Excerpt from poem “Lost”…

Lost Little Girl

I do not know if you are alive or dead.

I see your face your voice never


The sun does not rise in the morning, nor

fade into the west without a thought of you.

I mourn, nights are sleepless and morning

eyes fill with fire.

No one more cherished, more loved, my

heart bears scars of torture.  Where are you

my lost little girl?


ann Johnson-murphree’s E-books at



Excerpt from “The Pond”…

Current working draft…

The Pond…

Jesse Youngblood walked into the lobby of the Ayers Hotel in Birmingham, Alabama; her body went ridged, childhood fears returned as she stopped in front of the elevator doors.   The doors opened, she shut her eyes tight and walked quickly through them, she did not need to look to know that the tarnished brass rail was next to her; feeling ashamed that after more than thirty years she still associated the old elevator with a tragic time in her life.

An elderly man walked in behind her, waited for a few moments then began clearing his troth.

“Young lady are you going to just stand there with your eyes closed or do you intend to select a floor?”  The voice dripped of southern politeness laced with attitude.

“I’m sorry sir, the tenth floor please.”   Her voice apologetic Jesse could feel his irritability, but she kept her eyes closed.

Assuming she was not going to surrender her hold on the railing, he reached out selected his floor and pushed the button for the top floor as well.  The antiquated elevator cables creaked and groaned as Jesse counted each floor that they passed, then it stopped on the ninth floor; the old man grumbled under his breath as he got off.   Then the intimidating climb continued but Jesse was excited to be back, it had been only five years since her aunt made the decision to change the building from a hotel to apartments; of course, her Aunt Biana still occupied the entire top floor or penthouse as some tenants refer to it.

Finally, the doors opened and so did her eyes, she stepped quickly into the entrance hall where nothing had changed.  Her aunt, owner of the hotel decided five years earlier to have it renovated into apartments; but the tenth floor was like stepping back into time.   Mirrors in gilded frames, drawings of known and unknown artists lined the walls; colossal vases filled with multicolored plumes stood tall like sentries at the entrance door.  Time had left its mark on everything, the building, maybe the life beyond the door.  Jesse did not know what she was going to find on the other side, but she was home.

What the Voices Took from Me…

You left the world to early, free from a life that

Left you filled with doubt.  You lived the lives of

Many, the voices, always hoping just to be



I now wait for that spark from heaven, I willed

You not to go, God did not agree.  Was your life

Fulfilled in such a short time, will I ever know?


You had beginnings, disappointments, new starts,

You worried about tomorrow, unable to feel

Happiness in what you accomplished today.


I suffer your being gone, sadness wretches my days,

The glow died there was no hope.  It seems like one

Long unhappy dream.


Roaming within my mind, I walk the fields of your

Life.  A time of clouded joy, then time was blown



Born in innocence, fresh, life clear, before the voices

Took over, bringing fear.  I could not help you in your

Solitude while you nursed your unconquerable fears.


As the moonlight pales, I yearn for lost years, before

The mental strife.  Before the voices took over your life.


It was after sunset that you died, a void that cannot

Be filled, you will never grow old.  I miss your smiles,

Your red tresses flowing down your back, your light will

Always shine; your radiance will never fade.


Sleep my child in eternal rest…



Sampling of “Standing in a River Dying of Thirst”

Senses frozen in time while the heart

orchestrates a symphony of happiness

and fear creating a painful bliss, life

extends beyond the depths of vision the

world waits in silence like the aftermath

of a storm.

Unseen forces of the spirit and soul carry

dreams to paradise beyond the cliffs called

doubt, and it is there that one will find the

land where love is born………..



Sampling from:  Echoing Images from the Soul



The Story of my Book Covers…

The covers of the e-books that I have created on Amazon.com are from paintings.  The story behind each and the books are very much a part of me.

Echoing Images from the Soul is a collection of poems from 2010 to 2013, the creation of this collection begin shortly after the unexpected death of my daughter, they are comprised of a lifetime of experiences, grief, sorrow and depression.  The artwork for the cover I painted with acrylics and watercolors in 2010, the image created from imagination of a group of mothers who lost children and spent the remainder of their lives wandering the desert.


Honeysuckle Memories is a collection of poems from 2012 to 2013, the creation of this collection comprised of , grief, sorrow and depression.  The artwork for the cover I painted with acrylics and watercolors in 2011, the image created from the memory of my old home place in Northern Alabama .


My Journey into Art is a collection of artwork from 2012 to 2013, the creation of this collection comprised of , image and imagination, grief, sorrow and depression.  The artwork for the cover I painted with acrylics and watercolors in 2012, all created from my need to fill the void created by the death of my daughter.  This painting is a winter scene of my daughter standing by a frozen stream in a Wisconsin nature park, looking at an apple tree and a lone apple clinging to the security of the leafless tree.  There is now a memory bench under this apple tree in her honor.

journey into art

These three books can be found at http://amazon.com under ann Johnson-murphree.

My thanks goes out to my new followers, I hope to find years of fulfillment in the growth of this new blog.

ann Johnson-murphree