HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO EVERYONE
HOLIDAY SNOW – ACRYLICS
Born in northern Alabama, father was a Native American (Chickasaw) sharecropper who managed a farm for a businessperson from Decatur, and a mother who worked in the local cotton mill during the Depression to pay for Beautician School. Although her mother lived in the same house, she was emotionally absent since the Author’s birth. The author, raised by her father, Native American great-grandmother and an African-American woman all were great storytellers.
Instead of playing like most children, she roamed the countryside alone or with her father and at night she sat at the feet of these strong-minded individuals listening to the stories of their lives. During the summer, she lived with her fathers’ sister in Birmingham, Alabama; it was there that she would discover a library, and mingle with her aunt’s circle of friends that included local writers, artist, and politicians. A cabin deep within the Black Warrior Forest was the weekend retreat and filled with these people from a different life than her own. This aunt encouraged the imagination of a young Ann with the gift of her first journal, which she filled with stories over the summer. Planted was the desire to write, a seedling waiting to spurt from the warm southern heart of a child.
Nonetheless, with adulthood, the desire to create buried itself deep within, the dream wilted but did not die. It lay dormant, gaining experience all written in hidden journals. These experiences, the contents of these journals became short stories and poetry reading to share with the world.
Throughout the years along with her father, great-great-grandmother, and her beloved Aunt Francis, other influences were, Faulkner, Capote, Fitzgerald, and Harper Lee. Later in life, I discovered the warm and comic writing of Grace Paley. The Collected Stories, the vivid poetry of William Carlos Williams; the strong poetry of Phyllis McGinley, and the world’s most exciting women, Maya Angelou are some of the poets at the top of her list.
The harshness that shrouded her life would cause her to withdraw from most of the world; it fills the pages of her writing, the heartache, the abuse, and the denial from her mother. Today, at a stage of life where she enjoys her children, grand and great grandchildren, her four-legged companion Mason, she lives in Southern Wisconsin…far from her southern roots, writes and paints daily.
ONE OF THE MANY REVIEWS ON HER WORK:
Southern living, tragedy, memories, and nostalgia… 2014
By Dr. Karen Moriarty – Karen Moriarty, Author of “Defending A King ~ His Life & Legacy” [about the incomparable Michael Jackson]
“As a former teacher of English and creative writing, I approached the reading of Ann Johnson-Murphree’s “Honeysuckle Memories” with real enthusiasm. Poetry is not a wildly popular genre currently. However, I have always enjoyed it, partly because it can be consumed in bits and pieces and at any time of day or night. This book did not disappoint. I consider poems the poet’s personal journey of heart-soul-and-mind. This collection of poems is about Southern living, tragedy, death, and memories. The poet-author’s background as a child who grew up in northern Alabama, a sharecropper’s daughter who farmed for his living, colors much of her work. I enjoyed the flow of her writing, her style of combining prose and poetry, and her reflecting the imagery from her earlier memories in vivid terms.
I recommend that you buy and read this book. It is priced well — to entice the potential reader to venture into the realm of poetry. Ms. Johnson-Murphree enjoys, above all else, sharing her love of writing with others who will enjoy it, understand her better, and share her personal journey.”
THE POETRY OF ANN JOHNSON-MURPHREE AT AMAZON.COM –
Some of America’s “Hero’s”, we must always remember them in our hearts.
Thank you for your support in reblogging the last post. First, FEMA should never ask for refunds on money they have given to support those in need. Second, as Americans we get more support during these disaster’s from private funding…we support and care for each other more than our government does. Third, our support to other countries also comes from private funding, from the hearts of Americans; I see the numbers that our government gives but does it go to the right people, the people in need? Time to get down off the soap box…but too many who are less fortunate are forgotten on a regular basis in the USA; they need our voices. Thank you so much for visiting and reading Libretto. 11.10.2014 ajm
Also at Amazon.com
Reflection of Poetry and Beyond the Voices
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.
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…
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”.
Thank you for your support…
The link below will take directly to Amazon.com.
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.
The link below will take you directly to the Amazon site.
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!
Absorb rather than being absorbed,
life is not lived without pain,
learn from the lesson it so freely
gives. When our lives are happy
absorb the joy, when life feels like
a pickaxe in the heart engage its
We tremble with fear, lie down and hope
life will pass quickly while we hide in
the shadows of the darkness of time.
Have we salvaged from the lessons it
teaches enough to walk into the
brightness of what will come beyond this