Mississippi River Nightmare…

Uncovered and wrinkled is my sack, a gigantic hump on my

Back. Frost clutches to these old rags, my body is covered

With burlap bags.

My flesh like ashes my face tinged with blue, my chest

Rattles, my lungs sucking in the morning dew. I have

Traveled on the railroad back and forth, does not matter

Where, south or north.

I sometimes walk city streets when they are dark and dead,

The side of a railroad is where I make my bed. I eat my

Food from old tin cans, I will steal candy from little hands.

I scream for the warmth I see coming from the riverbank,

A bright fire, from this cold I do tire. I think that I am

Burning, I smell smoldering hair, my arms are thrashing in the

Air.

I see evil darkness, what is this madness, I feel spiritually ill,

Then, I gasp in horror when I realize that I am dead. Here on

This cold and damp riverbank someone has severed my head.

 

Registered©annjohnsonmurphree

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Imminent Thoughts…

Drinking from a vial of dark sadness, cannot forget,

will not forget; mind reeling, mouth twisted, choking;

this pain is not terminal it is permanent.

Pain, an accumulation from the past that lingers in

memory, drifting in dreams, floundering on invisible

winds of winter; searching through the impenetrable

haze called tomorrow.

A frosted pane, bare branches waving does not clear

the cobwebbed corners of a grieving mind.

A fractured mirror imaging the soul dances among the

sunlight, a pit of Hell or tower to the Heavens fear is no

longer the builder of an unfinished life.

 

 

©2014.annjohnsonmurphree

 

Slipping Away…

Moonlight, alone in silence ascending my

Stairs once more, below the stars waves

Crash upon a white sandy shore. On the

Hillside my garden too is silent I look out

Over the sea, alone, a star shooting across

The sky, an invisible hand, a fireball thrown.

I wait in the dark, between space and space,

I lift my hands to my face. Who am I, my

Name is unknown to me, I look into the

Mirror yet my eyes cannot see.

The flesh is pallor and pale, the wrinkles…

Each with a story to tell. Hair, white, long

Tied up in a bun…I would leave this place

Nevertheless, I have nowhere to run.

A mournful melody spins in my brain, a tune

That I cannot recall…roses to smell and

Mouths to kiss, in a locked room I hide

From it all. Never will I feel rain drops on my

Cheeks, it is the shadow of death that I try

To cheat.

The heavens are dark and deep, I will forget

These things before I slip into a silent sleep.

From this room I can hear the ocean roar, rain

Falls and dead gutters come alive once more.

Yes, I will forget all of these things before I slip

Into a silent sleep.

 

©2013 ®annjohnsonmurphree

 

 

http://www.amazon.com/Echoing-Images-Soul-Journey-into/dp/1500366811/ref=sr_1_4?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1405934856&sr=1-4&keywords=ann+johnson-murphree

 

 

 

Pseudo Heavens…

untitled

The bitterness, the misery of life, questions for God.

Was it his goodness that took my child, I can believe

in an avenging god if he would tell me what I have done.

 

I have been imprisoned in a chrysalis, beaten, withered,

dust covers my soul. There is no one to find me, no one

to free me from pain and heartache.

 

Hate is a strong word, yet it dwells within my mind, in the

shadowy corners. It hides, waits like a rain cloud that

threatens to spoil the rays of a sunny day.

 

I use to stand staring at the sky, praying, questioning, it may

as well have been a black void. A pseudo path to the Heavens

outside my windows.

 

 

©2014.annjohnsonmurphree

Amazon

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Echoing Images from the Soul…

 

“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.”

Published in Kindle eBooks and paperback at Amazon.com:

Echoing Images from the Soul

Beyond the Voices

Reflections of Poetry

Sachets of Poetry on Adoration, Anger, Asylums and Aspirations

Honeysuckle Memories

My Journey into Art

 

http://www.amazon.com/Echoing-Images-Soul-Ann-Johnson-Murphree-ebook/dp/B00CCG2WVK/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1405711072&sr=8-2&keywords=ann+johnson-Murphree

 

Grief…

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

away.
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…

 

©2013.annjohnsonmurphree

 

New paperback at Amazon.

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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