In Dreams

 

Implausible, or so it seems

but real or not, can you conceive

the truth that hides inside our dreams?

Where deep within such altered state

the past and present interweave.

and hidden secrets come to light
in rhythmic breathing of the night;

and all the things we dare not say

slip the confines of the day

to acquiesce. reshape, refine

and coalesce inside our mind.

Somewhere in this tug of war,

the soul cries out for want of more:

the long forgotten touch of skin

the ardor hidden in a look

a thirst, found quenched in our rapport,

the heat exploding from within,

new worlds to map, and to explore–

for now we tread this in-between

 and bide our time inside a dream.

© Ginny Brannan 2026

"No Soup for You"

 

It was just a little thing,

the way you read my mind–

probably coincidence

or planetary confluence

no reason or no rhyme.

It was just a little thing

how the words took their own meaning

as if you sensed my deepest thoughts

and knew what I was feeling.

It was just a little thing

no truth or consequences

but for a moment it felt real

some universal prescience

and I, the pawn who stumble on

searching for some relevance

holding the last bastion

just to find indifference

provision without sustenance

 

© Ginny Brannan 2023

*Title credit to the TV series "Seinfeld," a quote from the episode called "The Soup Nazi" who demands a strict regimen to order his famous soups. "No soup for you" the retort given if you do not follow his rules.

Ad Infinitum

The sum of the whole is less than all of its parts­–

it fades more with each passing hour, no rhyme

or reason. Maybe it’s the month, or the day, 

or just the way that time likes to slip away. 

No rest for the weary, nothing finds realization

as time folds in on us; completion calculated

by those whose expectations exceed our abilities.

Reality and insanity occupy the same timeline:

when it comes down to it, it’s all about time.

Time is not our friend. Only so many minutes in the day,

it’s always running away when there’s so much to do.

Everyone rushing to finish their tasks, no wonder

the days disappear, and nothing good lasts.

Another day, another dollar...more likely fifty cents,

after the taxes and bills are digested...

If this life is a test will we pass or fail?

I sit obsessing on the day that’s ahead

second-guessing the challenges yet to come

anticipating it to be the same as yesterday,

locked inside this loop of endless tedium.

 

© Ginny Brannan 2023 

Letting Go...

 

I know too many strong women

who'd never see it that way;

they sacrifice for others every day

for their jobs, their families, 

but never for themselves.

They would rather die a thousand deaths

than admit that they, too, 

might like looking after.

It’s a hard lesson to learn—

to stop, to step away, to regroup;

to remember that NO is an answer, too.

Our insecurities haunt us…

Yet, it’s only when we give up the idea

 that we can control everything,

 that we can do everything,

 that we finally find peace.

 

We’ve been beating ourselves up for far too long…

         Isn’t it time to just let go?

 

© Ginny Brannan 2023

Good-bye 2021, Don't Let the Door Hit Ya...

We’ve laughed and we’ve cried

faced challenges, struggled with choices.

We’ve wallowed just a bit

and swallowed our dreams.

We’ve even changed careers midstream.

The worst days threatened to drag us under

but we've still managed to put one foot in front of the other

and keep on moving, no matter what;

because it’s not how many times you stumble

it’s how many times you get up again.

It’s holding onto the belief of  better days ahead

no matter how dark it seems now.

So 2021, we count the hours until you’re gone.

Out with the old, in with the new,

and as we bid the year 'adieu'

we hold tight to the adage 

that "all good things come to those who wait,"

as long as we have patience, perseverance

and a little bit of  faith.

© GB 2021

...But Are You, Really?

I wonder how well you think you know me.

You ask how I’ve been, and I answer truthfully.

And then comes the look,

the one that says “Are you? Are you, really?”

I’ve known those who fell into a bottomless abyss,

lost in the deep spaces, the dark places.

I’ve seen others choose to view the world

through the bottom of a bottle.

And those who carry their grief like a chip 

on their shoulder, weighted down, bitter, 

blaming others for what they couldn't fix.

I am not that person;

I have known light, 

and I have known love.

I have watched fortitude and determination

bring someone back. Not once, not twice,

but again, and again, and again.

And I made a promise that I, too, would 

never give up, never surrender.

In this I find my peace.

So if you expect a different answer,

then don’t ask.

I am okay.

 Really.

© Ginny Brannan 2021

Static

 

I search for a signal

as I try to decipher 

the incoming codes—

communication is sporadic at best

at worst, non-existent.

The voices that I hear are jumbled,

no clear beacon can be found.

We used to shout from room to room

unable to understand what the other was saying

yet only a step away to clarify the sound.

How quiet the house with no voice forthcoming,

how empty the heart now locked in silence

searching for wholeness in this vacuum of grief.

 

© Ginny Brannan 2021

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...

In the Interim

I’m still here, reading between the lines—

pondering all hopes and dreams,

while stuck in these confines;

fearing what’s unknown to me

and what is yet to be—

the many things that march on by

and what I hope to see.

Oh!  All those hours that I’ve spent, 

trying to get from here to there…

waiting for the sun to break,

the storm to pass, the clouds to part

I wallow in this in-between

stuck in this empty shell…

grappling for stability,

I live my life vicariously,

in this limbo I'm assigned—

 observing others pass on by,

  I read between the lines.

© Ginny Brannan 2019

Three to One

They say bad news comes in threes

it always seems to fall that way

perhaps it does, or it just seems to

because we are all looking

for the other shoe to drop,

another bad break,

another rotten throw of the dice.

If bad news comes in threes

how does good news come?

On a wing and a prayer?

On padded feet?

It never seems to balance out

the ‘threes’ to the one—

but at the end of the day

it gives us something to hang onto…

and given my d’ruthers,

   I’ll take it.

© Ginny Brannan 2018

Playing for the Win

Image: Wikipedia, Snakes and Ladders

I’ve never been good at playing games—

I can’t bluff to save my life

all that I feel is written across my face,

so cards are out.

And chess would not be my forte;

I barely have the ability to see one move ahead

much less twelve to the win.

Monopoly, like poker, and chess,

requires certain skills,

none of which I possess.

No, my life is more like Snakes and Ladders

a mix of skill and chance, good and bad

of climbing and slipping back again

How many times have I ended up where I’ve begun

—falling back to square one?

I can only hope when the game is complete

that the virtues will outweigh the sins

and I will find the salvation that awaits

those who persist.

© Ginny Brannan 2017

To learn more about this fascinating game, a pretty good reflection on life itself, check it out at Wikipedia.

Hanging

Sometimes the

  woulda

            coulda

                        shouldas

the

     what ifs

            and the maybes

are left to dangle

as sentence awaits

one final punctuation.

©  Ginny Brannan 2013

Sharing at d'Verse Poets Pub Open Link Night #100. Come see what others are sharing!!

Shadow of Doubt

Sun brushes the horizon with a kiss

and bids adieu to daylight with a promise           

that moon will share the secrets of the night.

I feel your breath upon me in the night,

entwined with you, upon my neck a kiss--

and through your lips the whisper of a promise…

Morning dawns, a new day full of promise

as pledges are remembered from the night;

your love revealed, then sealed with passion's kiss--

Did your kiss lie, will promise die with night?

©  Ginny Brannan August 2012

First attempt at a tritina.  The tritina is the little sister of the sestina – a variation made up of three tercets and a one-line envoy. In other words, it’s composed of ten lines, starting with three stanzas of three lines each, and then a single line to conclude the poem. The line-ending words of the tritina follow a pattern similar to that of the sestina, appearing thus: ABC, CAB, BCA with the envoy as ABC. 

Shared at d'Verse Poets Pub Form For All: On Tritinas
***Linking up to d'Verse Poets Pub Open Link Night #60. 

White Noise

You never hear a word I say

made up your mind, you’ve made your choice--

now all you hear is background noise.

This fettered life in disarray--

still you ignore, while I implore,

and passion wallows in decay.

Seems I no longer have a voice,

you never hear a word I say.

© Ginny Brannan February 2012


Sharing at d'Verse Poets Pub Open Link Night 2/28/12

Odd Lots #2: 'Expectations'

© Copyright Ginny Brannan May 2011 Original Quote, Odd Lots & Brief thoughts.