Thursday, September 12, 2019

The Temptation of Eve

Good and evil, dark and light
condemned from Eden, taking flight
scorned as wicked for her sin
and all the knowledge held within

Did they blame her out of spite
for good and evil, dark and light?
Temptation spoke with forked tongue
and in that moment, she succumbed.

Punished with indignity,
in pain, she birthed eternity.
Good and evil, dark and light,
her weakness seen as mankind’s blight.

Her reputation thus impugned,
mankind’s bloody, gaping wound—
and to this day, recall her plight
of good and evil, dark and light.

© Ginny Brannan 2019

Sharing at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads: The prompt stated a poem in any format, or a 55-word prose.

Image prompt by Cat Schappach, who is a marvel of dark surrealism. She has kindly given permission for us to use her piece entitled Seamstress. 
 Sharing attribution to Cat, at the following link:

Wednesday, September 11, 2019

From the Observation Deck

My husband and I worked for the same supermarket company, at that time both in the same store. I was Customer Service at the Front End of the store. His job of Security Receiver had him at the back entrance to take in the trucks and various vendors that supply the store. The radio was on in Receiving. He was one of the first to hear the news, but it was hard to take in. Surely it couldn't be true. That couldn't happen here. The ripples came through the store. Employees passing through the backroom lingered to hear some word of what was happening. We got home that afternoon, put on the TV to find the images. Surreal. We watched again and again until our hearts were so overwhelmed and so broken we could not watch anymore...

In the weeks directly after 9/11, our local Red Cross was swamped with calls and donations. My employer generously sent volunteer employees to assist them, paying our wages for our time with them. I was honored to be one of those employees, and spent the next 3 weeks there. The flow of generosity was overwhelming. When the chips are down, we Americans do what we do. We give what we can, then do it again. The stories that came with the donations wrenched our hearts. The head of our local Red Cross would reach out to families who had lost friends or loved ones. One such story was as finding three separate checks from three separate locations given by the same man, with the notation that he had lost his daughter in the towers. No matter who you are, you knew someone...friend, family member, family of your co-workers. No American spared.

In the weeks that followed 9/11, we rallied. Heartache gave way to anger, but also a newfound pride arose. We are Americans after all. When push comes to shove we won't be intimidated. We raised our flags, we stood tall, we volunteered, we give whatever we could, we gave till it hurt because our "family" was hurting. And for awhile, we became a kinder, gentler nation. We will NEVER forget the ones lost, but we would do well to remember that we are all brothers and sisters, we are all family. No matter who tries to break us, to divide us from outside or within, we are better, stronger, more resilient than they can even imagine, and our better selves will always rise again.

Tuesday, September 10, 2019

Pathways and Passages

Ten thousand memories in my head
upon this path that intertwines;
our early days a movie reel
of small town streets we left behind,
the neighborhood where we once played
—slip past slowly till they fade.

Others come into our lives
enhancing who we’re meant to be:
the oxygen that feeds our souls
and forms into the air we breath.

I know the earth from which you come
the warmth that nourishes your soul
how together you have grown
how the other makes you whole

So every story has its seed
and every tale must have a start
you are the sapling, he your sun
inside your journey of the heart.

By those we love, our lives defined,
    upon this path that intertwines.

© Ginny Brannan 2019

So many memories! Ever blessed by forever friends.
With love on your 42nd Anniversary!

Monday, September 2, 2019

Rooted on the Wind

I am the sworn protector of all that I hold dear
if push should ever come to shove, I’ll still be standing here
and though you may not recognize this me that I’ve become:
I'll finish what I’ve started; I’ve only just begun.

To those who sit in judgment pretending that you care,
and all the trolls with empty souls, sent out to spread despair;
we adapt accordingly, going to great lengths
to draw upon our character and play upon our strengths.

Remember how the tiny wren sings her song so clear,
the way her notes hang in the air before they disappear?
Or how the slightest little seed can turn green into gold
when it lands on fertile ground, roots firmly taking hold?

I scatter words upon the wind into the stratosphere,
and raise my voice in amplitude reminding I’m still here.

© Ginny Brannan 2019

Thursday, August 22, 2019

Who Watches the Watchers

Who watches the watchers who watch from afar?
Who polices the ones who are near?
Who upholds the law while the lawmakers sleep?
Who’s guarding the door that’s ajar?

How can a president dictate the rules
to favor just folks like himself–
ignoring the congress, while senate bows down
and taking the country for fools?

We sit and observe trying to follow what’s right
but the playbook is torn and redacted,
Tell me are we to wait while the circus debates,
while democracy falls in our sight?

Could be that this plan was in place all along
to take down our walls from within;
to weaken our ties with false alibis
while denying there’s anything wrong.

The eunuchs in senate are silent at best
and at worse they are part of his scheming
to break down the law, to flail us till raw,
right now this is more than a test.

We need to address this before it’s too late
not wait as more laws are unwritten,
call a lie for a lie, stop the denial
stop debating as he spews his hatred.

Who watches the watchers who watch from within
aren’t there laws put in place for this reason?
Let’s call out the liar, just stop the denial...
The infraction?  Why, that would be ‘treason.’

© Ginny Brannan 2019

Thursday, August 15, 2019


I’ve forgotten what it’s like
to feel the sun upon my face
to smell the earth after a storm
to hear the crickets singing 
underneath a crescent moon…
I’ve forgotten what it is to eat
a meal in my own home,
to not be always on the run
to not feel so alone.
Be careful what you wish for
or it may come to be…
I never, ever wished for this,
it’s nothing I'd conceive.
Time grows ever shorter
in our road from here to there,
it’s hard to reconstruct our lives
when this world’s in disrepair.
We wallow in some limbo
and have more than paid our dues
this never-ending road we’re on
is tiring, in truth.
Don’t know where we’re going to land
—or if we’ll land alone,
so I hold you in this moment
and pray you'll soon be home.

© Ginny Brannan 2019

Friday, August 2, 2019

Grasping at Straws

Hope is elusive thing…
it sprints ahead of us
never quite in our grasp;
we see its glimmer in the distance
and wonder if it truly exists
or if it is just an illusion...
and yet, we are compelled to follow
  because sometimes it's all we've got.

© Ginny Brannan 2019