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On a Blue Bird Day

It is spring, warm breezes float through magnolia trees.  A gracious woman of the South rises from past memories; her thoughts behind the ice blue eyes. She sits on the bank of a pebbly brook under a Blue Bird sky, the scent of lilac rises from her starched dress.  She dips her fingers slowly into the cool water; she is old and life has passed her by, and the depths of her truth never known.  In her secret place of selfishness her hate for an unwanted child; she stops to ponder her own question; does she deserve the name “Mother”.

 

©2016.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

 

 

Outside My Daughter’s Room

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Out Side My Daughter’s Room

 

My daughter slept as I watched over her,

outside a howling storm raced through the

Cabbage Palms and Bull Bay Magnolias.  The

Atlantic wind sends a salty spray over the levy,

I pray as an immense gloom enters my mind.

 

A stream of water has formed across the yard,

a threat to the new growth of tender plantings in

my garden.  Now rain is pounding the earth like a

possessed drum from a distant shore far away; the

sea is not innocent.

 

I look at the guiltless face of my child, beautiful, filled

with natural compassion and spirit.  I hope for her a life

of abundant love and wealth, and to find a man that will

worship her, not a troubled fool.

 

May she become like a hidden tree in the forest, her voice

be that of a songbird, a heart of great generosity and of

spirit?   May she never know hatred from evil, safe from

assault like the wind outside her window and dreams that

burst with happiness; I wish all this as I pray for the

calmness to come to the sea.

 

©2016.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

 

thBPHSKA15“Life is short, live it. Love is rare, grab it. Anger is bad, dump it. Fear is awful, face it. Memories are sweet, cherish it.”

 

 

Click on author’s book page to view poetry and art books at Amazon.com

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Tomorrow’s Fears…

 

God did not mean for us to be alone, the

days seem longer than grains of sand by

the sea; nights longer than stars in the

Heavens when the opposite side of the bed

is cold next me.

Tears flow, laughter’s slow; no one there to

challenge the spirit to live with a certain blazing

flare; the joys are now beyond reach, floating

far beyond the nearby reefs.

The truth burns brighter, the earth is no longer

at its best, friends are few; relief comes when the

sun is absorbed by the deep waters to the west.

When one’s eyes are closed and reach for that

invisible hand, speaking softly where only one

can hear; finally fading eyes close, it is only

tomorrow that one fears.

 

©2015.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree