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”?
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”.
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”.
Rutted Roads available at Amazon.com click on the purchase books tab at the top of the site to order.
Thank you for following this blog and the interest in my poetry. eajm
Dedicated to my daughter Charlotte Jean Murphree
1958 – 2010
From me you shall hear
Trampling of insistent voices of those
Whispering in my ear. They
Are fierce, burning with passion, their
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.
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.
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