Substance in Thought…

Life maintained, bleak, angry is the pain.

Darkness walks by my side, life I cannot

abide.  My thoughts find no comfort I have

searched everywhere.  Silence, graceless,

hopelessness, spent intent and fright.  Defaced,

a wilting world, nothing sacred, lonely souls

waning whirl.  What lays in the end, weakening

breath, the door to death I have no regret.




The Way of War…


Silent was the wind in the

final hour, pride swelled anger

subsided; amazement grew in

the fearful and the brave.  Many

upon the earth lay slain; whose

victory will be claimed.  Cries filled

the air, the earth shook, fearful they

tried to be strong, what in life had

gone wrong.  Deep wounds, bullet in

the heart, the people, and their country

falling apart.  Moon light filled the night

while bellowing clouds darkened the

furious fight.  Cruel slaughter followed

their path, lies and deceit brought on

wrath. Hope flew away on the wings of

fear, women and children stand in blood

and tears.  Heads filled with bitter despair,

tomorrow all will be dead.



At – Art and Poetry eBooks








Words written, foolish things,

placed upon the blank sheet; a

humming poet becomes an artist

selling canvas upon a busy street.

Waiting an eternity to have the

painting bring a price; giving the

poet time to write.  Not wanting

praise, but to give meaning to the

hunger days, rhymes read, know

that there was delight when someone

liked to read the stories, this would

be the poets crowning glory.

Recognition of the long days and nights,

living with hunger and fright, to write an

immortal poem remembered like an Angel’s

song, this is the poet’s wish before life is over,

before they are gone.



Beyond the End…

Like the Phoenix, I have lived long,

reinvented and rejuvenated from life

experiences, reborn in spirit, I ask; where

do I belong.  I stand alone, lived things

that too many are unknown.  Happiness

never found, worthless are my desires,

quiet kindling of the fires, burned by the

flame, born, dying, they are the same.  I

want to believe that the angels will be

there and in their arms I will ascend, I want

to believe that time will live beyond the end.


Books at

My Journey into Poetry and Art

Ann Johnson-Murphree

Reflections of Poetry CoverBeyond the VoicesHONEYSUCKLE MEMORIESECHOING IMAGES FROM THE SOULjourney into art

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Ann Johnson-Murphree