Showing posts with label Serenity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Serenity. Show all posts

Wednesday, May 18, 2016

Synchronicity

Image by John Burk. Used with Permission

I look to the west as setting sun crests
on the Holyoke range, their time worn brow
casting deep shadows upon the Quinetucket,
their doppelgängers mirrored in the still water.
Past these hills lie the Berkshires
and a bit further, the mighty Muh-he-kun-ne-tuk
meanders past Albany while the thick-grown
woodlands of the Adirondacks and Catskills
turn somber in the fading light.

There is magic in these hills;
if you listen carefully you can 
hear the voices of the ancients
murmuring through the trees.
I know you hear them too,
when the wind whistles just so
and the river sings her song.

We really aren’t so different, you and I…
inspired in accordance
by our ever-changing views—
I burn my words in black on white,
then somewhere in the waning light
I'll pass my torch to you.

© Ginny Brannan 2016

I wish to extend my sincerest thanks to photographer John Burk for permitting me to use one of his amazing photos. The image above is called "Connecticut River Oxbow Sunset & Mt. Tom." It captures the essence and beauty of the Connecticut River as I have often seen it. You may find more of his lovely work at http://johnburk.zenfolio.com

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*Quinetucket: Reference to the Connecticut River. Per Wikipedia the word Connecticut is a French corruption of the Mohegan word Quinetucket, which means "beside the long, tidal river."  The word "Connecticut" came into existence during the early 1600's, describing the river, which was also called simply "The Great River.

**Muh-he-kun-ne-tuk (Hudson River) per Wikipedia: The Hudson was known as Muh-he-kun-ne-tuk (River that flows two ways) by the Mohican tribe who formerly inhabited both banks of the lower portion of the river.

Monday, March 9, 2015

Hoar Frost

In nature's beauty, peace is found…

A star filled night upon the plain
   invites small jewels to form again….

These delicate and frozen gems
align in perfect symmetry—
they cling to even smallest stem
in ways that man could not create.
I truly am in awe of such
   for this is no designer’s touch…
their form defies imagination.

The daylight breaks, and with the dawn
we find we cannot hold nor halt
the melting of these tiny shards…
and so we capture, we encrypt
their image to our memory’s vault.

Then, left inspired by what we’ve seen
in moment of tranquility
we've ascertained ability
to face our day with newfound calm.


© Ginny Brannan 2015


Monday, March 10, 2014

Ireland

Resharing this early poem, 'tis the season! Newly added reading at the bottom.



My heart belongs to Ireland, green isle across the sea--
oh Ireland, dear Ireland, why do you call to me?
Oh lovely land of ancient ruin and mystic Celtic lore,
of leprechauns, and fairies, and swans along the shore;
of northern causeways made of stone where giants once did roam,
of poets and of famous saints who called this island ‘home;'
of thund’ring waves against the cliffs, and wind upon the strand--
even non-believers must surely see God’s hand.
White sheep dot the patchwork fields along the winding road,
rainbows sail ’cross dampened skies and promise hidden gold.
‘Tis here the gift of eloquence is but a kiss away,
and there’s naught quite so lovely as sunset on Galway Bay.
But sure’n it’s the people so warm and filled with grace,
with lilting voice and open heart, that makes one love this place.
Oh Ireland, dear Ireland, green isle across the sea…
you took a piece of my heart, and now are part of me.

This poem comprises everything that I love about this country.
© Ginny Brannan 2010
Photos: Ginny Brannan - Above: lace stone walls near village of Cong, County Mayo, Ireland
Below: O'Brien's Tower, Cliffs of Moher, County Clare, Ireland, 2006

Monday, December 24, 2012

December Nocturne


















We slip the quiet streets at night,
and view with silent scrutiny
the lights on every Christmas tree,
each welcoming with their soft light

The stars peek through the tattered clouds--
while crystals float upon the breeze;
they dust the ground with gentle ease,
as sleeping town rests yet unplowed

We hear a distant church bell chime,
it breaks the calm and still nocturne.
We pause a step on this sojourn
to breathe and let our souls unwind

Once each year we let things cease
to watch a winter’s eve unfold
we bundle up against the cold
and wrap ourselves in season’s peace.

©  Ginny Brannan December 2012

Once each year we feel a bit like "peeping toms" as we head out for an evening to check out holiday lights, and peer through windows to view each tree (albeit from the street!). A guilty pleasure!

Sharing at d'Verse Poets Open Link Night Week #76 Holiday Edition! Hope everyone had a wonderful day!

*Image by author: Tree reflecting on pond, North Hadley, MA

Friday, September 21, 2012

Perfect Serenity


Past the witching hour
entering the realm where
reality ebbs into nocturne.
Family fast asleep;
each breath, each snore
comforting in the dark.
Time ticks on the mantle…

seconds pass, uncounted.
Enveloped in quiet,
reflecting on the day--
enjoying the solitude,
no interruptions…
I hear my inner voice
turning, churning, creating…
yesterday fades; tomorrow awaits.

© Ginny Brannan September 2012

*Written for d’Verse Poets Meeting the Bar: BeautifulSolitude, hosted by Claudia Schoenfeld. 
Image by author

Monday, August 6, 2012

Monday, July 23, 2012

Seeking Clarity

Figure Eight by Franz Kline












life in constant flux
we explore our center core
seeking clarity

much like yin and yang
attempting to find balance
in uncertainty

embracing the gray
in a world of black and white
a constant struggle

inner peace renewed
chaos ceases to exist
once more we are whole

© Ginny Brannan July 2012

Chinese symbols, Yin and Yang







Sharing at The Mag #127 ~ they provide the image, we provide the story!

Sunday, April 3, 2011

A Walk in the Woods (Rondeau)

Come walk with me on wooded trail
where nature’s beauty shall prevail;
a single step and we begin...
serenity abides within
the crisp, clean air we now inhale.

We walk beside abandoned rail,
can hear the ghost train whistles wail--
then path leads back to woods again…
Come walk with me.

We live our lives in urban jail,
away from quiet wooded dale.
To stay entrapped would be a sin
when nature beckons with her grin,
and lifts the gray and smog filled veil--
Come walk with me.

From www.desktopscenes.com "Muir Woods"
A Rondeau is a French form, 15 lines long, consisting of three stanzas: a quintet, a quatrain, and a sestet with a rhyme scheme as follows: aabba aabR aabbaR. Lines 9 and 15 are short - a refrain (R) consisting of a phrase taken from line one. The other lines are longer (but all of the same metrical length).
One Shot Poetry Wednesday Week #44 ~ 05/03/2011
Sharing at Gooseberry Garden, Week 10, Theme: Nature