Thursday, January 23, 2014

Are We There Yet?

Sharing at dVerse Meeting the Bar: Bedtime Stories, tall tales, and the art of story telling.  This is my short story about telling a short story. Sounds a bit redundant, but here goes:


Short stories are difficult for me to write
because I’m nothing if not “wordy;” 
give me the specific line count
and structure of a poem any day!
My tales are spun with
inflection and punctuation,
descriptives and clich├ęs,
and yes, way too many words.
There are times I’ve been told
—especially by family—
to just: “Get to the point, already!”
But life is not a straight line:
it is filled with noises and color,
and excitement and sometimes great sadness;
and for me the story itself
is half the fun of “getting there.”
So if you ask me to share a story,
be prepared listen,
because stories should be
shared with expression,
and not “spit out” in short bursts…

   life should not be stifled!

© Ginny Brannan 2014











Most of my poetry has a story to tell. In case "Are We There Yet?" does not quite "Meet the Bar,"am linking this older, very brief one inspired by one of the elderly ladies at the Skilled Nursing Facility where I work. This is about "Anna Marie." (So many stories all around us, so little time!) Happy story-telling, everyone!

My "Verse"

Last week at dVerse Poets, Brian Miller had us pondering our "Verse," (as in the commercial for the new IPad Air, with Robin Williams voice over excerpt from the Dead Poets Society. "“We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering — these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love — these are what we stay alive for."  
"What will your verse be?"
 I hope that my legacy will be one of kindness and generosity, love and friendship, and that I will be remembered as a person of depth and sincerity. For now, here is "my verse" from the lessons that I've learned over time:

Image: G. Brannan Before sunset from Mountain Road, Wilbraham,MA

Monday, January 20, 2014

Faded Leaves












As leaves fade yellow, cracked and worn,
cast on the wind, a seedling borne;
inside small kernel, thought takes flight—
though none may know where it will light.

Like buds anew, lie words unborn…
still fresh and green; unused, unworn;
and as with thaw when sap flows clear,
ideas on paper now appear.

From simple seed that has escaped
its only goal: to find true shape;
these new leaves spring—not cracked or worn,
just searching for their destined form.

Like seedling grows into a tree,
some verses bloom as poetry;
in well-read book where words adorn
the leaves fade yellow, cracked and worn.

© Ginny Brannan January 2014


Inspired by "Under the Canopy" with Bjorn at d'Verse, which I came up too late on due to work! Mixing my metaphors for a bit of writing on "leaves."

Sharing at dVerse Open Link Night Week #129.  Come see what others are sharing! 

Tuesday, January 14, 2014

I, of the Storm












I remain stoic
though turbulence surrounds me
threat’ning these walls

Storm nor turn of tide
can bring down this citadel
built upon the Rock

©  Ginny Brannan 2014

Written for The Mag #202, Image provided by Tess Kincaid.
She provides the Image, we the story!
Image: La Jument, off the coast of Brittany, photograph by Jean Guichard 

*For Susan

Sunday, January 12, 2014

Waiting on Spring

Photo: G. Brannan, January 2014
Almost imperceptibly
   the days stretch longer

impatiently, we wait

anticipating first warm day
   breeze softly stirring,

birds flitting, gathering food
   for insatiable babies
     chipping nearby.

You summon me—
  I answer, book in hand… 

longing to get lost
  in your peaceful sway
    once again.

© Ginny Brannan 2014

Photo: G. Brannan, May 2013
Sharing at dVerse Poetics: Out the Window, hosted by Shanyn Silinski. C'mon by and see what others are sharing!!
*Two pictures taken out my back windows, looking at my quiet spot, my "sanctuary." FYI: Top one was taken recently, but not today. Warmer temps and rain have taken all our snow away, at least for now!!

Friday, January 10, 2014

Swayin' to the Beat

Been pecking away at this Jazz Poem since September. Still consider it "work in progress," but saw the call to share, so am sharing at dVerse Meeting the Bar: Looking Back, Looking Ahead


He plays a mean guitar, this one-time star,
  the crowd waits, anticipates
            those old tunes, crooned…

Takin’ ‘em back to that old Rat Pack—
            movin’ to the groove;
Frankie and Dean, Sammie and Tony…
  then he turns it around,
                        lowers voice down
adds some scat 
            ‘n quick as that 
Louie and Nat are in the house.

Not done yet, throws in some clarinet
  and a little sax from his combo tracks—
he holds the crowd, 
                        cranks it loud;
  turns up the heat with that steady beat,
            that keeps it rollin’ down to their soul.

Then he takes the sound and slows it down
             orders up another round
and settles the score with a song or two more.

Too soon then, his evening ends…
  he walks away,  leavin’ crowd swayin’
                        to the beat

©  Ginny Brannan 2014

Inspired, in part at least, by many singers, including this gentleman who has entertained where I work and does an amazing Louie Armstrong-Mr. Jerome Robinson.
*Image: Google Images, guitar player.

Sunday, January 5, 2014

Cityscape

N.Y. at Night, Vivienne Gucwa

Another story rewritten
under smooth, new skin—
rough worn paths
and broken dreams
  well-hidden within.

Almost invisible in the night
 all forgiven under pale light
  of streetlamp or moon…
Concealed in the shadows
the glory, the beauty
once held as her own,
as time stakes its claim;
 her innocence lost
  much too soon.

© Ginny Brannan 2013

Written for The Mag #201. Image provided by Tess Kincaid, she provides the image, we the story!

Sharing at d'Verse Poets Pub Open Link Night #127

After all what is NYC but a woman always preening, upgrading, reinventing. I love how the beauty of her early years still peeks through in her architecture and old cobblestone streets!