What's In A Name???

Virtually researching the meaning of my name–

(it’s always important to know who you are)

resisting the ever-present urge for self-depreciation

given though, that the actual name means 'maiden-like'

I think this definition now gets lost in translation...

not that I’m not "practically perfect in every way”

I will submit to add the following notation: 

“A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away...”

© Ginny Brannan 2023

Limbo

Lost in this space in-between…

inert and adrift in illusion

mind numb, bereft of emotion––

beleaguered with dreams best forgotten

opining the wish for redemption.

 

© Ginny Brannan 2023

#10

 

Another  month has come to pass

noted on this calendar

of empty dreams. No bright repast

to lighten day or brighten mood

Herein to infinity,

emptiness lies steeped in gray.

redemption waits another  day.

 

Some will see and understand...

Each one mends in their own way.

Vacuous, these empty rooms

echo with our yesterdays.

Neither time nor life allays

to lift the darkness from this tomb;

holding on while life resumes.

© Ginny Brannan 2022

Anything is Possible, Anything Can Be...

 

Pace yourself against this world

of death and pain, of rare disease;

savor all that comes your way,

save sadness for another day.

It’s in the choices that we make

between the darkness and the light,

inside the words we choose to share

layered with hope and not despair.

I’ll select the seeds I sow

tendered by tenacity;

it’s in the setbacks that we grow…

each step we take each day we seize

shines rife with possibilities

 

© Ginny Brannan 2021

With gratitude and love to Mr. Shel Silverstein, whose words are not just for children.

With Good "Intentions"

I had all good intentions of writing today

nothing was going to stop me…

then I had to take the car to the mechanic,

endeavor to do the weekly supermarket shopping.

Next the unplanned defrosting of the freezer,

to make room for the newer purchases.

If only there where more hours in the day

or perhaps if I were a bit more organized...

not that that is likely to happen anytime soon.

So now the day grows late, and any inspiration dissipates.

© Ginny Brannan 2020

NaPoWriMo #23 Day 24  My day in a nutshell...

Non-functional (Life On Hold)

Night now slowly dissipates to day

overhead the skies are filled with dread

—nefarious, these voices in my head.

Familiar now, this rain against the sill,

under endless mantle of pale gray,

nothing seems to change, the clock stands still.

Come what may, we’ll weather what’s ahead,

together we can fend away our fears

if we don’t let uncertainties adhere.

Once more, we'll face despair and doubt head-on,

not ceding to the darkness before dawn

…and all that we have faith will come to be,

    lies somewhere in the heart of you and me.

© Ginny Brannan 2019

And So It Begins...

April is National Poetry Writing Month or NaPoWriMo for short—30 poems in 30 days. Going to give it my best shot! So here's the first, a small acrostic, should you care to read the letters downwards. Happy April! Happy Writing my friends!

The Count

Darkness draws her shrouded cloak

releasing pheromones to flight;

assimilating to the night.

Call out monster by his name,

usurping others for his gain.

Late night when he comes to call—

acquiesce; then give your all.

© Ginny Brannan 2018

Image: Victorian Artwork by Victoria Frances

And if you liked this, find another along the same classic theme here.

In The Same Basket

Deep inside the anger rises

Each one standing by their choice,

Perpetrating bad behavior

Letting violence have a voice.

Oh, where have all the sane folk gone?

Rebelling when we disagree…

All of us must work together,

Become the change we want to see.

Let the flames of love unite us;

Erase the hate to make us free.

©Ginny Brannan 2016

The image is Hate graffiti, discovered on Mt. Tom in nearby Holyoke, MA during the week of the presidential election of 2016.  

Autumn Days

At first the slightest hint of red

understates the deeper green

the hint of changes yet to come…

unfettered now to run its course—

meandering through last warm days,

numbed by chill of early eves.

Delirious we drink this change

as if by absinthe, undermined...

Yielding to elliptic spin,

so comes autumn once again.

© Ginny Brannan 2014

Image taken by author taken at Old Sturbridge Village, MA

Shared at dVerse Poets Open Link Night September 2014

Salvation

Salvation whispers subtly…

an answer to the prayers denied,

lessening the pain inside.

Virtue through complacency…

a chance for you to start again;

twisting word to fit your truth,

impeaching others for their sin.

Once carefree but now obsessed;

narrow-minded on your quest.

©  Ginny Brannan 2014

Excerpt of Michelangelo's 'The Creation of Adam'

Is salvation found in perpetual repentance, or in forgiveness—

primarily forgiving one's self in the quest for inner-peace…

Selkie

Salt from the ocean clings to your skin;

enticing, inviting your lover within.

Lost in your softness, enrapt in your spell—

kindling fire no human can quell.

Impetuous creature elusive to keep;

erotic desire is only “skin deep.”

© Ginny Brannan 2014

Written for the Mag #206 Image provided by Tess Kincaid

A selkie is a mythological creature found in Celtic folklore. The word derives from earlier Scots selich, (from Old English seolh meaning seal). Selkies are said to live as seals in the sea but shed their skin to become human on land. If a man steals a female selkie's skin she is in his power. 

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Selkie

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!

Beside the Falls

Wash away past indiscretions

all the unknowns that I fear;

take away elapsed transgressions

elevating all that’s dear.

Rain your waters down this mountain

fanning spray o’er rock-strewn ledge—

allay the demons with your thunder

lest they harbor near your edge.

Leave me cleansing in your shadows

sloughing off the silt you dredge.

© Ginny Brannan 2013

Image taken by author at Thundering Falls, Killington,VT 8/7/13.

Sharing at dVerse Poets Pub Open Link Night Week 109

Becoming

darkness into light

not death, but transformation

life’s circle complete

Bending light and shadow

elevated to sanguine plateau

closing old for new;

over medial plains, I pass.

Mourn not this loss—

I spread these eager wings,

no longer constrained;

girded in peace, I fly!

© Ginny Brannan

Image: Waking, Walking, Singing, in the Next Dimension, Morris Graves, 1979

Written for The Mag #171.  Image provided by Tess Kincaid. She provides the image, we the story.
Sharing at d'Verse Poets Pub Open Link Night Week #99.

Invisible

Intently seeking confirmation, there’s

no notice taken as poems dissipate behind

veil of disinterest and fade to obscurity.

Intestate, the words choke and die as I

surrender to fate. So few bones thrown

in world of literary validation if one

banks upon comments as affirmation.

Laboring against such obvious disparity,

eclipsed behind all who’ve achieved popularity.

© Ginny Brannan 2013

This was partially inspired by, of all things, the reminder at different sites that after posting, we should read as many poems as we can and share comments. Reciprocation & encouragement. Validation. The question really is, do we write for writing's sake, or is it all about the recognition, the reaction, the number of comments we collect? Written a while ago and sharing tonight for a dear friend struggling with similar questions this week. I think we all feel"invisible" at certain times; point being-- to keep going, keep writing, anyway.

Sharing at d'Verse Poets Pub Open Link Night #93. C'mon by and check out what others have written!

Carnage

Chaos ensues as

all hell breaks loose;

roiled in bloodbath again.

No one feels secure

as we mourn and abhor, then

gather our thoughts to contend, and

echo as one, “This must end!”

© Ginny Brannan 2013

Written after the Boston Marathon bombings.

Mockingbird

"Mockingbird upon the wire

sings his heart out with desire
and still he sits there all alone
without one song to call his own"

Kelvin S.M. 2012 "Resting" used with permission

Multitudes of notes are learned,

octaves high to deeper trills,

casting forth in perfect pitch

keeping time, each refrain builds;

intent to sing each perfectly,

never noticing in youth--

galvanized, a local star,

building up a repertoire

ignoring just one basic truth:

relegating to this choice

deterred the chance to find his voice.

© Ginny Brannan 2013

For d'Verse Poetics: Dominant Impression in Artistic Description, hosted by Kelvin S.M., with recognition and special thanks to him for allowing us to choose one of his images as a source of inspiration!

Squall

Image: Andrew Wyath, "Squall," 1986

An acrostic poem written for The Mag #144 .  
Image provided by Tess Kincaid--she provides the image, we the story!

All Hallows Eve

Sharing at d'Verse Poet's Open Link Night Week #68. Why not stop by and see what the other ghosties and ghoulies and long-legged beasties are sharing tonight!