A Bit of 'Frost' and 'Poe'

 

In the wee hours while still napping,

ever gently came a rapping,

ever soft there came tapping

there, against the window pane.

Deep into the darkness peering

starless night no moon appearing

heavy clouds now commandeering

giving way to steady rain

The budding trees await the calling

of the rain, now heavy falling

that winter storms have hindered, stalling

staving springtime flower show.

The steady downpour falls for hours

sometimes softer, sometimes louder

soaking ground to tease the flowers

where yesterday there still was snow.

 

 © Ginny Brannan 2024

Day 12 Loosely based on Good Universe Next Door Prompt to pay homage to a favorite poet using a line from their poem.  I did not choose one particular line, but instead chose two of my favorite poets, borrowing the style of one (Poe's 'The Raven), and the capture of change of seasons from another (Frost's 'Spring Pools)

We Are Such Stuff As Dreams Are Made Of

 

Nothing’s ever truly as it seems...

while chancing what is real, or just a dream...

   ••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

We are all made of dreams, 

and our life stretches from sleep 

before birth to sleep after death.’

And in the sweet repose of sleep

in the obscure caches of the deep,

Morpheus invites the weary guest

to dwell inside his underworld...

And somewhere in this in-between

where things aren’t always what they seem

and all that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream;

it’s easy to be mesmerized—

to fall under this tricksters spell

exchange our heaven for his hell.

In his empire of the deep

reality cedes itself to sleep­­

our corporeal being incomplete,

and what we know and how we feel

now unresolved to what is ‘real.’

Do you await inside this trance?

Is what we had just happenstance?

And if, perchance, we were to meet again

somewhere inside this godforsaken realm,

would we meet as lovers or as friends—

For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come?

© Ginny Brannan 2023

Shamelessly borrowed quotes from two of my favorites, Poe and Shakespeare, seen in Boldface.

Everlasting

 

Anxiety follows me everywhere—

the ever-vigilant Grim Reaper, 

dormant

  waiting

    anticipating

scattering traps along my path;

calculating the trip, the fall–

  Yet, I forestall...

The garrote tightens ’round my heart

strangulates, asphyxiates

it fades and withers in the dark.

Poe’s crow screeches “Nevermore”

while phantoms from a lifetime passed

 are ever harder to ignore.

The cards are read, the die's been cast,

 nothing sacred ever lasts

© Ginny Brannan 2023

Infatuation, Nothing More

Image: Indestructible by Man Ray (Wikipedia)

Loud the metronome is clicking like some ancient clock now ticking

beating like a lover might upon his long lost true love’s door.

Waiting answer not forthcoming, steadily now hear the drumming,

in his head a soft voice humming…a humming like not heard before--

“Just a neighbor,” he was thinking—the voice that he’d not heard before,

                                                                        only that and nothing more

So he tarries in the shadow, nighttime passing to the morrow

seems his love had disappeared, deep anger prompts him to deplore--

Fast it seems, their days were fleeting; wronged and rueful heart retreating,

chill to chase someone who’s cheating; cheating back won’t even score;

burned and bruised, emotions bleeding--now he finally knows the score--

                                                                        infatuation, nothing more.

©  Ginny Brannan December 2012

(*chill: adj. discouraging, dispiriting)

Had a bit of fun with this, "Poe" etically speaking!! Written for The Mag #146.
Sharing at d'Verse Poets Pub Open Link Night #73