do it justice!)
*Image: Google Images: from thecoolkidztable.blog

Sharing at d'Verse Poets Pub Open Link Night Week #47