December Nocturne

We slip the quiet streets at night,

and view with silent scrutiny

the lights on every Christmas tree,

each welcoming with their soft light

The stars peek through the tattered clouds--

while crystals float upon the breeze;

they dust the ground with gentle ease,

as sleeping town rests yet unplowed

We hear a distant church bell chime,

it breaks the calm and still nocturne.

We pause a step on this sojourn

to breathe and let our souls unwind

Once each year we let things cease

to watch a winter’s eve unfold

we bundle up against the cold

and wrap ourselves in season’s peace.

©  Ginny Brannan December 2012

Once each year we feel a bit like "peeping toms" as we head out for an evening to check out holiday lights, and peer through windows to view each tree (albeit from the street!). A guilty pleasure!

Sharing at d'Verse Poets Open Link Night Week #76 Holiday Edition! Hope everyone had a wonderful day!

*Image by author: Tree reflecting on pond, North Hadley, MA

How Much More?

The devil danced in broad daylight

as angels bore the innocents--

for only Satan could take glee

in such a senseless tragedy.

The wailing echoes through the night,

yet there will be no recompense;

no words that stave collective pain

nor set the broken right again.

Borne in our hearts, the sound, the sight

of these unspeakable events:

a gaping hole that can’t be filled.,

an aching heart that won’t be stilled.

For “Right to Bear” now see the cost--

how many babies must be lost?

© Ginny Brannan December 2012

Just a note: I have many responsible hunters and sportsmen among  my family and friends. I respect them and do not condemn gun ownership in general. However, in my personal opinion, I feel there is a need to limit automatic weaponry. These weapons were made for hunting people. Our forefathers did not foresee these weapons when they wrote the laws. I've heard the arguments, both pro and con. Yet when events like this happen, and become more commonplace as time goes on, something needs to change.

Sharing at d'Verse Poets Pub Open Link Night Week #75

Winter Delights

Sweet smells of alluring spice

permeate the morning air;

seducing odors now entice

teasing, tempting to this lair...

Aroused by the delights within,

await the feasting to begin.

©   Ginny Brannan December 2012

         

A little fun with word-play. Baking today. Seriously.

Conspiracy Theory

Angst and anger now consume me

destroying all that I hold dear--

trenchant, they conspire to ruin me.

Skirting 'round our issues deftly,

dark shadows cast upon this sphere;

angst and anger now consume me.

Spitting callous insults cruelly,

the vicious, vile words adhere--

trenchant, they conspire to ruin me.

Where we once had such chemistry

the passion slips and disappears--

angst and anger now consume me.

What is it makes us disagree....

these baleful changes still unclear;

trenchant, they conspire to ruin me.

Both of us behaving badly

undercutting, insincere…

angst and anger now consume me;

trenchant, they conspire to ruin me.

© Ginny Brannan December 2012

Website for Image:The Lull After the Storm

blog.wealthplanningpartners.com.au

Hidden Pearls/Inked

Written for The Mag #147, image provided by Tess Kincaid.
She provides the image, we the story!!

 Hidden Pearls

this world, my oyster…

when seeking path of wisdom

let my maps guide you

Inked

There was one and only one

that got in, under my skin.

Can still trace the marks he left

indelibly printed on my soul.

© Ginny Brannan December 2012

Inspired to write a "two-fer" this week!
Image: http://themetapicture.com/earth-map-tattoo/

Infatuation, Nothing More

Image: Indestructible by Man Ray (Wikipedia)

Loud the metronome is clicking like some ancient clock now ticking

beating like a lover might upon his long lost true love’s door.

Waiting answer not forthcoming, steadily now hear the drumming,

in his head a soft voice humming…a humming like not heard before--

“Just a neighbor,” he was thinking—the voice that he’d not heard before,

                                                                        only that and nothing more

So he tarries in the shadow, nighttime passing to the morrow

seems his love had disappeared, deep anger prompts him to deplore--

Fast it seems, their days were fleeting; wronged and rueful heart retreating,

chill to chase someone who’s cheating; cheating back won’t even score;

burned and bruised, emotions bleeding--now he finally knows the score--

                                                                        infatuation, nothing more.

©  Ginny Brannan December 2012

(*chill: adj. discouraging, dispiriting)

Had a bit of fun with this, "Poe" etically speaking!! Written for The Mag #146.
Sharing at d'Verse Poets Pub Open Link Night #73 

Southbound

Image: htttp://www.flickr.com/photos/fortphoto/3021872889/

Climbing high into night

uncounted squadrons take to flight;

I hear them call—their echoes cry

out to the darkened autumn sky.

Like mariners who sailed afar,

they navigate by moon and star;

and drawn by some internal force,

they trust their lead to stay the course.

Soaring southward by the score,

a thousand fliers--maybe more…

the frost-filled air urges them on,

one final cry… and then they’re gone.

What wondrous prompt propels them “Go!”

before the coming of the snow?

© Ginny Brannan December 2012

Sharing at d'Verse Poets Pub Open Link Night Week #74