H. Linn Murphy
Day 30-Last Poem of Poetry Month
Light the bonfires
In the night
Raise the beacon
Light the lamps
Their fires aglow
Place them in
The dark ships bow
Light the candle
And its match
Light the fire
Its tinder catch
Set the lighthouse
That its light
Might wax and grow.
All the light
Makes darkness flee
The dark can't stand
In one spark's lee.
Christ is come
As world's light
He is the torch
The beacon bright.
Here He stands
A God aglow
From world below.
Day 29-5 W's Poem
Ethel Zipporah Muzzlethumper
Found a rotten banana,
Beneath her pillow,
After a very sleepless night,
It squished in her ear causing a squelching sensation.
Day 28-Clerihew Poem
There was a man whose name was John
Who came to steal his brother's throne.
He met a man all dressed in greens
Who tickled him to smithereens.
The man in green was Robin Hood
A man who stood up for the good.
But when he had none bad to fight
He tickled rich men with his might.
Day 27-Lantern Poem
Hits things hard
Banger of nails
Day 26-If You Were Poem
If you were a wing nut
And I was a screw
We'd stick so tightly together
We'd be one, me and you.
Day 25-Quinzain Poem
This rising generation
Will it last the night
That comes now?
Across your skin
Never two alike
Beauty in perfection found
Like sand paintings
In the sun
Just a moment
Bright and luscious
In a second
Cracked and gone.
Perhaps your beauty
Is not only
On your outer
Smooth skin found
The golden center
Wrapp'ed in white
A treasure bound.
His robes billowing
In the wind
My tears streaked down
As I knelt to touch
The wounds in
Hands and wrists and feet.
I had given Him those wounds
My pride, selfishness,
My greed and shame.
I wept to see them
But He smiled.
He lifted me and touched my face
He dried my tears and
Kissed my cheek.
"You," He said "are my loved child.
Come into my arms to stay.
So I came.
A springtime carpet spread for all
He set the lion and the lamb
Released blue whale, and silver minnow
Flamingo pink and Mockingbird.
He gave us all to use with wisdom,
May we keep His stewardship bright
With Knowledge, kindness, hope and love
Let us care as His children,
Given for all the world
A gift none else could ever give
He paid the price to open up death's door
And shed his own life at the cross
The cross was not the end
When the teacher says to sit
Instead I like to go and play
She gets so mad that she could spit
My wry shenanigans make her day.
Geography, science and some math
She asks for papers by the score
Instead I skip right down the path.
It's not for me, I won't do more.
Finally when the day is done
And teacher is a frazzled mess
I realize I have had my fun
Now it is time to go confess.
I go up to the teacher's knee
Apologetic look in hand
She's crying as she looks at me
Why that is I don't understand.
Laughing, joking with a mate,
With your golden haystack hair
And your eyes of azure fair.
Laugh with me and be my beau;
Dance with me alone and slow;
Speak to me with honeyed phrase
Of your heart and better days.
Rock me in your arms so strong;
Kiss me gently all night long.
As you did once long ago,
Woo me, woo me, my sweet beau.
Making mud-pies in May to a marching tune
She mixed up some mud
And added a spud
Making Mary May Monarch in the month of June.
Hot dogs grilling
4th of July
To lift your hair from your sweaty neck;
It plays with airy fingers
Through your hair and across your face.
Then stealthily it dances away
I needn't count those fluffy sheep
A harvest of long hours I reap
At least my meetings I did keep
In them I made not a peep
When I got home I did sleep
My slumber was so long and deep
My Sunday clothes were in a heap
My snoring echoed loud and deep
For wasted hours I truly weep
But finally I need no sleep.
I might bring my fork and snack 'til sleep.
I could hide out in comic book stores with all the fruits.
I would follow you there with my tweezers and ferrets.
Another day 14 poem
(This was written for our eldest daughter who was going off to serve a mission for the LDS church in Ecuador.)
Off you fly, my own songbird
To sing songs of Joy
In faraway lands.
Though my heart yearns ever
For friendship gone south
Not for the world your wings
Would I clip.
Fill the damp air
With crescendos of Joy,
Touching hearts with Christ's love
Bringing light to the darkness
Spread your wings
And be free
To fly home again
Sandals striding dusty roads
Urgent tasks of love
So little time
So long the road
Bearing burdens of the heart
Listen, hear, lambs of the Lord
See, the Shepherd beckons.
I come, a weary messenger
To point you to His shelter
Follow me back
Down dusty roads
Stones and hatred dog our heels
Peace awaits and cleansing tears
Enfolding arms of the Shepherd
A job well done
Who are these people
Whose lives are lost
Among the scarlet autumn leaves of time
Layers lain down in Eternity
Whose rich, moist soils now make up who I am?
Who were these singers of distant lullabies
Whose voices soothed countless seeds of generations,
Roots now spread lace-like to bind us to them?
I hear their faint echoing, those voices
Calling us home from our games at twilight
I am new leaf;
Fresh sap rising
I am their sum.
Are they proud of me?
Will my voice someday
Fill hearts with longing
And a wish to spread
Up towards the radiance of
May I stand so firm a tree.
Day 14-Anything Goes Poem
(I wanted to post another poem I wrote a couple of years ago here, but I can't find it. So here's something wacky and completely fabricated I wrote back at Christmas.)
The night before Christmas and all through the home
The people were sleeping except me; I roam.
With visions of I-pods and Cellphones replete
They hoped against hope that their haul would be neat.
While I in my sweat suit sat down on the floor
Wrapping the presents and bundles galore
When what to my wandering eyes should appear
But another lame TV show and adverts for beer.
I turned off the tube and was turning around
When down from the roof came a thief with a bound
He was dressed in black jammies from his head to his foot
And was bound and determined to swipe my new boots.
He turned in a moment with his bag full of toys
And climbed up the chimney stealing toys from my boys.
I flew to the window with my shotgun all full
And said to the burglar "Please get down or you'll fall."
So I settled a round of rock salt in the gun
And had just a little target practice fun
Then I heard him exclaim as he tore out of sight
"I am NOT going back, 'cause they put up a fight!"
Soft and squishy
Waiting to be popped
As pillow-y as a cloud
If only the roll would last forever
Clothes on the clothesline
Myriad rainbow colors
Flapping in the wind
Like flights of brilliant birds
Rising up to greet the sun
Our invisible dog named Blinky
Got hold of a ten year old Twinkie
He was barfing out back
'Cause he'd eaten the sack
Now he looks like a sprung out slinky.
Day Ten-Spring is...
Spring looks like paint on cactus tops.
Spring sounds like rain splashing big drops.
Spring feels like fuzzy quail chicks.
Spring smells like creosote at dawn.
Spring tastes like Popsicles on the lawn.
Rear in gear
Before you turn eighteen
Waters gliding over
You are so diff'rent yet the same
Day SEVEN-If I were...
If I were a wing nut, proud and true,
I’d be one that sticks tight especially for you
I’d hold your skates and gates and weights together and
I’d not come undone 'til I rusted away.
I’d be your very own trusty wing nut.
I am creative and vulnerable.
I wonder sometimes what people say behind my back.
I hear them whispering and wonder if it's about me.
I see their looks as their heads are bent together
I want to leave all of that behind and fly freeI am creative and vulnerable.
I pretend that someday people will say they 'knew me when...'
I feel hopeful that my God will lift me out of self-reproach
I touch His hand and know that I need not be vulnerable anymore.
I worry that this realization will come too late.
I cry, "Help Me, Lord, to light my lamp."I am creative and vulnerable.
I understand that God loves us despite our flawed state
I say that He gave me talents as gifts to His servant
I dream that someday I will stand shining before Him
I try to light the lamp now
I hope He welcomes me with a smile.I am creative and vulnerable.
The Murphy Mobile as it toils down
The road has a language all its own.
Hunk jugga hunk jugga bunk bunk
It says. Then, going over a
Speed bump and into the driveway:
Clang clang uuuuurk ba-chunk
Hunk jugga hunk jugga bunk bunk
bugga bunk bunk
sighhhhhhhhhhhh urga bunk
Already begun badly
Remedied with prayer.
Day THREE-Acrostic Poem
Another anniversary of Christ' birth
Paints our land with flowers bold.
Resplendent in their flamboyant finery
I am amazed at their gift of abounding
All this day a pounding head
Has kept me haunting my old bed
So it's hard to write and read.
Watching Conference can be fun
'Specially if you've had some sun.
We'll come sit and watch the Brothers
So we know how to treat others.