Poetry 2014…

 

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Unfulfilled… (A touch of micropoetry)

It is the alchemy by which we evolved, the

Self, the role of others, the absolute that

Was to come, this will provide generations

With the story and still as humans we find no

Need for celebration. A self-seeking breed, all

Interconnected to each other would not be

Satisfied with only getting out of life what they

 

 

©2013 ® annjohnsonmurphree

 

 

 

http://www.amazon.com/Echoing-Images-Soul-Ann-Johnson-Murphree-ebook/dp/B00CCG2WVK/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1407086107&sr=8-1&keywords=echoing+images+from+the+soul

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.

 

©2014.annjohnsonmurphree

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.

 

©2014.annjohnsonmurphree

 

New in paperback at Amazon.com

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Reflections of Poetry released in paperback 6.20.2014

 

 

BookCoverImage

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.

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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!

©2014.annjohnsonmurphree

To Be at Peace with Grief…

Depression nurtures memories
I keep hidden in the recesses of
my mind. Hidden behind a wall
of fear I do not sleep least these
memories escape. If possible I
would lie down under the beauty of
a calm lake and be at peace with
the grief. There in the presence
of the still water I would wait for
the light of the mystic world of
death…I would be free!

©annjohnsonmurphree
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