River Walk

 We walk along the river path in silence

as sun slips ever lower in the west–

inside the quiet stillness old friends share

the kind that needs no plumage to impress,

each one of us relaxed in our own skin

not needing to break silence to express.

 

Maxfield Parrish clouds reflect the light,

their soft pastels are mirrored in the stream

incognizant of anything that’s passed

yesterday, today, the years between...

Who knew that such camaraderie would last?

It’s surely nothing any had foreseen.

 

Bright orange ball slips down behind the hills

that wrap this town inside their warm embrace.

On the street, the traffic holds its breath

as our footfalls metronome at faster pace....

the darkening sky a tense diaphragm,

while we say goodbye and go our separate ways.

 

It’s funny how some lives are interlaced,

transcending the confines of time and space.

© Ginny Brannan 2023

 

This one was prompted by one of the Poetry sites I still read. Of course I forged ahead, then went back to the prompt to find I missed one important thing, to include the two lines  (well, one line actually) somewhere in the body of the poem. 

 

‘Traffic holding its breath,

Sky a tense diaphragm’

I did, sort of, though I split it. And I kind of paraphrased the first line. These lines were an afterthought, and it shows. But I gave it a shot. Oh, and exactly 144 words as required. Good practice!

Here is a link to the prompt at DVerse Poets Pub

*Image: Maxfiled Parrish print, Vermont Sunset at Ascutney (clouds reflecting on Connecticut River)

Out of Tune

 

Did you ever see someone tune a guitar by ear?

How they hear each note with clarity

and know just where to turn the key?

Writers do that with their words

with nuance or a turn of phrase,

with hidden meanings, obfuscation

that plays to reader’s speculation.

I read the songs that you compose

knowing that the notes aren’t mine,

hoping that someday I’ll find

an aria inspired by me.

Until that happens, I’m resigned

to drift your ambiguity;

exploring cadence in your lines

I listen for the melody, 

hoping for the smallest sign

that indicates the song is mine.

 

© Ginny Brannan 2023