Grave Matters

Future unimagined lay before me,

reanimating life was just a dream…

a man of science who observed that lightning

naturally focused power, unforeseen.

Keenly worked in my laboratory—

“Eccentric” whispered those who lived in town;

never knowing what had been created—

subsistence from the corpses underground.

The beauty of the creature once envisioned,

electrified; now hideous to see.

In ceaseless quest for scientific knowledge

now observe that  “monster” lives in me.

© Ginny Brannan 2013

Shared at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads: Out of Standard: To Monster with Love, hosted by Susie Clevenger. Finding the sympathetic side of an iconic monster--trusting you'll recognize mine!

When I Do You In...

When I Do You In …

When I do you in

… a single bullet will do it

I’ll use six pillows to silence it,

then get out my trusty “kit”

of bleach, and I’ll go to town

wiping everything down,

And no one will suspect me …

just hoping they don’t see

those dirty towels in the trash bin

                   …When I do you in

When I do you in

… a drop of poison should do it

something exotic from Singapore

in your drink when you walk through the door…

you’ll hardly notice the pain

as you start to convulse when it hits your brain

And no one will suspect me …

just best not test that Long Island Iced Tea

to learn that it wasn’t Gin

                  … When I do you in

When I do you in

… a knock on the head might do it

I’ll just explain how you tripped and fell,

slipped on that rug when you answered the bell

then quickly hide the trip wire away,

while carefully keeping the cops at bay

and no one will suspect me …

how could it possibly be?

And that hidden wire sooo thin

                  …When I do you in

When I do you in

…a car accident would do it

a cut in the brake line and you will swerve

around that long and winding curve…

over the edge you’ll go;

How could  I possibly know?

They surely won’t suspect me

Unless they just happen to see

my mischievous little grin…

                  ... When I do you in!

Copyright © Ginny Brannan May 2010

 

Images and artwork by one of my favorite illustrators and authors, Edward Gorey. He wrote many children's books, and many "alphabet" books including the Ghashlycrumb Tinies. In his later years he lived here in Massachusetts in Yarmouth Port on the Cape. He is probably best known for the opening credits on PBS Mystery. Learn more here.

Sharing this at dVerse Poets Poetics: The Lighter side of Ghouls & Goblins. After all, what's a little blood-letting among friends?!!! Bwahahahaha!! (Insert best evil laughter here!)

Autumn Rain

Crystalline drops—

cabochon beads on gold leaf

nature’s perfect jewels

© Ginny Brannan 2013

Light and Shadows

Image: G.Brannan, Looking down river, Bellows Falls, VT

In your reflection…

no one sees the hurtful leers,

nor gleans the snide remarks

              that still adhere.

Your small town streets

feel stifled now; filled

with close-clung houses;

a place where the stain,

the self-conscious pain

of adolescence long past

              still remain.

In your reflection…

you look almost pristine.

Clean and neat, the dirt

on the streets invisible

            (to most)

no hint of the ways you betrayed.

Those who talked have long since walked—

the ones that remain—no longer as bold;

and hopefully wiser, not just old.

In your reflection…

lie childhood dreams of redemption.

I left the fray, walked away…

kept the hidden hurts at bay.

This was never a place of my own,

             never my home.

                        

In your reflection…

the dawn breaks to erase

all the shadows I left behind.

© Ginny Brannan 2013 

 Image: Southbound on Connecticut River looking towards Bellows Falls, VT. This is a little different for me, kind of a free-flow of thoughts and words. Some internal rhymes but no structure, meter, or format per se. Not sure if it really works.

Sharing at d'Verse Poets Pub Open Link Night, Week 122.

Sweet Dreams

Written for dVerse Poetics: The Mind of a Child—hosted by Victoria C. Slotto

One night when I was tucked in bed

I had a dream inside my head…

a magic place for someone small

existed through my bedroom wall.

So it was really kind of weird

when a tiny door appeared;

while mom & daddy thought I slept

over to the door I crept,

Without a key it opened wide,

quietly I slipped inside

and in the glow of soft warm light

before me an amazing sight:

on shelves, and tables, even floor

everywhere were toys galore…

teddy bears and dolls and books

covered even smallest nook.

So many little things to see—

I touched each one so carefully;

I played for hours or so it seems

I did not want to leave this dream.

 I woke with sunshine on my face

the door was gone without a trace.

I searched each night for many days,

but somehow knew it went away—

to find another child in need

for magic room exists, indeed!

© Ginny Brannan 2013

Marooned

When all falls dark upon this world

the daylight lost to hardened night

our compass stuck within the void

our sails slip tattered and unfurled.

When even moon can’t guide our course

the clouds have swallowed all its light;

and waves are stilled to silent calm

our hope abandoned on the shoals.

When ink has robbed us of our sight

despondency infests our bones

we stave the dark to wait for dawn…

For in His light the shadows flee—

we mend the sails, reset our tack…

the soft warm breeze soothes like a balm;

we stem the tide to carry on.

© Ginny Brannan October 2013
Sharing @dVerse Open Link Night #118

C. Parant Sunrise, Wells, Maine Appetite for Photos (with permission)

When Doves Cry

Image: C. Parant

I hear a dove’s cry through the pane…

she coos her soft and mournful tune

about a loved one lost too soon.

This illness…was it preordained?

As you slip helm for higher realm

we‘re left to bear this earthly plane.

While waiting time to heal this wound

I hear the dove’s cry through the pain.

© Ginny Brannan 2013

My dearest sister-in-law Susan is resting easy now from her more than 2 year battle with liver cancer. She earned her wings late this afternoon. My heart mourns, but also celebrates this beautiful woman whom I loved dearly was proud to call sister for the past 28 years. Godspeed, dear Susan....until we meet again...

From Out of the Shadows

Inspiration is like a stray cat

hiding in the shadows;

timid…skirting the edges

of one’s reach.

It must be fed…nurtured…

and then, only when properly sated,

will it come forward

allowing you to see its true form.

© Ginny Brannan 2013

Sharing at d'Verse Poet's Pub Open Link Night #117

Congressional Pie a la Mode

For Brian over at dVerse Poetics: I’ve got issues (withpumpkins). 

Our leaders tend to disagree

on what is best for you and me—

and so, in limbo once again

we try to bear it with a grin.

I cannot help but to surmise

that over ice cream and some pies,

perhaps they finally could agree

to work it out for you and me.

©  Ginny Brannan 2013

Can’t a little ice cream and pie solve everything?!!  Ah, that life could be that simple!

Ticking Clock

Image: crilleb50

Tempus edax rerum: time, devourer of all things...

Life’s irony is that it’s gone too fast,

we enter each into this world alone --

wish we could find a way to make it last.

Begun at birth, our days on earth are cast

and paths that lie ahead are yet unknown;

life’s irony is that it’s gone too fast.

For friends and lovers dear that we’ve amassed,

each individual a stepping-stone;

wish we could find a way to make it last.

A single chance, to never be recast --

mistakes are made, and sins we can’t atone.

Life’s irony is that it’s gone too fast.

Reflecting on the memories now passed,

unspoken words, and seeds we’ve left unsown;

wish we could find a way to make it last.

Yet in the end, we all will be out-cast,

as each of us return to dust and bone.

Life’s irony is that it’s gone to fast . . .

wish we could find a way to make it last.

© Copyright Ginny Brannan July 2011
*With heartfelt thanks to my friends at FEPC for their invaluable advice & support.
**Shared at D'Verse Poet's Pub Open Link Night #3, 8/02/11   

Sharing at The Mag #186, image from Tess Kincaid. She provides the image, we the story! Written a couple of years ago, but it is a personal favorite and seemed perfect for the image prompt this week. Hope you don't mind my sharing it again here.

Predator and The Prophet

Scavenger—

killing Lincoln
     -the turtle warrior-
            deeper than the dead.

A walk in the woods—
          safe haven?
           
   Never enough...

Capture: the price of malice.

© Ginny Brannan 2013

Sharing at d'Verse Form For All: The Hidden Poetry in Books.

An attempt at a Spine Poem--taking the titles of books on your bookshelf and arranging them into a verse. Thought this looked like a really cool exercise to try. Pulled these off my upstairs bookshelf, which holds a rather eclectic little mix of favorite classics, true stories, a bunch of mysteries (not to mention cookbooks and some science/natures which I didn't include!) Wish I'd had more time to spend, was doing this on the fly before work. Thinking along the lines of John Wilkes Booth, whom after killing Lincoln hid in the woods, only to be captured anyways. Will have to try this again when I have more time!