Bone on Bone

The molten dagger finds its mark,

myopic focus, bone on bone--

affliction's cryptic cause unknown

Corroded wires, electric arc

ignoring skin, strikes nerve within

as searing flash impales the dark.

Confront this demon all alone,

as molten dagger finds its mark.

Copyright Ginny Brannan May 2012

Shared at d'Verse Poet's Pub Open Link Night Week 46 5/29/12

Unbound

House at Dusk, 1935, Edward Hopper

Need to escape from these concrete spaces

this city prison to which I am bound…

flee to the country, and leave no traces--

can’t catch my breath in this high-rise town.

Give me the mountains,  dirt paths beseeching…

no well-groomed parks under vapor lights.

No horns, no sirens, no tires screeching;

I prefer cricket-song on starlit nights.

Some thrive in fast-paced electric lifestyle;

bred for the city life right from the start.

Keep the excitement, I’ve done my trial--

always the country beckons to my heart.

© Ginny Brannan May 2012

Written for The Mag #119.
Image provided by Tess Kincaid, she provides image, we provide story!

Behind the Mask

He hides behind the perfect guise,

obscures the truth with well-masked lies

so audience will never know

assume its all part of the show.

Immersed in jagged compromise,

he hides behind the perfect guise,

and wields his pride like two-edged blade

while sinking deeper in charade.

Sequestered in this circus tent

and contemplating life misspent,

he hides behind the perfect guise --

within some rings there is no prize.

Well-camoflauged by painted smile,

he swallows back the bitter bile;

and even friends don’t realize ...

he hides behind the perfect guise.

© Ginny Brannan  May 2012

Image: The Circus with the Yellow Clown, 1967, Marc Chagall

Written for The Mag #118  (Magpie Tales), image provided by Tess Kincaid. She provides the image, we provide the story!

Victimology

Image provided by The River Journal

A predator who’s focused on his prey…

a watcher whose intentions never stray.

Sight-unseen, no cause for apprehension;

knowing eyes apprise with rapt attention.

In ignorance, intended feels no fear--

unable to see through the shrewd veneer.

Succumbing to his strength and all his charm

and handsome well-bred looks meant to disarm.

When he appeared she never saw the cost,

now grasped between his talons all is lost.

And tearing her apart to feed his need--

just following the nature of the breed.

Be wary even friendliest intrusion…

"pure" intent is just a false illusion.

© Ginny Brannan May 8, 2012

On May 3rd, 2012 Samuel Peralta aka "Semaphore" hosted Form For All: Clarian Sonnets at d'Verse Poets Pub, here is my first attempt at a Clarian sonnet. 

Submitted to The River Journal Spring Writing Contest 5/08/12 

By the Sea

Image taken: Ocean City, MD 200d

Let me walk along the shore

in soft-silk sand as toes explore

the wave-kissed edge of surf and sea.

Let me breathe the salt-scent air

and linger here, without a care

as white-capped waves wash over me.

Let me feel the summer sun

set me free and let me run

in tune with nature at the shore.           

Invade my soul so when I leave

sweet memories will cling to me

and stay with me forevermore.

©  Ginny Brannan May 2012

Sharing at d/Verse Poet's Pub Open Link Night Week# 45, 5/22/12
Written for Wednesday Wake Up Call 5/16/12 at New World Creative Union.

Thanking my friends at New World Creative Union, and all of my blog followers! Much appreciated!

Lost and Found

“We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams.”

                                      Arthur William Edgar O’Shaughnessy

lost in dream sublime

where ideas dance before me

Will-o-wisps in time

thrumming through my soul

words form in the abyss

and rise to make me whole

©  Ginny Brannan May 2012

Written for New World Creative Union Wednesday Wake Up Call 5/09/12

Sharing at d'Verse Poets Pub Open Link Night Week 44

Sucked Dry

with charms deceiving,

you sucked the life from me

to feed your own ego.

© Ginny Brannan April 2012

On 4/28/12 Claudia Schoenfeld hosted Poetics—Vampires at d’Verse Poets Pub.  

In River’s Wake

Image: Stainforth-River Irwell

The rains came, fast soaking

already saturated ground

till it could swallow no more;

ten thousand rivulets finding

snow carved ruts and valleys,

racing to join mountain streams,

flooding fields, washing over rocks,

white water on  a gray day--

until even rocks were covered

and all became one churning

river of yellow mud and silt.

Waters recede to a landscape

changed forever; and the resolve

of a people whose fortitude

could not be destroyed.

© Ginny Brannan May 2012

A smaller river flowing into the Connecticut River

Sharing at The Mag #116-they provide the image, we provide the story!
Sharing at d'Verse Poets Pub Open Link Night Week 43.


 In 2011 Hurricane Irene dropped 15'' of rain in Vermont onto already saturated soil, flooding the quiet rivers and streams, destroying homes, historic covered bridges and devastating many villages. Vermonters, a tough breed, are already rebuilding and rebounding!

Tweedledum and Tweedledee

Image, Sir John Tenniel Alice and the Cheshire Cat, 1865

Photo background: C.A. Parant III, circa 1973

Sharing at d'Verse Poets Pub Open Link Night Week #42