Thursday, September 20, 2018

Views from the Past



never saw you as beautiful
you were always just there;
a vestige, a mile-marker of childhood.
When I was old enough I moved away,
escaped the dark side of my youth.
And now I see that you remained
—inventing, reinventing—
somewhat changed, but still the same.

My view of you is changing too—

Once I thought you held me back
your memory brought mixed reviews
bittersweet and interlaced
with loss and pain and awkwardness
—so many things I once suppressed
but none of which I could erase.
Was only trying to find my way 
and so, it seems, that you were too,
a place to fit, somehow belong...
I took a circumventious route—
an awkward child who found her voice.
You stayed and grew into the land,
each one making our own choice.

Full circle, how things come around…
I see the child I once knew
and see you now for who you are
awakened to the current view.
How sad the years that slipped us by,
but cannot dwell in “should-have-beens”
  you are you and I am I
  – perhaps we might begin again?

© Ginny Brannan 2018

Both personifying the place I came from,
and reflecting back on some who 
influenced who I would become.

Image taken by Photographer Anne Collins who shares her beautiful images on my hometown site called "Growing Up in Bellows Falls." Looking northbound on the Connecticut River.
Used with expressed written permission.

Monday, September 17, 2018

Three for Kersie



Blazing Her Own Trail

Her spirit rises from within
She sees the world as it should be
and sets her course accordingly

An old soul in a young girl’s skin
with steadfast gaze, new trails to blaze
a fiery storm behind sweet grin

…and so begins her odyssey
her spirit rising from within.

© Ginny Brannan 2018





Oh Captain, My Captain…

The tiny helmsman takes control—
determined, never showing fear
committed, steadfast in her role.
The tiny helmsman takes control
though course ahead remains unclear
she pushes past the rocky shoals.
This tiny helmsman in control;
determined, never showing fear.

© Ginny Brannan 2018






Tiny Pirate

Softly ceding to the night
the sun has sung itself to sleep,
while moon awakens with delight.

The fairies dance in waning light
as banshees beat a fast retreat
receding swiftly into night.

One by one the stars shine bright
across the dark expanse they sweep
as moon expresses her delight!

The sea monsters have taken flight,
again returning to the deep—
swift now ceding to the night.

The will o’ the wisps and woodland sprites
into the foggy meadows creep;
the moon observes them with delight.

Illuminated by pale light
lies tiny pirate, fast asleep;
so soft receding into night—
the moon enrapt with pure delight.

© Ginny Brannan 2018

I am totally enamored by this feisty and formidable little redhead! We recently spent a weekend in Maine with her and her grandparents where she and I spent a morning trying to "escape the sea monsters" and when that didn't seem to work we fed them "ice cream and cookies!!" These 3 pieces are inspired by her personality and her very active imagination. Such fun we had!! 
For Kersie with love.

Photos by Charlie Parant at Appetite for Photos blog
Also on Facebook: Appetite for Photos
Used with expressed written permission from photographer.


Friday, September 7, 2018

Casualties













We were young then,
kids really…unrefined,
awkward, selfish, ignorant, blind—
stumbling along toward destinations unknown
leaving behind a smattering of fractured hearts
on that shard-strewn road to adulthood.
I could blame it on our innocence,
youthful fears or ignorance
but nothing would be gained.
You were never meant to be
a casualty on the pathway to maturity.
I'm sorry if I caused you pain.
And I, in turn, have not been left unscathed—
and so, forgive the ones who’ve done the same.
For you, who from my past I still recall,
amid the many memories eroding
on the convoluted paths from there to here,
that we even crossed at all is worth the noting.

© Ginny Brannan 2018

Sunday, August 26, 2018

Unwoven















Pound the world with your lies,
your avant-garde tries at distraction;
your predilection for chaos, the joy
you take watching others crumble:
there’s nothing humble about you.

How you take satisfaction—
throwing insults, no retraction:
you live in denial, just file it away.
Spreading the hypocrisy, dismantling democracy,
shifting the blame in this game that you play.

You claim no collusion while stirring confusion
at best you’re delusional,  spreading the fear.
We see through the hoax of your mirrors and smoke,
each story you’re spinning seems more absurd
your followers unswayed as they hang on each word.

You no longer hide that you’re trying to divide us
and we’re left to wonder “Who pulls the strings?”
Spreading derision with each repetition,
while faking the words to the song that you sing.
You’re good at complaining, better at blaming
but what will remain of those lies that you’ve spun?
The tales that you’re spinning will be your unpinning,
the web that you’ve woven is coming undone.

© Ginny Brannan 2018

Image: Charlie Parant Appetite for Photos  Used with expressed written permission.

Saturday, August 25, 2018

Keep On Keepin’ On…


There’s a certain age when young turns old
when mind locks closed
when forward thought no longer progresses…
when the train stops at the station
and lingers until the wheels rust
and the engine seizes.
refuse to take a seat on this ride to nowhere.
Life has more to offer than being stuck
in a room with only one view.
There are stories to hear, points to ponder,
discussions to share…
there are paths to wander
  and so many people to get to know
—perhaps too many for just one lifetime.

We all have choices to make, we can
keep moving forward until our very last breath.
  Or we can rust on the tracks. 

What's your pleasure?

© Ginny Brannan 2018

Image: Google Images, Old Abandoned Railroad Equipment on YouTube

Tuesday, August 21, 2018

Pointing into the Wind

















The seasons are turning, winds are a-churning,
we do what we do, keep on doing—
holding tight to the reins just trying to maintain
as the turn of the tide keeps accruing.
It is so inane how we carry our pain
taught that nothing is gained in the sharing,
so we hold it inside till the protons collide,
paralyzed to the present impairing.
Darkness approaches, the shadows encroaching,
self-loathing and doubt notwithstanding;
it’s hard to succeed, interruptions impede,
this duress wasn’t part of our planning.
And no one can hear when you try to be clear
'bout demands superseding supplier.
Still sadder for us that the ill pay the cost
as small puddle becomes a quagmire.
Overwhelmed by commands and the snide reprimands,
just a cog in the wheel of  progression;
how many replays until changes are made
at the whim of some admin's discretion?
So we do what we do just trying to get through,
drawing hard from the lessons we're learning,
work ethics aside we confirm our reply,
soon the stem of this tide will be turning.


© Ginny Brannan 2018

Image: Google Images from Pinterest

Monday, August 20, 2018

Running the Gauntlet













There is palpable pain in your words 
an aching that rises from the soul
reflected in the brevity
  of a single thought shared.
I don’t need to know the cause
to recognize the weight that you carry
—for I, too, know pain.
Sometimes there are no words
to right the unfairness of it all…
sometimes we can only offer ourselves…
hoping it helps to know
that someone else is listening
and you are not alone.

© Ginny Brannan 2018