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Category Archives: Art

Bayou Gauche Death…

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Bayou Gauche Death

untitledDrawing by Anneka Reay

 

At dawn, Ruby Waters life light went out, in the dark her children cried; a candle glowed against the rustic rough boards of the shanty shadowing the souls left behind.  Laid to rest quickly in the Louisiana heat; the moon cast a glow on her shallow grave.  The children’s tears burn hot upon their dirt-streaked faces as relatives who heard the shots took them away.  Drunken Gat Waters had shot his emaciated wife because she was pregnant again then yelled, “Now dat’ are two less mouths to feed”.  They were swamp folk no one outside Bayou Gauche would ever know.

 

 

 

 

Text Copyright © 2016 by Elizabeth Ann Johnson-Murphree 

Publishing Rights AsterialThoughts.100WordShortStories 2016 by Elizabeth Ann Johnson-Murphree

asterial_thoughts_cover_for_kindle-jpg  https://www.amazon.com/Asterial-Thoughts-Journey-into-Thought-ebook/dp/B01MXWUZ4X/ref=sr_1_7?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1487141103&sr=1-7&keywords=ann+johnson-murphree

 

Bayou Gauche Death is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

 

 

 

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THINGS – FAMILY OR FRIENDS – NEED OR GREED

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Family or Friends-Need or Greed

We are collectors, closets

filled with things that

seldom use, are these

kept of need, or greed. 

 

We are collectors; the

cracked mirror in the

basement, Grandmas’ as

children it distorted our

faces, made us laugh,

need or greed. 

 

We are collectors; boxes

of colored papers, dried

plaster with tiny hands,

boxes of remembrances

that no one ever see’s, need

or greed.

 

We are collectors; that old

chair of Great-Grandmas’ fills

a corner in the den, as well as

Grandpas’ old gun given to him

by a friend, need or greed.

 

We are collectors; sometimes our

treasures shroud us in sorrow,

happiness or fear, still we hold them

dear and near, need or greed.

 

It is the same with people…friends

or family we are collectors of this

too.  We have held onto them through

happiness or sorrow, to be the

only one who gives, holds on and

keeps coming back for more sadness,

to be tossed away.

need or greed.

 

Collectors of things or people, it may

be time to clear out what we do not need,

and of the people that does not care and 

offends us, or that were in our lives for greed.

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©2017.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

 

 

 

Authors Books on Line:

 

https://www.createspace.com/pub/simplesitesearch.search.do?sitesearch_query=ann+johnson-murphree&sitesearch_type=STORE

 

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/ann+johnson+murphree

 

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Southern Greenery…

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Southern Greenery… 

 During summers when I was young, we lived at the foothills of Burleson Mountain, edged by pines that rose skyward toward the mountaintop, hidden behind these green giants were caves.  Below the mountain a rich southern greenery grew, it covered buildings, fences, tried to climb up the side of the cliffs.  The fields only escaped because the “field hands” chopped at it daily around the cotton, corn and sugarcane. 

Visitors driving through would take pictures and if you heard them talk, it was an amazing plant and they marveled at how it covered sheds, houses and barns.  This kind of thinking usually came from “Yankee’s”; to a Southerner it was a pest that would not go away. 

The vine attaches itself to anything, not being particular.  It is worthless, you cannot eat it, Southerners tried and it grows so close to whatever it covers that it does not even make a decent shade.  Yet, it does have its own beauty as its greenery cascades over the side of the rocky cliffs and caves. 

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Oh well, it does add beauty to the sides and tops of tarpaper shacks scattered throughout the South.  People who live in the South have made their peace with the dark green plant called Kudzu; they understand its fight to survive.  It is engrained deep in the South’s history and when a Southerner thinks of Kudzu their thinking of Dixie.       

 ©2017.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

Authors Books on Line:

https://www.createspace.com/pub/simplesitesearch.search.do?sitesearch_query=ann+johnson-murphree&sitesearch_type=STORE

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/ann+johnson+murphree

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I am just saying…

womanwriterblogDear Followers,

Let us get back to the business of art, painting beautiful scenes, writing fiction and non-fiction, creating our dreams; let us get back to what is as close to normal as possible (for me), my followers and especially those on my Face Book page. 

I have watched with interest all those running for President of the USA.  I continued to sort through the actions, policies and as they dwindled to two, I watched more closely.  I supported and voted for the individual of my choice.  It does not matter at this point who won or lost, we have a President.  In truth, I do not care about the lives of his children other than to wish them well, I do not care what Mr. Trumps wife wears, where she is from, or about her past or his.  “Bashing with vulgarity” any person in and out of official offices is wrong.  Nonetheless, My FB page has been filled with anti-Trump post for weeks; I had my own entries of course, but I hope with “taste”. 

This morning I checked my FB page and the first post had a particular vulgar word Trump had used during his campaign.  I almost deleted the entire page, I did not faint, my ears did not turn red, and I have heard in all; you do not get my age and maintain your innocence.  My finger hovered over the delete button, I thought of the wonderful people whom “had not” chosen to lay in the gutter; they were trustworthy, decent creative people.  So, I did not delete!

It is time to get on with the business of living our lives, doing what we do best, and chose not to stoop to levels of vulgarity when voicing our opinions.  We all have something to say…I am not speaking of “going” religious or pumping up of the “faith” card, I think you all know me better.  I am just saying; let us be decent in our protest and our marches, we do not have to destroy material things and bash good people.  This country was built on marches, protest and fighting for one’s belief; it is our right as an American to do so, I practice my belief in “freedom of speech” daily.  While we are voicing our dislike for a person, place or issue, let us do so with dignity.  I am just saying…

Elizabeth Ann Johnson-Murphree 1.22.2017

 

 

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Fire, Rain and Lies…

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Excerpt from the works of Fire, Rain and Lies…

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

©2017.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

Authors Books on Line:

https://www.createspace.com/pub/simplesitesearch.search.do?sitesearch_query=ann+johnson-murphree&sitesearch_type=STORE

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/ann+johnson+murphree

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Fire, Rain and Lies…

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 “FIRE, RAIN AND LIES”…

An excerpt from the beginning of my autobiography:  

These days I contemplate the mystery of life, of my life; and that I exist at all, born in the South during a time when people were trying to pull out of the Great Depression, the year was 1939.  The rural South I am told, was affected the most.  My daddy worked as a tenant farmer, never making enough money to get ahead, but just enough to buy some store bought foods.  I guess that you could say that we were better off than most, many were forced to beg, train hop, or look for daily work to feed their families. 

10.Cabin in the Meadow

“Above is a watercolor painting I did of the place where I was born, fortunately it was there long enough for me to place it in memory.  It was unoccupied and burned down by vandals in 1949”.

 My daddy use to say, if Hoover had been reelected everybody in the south would have starved to death, he was tired of eating Hoover gravy; as it turned out he lived on Hoover gravy and fatback for years.  Even when Mr. Roosevelt was elected and long after the depression was over my daddy would find himself no better off.

My mother and daddy married in May 1932, my sister was born in February 1933; this would be the only child my mother ever wanted.  She was almost happy in those days, then in 1938, she found out she was pregnant with me…

I repeat these days I contemplate the mystery of life, of my life; and why I exist at all!

[This autobiography is ongoing and has been for a few years, complicated, thorny and heartbreaking I continue to write about a life fill with abuse, sprinkles of happiness and mammoth lies.  I will bring you updates from time to time.]  

 

Elizabeth Ann Johnson-Murphree    

Authors Books on Line:

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66th

 

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The Poor and the Homeless…

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I spent most of my Saturday night binge watching a series from Australia called “Keeping up with the Jones”; although it was redundant, I found it interesting.   This family owned over one-million acres of land in Australia and the images were amazing, especially the stars dancing across the heavens at night.

Nonetheless, the show made me think of all of the poverty in the world.  This family owned a “fleet” of helicopters to herd cattle, and although I understood their need for the trucks, tractors, trailers; not to forget horses, boats, water skis, just about anything one could want.  And, their “cook” prepared great food, deserts and no one went away hungry; I repeat…no one went away hungry!

Today, my reflection on the series is not that the Jones’ have a copious amount of wealth, they work very hard and at times face dangerous situations; their lot in life was to be one of abundance.  I just have to wonder with such wealth all over the world why did fate not spread it around.  There should be no hunger, health care should be free and plentiful; I am not asking the Jones’s of the world to give up their wealth to the poor, no.

On this Sunday morning, I am questioning all Gods, the Gods of every individual in the world, and why these Gods did not spread it around; no one should be hungry or homeless.  Never do I see images of the rich worshiping their God(s), while images of the poor and middle class worshiping their God(s) are abundant.  The hungry and homeless need help, the help of people and the God(s).  I’m just saying…

 

And, if you get a chance, watch “Keeping up with the Jones” on Netflix, you will marvel at Australia’s landscape and those billions of stars.  Have a great day.

 

Elizabeth Ann Johnson-Murphree

Authors Books on Line:

https://www.createspace.com/pub/simplesitesearch.search.do?sitesearch_query=ann+johnson-murphree&sitesearch_type=STORE

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/ann+johnson+murphree

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