Grandpa’s Jug…

On a cold southern night, reading under

The covers by a “coal oil” light, grandpa’s

Piano laughter ringing in my ears,

Serenading grandma both had a bit too

Much “cheer”.

I laughed so hard I pulled up the tail of

My flour sack gown to dry my tears,

Ma could not hear me I had nothing to

Fear.

Suddenly there was the smell of smoke,

Ma came in giving my covered shoulders

A poke.

It does not matter to me she exclaimed,

You may want to get out of bed before

You go up in flames.

Through the hole in my quilt I could see,

Smoke rising through it like a tepee.

Pa tossed a bucket of water at me from

The door, it missed the bed and hit the

Floor.

Grandpa jerked the quilt off the bed, folded

It ever so gently and pristine, then through

It out my window that had no screen.

My aunt walked in laughed so hard she peed,

Then said to the others, “Don’t yell at her, be

Happy that she likes to read.

Everyone begin to laugh, drying her tears

Ma said, “Well, it isn’t as if she’s committed

A crime”. It was then…I ran to the outhouse

Thankful for their “cheer” with the help of a little

Old jug of “moonshine”.

 

©2012.annjohnsonmurphree

All books are a collection of poetry created from tiny fabrics of life. These poems characterize the thoughts of innocence sold into a false world of adoration. Living in silence, God did not keep this innocence from hell, and death would be a long way off and life was between the now and then. Ahead lay sacrifice, pain and suffering. Life should be fruitful; the human life produces scenes of public, private distress and anger springs forth with hate and blood. Mortally led to the mysterious world of knowing the fist is not love, it is the slaughter of innocence. Innocence institutionalized because of disobedience, failing to comply with and act upon the orders of their controller, the answer asylum. Reality embedded within the soul of innocence, no future, no meaning to life. Innocence in truth wants and dreams of death; these are the true aspirations of the abused. Ann Johnson-Murphree Poetry Books – Collections of Exposé Poetry are coffee table books 8X11 that will display well in any area. The matte cover is classy and inviting. Within each book the reader will find soul poetry. A length pleasing to browse, read one or more; find a connection, a meaning and a purpose in each poem. These collections of poetry are filled with inspiring thoughts and reassuring words with a factual viewpoint on the many experiences in the life of the poet. Each collection serves as a prevailing reminder that life is complex. That happiness is in our hands alone; that the fear of unhappiness is deep-rooted in the spirit and soul. That depression and despair is real and each individual must find the freedom of mind, body and soul to move forward in their life. Each poem has been created from the fabric of a patchwork life, complex, stress-filled, finding enlightenment and cultivating wisdom. Anyone who will open their mind is free to pursue insight, to find their own nirvana. This collection of thoughts brings the reader along on the multifaceted journey of the poet’s experiences throughout life.

http://www.amazon.com/Honeysuckle-Memories-Ann-Johnson-murphree/dp/150029070X/ref=sr_1_4_title_1_pap?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1408898942&sr=1-4&keywords=ann+johnson-Murphree

 

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3 thoughts on “Grandpa’s Jug…

  1. .Very cute, Ann. I remember the flour sack dresses and the oil lamps, trips to the outhouse and going to bed early to finally get warm, but I never took a lamp to bed with me. Thank goodness for flashlights later on, improved life a lot, no?

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