“One Lovely Blog Award”…

love blog award

 

This afternoon I received a nomination for the “One Lovely Blog Award”, I am grateful and appreciate the nomination; it is an honor, thank you.  This young blogger is from Melbourne, Australia; and an excellent writer.  Please visit this blogger at

http://stationdeva.wordpress.com

 

Thank you,

Ann Johnson-Murphree

Love is Tiring…

Coalescing into an ineffable infinity of

serendipity evenings of peculiarity and

fiery.  There have been times that I

wanted to weep.

Weep, angered that I ever met you.  A

stone, yet I am patient as I gaze into your

eyes.  Never understanding completely,

your mind not pliable.

Oh, this despoiled flesh the path to

happiness, the consummation of my brain.

I think this thing called love is very tiring,

very, very, tiring as the tides of life flow

onward.

 

****

2013.annjohnsonmurphree

All eBooks at the address below:

Beyond the Voices

http://www.amazon.com/Ann-Johnson-Murphree/e/B00CGBLQZO/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_2?qid=1375763518&sr=8-2

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

 

All eBooks at the address below:

Beyond the Voices

http://www.amazon.com/Ann-Johnson-Murphree/e/B00CGBLQZO/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_2?qid=1375763518&sr=8-2

 

I Write…

In writing poetry, one not only finds an outlet for releasing the quandaries life might bring; creating also gives one a reason to share joy.   AJM

 

The Voices…

I am a writer, from me you shall read

the sounds  of insistent voices of those

characters whispering in my ear. They

are fierce, burning with passion, their

messages clear.

They speak to me with the force of a

turbulent sea, at other times like the

surge of the tide, yet always protecting

me… “within me they reside”.

I am a writer.

 

****

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2013.annjohnsonmurphree

 

All eBooks at the address below:

HONEYSUCKLE MEMORIES

http://www.amazon.com/Ann-Johnson-Murphree/e/B00CGBLQZO/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_2?qid=1375763518&sr=8-2

Wings of Poetry…

To poets, 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 a “Morning Doves” wings,

in perfection ones poetry must sing.

 

 

 

2013.annjohnsonmurphree

 

All eBooks at the address below:

HONEYSUCKLE MEMORIES

http://www.amazon.com/Ann-Johnson-Murphree/e/B00CGBLQZO/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_2?qid=1375763518&sr=8-2

A Redbird Day…

It is a Red Bird kind of day as I carefully

walk the bramble-hedged path through

the forest that edged our home.  I could

hear leaves crunching, not from my boots…

but a lighter slower movement.

 

I can hear the crusted creek running beside

the path flowing gently through vein like

openings in the ice.  I can smell the wood

smoke from our fireplace.

 

I know that on the warming shelves of the

old wood stove are hot  biscuits and ham

waiting for me to get home from scurrying

the forest for nuts and berries, a treat while

we sit around the fireplace listening to

grandpa’s latest tale of the war he fought in

during his youth.

 

Mother’s watching from the window for signs

of my bright colored hat she knitted me last

Christmas, she opened the door and waved;

I was late and she was worried.  I showed her

my overflowing baskets, she smiled…I wanted

keep her happy so, I did not tell her about the

Wolf.

 

 

 

2013.annjohnsonmurphree

 

All eBooks at the address below:

HONEYSUCKLE MEMORIES

http://www.amazon.com/Ann-Johnson-Murphree/e/B00CGBLQZO/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_2?qid=1375763518&sr=8-2

Sweetmeat Awakenings…

Lit by a summer moon of dark

blue, floating white Ophelia’s go

by as the river murmurs across

the mossy rocks leaving misty

foggy rings, stars coursing across

the sky while the woodlands sing.

 

In the wine colored skies of day

with clouds like dust of fine gold,

pulled into the night a vapory

breeze over a violet forest frigid

and cold.

 

Near the edge of nowhere lies,

calm black waters framed with

emerald moss, the vision

breathless, while the silence that

mounts in the soul seems endless.

 

Like rivers through the distance

of time of sweetmeat awakenings,

waiting in soft pools twirling in the

scented twilight.

 

 

 

2013.annjohnsonmurphree

 

All eBooks at the address below:

HONEYSUCKLE MEMORIES

http://www.amazon.com/Ann-Johnson-Murphree/e/B00CGBLQZO/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_2?qid=1375763518&sr=8-2

 

Weathering the Storm…

 

A wet black crow landed in

a tree, finding shelter from

a storm that he was trying to

flee.  Disposed his down of

the rain, he shuddered then

tucked his head under his wing.

 

The storm howling through the

woods would not get any better,

he hid in the foliage to dry his

feathers.  I did not see him by

mistake, he flew by my head into

the tree dark and smart, and he

used it as a windbreak.

 

I walked ahead quickly leaving the

crow to rest like humans he is

doing his best.  “Trying to survive,

trying to keep alive”.

 

 

 

2013.annjohnsonmurphree

 

All eBooks at the address below:

HONEYSUCKLE MEMORIES

http://www.amazon.com/Ann-Johnson-Murphree/e/B00CGBLQZO/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_2?qid=1375763518&sr=8-2

 

Hurry into Tomorrow… (micropoetry)

 

It is cold in the shadows of today,

I sometimes wonder when I die if

below the earth is strange, dark or

light?  Will I know?

I hurry towards an uncertain

tomorrow, I hurry through my life

to end my sorrow.

 

 

 

 

2013.annjohnsonmurphree

 

All eBooks at the address below:

 

HONEYSUCKLE MEMORIES

http://www.amazon.com/Ann-Johnson-Murphree/e/B00CGBLQZO/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_2?qid=1375763518&sr=8-2

 

Naive and Blind… (micropoetry)

 

There is one thing that I will cry

for in the days to come, my

feelings for you are over, trusting

and nameless I say…

Goodbye to your broken promises,

forever gone are the arms of the

adventurer who caused me to

leave my home…

I dream about the world when

it was new, back when I use to be

young and hearts were true.

 

2013.annjohnsonmurphree

 

All eBooks at the address below:

HONEYSUCKLE MEMORIES

http://www.amazon.com/Ann-Johnson-Murphree/e/B00CGBLQZO/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_2?qid=1375763518&sr=8-2