Back to the Future

A Flash 55....

I live in the shadow of giants,

modern prehistoric birds;

blue whales flying overhead.

At night, we watch otherworldly 
lights dance on the horizon; 
the birds are aloft, their eyes 
glowing in the dark.

Frequently flying off to distant lands

to disgorge stomach contents;

our ground vibrates as they return 
home to roost once more.

©  Ginny Brannan March 2012

Shared with Mr. Know-It-All Friday Flash 55--a story or poem in 55 words.

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Our town lies in the flight path of Westover Air Reserve Base, home to the C5 Galaxy transport. These flying “whales” can swallow more than 270 Jonahs (plus flight crew), or 6 transcontinental buses, 2 Abrams tanks, 36 cargo pallets (10,000 lb. capacity),  or 7 UH1 copters. More info at:
 http://www.theaviationzone.com/factsheets/c5.asp

Ponderings…

We are only as good as our last poem--

the last words we wrote,

the last words we spoke

Would that we were all struck

deaf, blind and mute…

Would we still hear

the magic of birdsong in our heads,

imagine those purple-pink sunrises,

the colors of the rainbow,

the golden sunsets on still waters?

With no sight to read, hearing to

hear or voice to speak,

would words still form and

dance in our minds, seeking

outlet, seeking discovery?

The birds don’t stop singing,

nor does nature disappoint.

It is men who choose what

to block out, what to embrace;

and poets who paint with their

words, offering their voice

to those who can still open

their eyes, their ears, their hearts

to the beauty surrounding them.

© Ginny Brannan  March 2012

Galway Bay, Ireland 2006

Sharing at d'Verse Poets Pub Open Link Night #37

Last Laughs --Limericks!!

Written for d'Verse Poets Form For All--How to Write a Limerick hosted by Madeline Begun Kane


His “friends” said he needed to diet

they all thought his weight was a riot

now he weighs less than half

yes, he’s had the last laugh

and those sniggering friends are all quiet!

She often ate baked beans with dinner

believing they’d help her get thinner

when later she’d pass

all kinds of  gas

she'd say better let out than kept in her!

Writing with some hesitation

while seeking the right inspiration

he often incurred

too many words

chalking them up to inflation!

©  Ginny Brannan March 2012

The rhythm may be less than perfect, but they were a lot of fun to write!

Mud Season

Image by: Ilder Sagdejev

It’s that season again…

temperatures start to rise,

wheels spin in their tracks,

ruts appear, machinery clogs

as watered-down dirt

surrounds and inundates us.

Without significant leverage,

things stall where they sit.

The stench of manure and 
decay, once disguised under 
illusion of purity,  reappears 
to burn airways, gagging and 
choking all within range. 

Yeah, the climate is changing…

so get your boots on, and

for god’s sake, tread lightly,

lest you get sucked in.

Mud season is upon us...

            let the slinging begin.

© Ginny Brannan March 2012

"Machinery clogs..."

*First Image: http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:2003-11-27_Northerner_boots_in_mud.jpg Used with expressed permission.
Second Image by Parke Harrison, courtesy-The Mag
*Sharing at "The Mag" #109 
     and
**d'Verse Poets Pub Open Link Night Week 36

On country roads…

Bright

yellow daffodils

poke their heads

through hardpack soil,

clinging together in clumps

along roads and pathways

and into meadows and woodlands.

I welcome these harbingers of spring

that lift the gray mood

of winter passed

with the promise

of warmer days

to come.

© Ginny Brannan April 2011

Photo: http://www.mooseyscountrygarden.com/willow-tree-garden/daffodils-tree-stump.html

Sharing at d'Verse Poets Pub Open Link Night 3/06/12

"Anna Marie"

Image by Sarolta Ban 

Old-fashioned rouged cheeks, 

a touch of lipstick on your lips,

fire engine red to match the

personality smoldering beneath;

and those  eyes--eyes sparked 

by ten-thousand memories …

You must’ve been something

in your day, a rare commodity,

a trendsetter ahead of your time.

Sacrificing love for career…

how many men tossed,

how many hearts lost

to those red lips and those

beautiful, savvy, lonely eyes?

© Ginny Brannan March 2011
Sharing at "The Mag" 107, image courtesy Tess Kincaid (she provides the image, we provide the story!)

One of my "Tales from the Inside." I work with the elderly and this is about one of them. At 96 she still wears red lipstick, using it also to "rouge" her cheeks much like my aunts used to do years ago.