Choices – A 100 Word Story




A roar of thunder melds with a coming storm, Tom Thornton’s heart is stone; he knows that because he feels nothing.  His wife’s veins once flowed with a passionate fire; now the crimson liquid spread across the floor.  Doors locked, a decision had to be made and quickly.  His life also ended when he would not let Sarah leave.  His heart will never soften; he will never feel the heat of Sarah’s fire again.  The police and ambulance sirens filter into the house.  He sat on the bed asking, “God, will I go to Heaven if I choose to die”?




Books at

Coffee Table Books – 8 X 11


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”.





#9391…A 100 Word Story



It was July 1915 and Annabelle stared out the window.  Beyond the bars lay the tombstones covered with dead leaves and vine, each inscribes with nothing but a number; the records might have given the names of those beneath the red southern soil.

She knew that there were no tomorrows.  A marriage of happiness ended with a disobedient act against her husband.  It was his right to put her in an asylum for the insane and the disobedient.  Yesterday’s promises were over; the “Consumption” as they called it would soon take her life.  The small 12X12 stone would read “#9391”.



Ann Johnson-Murphree at


June 12 – July 12, 2016

Six Poetry Books Available :

All  – $5.50


Coffee Table Art:  $10.00





Dedicated to my daughter Charlotte Jean Murphree

1958 – 2010

The Voice 

From me you shall hear

Trampling of insistent voices of those

Whispering in my ear. They

Are fierce, burning with passion, their

Messages clear.

They speak to me with the force of a

Turbulent sea, other times with the

Surge of the tide, and always with

Respect; within me, they reside.

Ann Johnson-Murphree

I will not say that this is my final book of poetry; however, it will be the last until I have pursued my other interest in writing personal and fiction.  I have been on a journey; it has taken me from depths of a bottomless abyss, the path I walked was jagged and brutal both mentally and physically.  The trip is documented in my poetry, it came from deep within my soul and my spirit survived.  The healing continues, an ongoing process that will never end; but today, I can breathe.  I have held my breath too long as I walked these rutted roads; and must now set out on a new path.  I have chosen to begin a new “Story”.

I will continue to blog daily with my own work or reblog in support of my wonderful loyal followers.   I will post when Rutted Roads is published.  

Virginia Woolf died 75 years ago today

George_Charles_Beresford_-_Virginia_Woolf_in_1902Virginia Wolf

Jan 25, 1882 – Mar 28, 1941

One of my favorite authors, Virginia Woolf died 75 years ago today.  Adeline Virginia Woolf  had seven siblings, she married Clive Bell in 1907 and Leonard Woolf in 1912.  I have read everything possibly written by Virginia Woolf she has been an inspiration to me and my writing. 

My favorite quotes by Virginia Woolf:

“These are the soul’s changes. I do not believe in aging. I believe in forever-altering one’s aspect to the sun. Hence my optimism.”

“Once conform, once do what other people do because they do it, and lethargy steals over all the finer nerves and faculties of the soul. She becomes all outer show and inward emptiness; dull, callous, and indifferent.”



Thank you and R.I.P Virginia Woolf



Words, words, words, black, brown red, words for which my tears have shed.  It is said that the living word speaks truth, yet one must die to have real proof.

Birth to death we are taught from the Holy text, we will not truly live until sacrifice has been met.  The sky will open the “Just” will fly away, the “Wicked” given a second chance must stay.

Words, are they truth or a means for the pious to lie, and for the answer are you willing to die?  I want to believe, to hope, to live life to its fullest here on earth, and I choose to continue to search.

To taste the lush berries down in the blackberry thicket, to smell the wild rose on the side of the hill, to find a love that will not let my heart be still.  I want to lie in a clover field watching bellowing clouds float by, to gaze at a summer’s cobalt sky.

I want to read poems with my legs dangling over the highest cliff, this…only this will give my earthly heart a lift.  To stare out at forever, on the landscape below, as I pray that my time in the here and now will travel ever so slow.

I want to dip my toes into a frothy sea, to feel the salty wind upon my face and know that I am in the right place.  Here on earth and alone I will survive and I hope that if there is a God he will wait for me a little while.  I am already old, but as surely as I breathe, I am not ready to go. 





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.”






Love is Tiring…


Love is Tiring

 Coalescing into an ineffable infinity of serendipity

evenings of peculiarity and fiery.  There have been

times that I wanted to weep.

Weep, angered that I ever met you.  A stone, yet I am

patient as I gaze into your eyes.  Never understanding

completely, your mind not pliable.

Oh, this too, too, despoiled flesh the path to happiness,

the consummation of my brain.  I think this thing called

love is very tiring, very, very, tiring as the tides of life flows





Ann Johnson-Murphree

Beyond the Voices


Echoing Images from the Soul

Sachet of Poetry








When young, I dreamed of journeys around the world,

when I became older the dreams changed to journey

from sea to shining sea.  Capes and bays, slow rivers,

tasting fruit of joy and pleasure; that was then… and

this is now and I will not allow my dreams to die with


I have known ecstasy and grief, I have seen tall trees and

tall ships; I will never again lie naked in the sand or know

the touch of gentle hands.  Elusive and fearless I lived

somewhere in my mind, I have suffered but always kind;

I do not fear the white light of eternity, I do not fear that

death will come as I lay down to sleep at the end of each


One day my soul will be renewed, no longer to dream of

journeys, as I will be on a journey through space, time…

through infinity; my dreams will go with me when I die;

but for now all that is left, is the challenge to survive.