Friday, February 2, 2018

Survivor












Invisible,  unseen—
each cut to the bone,
 each sin unatoned.
Faded, yet never gone…
hunting us… haunting us
surfacing like a stain
even when clouds disappear
 and days render clear.

Still, what is to be gained
     by complaining?

Each is dealt a specific hand
—if you are still in the game
     then you’re already winning.

© Ginny Brannan 2018

Photo: C. Parant Appetite for Photos Used with Permission.


Sharing at with Hedgewitch over at Verse Escape for Friday 55


Saturday, January 13, 2018

Catalyst

I wake up wondering what news
the night has brought, so fraught
with “He saids” “she saids.”
Forced to wait as the sides debate
trying to get their stories straight,
rehashing words until they dissipate
into yesterday’s news. And nothing changes.

Living in the shadow of the Night King
where a sunny day dawns colorless,
or at best faded, we’ve become ‘jaded.’
Congress has been invaded by “enablers”
pitting us all against each other.
Opposites with no attraction…
each side demanding action for
different reasons while stuck
in a state of permanent winter.

We mustn’t compromise as we
 seek the “Truth” that outshines the lies
so those who doubt will finally rise
to realize that we can do better than this.
Whatever hate lies in our hearts is fed
by chatter that eats away at all that matters.
until we become visceral, rabid;  infected
by the daily dose of kool-aid we have been
given to drink. Perhaps that is the plan, after all:
to make us all numb and uncaring,
unable to think for ourselves. A flock led
by wolves in sheep’s clothing.
We need to heed the call from within
that says “Enough!! Enough Already.”

We must start this new year with renewed determination
to save our nation from corruption, and daily disruption
that we might breath again, agree again, rise again.

 Make our words count. Make our voices heard.
 Rise up! Work together! Be the change!

©Ginny Brannan 2018




Monday, January 8, 2018

Trolling



Out of the cracks in the woodwork they pour
like cockroaches from the slums they come,
garbage feeders swarming the newspaper headlines.
Unable to separate sweetness from stench,
they invade everywhere, from swanky penthouse
to cottage, to poorest tenement, no discrimination.
They leave a track of dirt and distraction,
their words, twisted lies and destruction,
while trying to control the court of public opinion.
For most, just a sour taste on the tongue;
for some, becoming a festering infection,
‘blind eyes’ and ‘deaf ears’ two of the symptoms.

Tired of living in the wake of lies that compromise
our very existence.  Can a single dung beetle
be so powerful as to be above the law,
stuck in a track of deny and deflect, rejecting
common sense while his pile of shit gets bigger each day?
While sentinels and drones control his feed
we await the exterminators, those with the means
and determination to destroy this infestation…
Not an easy task, examining every crack
in the plaster, under each floorboard,
following pipelines for hidden trails,
leaving neither tile unexamined nor path ignored.

In a time of instant gratification it is a slow and tedious job…
too slow at times, but we need it done right:
no question unasked, no stone unturned,
as they take this affliction to task
Let the cockroach have the penthouse
let him troll through the night,
while others work to destroy this blight;
yet in doing so we must acknowledge it for what it is:
   a sad scar, a deep mar on our democracy,
        and a hard and very difficult lesson learned.


©Ginny Brannan 2018

"Some days you eat the bear, somedays the bear eats you." Feeling "consumed" by the constant barrage of Twitter-speak, lies and innuendo. Can't seem to get away, so attempting to write my way through once again.

Tuesday, January 2, 2018

Another Auld Lang Syne


Haviland Pond, Ludlow, MA Image by author.













One year ceases, another dawns…
we move forward with certain givens:
that love will find some while abandoning others,
that new life will arrive
while others move on—
woven onto the thread of infinity;
death as imminent as birth
for we have yet to uncover
the secrets of immortality.

We stand on the cusp of renewal—
as days grow longer, we embrace their light
searching for our balance;
thwarting off indignity so often in disguise,
holding out for certain truth 
while sorting through the lies.

Another year of endless possibilities
  looms before us

    ...shall we begin?


© Ginny Brannan 2018

Thursday, December 14, 2017

Disinterred

I believe you…

Buried for decades, comes a time
to heal yourself from the cancer
that day-by-day eats away
pieces of the person you once were.
Don’t listen to those who question your motives
that scream “fake news”
as if to say that it's okay
to lust after a 14 year old
or force the hand of a 16 year old
to justify their own perversions.

I believe you…

I know that there are certain truths
invisible to naked eyes
that take the innocence of youth.
Even those who know you best
might never know or realize
that you felt you were to blame—
inside bleeding from the shame.

I believe you…

For every Weinstein, Trump or Moore
are other unknown predators
ones with little the cash or fame
that prey upon the vulnerable.
Their victims each recall their name,
and every look and every leer—
how vivid still their face remains.

I believe you…

Those who choose to speak up now
who’ve forged ahead despite the cost;
it can’t make up for time that’s passed
or what was taken, what was lost;
the naysayers may ridicule,
but those who’ve been there know the truth.

I believe you…

Though by the past we’re not defined
at times its shadow lingers on.
We should not let it blight our soul.
The truth should never be confined—
admission waits, long overdue:
I add my voice and say
          “Me too”


© Ginny Brannan 2017

Tuesday, December 12, 2017

Goddess: When She Rules — New Book Release!



“Women's stories are as powerful, inspiring, and terrifying as the goddess herself. And in fact, these are the stories of the goddess. As women, we know her because we are her. Each woman, no matter how powerless she might feel, is a cell within her vast form, an embodiment of her essence, and each woman's story is a chapter in the biography of the sacred feminine."
 

Jalaja Bonheim


Welcome to “GODDESSWhen She Rules: Expressions by Contemporary Women”, the fourth anthology to emerge from the Journey of the Heart: Women’s Spiritual Poetry Project.

The time is here to celebrate the contemporary woman: our strengths, our passions, our creativity and our beliefs and how they relate to the world around us and within us .We are all part of something more: we are a sisterhood whose voices rise in love, in strength and in support of one another.

Proud to share that proceeds from this book will to go to the Malala Fund  
~ ~ ~
I have come to understand the ‘ Goddess’, once unknown to me, as an extension of my own spirituality—I see her as the source of inner strength that guides our feminine self; I sense that she lives in each of us as our spiritual guide, especially in times of turmoil. In an era of change, she is our inner calm, our voice of reason, the whisperer of compassion, a proponent for persistence, our endorser for resistence, and our promoter of peace. Within each of her many identities, she reminds us that we are not alone: that our words and voices can be source of hope, of transformation; drawing light out of darkness as we travel the pathways of understanding on this continuing journey of self-discovery
**********
I am so very honored to have two poems in this book:  Birthing Rites which reflects upon that moment during childbirth when we finally grasp what it means to be the conduit that brings new life into the world. The second, Illumination is about embracing our courage and inner strength, and about conceding that we are so much more than even we may realize.


Please join me along with our other contemporary poets and writers as we celebrate the Goddess, and embrace the Sacred Feminine, on this newest and most sacred Journey of the Heart!

Available Here at Amazon: GODDESS: When She Rules

With very special thanks to our primary Editor in Chief, Catherine L. Schweig for her tireless efforts and never-ending support, enthusiasm and encouragement, and much gratitude to her editorial assistants for this project: Sandra M. Allagapen, Julia W. Prentice, and Tammy Stone Takahashi; and all of the amazing poets and writers who share these pages.



And please check out our other publications at Amazon:

Journey of the Heart
Poetry as a Spiritual Practice
Where Journey's Meet
                                    

Thursday, November 2, 2017

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