Against the Night (Ottava Rima)

We send our soldiers off to foreign land,

to fight for rights for those who are oppressed,

while other countries watch us make a stand

and call us names, and say we are "obsessed.”

So quick are they to burn us with this 'brand.'

Do they forget the freedoms we’ve addressed?

We each are born with basic human rights--

they’d rather judge, with vicious words indict.

I’ve read our “nose is where it don’t belong;”

we’re “tracking ghosts” that really don’t exist.

But who can say who’s right or who is wrong,

or if  we’re chasing shadows in the mist?

They tell us we should “try to get along,”

while evil waits to strike with angry fist.

I'm glad our soldiers guard against the night

protecting me,  and all who cannot fight.

© Copyright Ginny Brannan Memorial Day, May 2011

Photo: http://recycle4acause.wordpress.com

Ottava Rima is an 8 line poem, Rhyme scheme a-b-a-b-a-b-c-c, 10 to 11 syllables per line, usually iambic pentameter. 

And the band played on....

The music played on, our food is gone--

she’s hardly touched a bite.

With our attention gleaned on a different scene,

something just isn’t right...

As we turn to watch what’s taking place,

I see her enrapt by young server’s face.

Oh, would it only be that she

might shower that same look on me!

©Copyright Ginny Brannan May 2011

Photo Courtesy Magpie Tales: Banquet Scene with a Lute Player by Nicolas Tournier, 1625

Magpie Tales #67

Choices

Delicate or strong

lovely, ugly...each must choose,

which will we become?

© Copyright Ginny Brannan May 2011

Dragonfly Photo courtesy of Charlie Parant: 

http://appetiteforphotos.blogspot.com/

Used with express written permission 
Shared One Stop Poetry One Shot Wednesday Week #48 5/31/2011

Weighted Down

The knots are tied the ropes are bound,

and I am tethered to the ground.

The sky is clear and day is fair,

I should be soaring through the air.

No simple explanation found,

the knots are tied the ropes are bound.

What keeps me from my lofty goal

and burdens me down to my soul?

I’m waiting for the weights to fall--

just want  to rise above it all…

the knots are tied, the ropes are bound,

and I’m still anchored to this mound.

Won’t someone come and set me free

to be that which I’m meant to be?

Too long now I have been aground;

the knots are tied the ropes are bound.

© Copyright Ginny Brannan May 19, 2011

Image prompt courtesy of Thursday Short Story Slam, Photo by: Melissa R. Bickel

Leather-bound

I can see you standing ‘cross the room

all adorned in leather and in gold,

long to feel my fingers on your spine --

to unlock the mysteries you hold

What wondrous secrets will you share

once you are spread open and laid bare

for me to get lost in, if I dare?

© Copyright  Ginny Brannan May 17, 2011

Photo Courtesy of Magpie Tales #66 5/17/2011

Refracted Images (Octain)

The years go spinning by so fast--

the awkwardness and trials of youth

have given way to different truth.

No thought to how we’d be recast

when we were young and having fun,

and days and months were flowing past.

But time is harsh and so uncouth--

the years go spinning by so fast.

© Copyright Ginny Brannan May 16, 2010


Inspired by a dear friend's birthday. Time stops for no one, but it surely helps having friends that are right there along side to share it with you.


Shared at One Stop Poetry, Monday 5/16/2011 

To Serve and Protect

A young man...

(much like my son,  maybe yours)

raised in a small town,

with lots of friends.

Cub Scouts, Homecoming, graduation…

watched him grow along side and among

the group of friends and classmates.

a good kid by any standard…

He enlisted with the Marines

   to serve and protect,

       to bring peace.

He’ll be coming home soon—

to the younger sister he teased,

and the parents who raised him.

Home to a hero’s welcome,

to be surrounded by all who love him
a celebration of his life…

 as they express their last good-bye.

© Copyright Ginny Brannan May 2010

Written May 12th, 2010
 In memory of Sgt. Joshua Desforges, U.S.M.C. Afghanistan 5/12/2010
Rest in Peace, Josh. Fondly remembered by all who knew you.

http://www.facebook.com/pages/In-Memoriam-of-Sgt-Joshua-D-Desforges-USMC/122661127757516

Vicious Cycle (Quatern)

I find that I must start again,

a single step and I begin

along this old, familiar road

that time is starting to erode.

I pause to look around, and then

I find that I must start again.

It seems this path will never end--

can’t even make it 'round the bend.

I push myself to motivate,

and though the hour is getting late--

I find that I must start again,

and pull my strength from deep within.

Set faster pace, I am hell-bound…

determined not to lose my ground.

I reach my goal, but just can’t win

I find that I must start again.
© Copyright Ginny Brannan May 2011

A Quatern is a sixteen line French form composed of four quatrains. It is similar to the Kyrielle  and the Retourne. It has a refrain that is in a different place in each quatrain. The first line of stanza one is the second line of stanza two, third line of stanza three, and fourth line of stanza four. A quatern has eight syllables per line. It does not have to be iambic or follow a set rhyme scheme.

One Shot Poetry Wednesday Week #45 5/10/11

Odd Lots #2: 'Expectations'

© Copyright Ginny Brannan May 2011 Original Quote, Odd Lots & Brief thoughts.