MAKA
Chickasaw Earth Family
11X14
Acrylics and Watercolors
©2013annjohnsonmurphree
Quote: “We never had a thought of exchanging our land for any other…fearing the consequences may be similar to transplanting an old tree, which would wither and die away.“ –Levi Colbert (?-1834) a Native American of the Chickasaw; He was also called Itte-wamba Mingo, meaning bench chief. He had never thought that it would be very difficult for the Chickasaws to convert to the American ways.
The world stops, time stands still, the
Universe becomes a vacuum, the heart
Pounds. Life is unkind; memories fill
Emptiness, emotions surface into an
Unyielding mind.
The search for happiness is a story untold,
Bearable by barricading heart and soul.
Seek a reason to unlock loves door, sealed
Shut so many years before.
Why does love come so easily to have people
Toss it away, for some, it never comes to stay.
The mind tells the one left behind that they will
Survive, love will come, and love will thrive.
The heart behind the wall is always trying to
Escape; waiting to be found. The world stopped,
Time stood still, the universe becomes a vacuum
And the heart begins to pound.
Yet, if you can remember only one unforgettable
Time, sometimes love has no reason or rhyme. The
Clouds part, familiar stirring begins; you tell yourself
To be patient doubtful heart.
©2013.annjohnsonmurphree
Anna
Mother and Child
The likeness of this black and gray watercolor with sponge background is that of my granddaughter and her son. My thought in this portrayal was that of a Native American mother and child, with emphasis on my Native American heritage in the Chickasaw Old-Towne Tribe in Eastern Mississippi.
©2013annjohnsonmurphree.myjourneyintoart
Making yourself live without contact with
others, you are doomed. Like the flowers of
summer without human contact, the soul
may cease to bloom.
Time and stillness may be an important need;
to reject sharing life with others, may be the
greatest form of greed. Purpose has its seasons,
life follows a well-planned path; your journey has
a reason.
Clearing the mind and restoring the spirit will
smooth any rutted road; there is a plan of how
your life should unfold. You may be on the right
path today; the journey may seem rough, the
essence and energy of your spirit will find the true
way.
Gratefulness, awareness and God’s grace is woven
within the fabric of your being for a reason. Devote
today to discovering your true self create your own
season.
©2013.annjohnsonmurphree
E-Book with collection of poetry may be purchased at Amazon.com
Promises of the mind set aside in
the days of youth; visions stored
in a hopeful place to become dim
memories and fade away.
A glimpse into the window of twilight
time lays the tombstones of yesterday’s
promises; rubble covered with reminiscent
vine.
Embers burn within the soul, no peace
can one find; there are fewer tomorrows,
weep for the uncertainty of the future and
of dreams left behind.
If you could turn back time would you trust
your heart to relive your life. Would you
accept the future whatever it may be, would
you disregard truth and trust what your eyes
see?
Yesterday’s promises are hidden dreams, try to
find new excitement in your life, rid yourself
of turmoil and strife.
Wake up your conscious your journey is not yet
over, there are new mountains to climb, forget
the rubble of yesterday, use wisely your time.
©2013.annjohnsonmurphree
ALO – Medicine Man
Acrylics and Watercolors on Sponge background
Along with the hawk these were my great-grandmothers protectors…
©2013.annjohnsonmurphree
Lost Little Girl
I do not know if you are alive or dead.
I see your face your voice never
forgotten.
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?
©2013.annjohnsonmurphree
Wings of Poetry
To a poet, writing is the blood that flows
Through the veins, words the sinew of
Their being, creating the movement of
The body, finishing uplifts the soul,
Failure not an option as the story must
Be told.
The lines may read of sadness, of stars
Hanging in the dark blue, shivering in the
Distance, creating against all resistance.
Waiting for the finished poem to float in
On butterfly wings, in perfection poetry sings.
©2013.annjohnsonmurphree
Behold her, flitting in and out of the prairie grass into the sunlight, then back into the shadows of the wildflowers. Can you hear her whisper, Dragonfly is her name; she is one of God’s angels. A voice lost in the silence of death, she lives far beyond the prairie grass, and she visits those who loved her to tell them that although the earthly body is gone…the soul and love last!
Behold Charlotte!
©2013.annjohnsonmurphree
ann johnson-murphree 