All the Paths We Do Not Choose

Happiness is not a given, it is a choice.

We all carry the weight of our years,

the ache of our losses and so many tears.

We can wallow there, condemning

others for our lot. Curse the ones who

got us here, the children who’ve forgotten us,

the bosses who have fired us, and all the

things we’re not.  We can flounder in oblivion

drink till we pass out; pop pills, shoot up

and waste away, really, who can blame us? 

Harder still to face the day when every day

it’s raining. When you take to heart what

others say and wish you could contain them.

I’ve always thought the best revenge is to 

live the life we’re meant to, for even at

our very worse, feeling empty, feeling cursed

when we think we won’t get through, 

we still can find potential.

Just reflect on where we’ve been and the fact 

that we’re still standing, despite

the threats to take us down 

and the demons we’re combating.

There is a strength inside of us, we 

only have to find it. But it’s up to us to come 

to terms, and put our past behind us.

 

One minute, one hour, one day at a time.

 

© Ginny Brannan 2023

 

 

In the Words

Written for NWCU WWUC 1/17/13:

Image: Appetite for Photos, with permission

The stone cold face expelled all hope

of ever coming back again

and for awhile I stayed afloat

but then discovered leaky boat

With each rejection darkness grew

I tried to ride the winds of change

but craft continued to sink down

I knew that I would surely drown

He saw the signal of distress

and shared a light to guide me home

and through the rain and bitter cold

it steered me past the rocky shoals

I’d lost my compass on the way

but in the words I found my map

and when the sun broke through the dawn

I'd learned that I could carry on.

© Ginny Brannan January 2013

For Wednesday Wake Up Call we are invited to share when the desire to create first hit us. For me it was at a pivotal point in my life, after losing job of 18 years. Had always seen the glass as half full, until suddenly it wasn’t anymore. My best friend suggested I try writing as a creative way to vent what I was going through. But along the way I discovered something I really enjoyed. For some it is second nature to write, others a calling, for me it was and still is a way to express feelings, events, emotions, bits and pieces of life that are just waiting to be written. 

Someone Else’s Dime

I was always a hard-working man--

I had a family, I had a plan;

then economy crashed,

and I felt the backlash

life as I knew it got tossed in the can.

Now I feel like I’m living on borrowed time,

moment-to-moment, on someone else’s dime.

My family wants nothin’ to do with me,

praying the Lord will see this through for me.

All I want for them to see

is the man I know that I can be...

I may be down on my luck

but I’m not looking for a handout,

I’m just lookin’ for

a hand up.

Old “friends” relieved they'd been by-passed,

point and whisper that I was just an ass;

Out job huntin’ every day

till the good jobs seemed to go away--

finally hit rock bottom in the bottom of a glass.

With no one to believe in me, I let my life go down...

then stumbled on this building while wandering through town.

Now I work with other broken men

each one starting all over again.

They feed my body and soul,

give me hope; pull me out of that hole.

No longer feeling down on my luck...

They didn’t just give just a hand out,

they gave me

a hand up.

© Ginny Brannan October 2011

http://dversepoets.com/2011/10/22/poetics-the-other/

(A work-in-progress that I've been working on since last spring. I thought it fit the theme for "the other" so am posting to share at d'Verse. Not exactly in a true poetry format, but this is how the words came to me, so this is how I wrote it. This was inspired from volunteering at our local Rescue Mission, and working alongside some really wonderful guys who were trying to get their lives together.)

Re "Mission"

Internet Photo: Soup line

Food, bed, roof overhead

never quite seems like enough.

Cell phone, Wii, large screen TV--

boy, have we got it rough...

Hot meals on our table, most of us able

to have plenty of stock on our shelves.

A steady income, we’ve become numb

until we only think of ourselves.

Just open your eyes, you’ll be surprised

at the people who struggle each day.

Nothing to eat, out on the street--

look at them, don’t turn away.

It’s hard to do, knowing it could be you--

that man in that homeless soup line.

Don't care to admit it, but inside we get it;

it’s easier just to be 'blind.'

So next time you're out, just look about

at least you don’t live in your car

You could have it worse, dig deep in that purse

and count how lucky you are.
©Copyright Ginny Brannan April 2011

http://www.facebook.com/hope4springfield

On 4/27/2011 I helped to prepare and serve lunch at our local Rescue Mission (photo above). It was an honor to be able help them, and a truly humbling experience.
Borrowed this fitting quote off a friend's page:
"We don't see things how they are. We see things how we are." Anais Nin

Not Quite 'Good' Enough

Sharing the best that I have to offer--

bulleted, bold faced, and typed to impress.

Make sure I'm putting my best foot forward

as I step out again in best business dress.

Once again masked in best business expression

and settling self into best frame of mind,

I stride in to give my best interview yet:

confident, friendly, engaging and kind.

Doing my best to keep positive outlook,

hoping the best as I wait for that call--

only to learn that again I’ve been 'bested,'

passed by once more after giving my all.
©Copyright Ginny Brannan April 2011


Expunging frustrations

Recycled

Dark rumors persist

we could be dismissed

While cronies assist

he reads his checklist

with flick of the wrist

no names were missed

We plead and insist

no point to resist...

Goodbye, unkissed

©Copyright Ginny Brannan January 2011
Photo: Fresh Easy Bag website

Job Hunter’s Lament

Applying here…applying there…

Applying blindly everywhere.

No face-to-face—I’m just a name

In cyberspace, it’s not the same.

We used to know those hiring,

Now anonymity’s the thing.

And courtesy’s gone out the door,

No “application received” anymore.

Recession’s over so they say,

We’re looking at a brighter day.

Then where’s my job if that is true?

These statisticians have no clue.

I’m qualified, experienced…

This unemployment makes no sense

To me, who’s worked her whole life long,

And wonders what she’s doing wrong?

So once again in mystery,

I share all of my history--

And hope I’ll finally find a place

That interviews me face to face.

And that they’ll like what they see,

And end this spell by hiring me!

Copyright April 2010