Last Day--Questiad--COLORS IN THE WIND

This is a Questad poem. For an explanation you can go here.
Here's mine:

COLORS IN THE WIND

Kind Blue tries to blend into the blue-shot beyond.

Red is hotter than ruby blood, pump, pump, pumping through the universe' veins.

Green breathes silvery sylvan song into my ears, tickling.

Yellow, like bee-striped buzzing, tracking as sunflowers their deity across the golden sky.

Purple is a royal cloak, spread velvety over the jewel-studded hills.

Orange, like the blazing noon-day sun, sears truth into the eyes and mind. 

But  ah, Indigo! Indigo is mysterious, magical music dancing and skipping from star to star, its toes tipped in inky frost flowers. Indigo is the night sky just before the moon dips down into its daylight stall. Indigo sings through my mind and being, filling me with sparkling laughter.

© 2014 by H. Linn Murphy

The 29th Day--Hyperbole Poem--Buttons

On this next to the last day of April's National Poetry Month I greet you. Today's poem is a Hyperbole Poem about which you may read here. And this is my poem:

BUTTONS

Buttons are the greatest things

They keep our clothes intact.

Just think if you had none of them

There'd be a bad impact

Buttons keep our shirts on

And sometimes pants as well

And if you cut off all of them

Embarrassment would tell

Sometimes I think that buttons

Must often feel so small

So many of them look the same

No claim to fame at all

But when you do without them

You wish that they were there

Keeping it all together

And in resplendent care.

© 2014 by H. Linn Murphy

Writing Process Blog Hop--Passing the Baton

Passing on the Baton

Diann Thornley Read is a good friend of mine. In fact I would have put her name in for this hop if she hadn't named me first. You can find her here.

So these are the questions I'm answering today:

1) What are you currently working on?  

I'm writing the middle of LETTERS FOR STEPS, I just finished editing Donna Hatch's book THE CARRIER, and I'm editing my own book, KIRSTEN CONFUSED (working title) along with doing loads of book reviews and poetry. I'm also waiting for re-write orders for the book Walnut Springs is publishing called SUNRISE OVER SCIPIO and another called SUMMERHOUSE which are supposed to come out momentarily. I am never not busy or bored.

2) How does your work differ from others in its genre?  

That's a broad question because I write stuff all over the map. In LFS I write about two missionaries from the perspectives of both being a missionary and from being an investigator--the whole "locking your heart" process. I tell the stories in my head. When I'm writing Sci Fi it's never without a little bit of romance. I like to have my paranormal works have a little mystery to them. My dystopian stuff has an element of romance and hope. I can't stand reading dystopian works that don't at least have that tag end of hope--that sunset at the end of the day which promises a new world in the morning. I want to read fabulous writing that isn't full of garbage like bad language or sex. I have to admit some of my action scenes get a little jiggy but I try to keep it something I'd be happy having my fifteen-year-old read.

3) Why do you write what you do?

I write because there's a story in my head BANGING to get out. My characters plague me until I write their story. And sometimes they hijack the plot. I write because I love it. Writing is my creative vent. Before, it was doing murals on people's walls or illuminating medieval manuscripts. I have to be creating something wonderful. I write because I want to read great material and I want to fill the world with that great material. That's also why I'm a Work In Progress...:o)
 
4) How does your writing process work?

I make a rough outline. Then I go back in and plug things in. I go back in and back in until everything sounds right. Then I polish until it shines. Mostly ideas come to me as I'm sitting there at the computer. Occasionally I work out plots while doing other tasks, though. I don't know how many scenes I've hashed out while hanging laundry.

I'd like to nominate four of the others I think are fabulous (Only four. There are so very many others...sigh):

Donna King Weaver
Donna Hatch
James Artimus Owens
Joyce DiPastena

Check out these four and their four and their four. Woo hoo, Authorception!

THE ABRAHAM ENIGMA Review

Last night I finished THE ABRAHAM ENIGMA. I couldn't put it down until long after 1am. What a wild ride! I loved it! Jack Lyon's book combines Egypt and its pyramids and fabulous treasure vaults with treacherous spies and a pinch of romance, all wrapped in a scriptural enigma.

I've read through the Pearl of Great Price many times. The pictograms in it always intrigued me. This book works at further explaining a few of the images which always before seemed like...well...Egyptian to me. It is a work of fiction but those items of nonfiction are clearly marked.

David Hunt, an FBI agent, and his new wife, April, are sent on assignment to Cairo to ferret out who keeps letting terrorists into the USA. While there, they become embroiled in (or rather fall victim to) a plot to blow up the embassy. They use what they learn of Egyptian antiquities and the book of Abraham to navigate the traps of an insidious group of men.

I greatly enjoyed the refreshing relationship the Hunts share. David acknowledges his wife's additions so nicely that I fell in like with him too. I also love the way they use scripture to decode what they find in the Necropolis. This book is well worth reading.

If you can shake your de-Nile long enough, you can purchase this book here.

Day 28--What If Poem--Moon Meal

The poem today is a What If Poem. You can read about it here.

Here's mine:

MOON MEAL

What if there was a stairway up to the moon?

I might pack a lunch and climb and climb until I got there.

What if it was actually made of green cheese?

I could take crackers and a cheese knife and have a picnic.

What if the stars tasted like silvery fish?

I would cast a net and drag in a few and have fish and cheese and crackers for dinner.

Want to join me?

© 2014 by H. Linn Murphy

Sunday the 27th--ABCB Poem--Sky Song

This is a nature poem I did previously in honor of Sunday:

SKY SONG

The sunset flamed like a fiery peach

Rippl'ing ever so high

And soon it faded to dusklight

Scattered jewels on a black velvet sky.

© 2014 by H. Linn Murphy

Finding Mr. Wrong Review

Recently I read a frothy little book called FINDING MR. WRONG. It was a fast, fun read.

Charlene (Charlie) Randall is looking for a good man. Her next door neighbor, the Italian stud Damian Giovanni isn't going to cut it. His morals make him all wrong for the part of Mr. Charlie.

No. Charlie has her sights set on hottie Maxwell Harrington, who unfortunately never knew she existed before.

But armed with a list of ten things she can do to attract a man, she sets out to snag her guy. The problem is, things keep going badly awry. Who knew they sold poisonous flowers at the local flower shop? And what guy is ever allergic to chocolates?

The thing is that after every mishap, Damien is there to pick up the Charlie pieces. Finally she decides if she can't beat him, she can let him join her in attracting the Max-ter.

If you'd like to find out if her list worked, buy FINDING MR. WRONG here.

Day the 26th--Limerick--Windy Situation

Alrighty then. T'is Limerick Day. You can find out about limericks here. And here is my lucky limerick:

WINDY SITUATION

 

It's exceedingly windy today
Saw a bird flying backward a-splay
The bells are a-flutter
Wind's creaking a shutter
And it's too freakin' gusty to play

© 2014 by H. Linn Murphy

Arbor Day Poem--Tree Song

In honor of Arbor Day I shall plant a poem and then try to plant a few other things. It's probably too late for them, now since the sun bakes the ground to puzzle pieces, but I'll try. If you want to see other Arbor Day poems, go here.

TREE SONG

A

Light

Tracery

Of branches

Reaches

Up into the sky

Sending like

An Eternal joyful song

Wind through the leaves to

The Being who made it.

It shades us; shelters and feeds us

Filling our lives with love.

Like the Eternal Son

It gives its life for us, in service.

How, then

Can

We

Do

Less?

© 2014 by H. Linn Murphy

Day the 25th--ABCB Poem--Got an Itch?

Okay, all you women can understand and commiserate with me on this one.

GOT AN ITCH?

There's a hair in my cleavage
I can't get it out
It's driving me crazy
And I'm ready to shout.


I'm here in the public
And nothing will help
But wiggle and fidget
And try not to yelp.




So when I see others
Who cannot sit still
I think hair removal
Might just fill the bill 




And now you're feeling all itchy too, aren't you?

© 2014 by H. Linn Murphy

TONGUE OF FIRE Review

I'm taking some time to review a book called TONGUE OF FIRE by David McKnight.

I didn't think I'd enjoy this book as much as I did. Normally I don't go in for books about preaching and football very much. But this one caught my attention and held it clear for the big score.

John Peterson brings his family to Mayfield, fleeing a reputation for religious pontificating. Despite his promise to his family to tone it down for once, John slips (or rather is pushed) into a horrific situation--doing exactly opposite of the family 'Plan'.

Brother John's innocent and well-meant actions could blow the family, and the whole town, wide apart. He stands to lose the people he loves, his job, his new home, his son's football scholarship, and worse, his soul. But what's a Christian to do? They desperately need help only John seems to be able to offer.

I enjoyed the twists and turns. The story is well written, fast-paced, and entertaining. I was rooting for John and Jake and several of the preachers. I would have liked to see at least one of those guys join the church (hey, one can dream). And I would also have appreciated finding out at the beginning of their time in Mayfield that John had gotten the Italian teaching job at the high school. Still, a field goal read.

It brings up a few questions for me. What would I do in a similar situation? Would I be able to watch my husband do the things John had to do without questioning his sanity? How charitable would I be with the whole town up in arms against me?

Answer these questions by purchasing TONGUE OF FIRE here. Then drop back for the touchdown pass.

Day 24--Poem-in-Your-Pocket Day--A Stolen Kiss

It's Keep a Poem in Your Pocket Day today! For an explanation, go here. I have three I wrote in my pocket right now. Here's another one:

A STOLEN KISS

Gene Paul chased me home one day

He trapped me on a tree

That creepy boy squashed lips on mine

And I punched him with my knee.

He'll never get another chance

To try and grab a kiss

His broken nose will see to that

I gave his drool a miss.

I wonder now to whom he went

To commiserate his pain

A loving mom or grandmother

To vent his sad refrain?

Where is that creepy kisser boy

Who tried to make a play

For the girl who wouldn't play his game

That breathless far off day?

I wonder if his game's now good 

Or if he's got a wife

Or does he sit and rot in jail

Bemoaning a broken life?

Remember this when next you try

To kiss a little lass

She just might pack a nasty punch

And knock you on your...rear.

© 2014 by H. Linn Murphy

Day the 23rd--ABCB Poem--Snick the Tooth Fairy

Today I'm doing an ABCB Poem. Hope you like it...:o)

 Snick the Tooth Fairy

Other tooth fairies are pretty

They're all glitter and star wands and toole.

With names like Esmeralda and Rosebud

And Daisy and Betsy and Jewel.

Our family fairy has tattoos

He's smelly and ugly and brash

There's more hair inside of his armpits

Than his head, which is covered in rash.

Old Snick didn't wait 'til teeth fell out

He brought 'round his pincers and pliars

He looked in kids' windows to spot 'em

And concentrated 'specially on criers.

One time I wanted to stay up

And ask what he did with the teeth

But he brought an old hammer and chainsaw

So I jumped under cover beneath

I never hid teeth under pillows

It guaranteed very bad dreams

'Cause then Snick would likely be waiting

'Stead of money, that loser left screams.

 'Stead of dimes and nickels and quarters

He left broken bottles 'n old trout

So we did everything we could think of

To keep our teeth glued in our mouth.

© 2014 by H. Linn Murphy

And here's a limerick about Snick:

There was a tooth fairy named Snick
Who carried 'round plyers and pick
He scared kid so bad
They ran crying to Dad
And begged for barred windows quick
© 2014 by H. Linn Murphy

Day the 22nd--Nature Poem--A Bee-utiful Story

So today's a Nature Poem. If you want to know what that is, land here.

A BEE-UTIFUL STORY
The honey bee so fuzzy yellow
Is a natty sort of fellow

It works all day in orange sun
Buzzing flowers for its fun

Too bad it stopped off on my shirt
A smashing hand with which to flirt

Now it's gone to meet its doom
I sweep its guts up with a broom

I'm sorry little honey bee
That Mr. Yellow messed with me.

© 2014 by H. Linn Murphy

On The 21st Day of April--Onomatopoeia Poem--Bridezilla Boomerang

Today we're doing an Onomatopoeia Poem. I dare you to say that ten times at the speed of light...:o) You can learn more about it here.

© 2014 by H. Linn Murphy

BRIDEZILLA BOOMERANG

The bride was a delicate flower

She walked down the aisle with grace

But don't let her calmness fool you

There's junk coming out of her face.

She yells at the top of her voice box

The slaps can be heard 'cross the state

She's stomping and screaming and cussing

And all of her bridesmaids are late

She wonders just why they don't worship

As she stalks down the aisle to her man

But the girl has been snotty and witchy

Because nothing goes right with 'the plan'.

The fizz doesn't fizz in the champagne

She hisses about the sad flow'rs.

This reprehensible human

O'er estimates her limited pow'rs.

Why is it this wench causes trouble

And expects her poor groom to be cool

When her actions are utterly horrid

We'd just love to push her in the pool.

She's go glug-a-glug as she struggled

As her perfect white gown made her sink

We'd all race to jump in and go save her

But we're currently having a think.

© 2014 by H. Linn Murphy

Day of the 20th--Prose Poem--He Rises

As it is Sunday and I'm writing this way in advance, I have no idea what other people are doing for a poem today. I'm doing Prose. So here it is:

He Rises

But hark! What light through yonder window breaks?
Tis the Son who rises in all glory
No mere earthly bloom
But Scion of the House of Elohim
He it is who at His Father's word
Furls the sunset in all its splendor
He who set the waves to wash the shore
And bid the larks rise up at dawn.

It is the Son whose battered flesh
Hung upon a Roman tree
And from His watch in moonlit glade
Wrought for us what no other man could ever do.
Scion of His Father's house
Who bid the mountains rise from desert's floor
Tis He who wrest fro us
A berth at our Father's loving side.
He who guides us, holds the lamp,
Bids us follow Him Home.

© 2014 by H. Linn Murphy

Day the 20th--Acrostic Poem--My Missionary Son

Again it's Sunday and I am diverging from the set schedule. What can I say? I'm a rebel. Anyway, this Sunday it's an Acrostic Poem using the first letter of each line to build on.
Here we go:

Makes me incredibly happy.

Yells, laughs, and photo-bombs every picture.

Misses us like we miss him.

Industrious and loving it.

Stays away from the cliff's edge.

Seeks out the low and those sitting in darkness.

Innovative--maybe he should be an engineer.

Opportunities make him happy, especially teaching ones.

Needs to lift, light, and serve.

Always positive.

Reading the scriptures is one of his favorites.

Year of teaching the gospel and one more to go.

Still not much for writing long letters.

Obedient to the Lord.

Never far from my mind.

© 2014 by H. Linn Murphy

Neunzehnte Tag (19)--Prose Poem--We Who Have Slumbered

This is a prose poem, meaning it doesn't have to rhyme. If you'd like to know more about what a prose poem is, go here. I hope you like it.

WE WHO HAVE SLUMBERED

Waiting for the break of 

A new day,

Hover near

Hoping you'll notice

What others have not.

Can you hear us calling?

Can you feel our hearts 

 Beating in cinq

With the echoes of time?
So long we have tarried,
We who have slumbered.

Breathless we stand

As you read letters

From the dusty centuries past.

"Who were you?" you ask.

We ache to tell you

But cannot

For our earthly mouths, 

Long stoppered 

With winding cloths,

Will not obey.

We wait and watch

Begging without words

That you find us.

Search for our stories.

Bring us back to the light of day,

Remove the coins from your eyes

That you might see us,

We who have slumbered.

Fill the air with our long-dead laughter.

Bring our love,

A treasure trove in ancient 

Ribbon-bound letters,

Before your eyes and hearts.

Fill your ears with 

Our broken songs.

Heed the lessons 

For which we richly paid

With our bones.

We who have slumbered.

You have stood upon our shoulders

Our callused hands once buoyed

Your existence.

We are the builders of bridges. 

We quarried the stone

And mined the coal.

We are they who bled that you

Might live,

Safe in the cities 

We built.

We are the forgotten.

We who have slumbered.

We reach out our hands

To caress your cheek,

Children of our children's children.

Trailing age-shivered shrouds

We long ago ascended.

Now we wait, 

 White-clad, 

For you, our legacy,

With arms outstretched.

Bring our stories home with you.

Tie us to our long-lost families

With silken skeins of love,

We,

Yes,

We who have slumbered.

© 2014 by H. Linn Murphy

The Eighteenth Day's Offering--Color Poem--Indigo

I'm doing a color poem today. To find out what that is, go here.
And this is my poem. Ta dah!

Indigo is mysteriously delicious and difficult to come by.

Indigo is a month of Saturdays rolled in chocolate. 

@@INDIGO is a chameleon rocking a bow tie.@@

Indigo is playing 'Maleguena' on a toy piano. 

Indigo tastes like love dipped in mint chip 
ice cream. 

 

*Indigo smells like cinnamon rolls slathered 
in blueberry frosting and fearlessness. *

Indigo sounds like the wind soughing through 
fir trees at midnight.

 Indigo feels like the water pressing on me as I  
dive down  to the reef.
Indigo looks like the planet Pluto wreathed in mist.
Indigo makes me sing and dance a jig.

Indigo is my true love's heart. 

© 2014 by H. Linn Murphy

The 17th Day--Haiku--The Dilemma

I'm writing another haiku today. Here it is:

The Dilemma

Someday bear eats you

Sometimes you consume the bear

Either way you lose

© 2014 by H. Linn Murphy

The Sixteenth of the Month--If I Were And You Were poem--Delusional

Today we're doing If I Were And You Were poems. If you'd like to know what that is, go here.

Delusional

If I were a puppy

And you were a shark

I'd dog paddle towards you

And joyously bark

If your teeth were enormous

And incredibly strong

I'd still want to kiss you

And we'd swim along

Sometimes I'd dive under

And give you a lick

And you wouldn't bite me

And I wouldn't kick

But after a while

I'd get tired in the waves

And I'd have to swim down

To the deep water caves

And there we'd have dinner

On lobsters and fish

And there would be dancing 

And you'd grant my wish

And then I'd wake up

In my small puppy bed

You'd be in the ocean

And not in my head

I know these are silly

Ridiculous dreams

Instead of warm kisses

You always bring screams

Sometimes in the darkness

I'd lie there and wonder

If the idea of "us" might

Be a horrible blunder

© 2014 by H. Linn Murphy

Day the 15th--Prose Poem--Harbinger Moon

I'm doing a prose poem today. Actually I did it during the eclipse last night. So here it is in all its glory:

Harbinger Moon

I saw the moon die

It dimmed

Until only a Cheshire Cat smile

And then it blinked 

Out.

The hole it left

Washed the sky

In blood.

Sailing through a

Stygian firmament

Igniting a million billion scattered sparks

The harbinger moon

Lay waste the sky on its demise

Comets streaked across black velvet

Burning out in 

The blood-silver galleon's wake.

Yet wait!

A tiny spark ignites

And sets the rim aflame.

The orb, 

In dread majesty emerges

Once more to set the sky,

Its domain,

A-light.

© 2014 by H. Linn Murphy

Day 14-- 5W's Poem--Lady in the Park

This is a 5 W's Poem. To find out what that is, go here.
So this is my poem:

 Lady in the Park

The little old lady with twinkling eyes and a brilliant smile

Walks every day, rain or shine, in a dress

In the chilly darkness of the park

When the rest of the world is still asleep in their beds

She greets the morning with a kiss on each cheek.

© 2014 by H. Linn Murphy

Day Thirteen, XIII, dreizehn--Couplet--Lament of the Barrel O' Monkeys

Since I don't write for blogs on Sundays, I've done this one in advance and am choosing my own poetry form. This time it'll be couplets.

 Lament of the Barrel O' Monkeys

We're all alike said the monkey named Nate
As he hopped up onto the rim
I look like Jack and he looks like Bill
And Jill looks a whole lot like Jim.

We don't do a lot in that barrel o' fun
But tangle together and sit
Sometimes the boredom just builds up inside
And I want to just haul off and spit.

The last time we ventured outside the barrel
The children were tiny and fun
But now they've grown up and they don't want to play
With a red plastic barrel of mon(keys).

What's a monkey to do when he looks like the rest
And he wants a good place in the sun?
He can't take vacations or go to the zoo
And he can't paint a picture or run.

Then Monkey Nate had a sit-down to think
About life and the great outdoors
He decided that life really wasn't 'bout fun,
Who has what, or who doesn't, or scores.

What matters the most is whatever you do
With the lot the good Lord has given
And when all is said when you're quick and you're dead
Is did you make the most of your livin'.

Then Monkey Nate hopped up on the rim
And surveyed all the landscape around
His red plastic face bore a satisfied grin
For his worth and his joy he had found.

So whenever you feel that life's letting you down
And you think you will die of the blues
Recall Monkey Nate and his barrel of mates
And like him pay attention to clues.
© 2014 by H. Linn Murphy