The Grief of Just Existing

 

I focus on the day ahead

as if it had a purpose

perhaps I should just stay in bed

With trepidation and with dread

I choose to face the ‘circus’

and focus on the day ahead

But still, the voices in my head

keep telling me I’m worthless–

perhaps I ought to stay in bed

We don't exist without regrets

and shouldn’t lose our focus:

I focus on the day ahead

With some ambivalence I tread;

the heaviness, enormous…

– perhaps I should just stay in bed.

And still, despite the tears I’ve shed,

I am fucking dauntless—

I focus on the day ahead,

dismiss the thought to stay in bed.

© Ginny Brannan 2025

*Use of profanity in poetry for emphasis

*Villanelles: use of variations on Refrains.

Warriors

 

Here’s to all who stand their ground

protecting our democracy—

ever firm, we won’t back down.

 

When evil scores, as battles mount

from leaders with myopathy,

here’s to all who stand their ground.

 

On days when daylight can’t be found

we’ll not cede to despondency...

ever firm, we won’t back down.

 

While faced by storms we can’t surmount

the open hate, misogyny;

here’s to all who stand their ground.

 

The autocrats will wane, uncrowned,

exposed through their hypocrisy;

ever firm, we won’t back down.

 

So as the battle cries resound

in this skirmish for autonomy;

here’s to all who stand their ground

– ever firm, we won’t back down.

© Ginny Brannan 2024

Image:

June 22,1916 E Company going to Eagle Pass, TX, WWI

Historic Photos - Bellows Falls, VT and surrounding area. Used with expressed permission from Charles Parant, owner of site.

Against the Wind

 

I try to put my best foot forward

even when the skies are gray;

the darkness always reaching toward us

 

still all my best laid plans are thwarted.

I stumble trying to make headway

while trying to put my best foot forward

 

I doubt I’ll ever be rewarded

for even those we love betray;

the darkness always reaching toward us

 

each new strategy, aborted

our cards are dealt then cast away

while trying to put our best foot forward

 

the words I hear appear distorted,

spinning thoughts in disarray

—the darkness always reaching toward us

 

I do my best to be supportive

while you discourage and upbraid

I try to put my best foot forward

the darkness always reaching toward us.

 

© Ginny Brannan 2024

"I’m older now and still running against the wind"  Bob Seger

.

Day 17 NaPoWriMo 2024 prompt: A poem inspired by a piece of music. Can be used as title

Things That Go Bump in the Night

 

Soft footsteps echo through the empty hall

to startle me awake from dreamless sleep

as ghostly shadows dance along the wall

 

Ever cautiously so I don’t fall,

across the barren oaken floor do I creep

toward the sound of footsteps in the hall

 

Over gabled roof a Screech owl calls

before escaping into woodlands deep

while limb-like shadows creep along the wall

 

By the bedroom door I pause, then stall­–

the aging floor condemns with a loud 'creak'

to warn approaching footsteps in the hall

 

I wonder if I have the wherewithal

to crack the door a bit and take a peak,

while shadows hold their council on the wall

 

I think back under covers I shall crawl

inside my blanket shroud I’ll burrow deep;

hidden from the footsteps in the hall

and those shadows, ever watchful, on the wall.

 

© Ginny Brannan 2023

Destiny

 

Youth rushes toward a future they can’t  see

ever fearless, charting unknown roads

while age looks back with no naïveté’

 

Confident, with no humility,

boldly seizing what they think they’re owed

youth rushes toward a future they can’t see

 

Yet freedom holds a grim reality,

endless days just trying to stay afloat;

age looks back with no naïveté’

 

Confident in their ability

unaware of all that time erodes

youth rushes toward a future they can’t see

 

Pressing onward, with no guarantee

acquainted with how fast life can implode

age looks back with no naïveté

 

Limited by his infirmity

the old man shuffles by in tattered coat;

youth rushes past toward all they’ve yet to see

as age looks back with no naïveté’

 

© Ginny Brannan 2023

The Old Meeting House

 

Whispering of her tales of long ago

her stately image framed inside my mind

captured in soft hues of ice and snow

 

Within this hushed and still scenario

upon a hilltop, stalwart and refined

whispering her tales from long ago

 

Across the barren fields, chill wind blows

through empty trees, their silhouettes outlined

against the palest hues of ice and snow

 

I picture sills alight in candleglow

within her walls, our history defined

shared to us in tales of long ago

 

She stands against sky of indigo

stark testament to another time

frozen there in hues of ice and snow

 

And I am drawn as if by undertow

in awe and wonder to this ancient shrine

whispering her tales of long ago

frozen inside hues ice and snow

 

 

© Ginny Brannan 2021

Inspired by the image below of the Old Rockingham Meeting House, taken by Jeremy Noyes and shared on the website "Growing up in Bellows Falls." This and many other beautiful images from VT and New England are available for purchase at Jeremy Noyes Photography

As Fate Would Have It

 

We hold on tight to what we know

well past its expiration date

sometimes it’s best to just let go

 

Ever going with the flow

with nothing open for debate

we hold on tight to what we know

 

Yet promises ring hollow

and offers come in slow and late

sometimes it’s best to just let go

 

We choke inside this sideshow

while hoping things will just abate

still holding tight to what we know

 

It builds to an inferno

and cornered, we must choose our fate

it’s sometimes best to just let go

 

We rise out of the shadow

to do what life necessitates

holding tight to what we know

until it’s time to let it go

 

© Ginny Brannan 2021

The Rise and Fall of Xanadu...

In early days of Xanadu

when we were young and evergreen

and I was me and you were you—

 

the world lay bare for our review

encased in nights of velveteen

in early days of Xanadu...

 

The most mundane was seen anew,

and nothing ever felt routine

when I was me, and you were you.

 

Who could conceive you’d bid adieu

while thwarting enemies unseen

 …thus came the fall of  Xanaudu.

 

And all those dragons that we slew,

were they real or just a dream...

when I was me, and you were you.

 

Let us conspire to rendezvous

inside the realm of in-between

outside the gates of Xanadu,

where I am me, and you are you.

 

© Ginny Brannan 2021

Xanadu is defined as a place of great beauty, luxury, and contentment. See also: Shangri-La, Eden, Utopia.

 

Under a Cloud

The darkness spreads like an infection

while hate and anger breed, unbound

amid the lies and the deception

Each concocted interjection

turns into a battleground—

as darkness spreads like an infection.

Acting on some predilection

his mock pretention paramount

amid the lies and the deception.

Denials, constant misdirection—

our search for truth turns tantamount

as darkness spreads like an infection.

Has this become some strange reflection

of just how far we’ve run aground

amid the lies and the deception?

Another vote, a new election

praying for some turnaround…

as darkness spreads like an infection

amid the lies and the deception.

© Ginny Brannan 2018

Three for Kersie

Blazing Her Own Trail

Her spirit rises from within

She sees the world as it should be

and sets her course accordingly

An old soul in a young girl’s skin

with steadfast gaze, new trails to blaze

a fiery storm behind sweet grin

…and so begins her odyssey

her spirit rising from within.

© Ginny Brannan 2018

Oh Captain, My Captain…

The tiny helmsman takes control—

determined, never showing fear

committed, steadfast in her role.

The tiny helmsman takes control

though course ahead remains unclear

she pushes past the rocky shoals.

This tiny helmsman in control;

determined, never showing fear.

© Ginny Brannan 2018

Tiny Pirate

Softly ceding to the night

the sun has sung itself to sleep,

while moon awakens with delight.

The fairies dance in waning light

as banshees beat a fast retreat

receding swiftly into night.

One by one the stars shine bright

across the dark expanse they sweep

as moon expresses her delight!

The sea monsters have taken flight,

again returning to the deep—

swift now ceding to the night.

The will o’ the wisps and woodland sprites

into the foggy meadows creep;

the moon observes them with delight.

Illuminated by pale light

lies tiny pirate, fast asleep;

so soft receding into night—

the moon enrapt with pure delight.

© Ginny Brannan 2018

I am totally enamored by this feisty and formidable little redhead! We recently spent a weekend in Maine with her and her grandparents where she and I spent a morning trying to "escape the sea monsters" and when that didn't seem to work we fed them "ice cream and cookies!!" These 3 pieces are inspired by her personality and her very active imagination. Such fun we had!! 

For Kersie with love.

Photos by Charlie Parant at Appetite for Photos blog

Also on Facebook: Appetite for Photos

Used with expressed written permission from photographer.

Rise

We must rise above the violence of late,

return to the peace we once knew

while turning our backs to the anger and hate.

Too long we’ve left destiny in hands of fate

now the world’s upside-down and  askew—

we must rise above all the violence of late.

And shelter ourselves from the thoughts that negate

as we keep open minds to the truth

while turning our backs to the anger and hate.

Disparager’s words paralyze; suffocate,

and ignorance needs no excuse—

we must rise above the violence of late.

The angry man bellows with words that berate

yet we can stand firm and refuse,

while turning our backs to the anger and hate.

Fear breeds more fear, but love liberates

and we are so long overdue…

we must rise above the violence of late

while turning our backs to the anger and hate.

Ginny Brannan 2018

Image by Author. Near Harwichport,  Cape Cod MA 2016

Come November

How fast now fade the autumn hues

chill wind gives chase across the fields

as cooler season now ensues

Once camouflaged with leaves profuse

stand barren trees, their limbs revealed

while on the ground, their autumn hues

And Mother Nature takes her cues

as to the longer nights, she yields

this change of season that ensues

Warm summer days have long diffused

as chill November comes to steal

the disappearing autumn hues

Once more does Autumn bid adieu—

her white coat frosts the ground to seal

this cooler season that ensues

And so the shortened days accrue

too soon by winter snow concealed

the dry and faded autumn hues

as cooler season now ensues

© Ginny Brannan 2017

Image: C. Parant Appetite For Photos Used with Permission

Displaced

Hope floats in little boats

through flooded streets and avenues

while silent cries rise in our throats

A factory goes up in smoke;

this life they knew now turned askew

their hope afloat in little boats.

The news folk capture every quote;

each sound bite shared for all to view—

while silent cries rise in our throats.

The charities all self-promote,

with daring clips of those rescued

floating past in little boats.

For leadership, the day was rote:

they paused a moment, then withdrew;

the silent cries rose in our throats.

Across the globe the world will note

the ones who stood and made it through;

their hope afloat in little boats
while silent cries rose in their throats.

© Ginny Brannan 2017

The aftermath of Hurricane Harvey

Overheard

“We’ll make America great again”

so you spoke and set the tone,

while only stirring hate again.

With every bill that you amend

we face a new unknown

to “make America great” again.

We watch you stand there quite content

to deport and rezone,

while generating hate again.

How many folks can you offend

or use as stepping stones

still chanting “we’ll be great again?”

Just what is it you intend

with these seeds you’ve sown

that promote such hate again…

Surrounded by your kith and kin

you constantly bemoan

that you'll “make America Great” again

while only stirring hate again.

© Ginny Brannan 2017

Day 21 NaPoWriMo to write about something we overheard. Yeah, sorry,  a bit of a political rant, just where the words went for the prompt.

A Walk on a Winter's Night

Remembering a Christmas long ago…

we walked the village streets on winter’s night,

waiting for the rain to turn to snow

The church bells chiming carols, soft and low

reminding of the One who brought His light

on another Christmas, long ago.

The darkened stores awash in indigo

imparting their displays in twinkling white…

waiting for the rain to turn to snow.

The dampened road reflecting streetlights’ glow

shining as if it bathed in candlelight—

in mem'ries of that Christmas long ago.

We rallied from the cold like Eskimos,

butt'ning up our coats against the bite—

waiting for the rain to turn to snow.

Some memories we never quite outgrow

just store away to view when time is right…

remembering that Christmas long ago

and our delight when rain turned into snow.

© Ginny Brannan 

Image taken by Michelle Torres Lowe, borrowed from BFDDA (Bellows Falls Downtown Development Alliance)

Sharing at d'Verse Poets Open Link Night December 2014