It Probably Wouldn't Work Anyways

 

The seed of a thought has planted itself

in a niche somewhere deep in my brain

it whispers of some kind of normalcy

and murmurs of new possibilities

the idea of which both frightens me,

and lifts from the pain that remains.

Still, I question of the practicality 

of pondering such triviality.

it probably wouldn’t work anyways

and inside of this current reality

any hope that I hold feels in vain.

Yet the idea persists, won’t cease or desist,

it even appears in my dreams–

it’s hard to ignore as it plays tug o’ war

insists on existing despite my resisting

rattling me to my core.

It’s not like we don’t have rapport,

yet this doesn’t adhere to the norm...

it takes on theme that isn’t mainstream;

but at this stage, must we conform?

And it might cause a few heads to turn–

I weigh that, while trying to make sense.

It waffles between established routine

taking us both to a different extreme

both exciting and pretty intense.

Have I ever mentioned that I over-think things

no matter how large or how small?

I hash and rehash them and sometimes I save them

take out, think about, and sometimes replace them

while weighing the risks and pitfalls.

And I’ve thought all this out, six ways to Sunday

and won't argue for or against...

so if it gets awkward, well what can I say?

If one of us chooses to just walk away?

 At least we both came to the dance.

© GB 2023

Our Heart's Desire

What happened to those days of yore

shopping in the village stores

midnight mass with church bells chiming

then off to bed, our folks reminding

“Say your prayers, sleep tight.

  Santa comes tonight!!”

It doesn’t seem so long ago

through children’s eyes, we watched the glow

of festive trees with colored lights

and candles burning in the night.

And filled with bright anticipation,

we couldn’t wait for school vacation!

Decembers were all cold and white

and yet, our whole world seemed right

            …in those Christmas days of long ago

Many years have passed since then

and so little from the past remains;

the trials of life have changed our views

such anger in the evening news.

As each one bears a certain weight

and loss, the illness culminate,

  we get caught up in the pain

    seems so little left to gain

            …what happened to the joy of long ago?

Ahead our future lies uncertain

it hides behind an opaque curtain—

and it's us who must decide

if we should stay, or run and hide…

Oh! That we might feel the wonder

find the Peace, and shun the thunder

and that we might stake our claim

for the love that still remains…

 Perhaps then we might find the door

   that leads back to those days of yore            

   to  capture joy and to light our way 

                                         once more.

© Ginny Brannan 2019

The title comes from Dorothy Gale, who said  "...If I ever go looking for my heart's desire again, I won't look any further than my own back yard." We can't change the world, but we can change how we view the world, we have that power inside of us. May you feel the light and know the wonder of Christmas.

Photo Credit to: BalancingHome.com

Views from the Past

I never saw you as beautiful

you were always just there;

a vestige, a mile-marker of childhood.

When I was old enough I moved away,

escaped the dark side of my youth.

And now I see that you remained

—inventing, reinventing—

somewhat changed, but still the same.

My view of you is changing too—

Once I thought you held me back

your memory brought mixed reviews

bittersweet and interlaced

with loss and pain and awkwardness

—so many things I once suppressed

but none of which I could erase.

Was only trying to find my way 

and so, it seems, that you were too,

a place to fit, somehow belong...

I took a circumventious route—

an awkward child who found her voice.

You stayed and grew into the land,

each one making our own choice.

Full circle, how things come around…

I see the child I once knew

and see you now for who you are

awakened to the current view.

How sad the years that slipped us by,

but cannot dwell in “should-have-beens”

  you are you and I am I

  – perhaps we might begin again?

© Ginny Brannan 2018

Both personifying the place I came from,
and reflecting back on some who 

influenced who I would become.

Image taken by Photographer Anne Collins who shares her beautiful images on my hometown site called "Growing Up in Bellows Falls." Looking northbound on the Connecticut River.

Used with expressed written permission.

Another One for the Books...

BOOOM!!! BOOM….BOOM….boom…boom….boom…

Living in a valley between two mountains

sound amplifies a hundredfold…

You hear train whistles wailing down the track

long before you ever see the lead engine.

Thunder echoes on forever. And lightening?

Lightening illuminates the whole valley

silhouetting the mountains on both sides

reflecting on the river that divides the two states.

As a child, living here in this town where

Vermont and New Hampshire are interchangeable

I always thought we have the best of both states.

The Connecticut River divides us, but there are bridges—

two in our town, one a few miles to the south,

another twelve or so miles to the north.

Business is conducted on both sides of the river;

family and friends may reside, or work, on either side.

BOOOM!!! BOOM….BOOM….boom…boom…boom…

The townsfolk on my side, the Vermont side, have made

their exodus down to the riverbank this fine summer's eve.

Chairs line the sidewalks along Rockingham and Atkinson Streets,

the parking lots at IGA and the gas station across the way

are filling up with even more of these ‘children of all ages.’

The parking lot of the Dari-Joy—known to the locals as "Joe's"—

is filled to capacity. The yellow neon lights attract all variety of

moths, mosquitoes and other insects— just part of the atmosphere

on this warm July night. Hard to tell who is in line for ice cream

or just milling about before the show, but one thing for sure,

Joe's is doing one heck of a business tonight!

We take our prospective places along the wooden rail

at the top of the bank, eyes focused on the hill across the river.

We cannot see the school on the upper level across the way,

but as we watch, the first trail of light goes up and bursts into

a waterfall of fire! It lights up the sky, then a quick flash, and—

BOOOM!!! BOOM….BOOM….boom…boom…boom…

…the sound ricochets off the mountains and down the valley.

It is followed by another… and another…

Occasionally a loud whistle replaces the boom 

and lingers—seemingly to infinity. 

Down the way a baby cries. Excited children laugh and cover their ears,

as parents and the older folk comparing this display to those of years gone by.

The sprays of fire reflect upon the water; smoke lays heavy in the air,

smell of sulfur drifts downhill and across the river.

We watch as trails of fire are sent skyward one by one,

“ooohing” and “ahhhing” after each colorful explosion.

Suddenly five trails go up at once, followed by five more,

and five more…the Grand Finale!!

The flashes fill the sky, the sound is deafening!!

Surely they must be hearing this in Springfield and Charlestown

to our north, or in Westminster and Walpole to our south.

Spontaneous cheers, whistles and clapping erupt from the crowds.

Another 4^th of July is on the books, and we declare it the best one ever
                                                                                 …until next year!

      

© Ginny Brannan 2016

Image: Lori Larue 2016. Used with expressed permission

Childhood memories of growing up in a small Vermont village on the Connecticut River….
   The image above is looking downriver (south) from the Vermont side toward the village of Bellows Falls.  The bright lights to the right is the Dari Joy, forever "Joes" to me…and beyond that the gas station, the IGA (no longer, now a different business there) and further down the street, our downtown area. The mountain to the left is Fall Mountain on the N.H. side. Our own hills are behind to the right of us in this photo. 

   When I was a child there was a beautiful Arch Bridge spanning the river. Deemed unsafe, it was replaced with the plain single span seen here. And the second bridge, the Vilas Bridge, that connects from the downtown area to NH, a 635 foot concrete span, was also deemed unsafe. Closed since 2009, while VT and NH go back and forth as to who will put up the monies to repair or replace. 

  People would (and still do) line the river bank to see the fireworks displays. Back then they were shot from behind the school on the hill in North Walpole on the 4th. Now, they are done for Old Home Days on the first Saturday in August, and are much larger, the more vivid 'Gucci' kind, shot closer to the river.

...I still hold on to the memories of wonderful childhood 4th's though!

Many thanks to Lori Larue for allowing me to share this beautiful night image of my "hometown" in Vermont!!

Top Image: http://www.bigfoto.com/themes/fireworks/

A Certain Resonance

I feel the weight, the ache

 of a hundred living souls

 resonating within me...

Their empty eyes stare, while crackled voices 

share tales of years gone by, yet still

can't recall the “whens “or “whys”
of how they got there.

  * * * * * * * * *  * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I am no seer, but I know what the future holds…

     

If you are lucky, you’ll find contentment somewhere

in that space, that place between past and present.

Or

You'll remember your yesterdays with perfect clarity

while locked in a body that no longer does your bidding.

(We will not speak of “Door Number Three”

for it holds a tale a different kind;

of loneliness and chronic pain;
and diseases that destroy the mind.)

     * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

There are days this weight feels amplified,

an electrical current crawling ‘cross my skin.

Struggling to keep the calm and status quo

I cry inside for all their ‘might have beens.’

© Ginny Brannan 2016