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

Monday, October 29, 2018

Catching Up-ish

Holy crow it's been forever since I wrote here. I'm getting ready to write either FORLORN HOPE or HEART OF THE FOREST for NANOWRIMO. I can't figure out which. HEART is actually sort of a sequel although it won't be the same genre. I know. What shelf will they put it on in a bookstore? But FORLORN has to get written because it's there in my head, banging to get out. So that's what I'm preparing to do in November. The bad thing was that my publisher didn't pick up the last book I pitched them...mostly because I think they're having a bit of a rough time lately. I'm hoping they can pull that bunny out of their hat again. Hopefully HEART will be what they want.

I had a blast at ANWA conference this year. I got several prayers answered and in a very deliberate way. It was clear why I needed to be there. The lady I pitched to wants my query letter. I've got to churn that thing out soon.

It's been a hideous summer full of angst and termites and more angst. There doesn't seem to be an end in sight, since one of us is comfortable with things as they are in the house...sigh. But that's a tale for face to facing. Suffice it to say that I am now really good at spotting the horrible little destroyers.

So our house is still in flux, although we have most things back inside--just not in a place I'd like them to be. Slowly I'm edging them back in, because it's going to be the new millennium before anything gets done.

Riley the dog is a wonderful little pup. I absolutely love that brilliant little soul. He's into chasing squirrels and cats at the moment, and was contemplating my friend's guinea pig with relish for a few seconds.

We got to go to Indiana (me twice) to see my eldest and her sweety and the kids in their new habitat. It's fabulous, but unfortunately includes chiggers. Don't like those cusses because they render those enormous yards next to worthless. We went to see the Moundbuilder Mounds (a way cool place that I wished I could have excavated). We celebrated two birthdays while we were there and played lots of games. The kids and I made a wishing well to go with their fairy village. Very fun. The baby is greased lightning in army crawling. They mostly had fun with Grandpa, though. He really enjoyed that.

I also went to CO to see my folks. I took the dog and he absolutely LOVED chasing deer. He'd take one step and launch himself off the deck. That deck later collapsed, though not the dog's fault. We went to the hot springs and to garage sales and to Durango to look at the fire that burned so much acreage.

In a while my sister is going to Southeast Asia and I get to go watch her kids. I think she should watch her kids and I go traveling. Yeah. Although I guess I get to take kids to Canada to play hockey every week.

Anywho...not loads to look forward to right now. I'm going to be steam punky for Halloween. Woo.

Friday, May 4, 2018

Dove UnLove

See. This woman's trying to throw the dove out the door too.


I've mentioned my dislike affair with doves, mostly in poetry. Yesterday I had reason to dislike them further:

Sometimes we have the door open for the dog to go out and come in. Today, instead of the dog, a DUMB dove flew in and got up in my bottles on the shelf and was strutting around knocking bottles off the shelf. Luckily none of the dye water-filled ones fell. But he wouldn’t get the heck off!!! I got the antenna I use for putting drawstrings through, and poked it and poked it but it kept trying to fly out the closed windows up there. Finally I got something else to force the bird onto the antenna and launched his butt out the door. As a result, my big blue bowl and a dainty red candle jar fell and shattered. I guess I’ll add them to my colored glass sculpture in a bit.

Possibly it was the same dove that was sitting on her nest in my plant hanger when I moved it to the tree. The dove left when I went to move it, leaving two little eggs. Those eggs were both in the nest all safe and sound when I left it. The mom sat up on the roof of our carport and screamed WHO WHO WHO at me. By the time my Hubs got home from work a few minutes later, the eggs were gone. Either something was so fast as to climb up there in ten or so minutes, or the smartest mommy dove in the world flew over there and got her eggs to safety somewhere on someone's car or shoe. So maybe it was the same irate mom dove that decimated my bottle display. Maybe she's the one who blasted my glass as well as pooping all over my newly made bench plus the family vans. Everywhere PooP!!! Plops of it all over the bench, porch, walk, cars, and windshields. And the windshields were HARD to clean off this time. It's all a plot, I tell you.

In fact, maybe she started all this because I was badmouthing doves for being so stupid that they only had one thing to say on a constant basis. Who? That's it. In one note, usually, although some of them slide lazily off to one more note. Doves are definitely NOT Mockingbirds, which are some of my favorites. Nope. Doves will build nests on your ladder. Or in your boot. Or on your car or a cupboard, or a palm tree, where the birdies slide right out and hit the ground. Clearly they've got a screw loose somewhere.

No idea how they got to be everybody's idea of a peace mascot, or the fav bird to have at weddings. I wonder how many of the dolts flew right into the cake when let free. Or how many ran right into the lights or got hit by the getaway car. I think the Mockingbird should be the mascot of peace. Because when they finally shut up after singing all night (sometimes I like lying in bed and listening to them, sometimes NOT), there is PEACE!!!

Lest you think I'm a horrible person who should be lynched for bird hatred, I'm not. I don't actually hate doves. I just think of them as flying rats. I'm just annoyed at the species right now for crimes perpetrated against me. Perhaps someday I'll meet a dove I like (for more than food). Until then, they need to prove their worth. So far it isn't happening...rofl



I can think of other things to add later. I'm blasted right now and heading off to bed because my eyes are closing on their own. Probably the dang bird flu.
I think my dad had the right idea. Fill them with enough shot and they can be worth something...rofl
.

Monday, April 30, 2018

The Reformation of Lady Elinor Review




Review for REFORMATION OF LADY ELINOR by Darryl Harris

REFORMATION OF LADY ELINOR is about a young widow who is very devout Catholic during a time when the climate of religious belief was changing. Elinor is set to spy on Garrett Bloxham, a handsome man suspected of smuggling English language Bibles into England, a burning offense. She finds, however, that not only is Garrett definitely smuggling books and tracts, but why.

Elinor takes a pilgrimage to Rome in order to pay for some imagined sins in her early life she has been told by her priest has caused her daughter to be blind. She feels that the pilgrimage will earn healing for her daughter, and possibly buy her own way out of Purgatory.

On the journey she takes with Garrett Bloxham and his servant, she finds that things are rotten in Rome. Instead of finding the meeting with the Pope and his servants blissful and fulfilling, Elinor finds that he is definitely a man with feet of clay. She flees to the safety of Garrett’s arms, in spite of turning him away because he continued to throw a damper on her fantastic journey.

What Elinor learns is nothing if not earth-shattering. All her life she has been a staunch defender of the Catholic church. She begins to learn, under Garrett’s tender care, that God wanted His children to be able to read their own scriptures and make their own way back to Him.

Throughout the story in which she meets Tyndale and Luther, there is an element of menace in the form of Oswyn Pygott, a commissioner for the King, self-appointed punisher of smugglers and other heretics, and “admirer” of Elinor. I say admirer, but he actually only demands she marry him to get her money and name. Oswyn is determined to catch Bloxham at his smuggling and torture him to death.

I enjoyed this book about the Reformation. The research Mr. Harris did was exhaustive and complete. He puts you right there during the stew that was England at the time of Henry VIII. What a dangerous time in which to live! This book makes me glad that we live in a country in which there must be due process of law and separation of Church and State.

While I am a religious person, I would not want to have my every move dictated to me. I like to form my own conclusions and manage my own beliefs and morals. It is clear to me why my ancestors fled Britain for the Colonies.

There is one spot in which Princess Mary is mistakenly attributed to Ann Boleyn, when she was actually Kathryn of Aragon’s only child. I found no other slips of this nature.

My one other warning is that Mr. Harris pulls no punches. Catholics may find this book obnoxious and heavyhanded. I find it to be a mirror of the times in which the book is set. Harris lays out every tenet by which reformers like Martin Luther lived and taught. He makes it clear why those men would risk their lives as later Protestants would as well. I found this work well-researched, an interesting story, and fast-paced. Harris puts you right into the action, showing what it would be like to attend the King’s Christmas tourney, as well as what it was like to go on pilgrimage. You walk the streets of Rome alongside Elinor and Garrett.

I give this work six out of seven pilgrim staffs and look forward to reading more of Darryl Harris’ works.
You can get it here.

National Poetry Month--Day 30--Questad Poem plus spare



On this last day of April and the last day of the poetry challenge, I'm doing a Questad poem. And yes, I was just as confused as you are about it. I thought it had something to do with a quest...which it doesn't. Learn about them here.

It's been a pleasure writing poetry and stretching myself to do something creative. (Actually I'm probably going to go add bits of broken mirror to my broken glass chandelier so that ticks another creative box.) I hope you've enjoyed my often freakish sense of humor. Thanks for reading these and leaving the occasional comment. They make me feel like someone actually comes here and this isn't all a colossal wasteland where words go to die alone and unwanted.
I give you Windchimes:

WINDCHIMES
by H. Linn Murphy

Chimes dance as the world's breath blows them
Singing lovelier notes than a hundred doves (not hard if you've ever heard doves, by the way, but it sounds good on paper)
Making magical, mystical morning music 
Ting. Ting. Tinginging away
A message from the wind
Like a rippling stream
Filling my life with traceries of lacy love from the One who set it all in motion.
You are loved, they say.

And while I'm on the subject of doves....


Doves
The world loves doves, 
Mascot of peace
Chosen to lift wedding wishes
To the heavens
In a cloud of feathers rising.

Not me.
Because
In reality doves are
Idiot birds, denser
Than a bag of wet toilet paper
They lay nests 
In ridiculous places
(The ladder, a hanging planter, 
Palm trees, cupboards you use all the time, etc)
So their children fall
Paralyzed to the ground.

They freak out if you go near
Their nest, which they
Build next to your
Front door or on top of your car
And if you move that object
On which they park their butt
They abandon 
That nest and their eggs,
Choosing instead to sit somewhere close
And Who Who Who WHO WHO at you.

Plus they sing one monotonous note.
Just one.
Who. Who. Who. Who. Who. Who.
Over.
And over.
And over again
Sending me to beg
For fingernails on a chalkboard
To rid my ears of incessancy.
All of this is true. 
So why do I try to rescue 
Those poor ugly babies?

© 2018 by H. Linn Murphy

Sunday, April 29, 2018

National Poetry Month--Day 29--Haiku and a Wish Poem

In honor of Sunday and the reason for it.


I'm writing this Saturday night, so I have no idea what Stephanie is ordering for the poem today. I'm doing a haiku:





Christ reaches his hand
To lift his sibs from trouble
Catch on tight, brother.














Diamond studded moon
Sails on an ocean of stars
Lantern of my God


Weed whacker growling
Biting the plants we don't like
Good thing it can't get............

(One of these things is not like the others. I wrote this
while listening to my husband whack weeds. Weeds 
are Gods creations too, right?)

Here's the spot where you can find out about Wish Poems. And here's my Wish Poem for today:

I wish I could hear your voice louder than I can't hear his.
I wish the way we're together but in two different universes could change.
I wish he cared enough to break back into my universe and rescue me from the glass tower I'm stuck in.
I wish he looked at me the way I thought he used to
I wish the voices of people saying things will work out in the end would be louder and more insistent and truth-filled than the ones saying personalities won't change.
I wish I felt Your love more deeply--down into the core of my soul
I wish I felt like there was one person on this earth who needs me to be me, and who cares.
If wishing were chocolates, I'd be a hippopotamus.



© 2018 by H. Linn Murphy

Saturday, April 28, 2018

National Poetry Month--Day 28--Superhero Poem



It seems like we're celebrating superheros today, since yesterday a big superhero movie came out. And while I like superheros and think the movies are entertaining, I think they're mostly rather two dimensional. You never really see them doing anything but fighting (except maybe the Incredibles).

So my poem today is an ode to the sidekicks and the clean-up crew we never hear jack about. They can be every bit as much superheros as Superman and Thor are (sort of). If you want more information about superhero or courage poems, go here. Otherwise read on.


THE JANITOR

We think of superheros like Superman and Flash 
And Wonder Woman, Aquaman, and Thor
But somehow no one asks just who will pick up trash
When these fighting heroes generate some more

They blast the guy with freeze rays, some giant rocks, or cars
Without a thought to what is getting wrecked
Who cares about those runners getting squished and seeing stars
While the buildings all around them blow to heck.

I'm for the mighty Janitor--comes in when fighting's done.
He sweeps up all the broken glass and bricks.
He picks up all the little kids and makes sure that they run
Instead of concentrating on hot chicks.

He's the one who cleans the roads and picks the buildings up
He turns the cars and buses back upright
He reunites the mommys with their weeping little pups
I'm sure that watching him would be a sight.

Of course we're always grateful that we don't have to endure
The terrible debacles of Thor's Loki
Or any of the thousands of other villains to be sure
But I'm thankful for the Janitor, okey dokey.

© 2018 by H. Linn Murphy

Friday, April 27, 2018

National Poetry Month--Day 27--Terse Verse



Today we're doing Terse Verse. If you want to see what that is, go here. I'll get down to it, shall I?

What do you call vitamins?
Ills Pills

What do you call liquor that causes problems?
Randy Brandy

What do you call it when you hope for a genii to do your chores?
Dish Wish

What do you call a boyfriend who showers you with gifts?
Candy Dandy

What do you call people who drink bovine excretions?
Milk Ilk

What do you call frozen bovine refreshment?
Scream Cream

What do you call goop that fixes what you wear on your feet?
Shoe Goo

What do you call a conveyance that takes your livestock across the river?
Goat Boat

What do you call your alarm?
Sleep Beep

What do you call the place where they draw the line around you?
Chalk Walk

What do you call it when your lunch comes out of the microwave?
Done Bun

And now my offering is just that. Done...:o)

Thursday, April 26, 2018

National Poetry Month--Day 26--Poem-in-Your-Pocket Day



So today is Poem-in-Your-Pocket Day, which I didn't know until just now. I could totally have shared my poem at the dentist if I'd known. Ah well. We get to see the dental surgeon today too, so there's that. If you want to know what this is, go here. Otherwise, I'm writing something today but I'll probably show yesterday's poem since I really love how it came out. Anywho, here's today's children's poem:

Nosy
Ever had something get stuck in your nose 
And you can't seem to get the thing out?

It could be a bean or a button or block
And all you can do is shout.

It's hiding way up there where nothing'll reach
Not a crochet hook, toothbrush or pen

When you tell your sweet mom about the obstruction
She freaks out and goes round the bend

She doesn't want screaming or stomping around
And she won't let you use your finger

It's a pretty sure bet that she'll haul you away 
To the doctor and that's a real zinger.

He'll try not to snicker with the nurses in back
He'll endeavor to get the thing out

And if you complain about no lollipop
You can bet you'll have reason to pout.

And your mom is irate at the time that you've shot
But she adores her fabulous kid

It's a much better plan that instead of all this
Don't stick it up there like you did.

© 2018 by H. Linn Murphy

Wednesday, April 25, 2018

Fields of Glory Review

If you like your Land Girls with a bit of a mystery, this is the book for you. Recently Anna J. Buttimore wrote a book called Fields of Glory, about a pair of British farm girls (sisters, actually) three years into WWII.


Eleanor, sixteen, works like a Land Girl, even though her family owns the farm they labor on. A boy comes to the door one day, begging to be hired as a farmer. Luckily her father employs Jim, an evacuee from London, who is full of evasion, but a hard worker and loyal to his family. Eleanor works at the mysteries surrounding Jim, until she learns the truth about his poor family. It doesn't stop her from making him a friend.

Pat, her older sister, has formed an attachment with Chas, a black American soldier. He charms her and is kind and interesting, but soon ships off to the war, leaving Pat wondering just where she stands.

Someone else wonders that very thing. Alex, the rich boy who has known her all her life but only been friendly perks up and finally takes notice. Just as things are stirring up, a whole wing of Alex's mansion blows up. When the girls return home, they find that their mother has been taken into custody because it becomes known that she has been colluding with a German.

The girls must learn who the real German spy is, and who blew up Thundersley Hall so they can free their mother.

Anna painted us a wonderful picture, putting us right into the story. I felt the ache in my back as Anna showed me what it felt like to have to produce the food people were queuing for, since the men were off in the war. I felt the brush of a dress like Patricia's threadbare frock against my legs where I'd, like her, drawn a brown line down the back of each leg to make them look like stockings.

Was that an inquisitive neighbor, or someone hiding a German spy? Did the old man who shopkeepers wouldn't sell to really blow up a British think tank, or was he merely a lonely old man who kept a lush garden?

And I felt the anguish they must have felt at having an empty bedroom full of a brother's no longer needed things. I felt their fear as they wondered why someone is bombing the manor next door. Why was their mother carted off, possibly never to return? How can they prove her innocence? How can they get all that work done? And who should Pat walk out with, the rich boy next door who has never been more than a friend, or the black American soldier who might never return from war? It was a time when you either kept your family close or risked never seeing them again.

I enjoyed this mystery. Eleanor and Pat felt like sisters to me. This book featured:
Zero sex or bad language.
Nada for guts and blood.
No visible corpses.
A pinch of stolen kiss.
A teaspoon of substance abuse at a bar.
A gallon of going on instinct.
A shovelful of rallying home spirit.
Bombs, spies, and Germans, oh my!

My take? I give this book seven out of eight shovels.
You can get this book here or here. I highly recommend it.

National Poetry Month--Day 25--Free Verse--That Moment



Today we're doing free verse. If you don't know what that means, you can go here to learn about it.

I wanted to post the picture of him I took with the dew rising, but it's locked away on my still-languishing computer.

So if you've been paying attention, you know I write about my dog a bunch. I'd have to say it's because he's the being I spend most of my time with. Although he can't talk to me, he's the one who understands me best. He's perfectly patient (unless there is a ball in the park at stake) and loyal (unless someone else at the park throws further) and the only being in the world who will lick my feet. That's got to be saying something. Nobody else will even touch them. That's my dog for you. In his honor, here's another poem:


THAT MOMENT

Light scintillating through leaves
Pricking aureoles through dark lace
A patchwork of light across the 
Fresh-mown grass.
I swing and
The ball cracks out,
High into the fluff-studded blue.
As if shot from a gun, you're off
The tawny length of you
Bunching, then 
Stretched lean, golden taffy.
You listen for the ball's whine,
Turning at the last second.
SNAP!
Your jaws crash shut over the screaming orb
You thunder back,
Your ears streaming, 
Your tail a golden flag in the wind.
My breath catches
As we're caught in molten amber.
The dew flies up,
Scattering diamonds
In the new-minted sunlight.
It's one of those 
Precious microcosms,
One perfect crystalline moment.
© 2018 by H. Linn Murphy

National Poetry Month--Day 24--What if poem--Dogeroo



We're doing What If poems today. If you want to know how to do one, go here. Otherwise, witness this offering I actually wrote at 9:44 last night...;o)

DOGEROO
What if, instead of having to rely on those chocolate-y orbs that melt my heart, you instead could ask for half my dinner using words?
I might be inclined to share more of it, thus rendering you fatter and me skinnier. Hmm........

What if your tongue, that tickles when it slurps over me, could actually heal what it licks?
I could actually take you running again, instead of standing there like a half stone statue, throwing balls for you to chase.

What if 'they' could take lessons from you in devotion, patience, and pure, unselfish love?
I would be a blissfully happy person.

But then, what would you do all day?
© 2018 by H. Linn Murphy

Monday, April 23, 2018

National Poetry Month--Day 23--Poetweet--Sharks



Today it's a 280 character poetweet poem. If you're wondering about this form, go here. Otherwise, here's my offering:


Your predatory grin
Your dandy-looking fin
The form so sleek and thin
All don’t help when teeth sink in.
You think you’re something slick
When you chomp your victim—Ick!
But the streamlined way you flick
Through the water splickety-lick
Only strikes my heart with fear
When you draw near.

© 2018 by H. Linn Murphy

National Poetry Month--Day 22--Pleiades Poem, Spares



Today we're doing a Pleiades Poem. Yeah, I was snowed too, until I went here and looked it up. So this is my offering today, since I will be sitting in the dentist's office while my son gets his teeth done before he goes off to parts unknown on his two year mission for our church. Plus there are some other poems I did freelance.




DENTISTS

Do they Delight in the Decidedly Dippy grins and
Delirious Discussions of their Definitely Dopped-up 
Dental patients as they Dive into the Doors of breath
During Dental Discoveries? Definitely. They just Deny
Doing Dastardly Deeds with cameras.
Dentists Don't Daunt me.
Do they Delight or Debilitate you?
(This poem was seven lines before the kerning messed it up.)


And my spares:

DEVOURING

Oh ye doors of breath and conversation
Which pucker to accept
The kiss of a husband and render the same 
To loves familial,
Which speak a plethora of phrases both
Absurd and Profound,
Aid and derision, 
Longing and replete,
Which sing in dusky tones and
Fill the air with laughter and sarcasm,
Why must ye spring wide
To accept such vast quantities of repast?
Though the mind quails at 
The promise of rotundity,
You unhinge as a snake
To welcome enough victuals
To support an embattled keep.
Groan you then, and dither and whinge
About the impending tonnage.
Close the gate, I say.
Push back before impending doom.
Leave some for the rest of the country.


SLEEP THIEF
That curtain of black velvet
Which steals away the cares of day
Evaded me last night
Leaving only lassitude.
I run and run and 
Never catch the racing thief
Of dreams and plans
And budding hopes.
Take only ID this night, 
Old friend.
Leave dreams behind.

© 2018 by H. Linn Murphy

Saturday, April 21, 2018

National Poetry Month--Days 20, 21--Rictameter, American 767 Poem




I was busy doing service yesterday and thus had no time to write. On a great note, I helped a couple find buried treasure. Actually. FUN!!! So I'm doing catch-up today before I head off to the Temple. If you'd like to learn either of these poem types, go here. Otherwise, check out my poems:


Day 20--Rictameter

Climbing
Reaching upwards
Jamming my fist in cracks
Seeking places for hands and feet
Vanishing chimneying opportunities
Summiting, the wind cooling sweat
Gazing out across land
Satisfaction
Climbing


Day 21--American 767 Poem

Behold, a bug on Facebook
That hollows holes in skin.
Good thing that horror is fake!
© 2018 by H. Linn Murphy

Thursday, April 19, 2018

National Poetry Month--Day 19--Cinquains--Driving



For Day 18 we have cinquains. If you want to know how to do this form, visit Stephanie over here. Today I'm doing a tribute to my son, who just got his learner's permit re-upped. He's going on his mission and a little freaked out about driving. I personally understand that, since my city has a plethora of wretched drivers at every turn. So these are his sentiments in my words:

Driving
Caskets on wheels
Avoiding accidents
Trusting life with rank idiots
Trav'ling
© 2018 by H. Linn Murphy






Wednesday, April 18, 2018

National Poetry Month--Day 18--Lantern Poems--Mom


Today we're doing Lantern Poems. If you'd like to know how to do one, this is a good spot to learn how. Since my Mum has a birthday today, I'm going to do at least two of them in her honor.

Mom
Kindness
Fortitude
Understanding
Mum

Di
Yellow
Daffodils
In the sunshine
Loves

Mom
Selfless
Can be seen
In all she does
Love

© 2018 by H. Linn Murphy


Tuesday, April 17, 2018

Day 17--National Poetry Month--Haikus

It's International Haiku Day today. So that's what I'll be writing. If you'd like to know more about writing a haiku, go here. Otherwise, on with the haiku mayhem:




A spring wind blowing
Sends a curtain of blossom
Drifting to the grass

Ugly dove babies
Squatting in my hanging plant
Your poop? All over.

(Can you tell I'm annoyed with bird poop?)


Soft shell gray fluff balls
Too soon you will fly away
To come back later.

(See, I'm not always mean to doves.)



I find mesquite spines
Sharp as sin and long enough
For Christ's brier crown

(My son stepped on one of them and it went clear through his shoe, foot, and out the other side.)

© 2018 by H. Linn Murphy





Monday, April 16, 2018

Day 16--Brevette Poems--National Poetry Month

We're doing Brevettes today. Tiny gems of poems which stud the page. If you'd like to know more about this form, go here.
Here are a few of mine:

buds
p u n c t u a t e
trees


traffic
c r a z e s
heads

wind
b r e a k s
mountains


dogs 
d r o o l
balls

beetle
p u s h e s
dungball

badgers
f e a r
nothing

 © 2018 by H. Linn Murphy

Sunday, April 15, 2018

Day 15--National Poetry Month--Audacity

This is Day 15 of the National Poetry Month 30 poems in 30 days challenge. I usually don't work on Sunday, but as this is a religious poem, I feel it's okay this time. I'm not sure what Stephanie had for a poem today, but this is the one I've chosen to do. It's an ABAB poem.

AUDACITY

What must the Father think of his bairns 
As they posture and pose and preen?
When they insist on going their way
Then asking what all of it means.

He sent His Son to light up the path
To the Fruit most delicious and fair
But so many children deny that He lives
So that they can live lives without care

The silly thing is, these recalcitrant babes
Will Still have their troubles in scores
They foolishly slap away Christ's helping hand
Instead putting stock in their wars.

They scrabble and scratch to the top of the hill
Thinking now I'm the one with the most
Never realizing there are millions of hills
Taller and better to boast

Christ stands not, at the top of the pile
Gloating of all He has done 
He merely beckons to us to come home
Back to the Father and Son.

 © 2018 by H. Linn Murphy

Saturday, April 14, 2018

Day 14--National Poetry Month--Senses Poem--TAXES

This is for Day 14 of National Poetry Month. It's a Senses Poem. If you would like to know how to do one of these, go here. Stephanie has a great poetry site.

TAXES

A snow of withholding statements and royalty receipts
The tang of printer ink
The jitter and squeal of the printer as it grinds to a halt with a paper jam
My heart rate and adrenaline soar as I contemplate having to search for one more blasted paper he won't use because I didn't make enough
I taste defeat as I think about all our hard-earned dollars flying into undeserving hands
Tax day ROTS.
 © 2018 by H. Linn Murphy