All Hallows Eve

Sharing at d'Verse Poet's Open Link Night Week #68. Why not stop by and see what the other ghosties and ghoulies and long-legged beasties are sharing tonight!

Political Allusions (a “Suessical”-type rhyme)

A wee little political rant, in rhyme, from little ol' me...

Heading for the polls and along the way

I got lost, and was accosted

by the other fool in play.

“Vote for me” said the smooth talker--

(with grin from ear to ear appearing like a leer)

campaigning like a stalker.

“I’ll fix all the country’s wrongs,

never bend, and send our current leader

back to where the man belongs.

“I’ve got a five-step plan in place

that takes 8-steps to find, so I’ll just remind ya
that I’m gonna win this race”

He spoke in circles with confusion,

and the divided and undecided

bought into his illusion.

Negative ads began to pellet folks like rain…

more manure by the load upon the road

of this long, miserable campaign.

And so I thought it over for  awhile

what fool had said, and all I’d read

and slow but sure, I began to smile…

There was no substance in his words

and though he spewed them well, I still could tell

from all that I had heard--

it takes more than just smooth rhetoric to win

not just diction, it takes conviction,

so much more than just a “grin.”

I walked away now, even more secure

in recent light knowing who’s right

and who to vote for, conscience clear.

Remember, stand by your beliefs, don’t buy into “illusions”

and realize and recognize when others speak delusions!

© Copyright Ginny Brannan October 2012

Deja Vu

Deja Vu

The mansion looms with windows black,

old portico barely intact;

while boarded panes enhance the gloom

to amplify the sense of doom.

On dead end street we follow track,

‘round ancient home with windows black,

and creeping through a splintered door

we sense that we’ve been here before.

We tiptoe down the creaking halls

our shadows race along the walls,

in austere home with windows black,

till bloody mallet flails attack.

As once the threshold’s crossed, it seems

this house imbeds you in its dreams…

there’s no escape, no turning back

from haunted manse with windows black.

Ginny Brannan October 2012

Written for FB Kindle Obsessed 10/14/12

A haunted tale for the Kindle Obsessed FB site contest, a short story to go with a picture prompt. I wrote this, only to learn I'd jumped the gun, that they were looking for an actual "Short Story" of 2500 - 7500 words. Ooops!! Here's the link to their site for any short story writers interested:
http://www.kindleobsessed.com/uncategorized/short-story-spooktacular-contest/

Sharing at d'Verse Poets Pub Open Link Night #67. 'Tis the Season!!

Under Giant’s Eye

A view of our sleeping giant, Fall Mountain, North Walpole, NH

 I was raised in the shadow of the mountain;

an ever-present, ever-watchful giant

who vigilantly guards our village.

A fierce protector; we’d rarely hear

his voice except when thunder threatened…

then when he would echo a noise

so loud…so terrifying… it

could chase any storm away.

Returning to my village, 

once again I feel the

giant’s watchful eye,

and know that I am home.

©Ginny Brannan October 2012

A view from the Giant's "eye": Bellows Falls, VT

Bowing Out

Midnight Snack, Curtis Wilson Cost, 1984

As autumn ebbs toward final bow

and darkness settles early now--

we seek snug fire to fend the chill,

its soft glow shines upon the sill.

The plantings are all reaped and stored

except few pumpkins and stray gourd.

We spend our evenings sharing tales,

while cold breeze hints of winter’s gales;

and fend ourselves from chill and gloam

in light and warmth that we call home.

Well-sheltered behind frost-etched glass

we watch the seasons as they pass

and dream of Spring should Fates allow...

as autumn ebbs toward final bow.

© Ginny Brannan October 2012

Image provided by Tess Kincaid/The Mag.  The Mag #139

Sharing at d'Verse Poets Pub Open Link Night Week #66.

On Fear and Falling Leaves...

d’Verse Poets Pub Poetics: Poeticaphobia has invited us to share our fears this week. Sharing mine...

The leaves drop steadily, as

though last night’s frost

released some hidden trigger;

they race to hit the ground--

yellows, oranges, golds, reds

covering the lawn,

bidding final farewell

before frozen blanket again 

coats my world.

I observe this spectacle

from inside, and wonder 

of the trees bared weeks ago;

the gray ones, sap no longer

flowing to limbs' furthest reaches.

Will winter weigh heavy,

snapping limbs,  destroying hope

for another season, another chance?

My biggest fear…

not of of my own mortality,

as death is as inevitable…as

uncontrollable… as season’s change.

No, my fear is that of not living enough…

to never experience all I hope to see,

people I’d like to meet , all the

wonders that lie waiting while I

juggle and struggle this reality

just to make ends meet

…no more leaves to drop,

fading into final season

without chance of at least one
ultimate, glorious farewell

©  Ginny Brannan October 2012

Caught in Your Deadlights

How intricate those lies you spin--

well-shrouded in the perfect guise,

as subtly you hypnotize . . .

then soft, your touch against the skin

ever so light--until the bite

that paralyzes life within.

Your silken web now my demise,

entrapped within the lies you spin.

© Ginny Brannan October 2012

“For if you stay, you’ll lose your little mind in my deadlights.”

  Pennywise,“It,” by Stephen King

*Image taken by author of Nebscona Crucifera (Brown Orb Weaver)
**Sharing at d'Verse Poets Pub Open Link Night #65. Stop by and read a spell!