Saturday, December 31, 2011

Little Girl Lost

Ah, Norma Jean, a lovely girl,
Image: Bert Stern
takes on her glamorous disguise--
the platinum hair, the painted face
hides well the child behind those eyes.

Glitter and glitz, and bright smile flashed;
sad day for all when this star crashed…
to lose her light was such a sin,
forever remembered, Marilyn.

©  Ginny Brannan December 2011

Written for Magpie Tales #97

Sunday, December 25, 2011

On This Christmas Day...

As I watched the dawn break this morning, an orange 
sliver on a gray horizon, my thoughts wandered to that 
first Christmas, and how it might play out today…

Manhattan (or any major city): man and woman arrive, 
little money, can’t even afford a cheap hotel room. 
She’s quite obviously pregnant, and the paternity is sketchy. 
No matter, boyfriend doesn’t care, loves her, and vows to
raise the child as his own. As they walk through this city, 
the woman collapses in labor, and their infant son 
is born in the park. The story warrants a few lines under 
Human Interest in the daily paper. A handful of strangers 
who read it actually step up and help the couple find work 
and a place to stay so they can get on their feet. They beat 
the statistics, and stay together to raise their son, who 
becomes a well-known lobbyist and human rights activist,
speaking up for the people down on their luck,
and bringing needed attention to the ills and
mismanagement of government and society.

I have heard the Christmas story described as a fairy tale.
Whether you believe or not, there is no denying the
lessons we learn from it, the moral to the story of Christ's life:
that we need to care about each other;
that we shouldn’t be afraid to spend time among the ill,
the destitute, the so-called sinners and low-lives who need
a kind word, their spirits lifted,  a hand up;
and mostly...

that we need to treat others like we wish to be treated.

As each one celebrates this holiday in their own way, may your hearts be filled with wonder, and with the true meaning of the of the season.

©   Ginny Brannan December 2011

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Bogged Down

Image by Mostafa Habibi

The tempest stirs quicksilver sea,
and hope floats just beyond my reach
as sharp-tongued waves roll over me.
The tempest stirs quicksilver sea;
sucked into mire, can’t seem to flee
this life defiled by blackened breach--
while  tempest stirs quicksilver sea
and hope floats just beyond my reach.

© Ginny Brannan December 2011
*This is a Triolet, a poetic form consisting of only 8 lines. Within a Triolet, the 1st, 4th, and 7th lines repeat, and the 2nd and 8th lines do as well. The rhyme scheme is simple: ABaAabAB, captital letters representing repeated lines.

Sharing at Magpie Tales #95--they provide the image, we provide the story!
Sharing a d'Verse Poets Pub Open Link Night Week #22 12/13/11


Magpie #1!

Image by Mostafa Habibi
Quite a predicament;
unforeseen circumstances
impossible to predict.
Can’t keep my head above water.
Keep moving” they said,
Set your sights on the goal”
Aim for the prize”
Now I’m caught in the quick
defenseless; while target remains illusive.

© Ginny Brannan December 2011
*This is an Acrostic--the first letter of each line forms a word vertically

**Magpie Tales #95--Poem #1!!**
Sharing at Magpie Tales--they provide the image, we provide the story!

Monday, December 5, 2011

Speaking in Poetry…

Would that my thoughts were adjectives,
my language, fluent “poetry"--
with perfect format every time
so all would be impressed by me.

I struggle though, to find the words
to speak concepts with clarity …
but know deep in my soul of souls
that you alone inspire me.

©  Ginny Brannan December 2011

Sharing at d'Verse Poets Pub Open Link Night #21 12/06/11  
*Sharing at BlueBell Books Thursday Short Story Slam 12/08/11