Page the Second


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

Tuesday, April 30, 2019

Day 30--National Poetry Month--ABAB Poem--War of Darkness and Light

This is the last poem of the month. It's been interesting learning new forms. I hope some of these are more than rubbish. I also appreciate those who actually read them and would welcome new subscribers to the blog. I'll be working on doing a better job of keeping current--more like the first few years. For one last trip to Stephanie's site, go here. Anyway, here's an ABAB poem:


The Dark Adversary, he smirks in glee
As he throws a pall over the land
"They'll never know why they feel closer to me
When greed, envy, and selfishness stand."

He uses discouragement, vane pride, and hate
To shackle the Father's offspring
For he wants misery to mark all and make late
The hosts of the Heavenly King

I lift lantern and search for a possible guard
To stand at my side and fight
Who'll keep their chin up though the going is hard
And won't quail at Satan's dread might. 

Get loose from your chains of ennui and self doubt
Let Christ's words in your fainting hearts sing
Look to your quarry, be strong, give a shout
And follow your Commander, your King. 

Let us march to the battle, both steady and true
With our hearts and our minds knit with love
Bringing our kin, with hard work imbued
A place at Christ's side, our great trove.
I stand at your shoulder, shiv'ring with dread
I've seen our host scanty at most
So easy t'would be, to let fear fill my head
I can't flee and abandon my post

We're girded, arrayed at the battle's fore
Our talents and skill sets to hand
Our armor intact as we open the door 
It's shoulder to shoulder we stand 

So we lock in our shields, help those at our side
To remember the God at our front
To recall the bright home where our Parents abide
For God will we gratefully hunt.

 If you shine a great light o'er the enemy's camp  
He can do naught but cower and flee
He can't withstand the bright light of your lamp
Once you lift up your head and break free

Come join this dread fight tho we tremble with flaws
Though we've mistakes too many to number
Let us wake and come forth and remember the laws
No longer in darkness to slumber 

Until at the end we kneel bloody but free
There at the feet of our King
He lifts us to stand, and He clasps us gently
"Well done, faithful servant," He'll sing.   

©2019 by H. Linn Murphy

Monday, April 29, 2019

Day 29--National Poetry Month--Bio Poem--

Today we're doing Bio Poems. If you'd like to know more about the poetry form, go here. Otherwise, my poem:

I'm the one in the veil.

H. Linn Murphy
Dented, chubby, and flawed
I love doing evil things to book characters and seeing them rise above the chaos, because it gives me hope for slaying my own dragons.
I can almost dance, hike, swim, and a host of other things I once did well. Mostly I live in my head, now.
I hate sitting on the sidelines, watching other people do what I used to do, mostly because I feel like I didn't have enough time in my lithe body. Dang knees.
Will I ever dance like I've always wanted? Will people ever applaud my rendition of a fire bird? My pas de deux with an amazing danseur? Will anyone ever be impressed with my chocolatey tenor voice, spritely tinwhistle renditions or bodhran solos?
I fear they won't. In fact, I think I won't have a niche anywhere. Not fully athlete, not fully wife, mother or grandmother, not fully spiritual giant, musician, artist, amazing intellect or writer. Just an also ran no one remembers for anything besides being slightly tactless.
I'm not strong enough, yet, not to care about finding that place, that square hole for the square peg.
Someday I want to know I belong somewhere and am loved for it.

©2019 by H. Linn Murphy

Sunday, April 28, 2019

Day 28--National Poetry Month--Couplets--Primary Teacher

Here's my Done-before-Sunday post:

I don't remember all you said
Your primary lessons have left my head

But I recall the way you shared
The love you showed, the way you cared

You had the softest wrinkled hands
Your hair drawn back in velvet bands

But most of all I loved your eyes
They showed how kind you were, and wise

And the most important part?
We had a place inside your heart

©2019 by H. Linn Murphy

Saturday, April 27, 2019

Day 27--National Poetry Month---Free Verse--Capes and Tights--Table--Terse Verse

At this point Stephanie hasn't put up the poetry prompt and I've got to get editing on my HEART OF THE FOREST book. So this is free verse. I went to see Endgame last night. (I was right about almost everything except that for some sad reason they didn't have an Easter egg at the end. Wah. I really loved that several of them had families that they got to go back to.)

You with your 
Colorful tights
And your fantastic flapping capes
Racing across the land
Streaking through the air
Tearing holes 
In the fabric of time
Always slashing
Leaving chaos and wreckage
In your wake
Sacrificing all
In a bid to save the world 
Who are you
When you take off the cape
And sit down
To eat a simple meal?
Do you kiss your children
Good night?
Do you take your turn
In the soccer car pool
When not out
Ridding the world
Of soulless villains?
We humble people
Without flight or strength
Thank you 
For your sacrifices
Of time, talent, and 
We shouldn't be
So selfish
As to deny you
These tender mercies
And a much needed rest
You need time to grow
As well.
Even so,
I feel like Endgame 
Shouldn't mean
The End. 
There should be 
No period
Everything about you
Breaths Eternity
But maybe
Just maybe
It's time for us
To tie on your capes
To pull on your colorful gloves
And go to work
We too can fight
And plan
And come out of our
Hiding places
To face the evil
Around us.
We are not powerless
In the face of your might.
Just a little different.
Thank you for being

©2019 by H. Linn Murphy

oScarred, batteredo
oSurface of a thousando
oThousand ghosts of meals pasto
oPlace of limitless miniature summitso
oAnd admissions over food choked downo
oo oOver throats crammed full of lumpso  oo
oo   oYou were the battlefield of witsoo      oo 
oo         oHere we laid our big planso          oo 
oo              oJust a chipped, marred            oo 
oAnd scratchedo
oSlice ofo

©2019 by H. Linn Murphy

Okay today we're doing Terse Verse. If you want to know what it is, go here. Here are my terse verses:

When your husband works on the roof: Tan Man
If you're reading a horse magazine it's a: Breed Read
A Bedoin Sheik's tent: Tassel Castle 
For parents it's: Sunday Funday
For kids it's sometimes a: Bore 'em Forum
A 60's film: Groovy Movie
A lovely "Mom" dinner: Pan of Spam
When shellfish get together to rock out it's a: Clam Jam 
A happy swine: Pig Jig
A happy judge: Wig Jig
If you run out of fluid in the nursery you have: Bubble Trouble
Ice cream always a: Sweet Treat

Friday, April 26, 2019

Day 26--National Poetry Month--Synonym/Antonym Poem--Faith--Free Verse--Water

Today we're doing synonym/antonym poems. If you'd like to know how to do them, go here. Here's my poem:

Trust, true allegiance, loyalty, belief
Having once lost, finding faith is relief

©2019 by H. Linn Murphy

Okay, I went off the rails with this one. It's more of a free verse kind of contraption. I hope you like it.
Was  ser
Drop  lets 
Trick  ling 
Life-gi  ving, 
And life-taking, 
Utterly neessary,
From deep steam  y  vents 
And trails of wispy   nimbus
To massive, ship-destroy  ing bergs
Filling the world with verdant,   teaming life
Entities from the immense to the m    icroscopic 
Unexplored depths hiding closely gu   rded secrets
An oxygen and two hydrogen molecules b      ound together 
In an eternal, carefully engineered and or     e red dance
Rising and falling, breathing like a living ent     ity, in and out
Moving across the world's face at seemingly     random whim 
Of the wind and the moon and earth's mas     sive gravity
Making life on this rare, M Class plane    t possible 
In all its rich variety, filling eve     ry void
Water carves the rock, br    inging
Mountains to their   knees
Life-giving water

©2019 by H. Linn Murphy

Thursday, April 25, 2019

Day 25--National Poetry Month--Credo Poem--

Today's poem is going to take some extra thought. It's a Credo Poem. If you want to know how to write one, here's a pretty good idea. My Credo:

I believe in the overarching ability of God to shape our lives into the vessel He needs if we only let ourselves be pliant and compliant,
the incredible penchant the human race has for messing things up through laziness, selfishness, and greed,
I believe in the way a baby's laughter brings balm to a torn soul,
the energy and joy an out-thrust hand and a heartfelt smile can bestow on someone in pain,
the beauty,  necessity,  the hard work, and the rarity of real love.
I don't believe much in cotton candy love--too fragile and diaphanous.
I believe in true connection. I'm just not good at it yet.
I believe in playing the detective with service.
I believe in  truly seeking to 'see', know, feel, serve, and love a person in the place where they 'live.'
And I believe that we have the capacity in our hands to bring forth works of greatness in inspiration, beauty, love, and integrity if we really step out of our soft places and uncurl to meet the light of the Father.

 ©2019 by H. Linn Murphy

Wednesday, April 24, 2019

Day 24--National Poetry Month--Diatelle--Running a 2K

Today's poem is a diatelle, one I'd never heard of before. It's quite intricate, so I send you here to figure it out. And my poem:


To run
Once begun  
I'm dripping sweat
The miles my muscles   stun
Se     riously, are we there y     et?
Wh  ose stupid idea was this silly   bet?
Ru   nning will cause a catatonic st  ate
My  lungs can't pay of f their oxygen   debt
How many more  miles can I get
Seriously Not fun
Try not to fret
Bakin   g sun
Und   one
La     te

 ©2019 by H. Linn Murphy

Tuesday, April 23, 2019

Day 23--National Poetry Month--Tetractys Poem--Ten

Today we're doing a Tetractys Poem. Never heard of this, but I'm doing it. And if you are as confuseled as I am, go here. Stephanie will explain it.


From chaos
Pristine, useful
Ten fingers, ten toes, all working at once

Land of real numbers, base of measurements
Root of hundred

 ©2019 by H. Linn Murphy

Monday, April 22, 2019

Day 22--National Poetry Month--If I Were Poem--Sea Angels, Fangtooths, and Blobfish, Oh My!

Today we're doing "If I Were" poems. If you'd like to know more about those, go here. If you'd like to know more about Sea Angels, you can try here. If you want to see a vid of them swimming, try here. And my poem procedeth:

If you were a Sea Angel 
And I were your 'wife'
We'd search for a sea butterfly
And shorten its life
(Although Sea Angels are hermaphrodites.)
 ©2019 by H. Linn Murphy

 If I were a blobfish 
And you were a mirror
You'd run screaming away
Since I look like a terror

©2019 by H. Linn Murphy
If you'd like to know more about blobfish, go here or here.

If I were a fangtooth
And you were a shrimp
You'd best swim off fast
Because I am no wimp

©2019 by H. Linn Murphy

If you want to know more about Fangtooth fishes, go here.

Sunday, April 21, 2019

Day 21--National Poetry Month--ABCB Poem--Oh Savior

I write my Sunday poetry ahead of time, usually way ahead. This one, however, I felt I could write on Sunday (though still ahead). This is an ABCB poem:

Oh Savior, My Savior
Forger of my soul
You are taking broken stones
To make my spirit whole 

I slip and fall and fall again
And stagger off the path
Too often selfishness and doubt
Join recklessness and wrath

In rend'ring me deficit 
A hopelessly flawed jar
I realize each passing day
To You I must walk far

I like to think that I would be
Among those in the street
Waving palm fronds at the Man
That I most want to meet

I would have been there at the Cross
Share final earthly hours 
But more than that I'd wish to be
At empty tomb with flow'rs.

I'd kneel and kiss your nail-scarred feet
And offer you my heart
 But to do that simple thing
I now must make a start

'Thank you' seems not quite enough
Eternal Life You save
I offer then my life to You
For what You freely gave.

©2019 by H. Linn Murphy
A most happy Easter, not because of chocolate bunnies and hidden brightly colored eggs (though we'll have those too), but because Christ paid the ultimate price for all our mistakes, evils, poor choices, maladies, and pains. Because our Elder Brother offered us grace if we would just do as much as we possibly can to meet Him part of the way. There is no way we could ever go the whole way on our own, but to do all we could to follow Him home--that is the Plan of Happiness. I hope someday to be able to tell Him I did my best. And I'm hoping I won't be alone--that I will have brought friends and loved ones.

Saturday, April 20, 2019

Day 20--National Poetry Month--Acrostic Poem--My Elder Brother

Today we're doing Acrostic Poems (or ABC but I'm doing Acrostic). If you'd like to know more about them, go here. If you'd like to know more about Christ and his role in our lives, go here. In memory of Easter and the sacrifice of our Elder Brother, I give you my poem:

Just as once Christ took our part
Ever on the right hand of the Father
Satan, in opposition took the low road
Until he had lured away a host of the children
Salvation for them was no more

Christ forfeited His life and blood for us
Held high the lantern that we might see
Returning us to the Father's side, his goal
In perfect humility he bowed his head
Said, "Thy will, oh Lord be done."
Took the bitter cup and drank.

My sins He washed away with his blood
Yours, too, He took upon Himself

Every ill, unfairness, flaw he paid
Loving our neighbors the price

Do all you can to meet perfection, He asked.
Ever serve your fellow man
Return good for ill and kindness for evil

Bring back the lost, the wanderers astray
Right wrongs cropped up along the way
Overcome the taint if Satan's power
Take heart in Heavenly Father's plan
Help those who cannot help themselves
Endure with patience all which comes your way
Return with us to Father."

© 2019 by H. Linn Murphy

Friday, April 19, 2019

Day 19--National Poetry Month--Rhyme Royal--My Incredible Elder Brother

Today it's time for a Rhyme Royal. It's a septet, meaning it has seven lines and a complicated scheme. If you'd like to know more about the Rhyme Royal, and/or septets, go here. And the Poem, ladies and Gentlemen:

Jesus Christ, the God of this mortal world
Has healed the sick and brought the dead to life
Gave us His perfect heart in service furled
Healed wounds once born of grief, foul war, and strife
If I forsake my burdens and my knife
The Savior takes my broken, battered heart
Shows me the way to live the better part.

At times I cannot lift my drooping head
The darkness closes o'er and claims my soul
Mistakes envelop leaving my soul dead
I cannot recognize eternal goals
Until the Spirit His instructions doles
And I remember what my Brother taught
I can shuck off the chains which Satan wrought

Before grave judgement bar I do quiver
My lifelong deeds pass before my face
Because of dreadful acts I quake and shiver
With utmost kindness Christ reviews my case
He then extends His full abounding grace
If I have done my best to use His path
Forsaken selfishness, envy, and wrath

© 2019 by H. Linn Murphy

Thursday, April 18, 2019

Day 18--National Poetry Month--Poem-in-Your-Pocket-Day--Couplets--Skin--Gate of the Year

Today is Poem-in-your-Pocket Day. If you want to know more about that, go here. I wrote this one before (and after) a shower, trying not to get too much water on it. Don't go there. Just read the poem. And for Heaven's sake, keep a cool poem in your pocket today. (A song is a poem too, you know.)

My skin doesn't fit on my form anymore
It's wrink'ly and loose where it wasn't before

There are bits poking out that should probably be
Inside where the crevices now are on me.

Things once that were firm, now are hopelessly saggy
I feel like an elephant, lumb'ring and baggy

But as per manufacturer's specs, if my skin
Is still doing its job and keeping things in 

I cannot complain much about how it jiggles
If guts are inside then there's still time for giggles

With my entrails still en and my extrails vice versa
Skin protects me from viruses, bacteria, and mersa

Though I can't help bemoaning the dastardly truth
That wrinkles immediately trumped zits, forsooth!

© 2019 by H. Linn Murphy

This is a poem I really love by Minnie Louise Haskins called GOD KNOWS. It has a rich past. If you'd like to know more about it, try here. I'm keeping this poem in my pocket today like Queen Elizabeth II did.

 God Knows 
(Commonly called GATE OF THE YEAR)

And I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year:
“Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown.”
And he replied:
“Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the Hand of God.
That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way.”
So I went forth, and finding the Hand of God, trod gladly into the night.
And He led me towards the hills and the breaking of day in the lone East. 

So heart be still:
What need our little life
Our human life to know, 
If God hath comprehension?
In all the dizzy strife
Of things both high and low, 
God knows. His will

Is best. The stretch of years
Which wind ahead, so dim
To our imperfect vision, 
Are clear to God. Our fears
Are premature; In Him,
All time hath full provision.

Then rest: until 
God moves to lift the veil 
From our impatient eyes,
When, as the sweeter features
Of Life's stern face we hail,
Fair beyond all surmise
God's thought around His creatures
Our mind shall fill.
©1908 by M. Louise Haskins

Wednesday, April 17, 2019

Day 17--National Poetry Month--Haiku--Crane Fly--Free Verse--Le Notre Dame

Today I'm doing a Haiku. I don't have time to make it a poiku, because I'm off to the Temple. If you'd like to learn more about this poetry form, go here.

Sweet little crane fly
Why do you enter the fridge?
You end in cold dark.

                                                            © 2019 by H. Linn Murphy

Less and
So very grand
Jewel of your land
History and art bound in
Intricate lacy rock spires
Rose window a dainty filigree
A myriad bits of rainbow glass
Woven together enhancing the light
o I never knew your peace o   
 Though I wish I had come   
  To worship in my own way  
   In your echoing confines   
       France's Gray lady down      
oThough before you stoodo
ooStaunch against ravage ofoo
oo War, revolution, and plague oo
oo    Succumbed to the flames    oo
oo    As once did Joan the Maid     oo
oo      You, like she will rise from      oo
oo        The ashes again to inspire,         oo
ooo         And delight, as once before.         ooo
  © 2019 by H. Linn Murphy

Tuesday, April 16, 2019

Day 16--National Poetry Month--Free Verse--Jack Sprat Tango--Windspark Poem--Titanic

I'll give you this free verse offering until I can get to the computer to do one of Stephanie's choosing...:o) It's another one that I woke up with, laughing, actually. Strap in. It gets torchy. (This was called Pumpkin-eater Tango, but I realized the other day that it was Jack Sprat who was so lean and his wife was chubby. Thus the title change.)
Sorry, this is as close as I could get to the subject.
A lone figure strides onto the stage
His stance proud and straight
He extends his arm 
To invite her to him
He catches her intent gaze
With one of his own. 
Heat sizzles, arcing between them
At a jerk of his head, 
She approaches,
Gliding sinuously across the floor
She stops.
He advances
Stalking slowly around her,
He clicks to a stop,
Broom-like limbs at attention.
She slinks toward him
Jiggling only slightly
Pillows gowned in crimson,
Her hair a mass of black-ish curls
She flows to a halt.
Smolders to match his.
He clasps her with a grip of chihuahua
She envelops him like a corn dog on a stick.
Their eyes trap each others' gazes
A fluid step
Then another
They stalk the room in perfect sync
"You are my heart, my soul, my life," he whispers.
His deep bass voice sultry.
"I worship the goddess you are."
He turns them, and they step across the floor.
"And you, my sweetest of all husbands
Are concave in all the right places.
You fill my heart with longing."
He whips them around
She glides almost gracefully
Halfway to the floor.
"My knee," she says, breath chugging.
"Sorry," he says.
He catches her, pulling her back to her feet
With only a slight groan.
His crimson face matches her gown.
For a few beats they circle,
Heat filling their eyes and faces.
He turns them again
Catching her with a sharp elbow.
"Oof," she says, daintily.
"Sorry," he whispers, 
Running his tongue across his teeth.
"Come to me, my sweet," he whispers.
He tugs her to him
A fleeting look of terror flicks through his eyes,
Replaced by a suave grin as
She again engulfs him in satin.
"Bella mia," he says,
Kissing her senseless.
As the music stops,
He dips her.
Is it her scarlet gown
Or his rotator cuff?
A smirk and a wink.

©2019 by H. Linn Murphy

And now for my Windspark poem. If you, like me, have no idea what this is and want to find out, go here. Otherwise, proceed at your own risk...:o)

I dreamed
I was a rivet
On the Titanic
Waiting to prove the experts wrong

©2019 by H. Linn Murphy