Page the Second


A fronte praecipitium a tergo lupi. (In front of you, a precipice. Behind you, wolves.)

Wednesday, April 30, 2014

Last Day--Questiad--COLORS IN THE WIND

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


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

Tuesday, April 29, 2014

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 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!

Monday, April 28, 2014


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:

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, April 27, 2014

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

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

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

Saturday, April 26, 2014

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:



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

Friday, April 25, 2014

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.

Of branches
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
© 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.


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

Thursday, April 24, 2014


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:

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

Wednesday, April 23, 2014

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

Tuesday, April 22, 2014

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.

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

Monday, April 21, 2014

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
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

Sunday, April 20, 2014

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

Saturday, April 19, 2014

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.

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, 
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 who have slumbered.
© 2014 by H. Linn Murphy

Friday, April 18, 2014

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

Thursday, April 17, 2014

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

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

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.

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

Tuesday, April 15, 2014

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 
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,
© 2014 by H. Linn Murphy

Monday, April 14, 2014

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

Sunday, April 13, 2014

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

Saturday, April 12, 2014

Day the Twelth--Haiku--Hackers & Romeo and Juliet

I did another poem for yesterday but my whole Internet was bogged and I lost it. So today I'm doing a haiku. You can see the form here.

Okay this first one was because I just had to spend all day re-doing all my passwords because of hackers. I think they are black-hearted, they rot, and I'm so done with them:

Hackers make me sick
Stealing from the mind's domain
Some day you shall pay.
© 2014 by H. Linn Murphy
And here's another less angry non-diatribe:

Romeo and Juliet
Little lost children
What know they of Eros' love
Who throw life away?
© 2014 by H. Linn Murphy

Friday, April 11, 2014

Day Go Ichi (11)--ABAB Poem--Wind and the Neighbors

Here's my poem for the day. I have no idea what the form was for today and I'm busy writing on my LETTERS FOR STEPS book, so I'm just going to write a simple ABAB Poem and let it go at that.
Here it is in all it's majesty...:o)


The West wind is blowing like crazy
It's blown all my clothes off the line
I wish it were balmy and hazy
So I'd not have to go claim what's mine.

My sweatshirt is down at the neighbor's.
Three socks and some pants are there too.
I hate to go down through their arbor
There's a mean dog and piles of dog poo.

I guess I'll just bring all the clothes in
They are stinky and nastily wet
But I'll drape them all over with clothespins
And hope meeting the Browns is a bet.

I don't really know why I worried
The Browns were uncommonly nice
They brought me some lunch while I scurried
T'was a sock and some chicken and rice.

And now when I think of that fam'ly
'Bout their dog and it's piles of poo
I think it's 'bout time to be ambling
Down the street to give back to them too.
© 2014 by H. Linn Murphy

Dear Browns, can you please bring back my undies? Thanks for the delicious lunch. Hugs, Me