Sunday, May 25, 2014


Her collection spanned the years:
old photos and cards, well worn
books with dog-eared pages,
an odd assortment of furniture
that no one else wanted.
Perhaps she saw a bit of herself
in each piece rescued—
each looking for love
and a place to call home.

© Ginny Brannan 2014

Shared at Magpie Tales #221.  
Image provided by Tess Kincaid: she provides the image, we the story! Come see what others are sharing!

Monday, May 19, 2014

A Writing Process Blog Hop

Many thanks to my dear friend Mary Bach for inviting me to participate in this Blog Hop. Mary and I met through our writing. She became a fast favorite of mine through her charm, her wit, her sense of humor; and our mutual affinity towards nature, seasons, home, family and even a certain Doctor! Interesting, smart and so talented, please follow this link to her Blog Hop to read in her own words what inspires her to write.

Mary Bach

Mary Bach, also known as Other Mary, writes mainly poetry which can be found on her website called Writing in the Bachs.  She lives in the middle of nowhere, more specifically rural western-Wisconsin. She has a love for words that includes not just writing and reading, but quotes, pun and general word-play. She has had poems in several on- and offline publications including The Book Times, Pigeon Bike Poetry, Living with Nature and Beginnings.

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My Writing Process

What am I working on?
Wow. I wish I had a more profound answer for this! It seems the ultimate goal of being a writer is to have collection of poems or a story somewhere in the process of being published—to always have something in the works to share, promote or brag about on social media sites. And rightfully so, for in the poems that I’ve submitted for printing, I’ve learned that there is definitely more work that goes into ‘publishing’ than meets the eye! With that being said, I am pleased to announce that one of my pieces will soon be published in “Journey of the Heart: An Anthology of Women’s Spiritual Poetry,” a new book that is due for release this summer.

How does my work differ from others of its genre?
I would say not as good as some, perhaps a bit better than others. I’ve been writing for just over 4 years now. In that time, I’ve gotten a sense of my own voice, but am not nearly confident enough to call myself  'poet' yet. I think that is a title earned through recognition and respect of one’s peers.  And there are so many others whose writing absolutely blows me away! I think most of what I write about has probably been said before—actually I’m sure of it. What makes it different is my own unique perspective.  We may travel parallel paths with others, sometimes it seems the same road, but what we see and how we view it—what it means to us—comes from a deeper place inside. I try to write from that place; not how others see and understand it—but what it means to me alone. But then, isn’t that what all writers do?

Why do I write what I do?
Why do crickets chirp? I started writing as a catharsis: a need to express anger and disappointment; to pull myself out of a dark hole after losing a job of many years that I truly loved doing. Putting my thoughts, my feelings, down on paper helped me to find myself again. And I continue to write because I’ve always enjoyed being creative; and channeling this creativity into words, into poetry, helps me to feed this addiction. Sometimes I write from image or word prompts, if only because they challenge me to keep writing. Yet even my own life experiences offer quite a deep well to draw from.  And then there are those moments when I am so moved and inspired by something that I can’t write fast enough. The words are there, the universe aligns, and I’ll finish in one shot and think, “Did this just come from me?” My recent 'Five a.m. on an April Morning' was one of those pieces. It’s in these rare “aha” moments when I think I am most worthy to stand among my writing peers.

How does my writing process work?
Hmmmm…process? I don’t really have a formula. Either the words are there, tumbling to get out, or they’re not! Most of my writing stems from what I am feeling at the moment—perhaps a memory bubbling up from the past, my emotions at the time, or from being touched by something or someone during my daily routine. Often I find myself composing something on the half hour drive between home and work. The words will start to toss about in my head…sometimes they may fall together in some sort of rhyme or format on their own…and sometimes its just a line or two that keep echoing, repeating, crying out to be more. It’s really difficult to predict at any given time what may move or inspire me. And I truly envy those lucky writers who are able to spend time and focus on their writing each and every day. It’s not always easy for me to eke out time to write, between working full time and taking care of home and family, without feeling guilty over letting something else go. I live for those quiet moments alone when I can get lost in the words!

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I'm honored to pass this torch along to these two lovely and extremely talented poets, writers and friends who will posting their Blog Hop and sharing their answers to these questions next week, on or about Monday, May 26, 2014. Please visit their blogs, and read, like and follow if you are not already doing so!

Victoria C. Slotto, Author

Victoria spent many years working as an RN in the fields of death and dying. In retirement she’s chosen to pursue the creative life as a novelist and poet. Her first novel, Winter is Past, was published by Lucky Bat Books in 2011. A second novel will be forthcoming in the near future. She is happy to pen poetry and articles for dVerse Poetry, Into the Bardo, and her own blog that deal with the art and craft of poetry and fiction writing, as well as spirituality. Victoria derives inspiration from her life experience working with persons at the end-of-life, from nature, spirituality, from poetry prompts and whatever else pops into her awareness. She enjoys life with her photographer husband and two dogs in Reno, Nevada and Palm Desert, California.
You may find Victoria’s blog at: Victoria C. Slotto, Author
  and her website here at: Victoria C. Slotto, Author Fiction, Poetry and Essays

Margaret Schaff Bednar: Poet, Photographer

Margaret Bednar was born and raised in Northern Illinois.  She remembers being a bit of a tomboy growing up—living on a small farm with horses, goats, chickens, dogs, cats, and being outside all summer!  Married now for 24 years and a mother with six children of her own, she currently lives in the southeast (United States) and loves it.  She started composing her poetry a few years back – which most often reflects upon her two passions above - the out-of-doors and her family.  

A regular contributor to G-Man’s Flash 55 and Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, you can find Margaret’s wonderful words and amazing photography at: 
Art Happens 365 — MyPoetic Journey

Thursday, May 15, 2014


He holds everything over her head
controls with word or phrase—

  and her light disappears

She no longer thinks,
no longer cares; only aware
of the sadness, the loss
     the ultimate cost

…and it always comes down
     to the cost… in the end.
Doesn’t it?

Why fight for control?

Why struggle till nothing is left
  but impressions and cast-off
   of who she might have been?

Ginny Brannan 2014

Not the usual but where the pen went today. 

Monday, May 5, 2014

Spring Clean-Up

There’s something about the feel
of damp earth between my fingers—
the smell of newly turned soil,
rich… dark…awaiting first touch.
There’s joy in that first sighting
of  earthworms—exposed…scrambling...
anxiously returning to their hiding places—
that speaks to the continuity of life
after the long and barren winter.

There’s an escape that calls on the wind
blowing on this overcast day
perfumed with the promise of rain.
I continue my annual ritual—
finding peace in the solitude;
contentment in the silence—
lost inside season’s change.

© Ginny Brannan 2014

Sunday, May 4, 2014

A Sonnet in 'C' Minor

How deep the well that holds our futures past,
its formidable lining cast in stone—
posessing seeds of memories unsown;
and consummated love that wouldn’t last.

There's only few who’ve seen our souls unmasked,
before the vines of life were overgrown;
and more unique when one still stands alone,
despite how often roles have been recast.

Yet in this spinning Möbius of time,
reflections in the broken shards of youth
will often circle back to certain truth
well hidden in the caches of our prime…

The time now ripe for these words I could never say:
The rightness eclipsed each mistake made along the way.” 

© Ginny Brannan 2014