Who is Blogger/Poet/Fiction Writer/Artist Ann Johnson-Murphree?

HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO EVERYONE

2014

5.Holiday Snow

HOLIDAY SNOW – ACRYLICS

BY

Ann Johnson-Murphree

Ann 6.8.2014

Ann Johnson-Murphree

Author Bio…

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 –

http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_i_2_10?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=ann+johnson-murphree+paperbacks&sprefix=ann+johnso%2Cstripbooks%2C522

On Sale…

 

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IN SEARCH OF WORDS

 

Ann Johnson-Murphree Poetry Books – A Collection of Poetry
The 8×11 coffee table books that will display well . The matte cover is classy and inviting. Within each book the reader will find approximately fifty poems.  A length pleasing to browse, read one or more; they will find a connection, a meaning and a purpose in each poem.

http://www.amazon.com/Sachet-Poetry-Adoration-Aspirations-Asylums/dp/1500483354/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1413302456&sr=8-1&keywords=ann+johnson-Murphree

http://www.amazon.com/Honeysuckle-Memories-Ann-Johnson-murphree/dp/150029070X/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1413302456&sr=8-3&keywords=ann+johnson-Murphree

http://www.amazon.com/Reflections-Poetry-Ann-Johnson-Murphree/dp/1500168645/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1413302456&sr=8-4&keywords=ann+johnson-Murphree

http://www.amazon.com/Beyond-Voices-Ann-Johnson-Murphree/dp/1500426709/ref=sr_1_5?ie=UTF8&qid=1413302456&sr=8-5&keywords=ann+johnson-Murphree

http://www.amazon.com/Echoing-Images-Soul-Journey-into/dp/1500366811/ref=sr_1_6?ie=UTF8&qid=1413302456&sr=8-6&keywords=ann+johnson-Murphree

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

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

 

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

 

A Review from new release…Honeysuckle Memories…

 

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http://www.amazon.com/Honeysuckle-Memories-Ann-Johnson-murphree/dp/150029070X/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1404590070&sr=8-2&keywords=ann+johnson-Murphree

Thank you Dr. Moriarty for this review.  ajm

Dr. Karen Moriarty

This review is from: Honeysuckle Memories

“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 in this day and age. 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.

Karen Moriarty, Author of “Defending A King ~ His Life & Legacy” [about the incomparable Michael Jackson]

The Hypocrite…The Joker…

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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?

©2014.annjohnsonmurphree

 

http://www.amazon.com/Reflections-Poetry-Ann-Johnson-Murphree/dp/1500168645/ref=sr_1_1_bnp_1_pap?ie=UTF8&qid=1403806867&sr=8-1&keywords=ann+johnson-murphree

 

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

The Declaration of Losing…

Losing is easy, winning
is a learned ability.

The day I was born was a loss
that was not easy, as my mother
in so many words declared “get it
away from me”!

I would learn that love does not
always grow within the womb, the
effect of my birth was that I
learned the ability to endure being
motherless.

My daddy brought me back home after
three years of me living with his sister
in hopes that my mother would learn to
love me, that day was a loss.

The winning lesson learned from my
non-caring mother was that we must
accept many things in life, things
we cannot change.

Life is filled with mischances, the
loss of a love, a parent, and of
innocence, the loss of a sibling and
a child.

The declaration of losing is learning
to accept fate, overcoming hardship
and survive.

©2014.annjohnsonmurphree

http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_i_0_20?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=ann+johnson-murphree&sprefix=ann+johnson-murphree%2Cstripbooks%2C398

Come out of the Darkness…

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
meaning, learn.

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
tormented world.

©2014.annjohnsonmurphree

http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_i_2_8?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=ann+johnson-murphree&sprefix=ann+john%2Caps%2C213