Monday, April 12, 2021
Flying with Broken Wings
is about the life of Charlotte Jean Murphree. Charlotte was not a famous
person, in fact, not too many people knew her, but those that did knew there
were many facets to her life. The book tells of fifty-two years of daily
testing of her will to carry on and the misfortune she faced. As a baby and
young girl she was made fun of by schoolchildren, her progress was slow but she
never gave up the fight to overcome her disabilities. As an adult, she fought
Cerebral Palsy, Living with Bipolar, Depression, and Schizophrenia disorders.
Charlotte lived not only with herself but she endured the “Voices” that lived
within her for over thirty years. This book is about her beginning, her middle , and the end of her life.
Other
Books by author:
·
Fragments of Time
·
A Passage into Madness
·
Asterial Thoughts
·
A Sachet of Poetry
·
Rutted Roads
·
Rhythm Rhyme and Thoughts
·
Reflections of Poetry
·
Beyond the Voices
·
Honeysuckle Memories
·
Echoing Images from the Soul
·
A Journey into the Soul
©2021.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree
Visit Amazon.com
Barnes&Nobel.com
Elizabeth
Ann Johnson Murphree | Barnes & Noble® (barnesandnoble.com)
Monday, April 5, 2021
The Essence of Paradise
Joyful simplicities are a
means to survive, inspiration keeps the soul alive, watching seasons as they
have come and gone. One survives year
after year, as the heart continues on the journey to where it belongs.
Attend to life’s garden
reach for impossible dreams. Let the
mind seek what it envisions, look beyond all of the tomorrows, and do not settle
for only what the eyes can see.
Learn to shed the skins of
time never give up hope, the path leading to dreams will be easier to find,
walk hand in hand with a true love during a warm misty spring. Drink in the aromas of life and it will bring
back memories of the essence of paradise.
©2021.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree
Visit Amazon.com
Barnes&Nobel.com
Elizabeth Ann Johnson Murphree | Barnes & Noble® (barnesandnoble.com)
Tuesday, March 2, 2021
Bangles and
Colorful Cloth for Ma…#316
“Prose Dedicated to my Great-Grandmother”
When I was born,
you were a young ninety-years old,
your hair pulled
tight at the nap of your neck, still
black and bold. At night, you let it down to braid before
you went to bed;
it almost fell to the floor; at first, I would
watch in silence
from a crack in the door.
The night you
caught me I was six, you called me into the
room…asking that
I bring you a single broomstick.
I quickly plucked
it from mother’s broom, and rushed
back into the
dimly lamp-lit room. You showed me how
to
break it into
small pieces; when I looked bewildered your smile
showed all of
your dark wrinkles and creases.
It was then that
my eyes opened wide as you put the stick right
through the lob
of your ears, it's magic I thought; but this is my
Great-grandmother
I have nothing to fear. As a child, I
did not
realize that
there was a hole, because when I would touch the
bangles on her
ears, she would quickly scold.
Just like the time when I tried to sneak a peek at her button up
shoes by raising
the hem of her long dress, she did not have on
shoes, there were
moccasins on those tiny feet…who would have
guessed. Yes, I was a child without a care, and I
spent many
hours sitting at the foot of her old rocking chair.
I never tire of
the stories she would tell, sometimes we cried together
and now I can
say, as a child she lived in a white man’s world, she
called it
“hell”. Her parents had walked on the
“Trail of Tears”, proud
and strong, with
every step wondering where they had gone wrong.
She help raise me
and she taught me “The Way”. When her mind
begins
to wander in
those later years, I was sad when she would tell her stories
that she only
remembered the bad. This grand old lady
dressed in bangles
and cloths of
many colors, long braids, and black hair; a great-grandmother
like no other.
She died a few
days before her birthday; she would have been one-hundred
and five. My daddy said, Ma as we called her would have
scolded you saying
don’t you ever cry? I was fifteen-year-old and the world was
bright and
colorful with the
artwork of fall, a befitting day to bury a beautiful and
proud
Chickasaw.
[Repost]
Copyright©2012.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)