Apollo Eclipsed

Image: Photobucket DSeif 28849

I am drawn to this lady of the night

in luminescent dress of mirrored light.

Beauty combined with mystery and grace,

inspiring poets and artists with her face.

Cerridwen, Luna, Artemis, Selene;

by these and many guises she is seen.

She casts her magical enchantments well,

even true cynics fall under her spell.

And mighty oceans are forced to comply

to mystical woman who rules the sky.

Sometimes her profile is all that we see,

but I favor her full face shining on me…

So turn me away from the harsh daylight,

I succumb to this beauty of the night.

©  Ginny Brannan June 2011

Moon Goddesses and deities:
Cerridwen=Welsh; Luna (Diana) Roman; Artemis and Selene=Greek. 
Apollo of course, Greek god of light and sun

Season of the Sun

Wheat Field With Rising Sun, Vincent van Gogh, 1889

Humid summer season lies before us

languid days and sultry nights combine--

listen, hear the crickets sing their chorus,

smell the sweet fruit ripen on the vine.

Across the valley, fields stretch on forever…

the tall wheat turning golden in the sun;

distant mountains call us to their coolness;

no respite until the day is done.

I wish these summer days could last forever--

basking under Helios’ glow.

Already, our long days are growing shorter…

seems that sadly, all good things must go.

© Copyright Ginny Brannan July 2011

Photo prompt courtesy Tess Kincaid, Magpie Tales #72

Shared at One Stop Poetry, One Shot Wednesday Week #53

Grandfather’s Workshop

Photo shared by Rob Hanson, photographer

Windows are opaque and cloudy,

they match the world outside today.

Here to clean and inventory;

I share their mood, so dark and gray.

Decades worth of junk and clutter

fill this old and dusty shed--

shelves stuffed full of things collected;

phones still hang there, long since dead.

Up against the dirty window

sits a long forgotten bill;

what was once an oft-used number

is scratched down on the windowsill.

Several wrinkled, well-worn postcards

decorate the rough-hewn walls…

All the places never gone to--

work was where his duty called.

If I listen, still can hear him…

perhaps it’s just a bird outside.

Wish somehow that phone could reach him,

and I could say one last goodbye.

© Copyright Ginny Brannan June 2011

My take on the photo image provided by Rob Hanson at One Stop Poetry.

Shared at Thursday Poet's Rally #46 6/16 - 6/22/2011

From the inside-out,

the inner poet escapes

needing to express

Humbly accepting the Perfect Poet Award Week #47, for my entry Week #46!

Nominating Martin at KalahariBlues blogspot for Week #47

The Bootmaker

Bent over bench,

calloused hands from years of work;

Master at his craft.

© Ginny Brannan June 2011

Photo prompt courtesy Photographer Rob Hanson for One Shoot Sunday 6/05/2011

Teetering

Once more I'm staring into the abyss,

down in the shadows,  hear the Sirens’ call--

like waking dreams, where something is amiss,

their echoes rise against the sheer rock wall.

Again, I'm standing on this precipice;

I teeter on the edge, try not to fall

What happened to the path, no longer clear?

Will anybody see me disappear?

© Copyright Ginny Brannan June 2010
(Thanks to LP and MJM for their invaluable help!)

Shared at One Stop Poetry, One Shot Wednesday 6/09/2011 
Shared at Jingle Poetry, Poetry Potluck 6/20/2011  

Internet Image: "Precipice"

Against the Night (Ottava Rima)

We send our soldiers off to foreign land,

to fight for rights for those who are oppressed,

while other countries watch us make a stand

and call us names, and say we are "obsessed.”

So quick are they to burn us with this 'brand.'

Do they forget the freedoms we’ve addressed?

We each are born with basic human rights--

they’d rather judge, with vicious words indict.

I’ve read our “nose is where it don’t belong;”

we’re “tracking ghosts” that really don’t exist.

But who can say who’s right or who is wrong,

or if  we’re chasing shadows in the mist?

They tell us we should “try to get along,”

while evil waits to strike with angry fist.

I'm glad our soldiers guard against the night

protecting me,  and all who cannot fight.

© Copyright Ginny Brannan Memorial Day, May 2011

Photo: http://recycle4acause.wordpress.com

Ottava Rima is an 8 line poem, Rhyme scheme a-b-a-b-a-b-c-c, 10 to 11 syllables per line, usually iambic pentameter. 

Choices

Delicate or strong

lovely, ugly...each must choose,

which will we become?

© Copyright Ginny Brannan May 2011

Dragonfly Photo courtesy of Charlie Parant: 

http://appetiteforphotos.blogspot.com/

Used with express written permission 
Shared One Stop Poetry One Shot Wednesday Week #48 5/31/2011

Refracted Images (Octain)

The years go spinning by so fast--

the awkwardness and trials of youth

have given way to different truth.

No thought to how we’d be recast

when we were young and having fun,

and days and months were flowing past.

But time is harsh and so uncouth--

the years go spinning by so fast.

© Copyright Ginny Brannan May 16, 2010


Inspired by a dear friend's birthday. Time stops for no one, but it surely helps having friends that are right there along side to share it with you.


Shared at One Stop Poetry, Monday 5/16/2011 

Vicious Cycle (Quatern)

I find that I must start again,

a single step and I begin

along this old, familiar road

that time is starting to erode.

I pause to look around, and then

I find that I must start again.

It seems this path will never end--

can’t even make it 'round the bend.

I push myself to motivate,

and though the hour is getting late--

I find that I must start again,

and pull my strength from deep within.

Set faster pace, I am hell-bound…

determined not to lose my ground.

I reach my goal, but just can’t win

I find that I must start again.
© Copyright Ginny Brannan May 2011

A Quatern is a sixteen line French form composed of four quatrains. It is similar to the Kyrielle  and the Retourne. It has a refrain that is in a different place in each quatrain. The first line of stanza one is the second line of stanza two, third line of stanza three, and fourth line of stanza four. A quatern has eight syllables per line. It does not have to be iambic or follow a set rhyme scheme.

One Shot Poetry Wednesday Week #45 5/10/11

Eyes Closed (Senryu)

young man only sees
wrinkle and feeble old man
not what he'll become
©Copyright Ginny Brannan March 2011

Artist: Paul Wright, U.K.

Senryu (also called human haiku) is an unrhymed Japanese verse consisting of three unrhymed lines of 5,7,5 or 17 syllables. Senryu is usually written in present tense and only refers to some aspect of human nature or emotions.
Shared One Stop Poetry, One Shot Wednesday Week #47

Undercurrents

"Hello, how are you?

Good to see you again.

How’s the family doing?

See you’ve made new friends."

"Yeah, I’m fine, not much new

since you and I last spoke."

We chat politely, hold that line--

even share a joke.

Just below the surface

feel that subtle undertow,

cannot change our current course

set so long ago.

So we chat politely,

and only dip our toe…

ignore the undercurrent,

then we turn and go.

©Copyright  Ginny Brannan June 2010
Internet Photo "Holding Hands" India
Shared One Stop Poetry One Shot Wednesday Week 45
http://onestoppoetry.com/2011/05/one-shot-wednesday-week 45

Posted at d'Verse Poets Pub, Poetics "Undercurrents." It's been shared once before, but with a poem sharing the same title as the prompt, I couldn't resist sharing again!

Green Flash at Sunset

For a minute we were soulmates...

You knew me before ever speaking.

I gave you my heart. And you?

You gave me a sense of self, accepted me,

and —dare I say— perhaps even loved me 

                                     ... for a minute

You were my ‘green flash’ at sunset 

bright…rare…there

then gone as quickly,

leaving me holding

your memory.

© Copyright Ginny Brannan April 2010

'Green Flash' Photo by FrameFrozen-1 at Deviant Art

http://onestoppoetry.com/

Friday Poetically/ One Shot Poetry 5/20/2011