The Passing of Time…

Note:  Someone I admire very much is having some health problems, I had written this short poem before I knew of this and now it seems that thoughts must have transferred through a time slot and inspired me to write these words.  ajm


The Passing of Time

My body aches, after years of “beating it up” this is what it has come too. Giving in to the grace of gravity. I do not live these days in awe or fear. Yet, a baby’s breath can take mine away and these troublesome times we live in can instill fear in me for the future of this wonderful world. My spine tingles in the presence of a gentle man both young and old. I know that the passing of time is like a cool wind on a hot summer’s day, I no longer count the hours or days. Love still leaves my heart leaping.




The Journey…

Conception, birth and then the process

of growing older; dying is in the future

as the lifecycle travels quickly and then

the final chapter written. There are no

exceptions, only an age and date separates

all living beings.

Strength lies in the middle growing,

developing a sense of self…we bloom or we

lay in waste with the fading of seasonal

growth. Life is not totally built around your

dreams, but of what impression you leave

behind during your journey.

Weep for the past and drink in the thirst

of the years that may come, be strong of

heart and foresee with the eyes of a

visionary. You may at times feel that you

were never young, life being prison of

weary pain, remember this you are not

what you feel.

Deep within there is a remembrance and

emotion hidden in the heart, quiet. You

may be a ghost of what you once were…but

you are still a living being and the world

applauds the reason for your birth.




New in paperback at




In a Cloudless Thousand Years…

We must mourn the waste of the earth

as caretakers we have quit caring about

what we are leaving behind for future


It is our responsibility to care for what

Mother Nature has given us, she has

nourished us and allowed us to live off her

good graces.

Our treatment of Earth is sinful and

the selfish people numb me

who take from it and refuse to give

back by loving her as they do their own

gluttony. Give back as much as you

want to take away from her.

Are we demons that live in high

towers above the filth left upon the

land. Does that make us good


Take from the earth only what is

needed or evil will come and rob

you of your children’s future filled

with the beauty of Mother Nature

Is it too late, will we never catch up

from our pilferage and lack of

wisdom. The landscape continues to

change, will it become sinister and dank

transformed into a wasteland filled with


The stink may vanish, in a cloudless

thousand years, but can those of us

who cared about Earth today take comfort

in the fact that someone finally listened?




Fragments of Yesterday…

In the dusty corners of yesterday are buried fragments

of humanity, ancient history, forgotten mothers, fathers,

children, good, evil, and beyond death a veiled ambiguous

world that is still a mystery.

A people that after millions of years of evolution, cannot

see the reality of it all; the human race learns nothing they

endlessly continue their destructive fall.

Blood drenched roads from barbarity to civilization measured

by the futility of the enlightened, and those sacrificed are

forgotten.As humans, we judge others by our own beliefs, we

recoil, we threaten, we kill, and the blood of virtue we continue

to spill.

Millions of years from now when barren land reaches as far as

the eyes can see; will the dusty corners of yesterday show

fragments of how we destroyed humanity, will the veiled curtain

of death no longer be a mystery.




Ann Johnson-Murphree books at:


The Hypocrite…The Joker…



How long does it take to become a master of deception,

lives played  out in pretense?  Preying upon relatives,

friends and strangers, but to use is the intent.

Deception masters, they are a tsunami in life hidden ready

to cause those in their wake disaster. The more people they

prey upon, the unaware, the more they can take; they have

no soul, no conscious, they do not care.

Then, they fail to realize that they are creating their own

disaster, one derived from the way of life that they have mastered.

People who live within a realm of deception lose, now who is the Joker…

the Fool?




Fraught within an unfathomable sleep,

where my body cannot ascend. My mind

exposed, I could only hope that my soul

could defend.
I lay in a bottomless pit, jagged stones,

and cataclysmic spheres, granite walls

bearing slivers of gold. I felt no fear as

before me was a story never told.
Fragmented lives with faces unknown now

for eternity tied to their beds of stone, in

chorus their weeping voices called, you

are almost there. Do not look back for

you can never go home.
An answer came from the rattle of chains

tearing of wrist and ankles from hand

woven rope. Light could be seen from where

I stood, for those in the dark, no hope.
Hungry bodies, once full of life lay in a prison

of despair. Souls empty, their thoughts,

crushed minds filled with stories of those

who never cared.
Weary souls suddenly broke their bondage,

bodies of granite woven with golden threads.

Ran to the light then fell back to the bottom.

Shattered pebbles making ready for another

souls bed.
To wake myself was impossible in a dark place

my soul must stay. I fought to climb out of

the pit into the light to send disappointment

I touched a vivid sphere of light it was the from

the morning sun, my life was not over. There

was more grieving to be done…




New paperback at Amazon.

A Path to this Moment…

Reflection on conception, an unwanted
soul cast away because of greed. An
image of the future, lost in time, starvation,
did not kill the seed.

It lived, did not go away, destiny or fate,
Life without love surrounded by hate.
Yoke around the neck at birth, emotional
Scars during its journey on earth.

Tomorrows’ path long and steep, search
The past, a need to prove why hurt and
Anger ran deep. Truth in abandonment
Can be found, sanity and sorrow closely

And then they say “goodbye”.

Ann Johnson-Murphree

Thank you for your support…
The link below will take directly to

Reflections of Poetry released in paperback 6.20.2014




Reflections of Poetry

Reflections of Poetry is now available in both Kindle and paperback. The paperback version has a new cover but the content has not changed. Over the past months “Followers” have inquired into my having a paperback version as they did not have a Kindle. So, here it is, the size and cover makes it a wonderful “coffee table” item. Again thank you for your past, present and future support. All of the Kindle eBooks are in the process of converting to paperback.

Ann Johnson-Murphree

The link below will take you directly to the Amazon site.





Panic… (Reposted by request)

The school dance was like a garden
full of scented wallflowers, in the
distance the record player grinded
out hollow music.

Some stirrings could be found on the
smooth gym floor, the non-stirrers
glazed over eyes looked as if they
wanted to cry.

Would the spell be broken, or would
the scented wall fall asleep, or would
they at last dart for the levered doors
returning to their homes and live like
caged birds.

Then rose the coldest fear of all, silent
as if blind and dumb the feet would not
move though I wanted to run.

Gently a strong young hand pulled me to
the floor…yes, yes, yes, I was a wallflower
no more!