For One I called "Friend"...

Upon a spinning top we sit

caught up in our limitations

making sure our needs are met.

The days and years go rolling past

with little thought of time and tide;

always thinking there will be

another chance to say “hello”

to gather the periphery

and spend some time with those we know.

And so it is, and so it goes

till one’s called to another realm.

I see the old friend that I knew

in the light of who you were

youthful, teasing, schoolmate, chum

family man, who you became

excerpts shared upon the pages

interwoven through our lives.

I always waited for the joke

running through the words we shared

more oft than not a bit of snark—

somewhere in our conversation

a smile, the tease in your remark!

And so it was with you and me

and that’s how I’ll remember you

etched upon the times we shared

as we await new rendezvous

in the place where old friends meet,

in the place where laughter reigns

and all who were a part of us

still exist and still remain,

I believe we'll meet again

 

© GB 2022

For David Paine

Friend. Family.

A Fool's Lament

 

I wait for a day without anger and hate

no reckless remarks filled with venom and vile

from impotent men with a need to berate.

feeding some need to debase and defile.

We are defined by the words we have spoken

yet no one’s committed to fix what is broken.

Perhaps we are testing, awaiting our score,

to see how much discourse that we can endure.

There’s no compromise when deceit is abundant

as “normalcy” cedes to different incumbent.

Since when does America bow to sedition,

and what happened to keeping oaths that are pledged?

Forgiveness not found in some act of contrition,

where facts take a backseat to what is alleged.

We walk on a treadmill of misinformation

used to propagate bias and discrimination.

our proof to the contrary risks being maligned

but refraining from doing so just countermines.

So bury your head in the sand if you want to,

swallow the bait being used as a lure

follow the lies in the feed and the fodder

refrain from the data you choose to ignore.

Those who have known you now ask who you are

and you can't even see that you’ve gone too far.

 

© Ginny Brannan 2022

Time and Tide

Unpretentiously, she enters a room

eyes no longer lift to acknowledge her 

there is no effecting command,

no second glance warranted.

Time takes who we were,

until those we know

no longer recognize us .

Yet inside, we do not change.

Hope is but a chimera perceived by those 

who’ve bought into the illusion.

There was always a ready smile behind the mask,

and eyes that danced in the place where the crickets still sing,

yet now she’s seen akin to the years she carries...

the clock ever ticking,  minutes, hours

days, years—ever forward.

She tiptoes in the sand and wonders 

if there really is some master plan.

She waits for time to pass, 

for change at last, for a stir in the wind…

 

where do we end and someone else begins?

where do we go when we close our eyes?

who do we become when who we’ve been disappears?

 

© Ginny Brannan 2022