Poetry and Art

Desolation…

A silent shore, seductive Moon, a sinister Sea, clouds in the wind, a shadow lies upon the white sand alone.

Stilled on the sparkling crystals, almost villainous, primeval and water worn with broken sides.

Once imperturbable, aloft upon white shafts of waves, beautiful and bold, now ancient and vacant.

The old sailing ship finds its burial ground upon a deserted island in the mist of morning.

©2013.Reflectionsofopoetry.annjohnsonmurphree

My poetry and art book are at Amazon.com:

ECHOING IMAGES FROM THE SOUL Beyond the Voices HONEYSUCKLE MEMORIES MY JOURNEY INTO ART Reflections of Poetry Cover

http://www.amazon.com/Echoing-Images-Soul-Ann-Johnson-Murphree-ebook/dp/B00CCG2WVK/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1390064541&sr=8-1&keywords=ann+johnson-murphree

http://www.amazon.com/Honeysuckle-Memories-Ann-Johnson-Murphree-ebook/dp/B00CG61816/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1390064541&sr=8-2&keywords=ann+johnson-murphree

http://www.amazon.com/Beyond-Voices-Ann-Johnson-Murphree-ebook/dp/B00D3KB8E6/ref=sr_1_5?ie=UTF8&qid=1390064541&sr=8-5&keywords=ann+johnson-murphree

http://www.amazon.com/Reflections-Poetry-Ann-Johnson-Murphree-ebook/dp/B00GMRPMLW/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1390064541&sr=8-4&keywords=ann+johnson-murphree

http://www.amazon.com/Journey-into-Art-Ann-Johnson-Murphree-ebook/dp/B00CQR6M5C/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1390064541&sr=8-3&keywords=ann+johnson-murphree

Sorrow Born out of Greed…

Shattered

On a warm summer day, an old soul returned to a place where parts of it remain for years.  Waiting  while misplaced pieces of it floated through life on waves of tears.  Many gathered on this day all had the same ancestral blood flowing through their veins.  Some came out of respect; the unbroken circle… was there for gain.

These mortals had tried to keep the old soul away from this final commemoration. They did not care about its many years of painful isolation.  Death had not fractured the unbroken circle had gone unchanged for years. The return of this old soul brought to the cloistered multitude panic and fear.

Disregarded, invisible with no right to be heard, the Old soul was damned in their every fearful word.  Watched closely, made to feel like a thief, an intruder daring to be a part of their hypocritical grief. The old soul tried to enter this circle of mourning, doors slammed in its face.  A reminder of why it was not wanted in this protected place.

Unwanted at birth, cast out on a journey at an incredible cost, to penetrate the unbroken circle was a battle that would forever be lost.  The old soul believed there was a time to grieve, a time to pray.  A time to remember when an innocent soul simply forgotten and tossed away.

On soft breezes, those that gathered could be heard with a pretense of moans.  Their voices echoed memorials where truth was silenced the real story hidden, inside of the unbroken circle truth forbidden. The old soul stared down at a mound of dirt waiting for love that the grave could not offer, while the unbroken circle gathered and divided their coffers.  A loving soul had returned to where a part of it remained years, it gathered up the pieces of its heart and wiped away its tears. The shattered old soul had returned on that warm summer day, to grieve the loss of never hearing “I love you” or feeling a parent’s gentle touch.  It needed to tell the unbroken circle when children are unloved their lives are crushed.

 

©annjohnsonmurphree

 

Amazon Books:

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Over-Conscientiousness

From Pat Cegan at Source of Inspiration…a worthy reblog if you are in the process of a “rebirth” in your life.

Source of Inspiration

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In the past, I have tried
to be open-minded, to respect
the other’s right to their
opinion and lifestyle. At times,
though, I have crossed the line,
too willing to give the person
the benefit of the doubt, to
allow them to blame me. Was
it a need to please rather than
a virtue? Was I unsure of my
own boundaries, thus could not
keep others from crossing them?

Today I know better who I am
and what I am willing to accept.
Doormat style has be abandoned,
replaced by a knowing of my
personal worth. Thank-goodness!

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Casualties of Times

The homeless cannot sleep on

winter’s cold nights, they gather

around a burning barrel, men,

women and children, forgotten,

shattered and despised; in the

distance a baby cries.  Begging

for food, living on the streets, no

jobs to be found, families no longer

sound.  Government talks end up

in contradictions, poverty is the

prediction.   The spirit freezes,

fruit of labors rot, life squeezes and

struggles persist, bad luck smothering

heart and soul, hope ceases to exist.

Shifting winds turn into storms, will

the world grow wiser, or will it be

humbled and beaten back into servility?

Trust departed, a cardboard box in the

streets is where the homeless make their

beds, hope disappears and the future to

the homeless is dead.

 

©2014.annjohnsonmurphree

Altered Senses

Existence, scene after

scene, characteristic of

lifes environment, genetics

and promises that reveal

nothing, the past descends

like rain from the sky,

washing away all dreams. 

Phantoms of youth chanting

within the soul, paths blocked;

evil has spread across the

landscape of a lifetime.  

Loneliness limits love and

happiness; boundaries set

slow the process of

moving into the future…

nevertheless, the future may

be shrouded with abundant

solitude from where there is

no escape.  Rethink the future?

 

 

 

©2014.annjohnsonmurphree

 

 

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A Liar’s Life

Standing in a graveyard alone;

to mourn, to stare at the mound

of dirt; at the  shell of one who

loved but a few, the seed of

kindness never sowed, love they

did not seek, now silence lies

beneath.  Entitlement is all that

remains, grief, no greeting,

unwanted presence, gestures, tone

and looks in death there was joy

and greedy ploys.  Gluttony bloomed

before the setting of the sun, looking

for more to take, life took on a forged

tongue.  Open jeers, false deeds, honor

lost, the price of greed can be at a great

cost.  Roars the misty breath of strife

destiny has finally caught up with a

liar’s life.

 

©2014.annjohnsonmurphree

 

 

My books are at Amazon.com

http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_c_0_11?url=search-alias%3Ddigital-text&field-keywords=ann+johnson-murphree&sprefix=ann+johnson%2Caps%2C252