Sunday, November 2, 2025

Tales from the "Crypt"

 






















Under the light of a thin crescent moon

two children walked onward, heading for home.

To watch younger cousin, the older agreed,

the younger one thrilled to just follow his lead.
 
’Twas just after dark when the movie had ended,

they exited theater to make their way back;

the street lights shone dim on the staircase ahead

past church into cemetery, the older now led.


Aware now it was getting late

the older suggested an alternate path

and so they passed through the iron gate

past shadowy headstones where the ‘undead’ await…


She tried to keep up in the eerie half light

she knew that their street wasn’t that far 

as he ran up ahead, no longer in sight

—not a sound could be heard, not even a car. 


And as he jumped out, she let out a scream

—he thought it was funny (he's really not mean)

It’s a wonder she didn’t faint then and there 

at being the victim of impromptu scare!


The rest of the trip was spent trying to appease

with the offerings of bribes and apologies,

the older not wanting to face the wrath 

for scaring his cousin on that darkened path


              *  *  *  *  *

To this day, I can still recall

the shadowy path on that long ago night

when I thought that the undead had risen from hell,

my dear older cousin to thank for that fright!


© Ginny Brannan


True story, of being "allowed" to accompany my older cousin to a 7 pm movie, already dark out when movie ended. The shortest route home was the road was through the Episcopal church cemetery, a direct line between two streets.My cousins are great, but when not playing "big brother" to protect me, I am apparently "fair game" to be picked on.


* *Image of Immanuel Episcopal Church, Bellows Falls. Yes the actual church and cemetery. Apologies to the photographer who took this image. I found it online, and cannot seem to find it again. Name credit will be added when found.


Wednesday, October 29, 2025

"Megan Marie"


 






















The moon broke through the shrouded sky

revealing a ship with tattered sails;

a haunted vessel that sailed the seas,

an enigma masked in mystery,

She’d seen her share of storms and gales

of cannon fire and mutinies.

Whenever her name was uttered or spoke,

it struck fear in the hearts of the hardest of blokes
for all knew the name of the “Megan Marie.”


Some loves are never meant to be

and hearts oft want what they cannot have

And so her captain sailed the seas

trying to forget the woman he’d lost.

And when they gave his eulogy

they spoke of this pirate who scoured the seas

searching in every port of call
for the woman he loved who held the key...

knowing his heart would never be free.


And sometimes, on a starless night,

when the white caps stir from a feral wind

the masts arise from their salty grave

and the ancient ship sets sail again,

fulfilling the ancient prophecy 

of the one who still searches for Megan Marie.


© Ginny Brannan 2025


Sunday, October 19, 2025

Sink or Swim

 













I’m doing it again…

writing the same poem over and over

Same words, different order
exorcising my ‘demon’ thoughts,

as if in doing so, the outcome might be different, too.

I’m old school, taught long ago

that girls don’t make the first move.

Times have changed, but I’m not sure how to.


Sometimes I sense that we are connected. 

“soul friends” as they say,

living parallel lives, with a deeper understanding

of each other than either of us care to admit.

But words don’t come easy to unpracticed hearts.

And where might we even start?

All we seem to come up with is 

an occasional tempered “How do you do?”

Two strangers testing the waters with our words 

–being ever so careful not to drown.


© Ginny Brannan 2025


Skeleton Bones!

 













Spooky, spooky skeletons

dancing on the lawn

their shadows move in firelight

to their favorite song.


Witch’s kettle on the flames

stirring up a stew

eye of newt and toe of frog

in their special brew.


From the woods there comes a howl,

an otherworldly sound;

watch dismembered body parts

crawl out of the ground.


Spooky, spooky skeletons

dancing on the lawn

while batwings whisper from their caves

into the woods beyond.


The will o’ wisps blink in the mist

what secrets might they share,

preying upon simpletons 

to catch them unaware?


The undead rise before our eyes

searching for the feast

We do not know which way they’ll go

no rest for the ‘deceased.’


Spooky, spooky skeletons

dancing on the lawn

on the edges of the night, 

Blink…and they are gone.


© Ginny Brannan 2025


In no small part inspired by Disney's "Skeleton Dance", couldn't get the tune out of my head. The words, however, are my own!


Saturday, October 4, 2025

It's Not "All About Me"


 











In your words I’ve sometimes sensed

—at least in my interpretation—

that hidden in the metaphor

or sometimes in the lines themselves

they might have been inspired by me–

(am pretty sure they wouldn’t be.)

Presumption, or perhaps a wish
that surfaces from time to time…
I am the one you’ve never met

who hears the echos of your thoughts

and in our commonality

understands where you have been:
two kindred spirits who’ve been scarred,

and in our words we spin our shards

confessing dreams in their inflection

lest we admit our feelings there 

hidden in these words we share.


© Ginny Brannan 2025