It's a WRITER'S LIFE

the world is not ending

2011-04-24T13:37:00.000-05:00

the world is not ending,
it's not even pending,
nothing is that important,
nor are you that brilliant,
that the world must stop,
while you lose your top,
get angry if you must,
scream, rant, cry and cuss,
take notice, someone might,
but to hurt another, you have no right,
worry yourself sick,
and watch the seconds tick,
the rest of your life away,
as the rest of us play,

by Shawn Ann Murray ©2011

my soul is fine

2011-04-24T13:08:00.001-05:00

please save your judgement,
my soul is just fine,
it's your friendship
that I now mind,

when topics turn
to sex, religion or politics;
the conversation,
I rush to nix,

you have your beliefs,
and I have mine,
and the twix
rarely combine,

if we are to be friends,
avoid topics thrice;
talk about the weather,
will surely suffice,

better yet, let's forget;
the damage is already done;
talk about me, and around me,
and have your fun,

the one's I call friends
can debate topics of the day
without causing my heart
to turn to ash or clay,

by Shawn Ann Murray ©2011

disappointing

2011-04-24T12:15:00.000-05:00

I've heard it said
that friendship
is the only
choice we have.

we can't
choose our family,
and we
can't choose
who we fall
in love with
but we can choose
our friends,

which is why
it's so disappointing
when a friendship
ends
and leaves a hole
in your heart
that never mends,

by Shawn Ann Murray ©2011

save your judgement

2011-04-24T11:51:00.003-05:00

Judge not lest yea be judged
but yet you judge me anyway
your book is so important to you
but have you really read it?

What is more important to you,
our friendship or my soul?
must be neither if you attack me so,
judge not lest yea be judged.

judging me just shows
that you have a need to judge,
do you feel better about yourself?
but yet you judge me anyway.

I have my beliefs, and you yours,
though similar, they’ll never be the same,
my truths don’t come from a book while
your book is so important to you.

“Do unto others as you would have them do unto you”
is the only statement biblical scholars concur,
that, in the Bible, Jesus, Himself, spoke,
but have you really read it?

by Shawn Ann Murray ©2011

--------------------------------------------------------------------

This poetic form is called a Cascade and is a creation of the poet Udit Bhatia. The rules:

*The first stanza can be any length
*Each subsequent stanza must use a line from the first (in order) as the final line of that stanza -- until all the lines from the first have been used.
*And that's it. No restrictions on meter or rhyme.

(paraphrased from the article Poetic Asides by Robert Lee Brewer in the February 2011 issue of Writer's Digest)

and what were you thinking?

2011-04-22T22:21:00.003-05:00

"deals on heels"
the oldest profession?
got to get
my head out of the gutter.
it's only
a sale on shoes.

by Shawn Ann Murray © 2011

a writer's life

2011-04-21T01:27:00.000-05:00

meditate & morning pages,
walk a mile or exercise,
edit my words & write some more;
my daily routine,

oh, how I wish my life
were that simple,
just to walk to the mailbox
& collect my royalty checks

but it's off to work I go
& pray I have pen handy,
& free time to write down
the dandy snippets the Muse sends,

by Shawn Ann Murray ©2011

blood from turnips

2011-04-21T01:15:00.000-05:00

sometimes you must
draw blood from a turnip
to entice the Muse
to bless you with inspiration

by Shawn Ann Murray ©2011

haiku #22

2011-04-20T19:07:00.002-05:00

as I listen to
the sounds of spring, I wonder
do birds ever breathe?

Sevenling (The Sounds of Spring)

2011-04-20T19:03:00.002-05:00

The sounds of Spring in the air-
birds and crickets chirping, squirrels chattering,
a beautiful day in early May.

All the windows open, listening-
pounding bass car radio, lawn mowers,
and the hammering of neighbor's new construction-

thank Heavens for air conditioning.

relatively

2011-04-17T22:18:00.000-05:00

"Are you happy?"
those words
glare at me
from the pages
of the book
I was reading
for pleasure,
and my mind
starts spinning.
Am I happy?
relatively,
at least
I'm not
depressed,
which,
for me,
is good,
relatively,
but sad,
in a way.
the bad
far outweigh
the good
but for now
I'm happy
to be happy,
relatively

by Shawn Ann Murray © 2011

haiku # 21

2011-04-08T22:16:00.000-05:00

headlights are to see,
as much as they're to be seen;
a spring evening drive

by Shawn Ann Murray © 2011

haiku #20

2011-04-07T22:14:00.000-05:00

spring is in the air
peach, and pink, and bright coral
shirts on the golf course

by Shawn Ann Murray © 2011

haiku #19

2011-04-06T22:04:00.000-05:00

sun shines on my face
brightens my sourest mood
all's well in my world

by Shawn Ann Murray © 2011

Out There

2011-04-01T22:06:00.000-05:00

out there, for the world to see,
out there, just little ole' me,
striped, naked, bare -- free?
whatever may be, will be,

my soul stretched taunt,
looking as if to flaunt,
but really ready to daunt,
and wishing rather to haunt,

my heart, my soul, my being,
without ever really seeing,
while my mind continues dreaming,
and seeks evermore ways of fleeing,

my words are out there
and just to show you care,
publishing my work, you dare,
my soul, on show, I must now bear,

by Shawn Ann Murray © 2011

Semblance of Normal

2011-04-01T21:11:00.003-05:00

I've never been normal
not even for normal's sake
forty-something female
never married, no kids
people wonder what is wrong with me
even I, at times, think there's a screw loose
but just what is normal anyway?

I spend my time doing what I love
crafting words into sentences, or sentences into poems
maybe, maybe not, so eloquently, at times
and maybe this is not one of those times
but at least I'm trying -- or doing -- or being
who and what I want to be
but just who is normal anyway?

you may pity me -- or despise me
for my seeming lack of commitment
I try to minimize my time constraints
but even I still have bills to pay
maybe soon -- maybe someday
writing will nourish more than my soul
why is your life normal, who can say?

by Shawn Ann Murray © 2011

pride & vanity

2011-04-01T21:09:00.000-05:00

snap, snap, crack and pop
twice in two days
my fingernails snap
from a hand of five perfect nails
looking manicured, pristine
that had hopes of entertaining
a wedding ring

by Shawn Ann Murray © 2011

haiku # 18

2011-04-01T21:01:00.000-05:00

wake to thunder rains
Mother Nature's angry rage
tears of frustration

by Shawn Ann Murray © 2011

relationships in the internet age

2011-03-05T00:49:00.001-05:00

man and wife,
face to face,
corner table,
heads down,
acer netbooks,
one red,
one blue,
coffees in hand,
silence,
as they communicate,
through email,
and chatrooms,
suddenly laughing
at a joke
sent via
the world wide web.

wanna-be

2011-03-05T00:39:00.001-05:00

So if I want to feel like me,
as a writer, I must be free
to express myself, from A to Z.
Poe wanna-be. Poe wanna-be.

So that my Muse to freely sing,
my inspiration I must bring,
to blank paper, my pen must fling.
Curse you, Irving. Curse you Irving.

Twist of a phrase, turn of a word,
so often comes at times absurd,
no time to write, free time deterred.
King's world preferred. King's world preferred.

Fame and fortune, I want to see.
Admiration from all of thee.
Best sellers lists. Free writing sprees.
Steel wanna-be. Steel wanna-be.

-----------------------------
Give it a try:
I challenge my writer friends out there to try writing a Monotetra. For me, structured poetry is excruciatingly hard to write but I've challenged my friends so I had to take up the challenge myself. Let me know what you think and I'd love to see what you come up with. Good luck.

(a new poetic form developed by Michael Walker called a Monotetra: a poem composed of quatrains in tetrameter consisting of mono-rhymed lines while the final line repeats the same four syllables. The poem can be any number of quatrains. For more on monotetras, see the January 2011 issue of Writer's Digest.)

Haiku # 17

2011-02-20T09:39:00.000-05:00

shadows and moonbeams
play funny tricks on the eyes
when the lights go out

Haiku #16

2011-02-01T18:54:00.003-05:00

shopping carts shuffle,
dance across the parking lot
wicked weather comes

Copyright © 2011 by Shawn Murray

Now

2010-09-04T03:01:00.004-05:00

She saved my life,
my stepmother did,
long after she was
no longer my stepmother;
she became my friend.
I, involved in a
abusive relationship,
sought her advice
and found the courage
to leave and live
my own life
without fear,
without intollerance,
without controls
and manipulations
and threats and bruises,
just as she had done
so many years before.
And now, fifteen years
later, as we scatter
her ashes, I ask myself
what have I done
with the gift she gave me;
wasting all these years?
And what am I going to do
about it now?

Copyright © 2010 by Shawn Murray

Sour Soul Mates

2010-09-04T02:53:00.003-05:00

my heart clutches in my chest
as thoughts of you fill my head
and I wonder if you're alright.
our weird connection worries me
tonight; the way we finished
each others thoughts, each
others sentences, knew
exactly the right gift, the
right meal to make, the
right movie to bring home,
the right CD to play, without
saying a word. more like
one pea in a pod, the other
not needed. and though
we're millions miles
apart in spirit and just
around the corner,
I still hope
that you're okay.

Haiku #15

2010-09-04T02:44:00.000-05:00

cool convertible
top down, hair wind blown, cruisin'
and here comes the rain

Copyright © 2010 by Shawn Murray

Haiku #14

2010-09-04T02:42:00.000-05:00

one little brown quail
waddles from the bush, then four,
mom watches, cautious

Copyright © 2010 by Shawn Murray

Haiku #13

2010-09-04T02:41:00.001-05:00

on the go, go, go;
hike, bike, swim, boat: leaves no time
to enjoy summer

Copyright © 2010 by Shawn Murray

Haiku #12

2010-09-04T02:40:00.000-05:00

beautiful roses
greet me "hi" every morning
fragrance wafts my way

Copyright © 2010 by Shawn Murray

Haiku #11

2010-09-04T02:39:00.000-05:00

red, white, purple, pink,
and my favorite, yellow;
roses, big and bold

Copyright © 2010 by Shawn Murray

Haiku #10

2010-09-04T02:38:00.000-05:00

ra-ruf, ra-ruf, ra
noisy little chihuahua
just won't let me sleep

Copyright © 2010 by Shawn Murray

Haiku #9.1 and #9.2 vote for your favorite

2010-09-04T02:34:00.001-05:00

bath in the back yard,
water hose, wet dog and soap,
shakes and splatters all.

bath in the back yard,
wet dog shakes and splatters all
now I need a bath

Copyright © 2010 by Shawn Murray

Haiku #8

2010-09-04T02:18:00.001-05:00

puppy dog kisses,
dog breath, dog hair, sloppy tongue,
I don't really mind

Copyright © 2010 by Shawn Murray

2010-09-04T02:14:00.001-05:00

clouds roll in quickly
darkening the evening sky
all hail, storms brewing

Copyright © 2010 by Shawn Murray

a little ditti

2010-09-04T02:13:00.000-05:00

sleep tight
starlight
wish I might
sleep thru the night

Copyright © 2010 by Shawn Murray

Haiku # 6

2010-09-04T02:11:00.000-05:00

lazy Sunday morn
breakfast in bed, comics, coupons
perfect way to wake

Copyright © 2010 by Shawn Murray

Haiku #5

2010-09-04T02:10:00.000-05:00

little dogs barking
at shadows lurking nearby,
keep neighbors awake

Copyright © 2010 by Shawn Murray

Haiku #4

2010-09-04T02:07:00.000-05:00

dark black cloudless sky
millions of stars floating by
a cool summer night

Copyright © 2010 by Shawn Murray

haiku #3

2010-07-02T00:06:00.002-05:00

thunder rumbling,
echoing across the sky;
warning: storm's coming

Copyright © 2010 by Shawn Murray

almost a haiku

2010-06-28T23:13:00.002-05:00

haiku, oh haiku
ravage my too few brain cells
and won't let me sleep

Copyright © 2010 by Shawn Murray

Haiku #2

2010-06-28T21:54:00.002-05:00

the crickets echo
through the rain drenched trees, singing
a lost lullaby

Copyright © 2010 by Shawn Murray

My First Haiku

2010-06-22T02:34:00.001-05:00

lightening bugs flutter
sending morse code quick flashes
relay all is well

© 2010 Shawn Murray

Something She Wrote

2010-06-20T11:30:00.004-05:00

This poem is a favorite of mine written by a good friend, Ryan King.
You can read his poetry at RyanKingOnline.com.

She who speaks softly and carries a big pen,
Always looking for the writer’s zen,
She who writes vivid and bold,
Always caring with a heart of gold,
May she be ever successful again and again.

© 2008 Ryan King

My Prince Charming

2010-06-16T20:17:00.005-05:00

used to like your smile once,
you were charming and could sway
even the most stoic of us,
or me. your beguiling wit
and romantic ways entangled
my heart so thoroughly,
that even now and possibly
forever more, I may still fall
completely under your spell.

Goodnight Sweet Soul

2010-06-11T01:40:00.003-05:00

Dedicated to Karl Campion, who passed from
this world June 10th, 2010, and to the legacy he
has left behind; his wife, Cheri and three children,
Jean-Luc, Jeremiah, and Amelia.

A heartbeat slowly diminishes
and stops, while the world carries on.
Other hearts stop, if only for a moment
as love dies,
and look to the world in astonishment
and wonder how can it go on
without noticing that another heart has stopped?
How does ones passing
barely get noticed
when all the world
is diminished by the loss
of a soul,
and all that is left behind
is legacy?

©2010 Shawn Ann Murray

Used to

2010-06-11T01:25:00.003-05:00

Does she make Oatmeal Raisin Cookies
for you, just because, the way I used to?

Does she make you breakfast in bed,
or draw you a bath, the way I used to?

Does she clean up you mess,
or collect all your stuff, the way I used to?

Does she support your music,
or your career, the way I used to?

Does she pay half the bills and rent,
and buy groceries, the way I used to?

Does she love your dog,
or love you, the way I used to?

Do you use her and abuse her,
like me, the way you used to?

©2010 Shawn Ann Murray

Writing

2010-06-11T01:01:00.003-05:00

I dedicate this poem to my friend cel,
whose poetry more often than not rhymes,
when mine more often than not doesn't.
This one is your fault.

I write when the world is quiet
and everyone's asleep,
the phone is still,
I don't hear a peep.

The tick of the clock,
the only sound,
is when the words come crashing
in leaps and bounds.

I must force myself to sit;
Butt In Chair, Hands On the Keys,
a little nudge to the Muse,
and pray I don't freeze.

Fiction flows fast
when on the laptop I do type.
Poetry comes best
when in longhand I do write.

Journaling comes easy
at the kitchen table.
Research is always
when the desktop is able.

Writing comes easiest
when I'm away from home;
Starbucks, Borders, Barnes & Noble,
or at a friends' when they're on the roam.

Writing is my life's blood,
as you can see.
It's the one thing that makes me
me.

©2010 Shawn Ann Murray

Can someone tell me about Pat?

2010-03-16T21:40:00.005-05:00

Can someone tell me about Pat?
He was 11 the last time I saw him.
How was I supposed to know
that that would be the last time I saw him?

He moved away that summer
between Elementary and High School,
new school, new friends, new beginnings,
do we miss the old friends that moved away?

He was infatuated with me,
while I was not so much,
but he was my first steady
and we never even kissed.

I could have been nicer to him.
I could have been nicer to any of them.
Is that the pattern I set up for my life?
Is that the one he set up for his?

To be disappointed by everyone?
Or to be the dissappointment?
Sometimes I'm confused as to which one I am
as I'm sure he too was confused.

Confused so much as to take his own life.
I ask myself if I'd only been kinder
to my 11 year old friend
could I have saved the man he'd become?

Could his life and his death
still have a purpose for me?
Can I open my eyes to see
beyond what's in it for me?

The existence of my questions
should be enough for me
to realize even the questioning
means there's hope yet for me.

Do the tears I now shed
after 31 years, comfort anyone?
After feeling so lost and alone
what else could he have done?

I carry my loneliness locked deep inside of me
as I struggle and fight to set my personality free
so afraid to be hurt, so afraid to be me,
taking ones own life, how hard can that be?

Theif

2010-03-04T02:13:00.003-05:00

You take from me
what you want
but don't you see
how it hurts you
in the long run?
Not only do you risk
losing your job
and going to jail
and losing my respect
but the costs go up
and the prices climb higher
and the hours get cut
and you can't find a job
and you can't pay your bills
and the bills go higher
and the cost of living goes up
and the poor get poorer
and inflation increases
as the dollar decreases
and the stock market crashes
and unemployment skyrockets
and the government collapses
and our children go hungry
and die
and all because you had to have
that DVD for free.

Copyright © 2010 by Shawn Ann Murray

Sketch

2010-03-03T23:22:00.007-05:00

I always wanted to sketch you,
your lean half naked body
lying on the bed as you read
a book, the slight ripple
of muscles you called abs,
leading the eye toward the
slight curve of your stomach
where the light hairs
became noticable as they
drew together in a line
leading toward your unzipped
jeans, the hollow of your hip
barely visible,
the sketch pad abandoned
and even your bare naked feet
couldn't keep me from you.

Copyright © 2010 by Shawn Ann Murray

Thinking of You

2010-03-03T23:19:00.004-05:00

It's raining
and I think of you.
We never danced in the rain,
kissed in the rain,
sang in the rain,
or even pissed in the rain,
but yet,
I think of you.

Copyright © 2010 by Shawn Ann Murray

The Fool Moon

2010-03-03T23:03:00.005-05:00

The fool moon
whispers softly
to the rain
as she dances
across the window pain

The fool moon
sings of his love
to the rain
as she softly falls away
pat, pat, pat
through the leaves of the trees

The fool moon
laments
his love
to all who would listen;
the sun, the clouds, the stars
in the sky
until the fool moon
watches
the rain kiss the sun
and give birth
to a rainbow.

Copyright © 2010 by Shawn Ann Murray

Around Here

2009-10-30T00:28:00.002-05:00

Around here, we always smile and say everything's okay
doesn't matter, the tears in your eyes
or the heartache you wear on your sleeve
around here, everything is always all right.

Swallow your pain, your anger, your sorrow
let the cancer eat away at your body
you'll get more sympathy that way
even though your heart died long ago.

Give up your dreams, you'll never make it anyway
sacrifice all you are, all you have, for the good of others
no matter, they sacrifice none for you
who are you to believe otherwise?

You'll survive, day by day, night by night,
the alternative is unthinkable, un-wink-able,
we don't even recognize each other anymore
until we wake up and realize too late
that we've lived a wasted life.

Copyright © 2003 by Shawn Ann Murray

Inspiration of the Indian Children

2009-09-21T15:27:00.002-05:00

It's raining on the ridge
where the Indian children used to play.
They're no longer here,
drug away in the Trail of Tears
but their energy still remains
and when the Tears of God fall
upon that lonely ridge
you can hear the whispers
of those Indian children
as they inspire you to play,
your fingers lightly strumming
the strings of your guitar
or the strings of my heart,
and they inspire me to write
the poetry of my heart.
I regret that those Indian children
couldn't inspire us to write
a love song of our own.
Now I no longer hear the whispers
of the Indian children on the ridge
but their inspiration lives on
in the singing of my heart.

Copyright © 2009 by Shawn Murray

Oh Wicked Muse

2009-09-14T02:16:00.004-05:00

surface for air
through the haze of sleep
feeling as though
no one really understands
what it means
to be controlled
by the Muse
and to be blocked,
the overwhelming need
to see words
floating across
the blank page,
the thirst to find
the twist of words
to feed the Muse,
to feel nourished again,
drunk on the joy
of writing a poem,
a few pages of a story
you thought had drowned,
died a most painful death
only to walk among you again
with the hope to inspire
the next turn of a phrase

Copyright © 2009 byShawn Murray

What Is A Miracle?

2008-12-15T00:33:00.005-05:00

A miracle is bringing two strangers together at the exact moment in which the woman/child conceives a baby with the exact DNA to create a perfect child.

A miracle is a frightened woman/child learning she is pregnant, refusing an abortion for the only reason being that it is a sin.

A miracle is a loving but abusive man to marry and care for the woman/child and her unborn illegitimate child and claiming it as his own.

A miracle is a mother being anesthetized during childbirth and the child being placed in an incubator without ever being held in her mothers arms.

A miracle is a child being born 3 months premature when the parents are told the child would never live.

A miracle is the parents returning to life without an unwanted child, only to have the child come home after 45 days.

A miracle is a child coming home to a loving but bitter Grandmother as caretaker while her mother went back to high school and held a full time job.

A miracle is a child having a doting father and a neglectful mother.

A miracle is losing her beloved Grandmother and learning that her father was not her biological father and now the father becoming estranged.

A miracle is spending years wondering what was wrong with her, why her mother resent her so, how her mother could love her brother so full heartedly and neglect her so, always asking the eternal why?

A miracle is receiving material gifts as a means of buying love by her mother.

A miracle is being molested by her Grandfather, being raped, being abused by her mother, by boyfriends; having no self-esteem, no self-worth, no self-confidence; never learning the concept of self-love.

A miracle is dedicating herself to helping others because she most desperately needed help.

A miracle is learning to be totally independent and self-reliant since there was never really anyone she could depend on.

A miracle is being suicidal, manic-depressed, co-dependant, self-destructive to the point of mini-breakdowns several times a year but always stopping just short of getting it over with.

A miracle is waking one early September morning from a dream and calling her mother only to have the dream of her conception during date-rape confirmed.

A miracle is being totally devastated to learn that her mother really did resent her and for good reason.

A miracle is awakening to the realization that God works in mysterious ways, even through rape and violence; that a child could live, survive and thrive through all the heartache and pain.

A miracle is realizing that only God could have directed the bizarre events, coincidences and decisions of her life.

A miracle is accepting her parents as they are, realizing that they did the only thing they could have done, the only thing they were capable of doing.

A miracle is understanding her mother as she is rather than work to have her mother understand her.

A miracle is changing her own perceptions to more accepting of gifts from her mother as the only way possible of expressing affection rahter than as acts of manipulation.

A miracle is a loving, forgiving and accepting relationship between her and her mother.

A miracle is a more respectful, loving confident relationship with herself.

A miracle is a loving, respectful confident relationship with a kind soul who teaches interdependence, faith, hope, courage, strength, love.

A miracle is learning the lessons of losing loved ones and how precious each moment is.

A miracle is being given the gift of empathy and helping others who are suicidal, manic-depressed, co-dependant, self destructive; those who have been molested, raped, abused; who have no self-esteem, self worth, self condfidence, self-love.

A miracle is being thankful for all the trials and tribulations.

What is a miracle?

I AM A MIRACLE.

Copyright © 2002 by Shawn Murray

Imagine

2008-11-21T22:56:00.003-05:00

Imagine
a world where we have to teach
our children the concept of war.
How silly they would think we were,
destroying ourselves;
all the potential wiped out
by one bomb, one gun, one knife.
Could we as historic figures
ever prove to the future
that our hate, our violence,
was important enough
to kill even one other person?
Can we ever justify
the slaughter of innocent children?
Barbaric, they would say
of our prideful, civilized nation.

Imagine
a world where love and learning,
growth and gladness,
were the measure of the day;
where sin and sorrow
were abstract ideas;
a place of peace
goodwill to all man
woman and child;
where "do unto others
as you would have them
do unto you"
were really the only way to live.

Imagine
a place, a time,
where harmony
was more than just
going alone;
where race and religion,
color and creed,
were a celebration
of who we all were;
and embarrassment
of where we came from
as a human race
was replaced
with the notion
that it was only
a stepping stone
to perfect peace.

Copyright © 2001 by Shawn Murray

Summer Showers

2008-11-21T22:45:00.003-05:00

Raindrops
through the leaves
on the trees
in the cool summer shower
mingled with the
wet pine
beneath our feet
smells fresh and sweet

The engine of a mower
echoes through the trees
from a distance
as a dog barks
at a passing car

A bird flirts from
branch to branch
as a squirrel
chatters a warning
and runs to hide

I could get lost
here in this forest
and not even mind.

Copyright © 2001 by Shawn Murray

Memories

2008-11-21T22:33:00.003-05:00

The memories lie dormant, festering, seething,
longing to be free to overtake me
at the most inappropriate moment
tossing and turning,
waiting and yearning,
cruel and calculating,
just looking for an opportunity
to explode onto the scene
as my poetry

Copyright © 2001 by Shawn Murray

Through the Distance of Time

2008-11-21T22:22:00.004-05:00

she caresses my hair
the best she can
with her little hand
she wipes the tears
from my face
she is me
from so long ago
I love her
I tell her so
she doesn't hear it very often
she's in for a life
of sorrow and pain
loneliness, guilt and anger
I want to protect her,
shield her, keep her safe
but somehow I know
she'll be okay

Copyright © 2001 by Shawn Murray

Seeing the Tree Through the Forest

2007-02-20T19:25:00.000-05:00

The tree standing tall
amid the forest,
needing nothing but the
light of the sun, the mist
of the rain and the nourishment
from the ground;
never feeling the touch of
another tree against its own
rough bark; not attaching
itself to another;
standing completely alone
amongst the crowd of trees.

Copyright © 2002 by
Shawn Murray

You Can Never Go Home Again

2007-02-20T19:15:00.000-05:00

The house I call home
now has a third floor
instead of only two;
a doorway where
the dinning room once was
and a bay window in
the living room.
The burn mark in the
rug where Daddy once
almost burned down
the house by using
gasoline to light a fire
in the fireplace
is now hard wood floors
and Mom and Dad's bedroom
is now half the family room.
The closet is a
stairway and my room
is an office. Mom and Dad
don't live there anymore
but the cubby hole
under the basement stairs
where I used to hide
is still there.

Copyright © 2002 by
Shawn Murray

Hate

2007-02-20T03:14:00.000-05:00

the monsters in my childhood closet
seem to have swallowed me whole
or is it I who have engulfed them?
their angry, spiteful, vicious bile
regurgitates from within my soul
to spew forth hateful venom
attacking my foe's weakest illusion
of himself; or is he friend?
never again, nevermore.

Copyright © 2002 by
Shawn Murray

Questions

2007-02-20T03:02:00.000-05:00

Who? What? Where? When? Why? and How?
Six simple words that turn our world upside down.

Who are you? Who am I?
Do we really ever have an answer?

What do I want? What do I need?
What makes the world go 'round?

Where are you? Where did you go?
Does anyone ever really know?

When are you going to stop playing games?
Do you know the games that you play?

Why does this always happen to me?
Why? And why not? Be happy with what you've got.

How do you stop your world from falling apart?
By living what's truly in your heart.

Copyright © 2002 by
Shawn Murray

Somehow

2007-02-20T02:53:00.000-05:00

I don't know how to do what You ask me to do.
The harder I try the harder it gets.
It doesn't look the way I think it should.
It doesn't work quite the right way.
How can You be pleased with what I've created?
But somehow You are.

Even though it's so much easier
to sit back and do nothing
to complain and do nothing
to allow life to pass me by
How can You be pleased with the lessons I'm learning?
But somehow You are.

Delving into the intoxicating lifestyle
of the fast lane
to feel something, anything other than what I feel
to lose responsibility, to not care
what happens.
How can You be pleased with me?
But somehow You are.

Copyright © 2002 by
Shawn Murray

The Same Fire

2007-02-20T02:38:00.000-05:00

A horse will run back into a burning barn
because the barn is where they feel safe;
no matter the flames licking their mane,
the smoke smothering their lungs
or the heat basking their coat,
in their frantic state of flight
they fight to return to the familiar,
all the while running from safety.

Copyright © 2002 by
Shawn Murray

Not Forever

2007-02-13T17:51:00.001-05:00

in memory of
Dana Lynn Jeanette
1967-1986

I had forgotten

I've heard it said
that one person
out of every high school graduating class
dies
within a year after graduation

I had forgotten
until I heard the news

It was through a friend
who had recognized your name
but she hadn't been sure about the facts

Two people were injured badly
and rushed to the hospital,
but someone else had died instantly
from a crushed skull after being thrown from the car

I barely slept all through the night
praying that it hadn't been you
that had died there on the side of the road

But my prayers were too late,
the morning paper announced my fears
It was all there, on the very front page,
your colorful life was now just black and white

It was just nine days short of a year since graduation,
a day when all our hopes and dreams were alive
but your hopes and dreams soon died
as if they were the flowers
that had filled the funeral home

I remember the meetings we attended
fighting to start a S.A.D.D. chapter in our school
but the morning paper said that it had been a drunk driver
who lost control and struck your car which slid sideways
down a hill to be struck by an oncoming car

I see someone who looks so much like you
and memories flash through my mind

your crooked smile
working on the yearbook together
watching you perform color guard routines at pep rallies and football games
being mediator between two arguing friends
whispering secrets during homeroom
copying algebra problems at the last minute
singing off key in the 8th grade chorus
giving me advice when I was depressed

so full of life then and now so empty

In the yearbook you said your future plans were to go to school, get a job, get married and live happily ever after, only your happily ever after wasn't forever.

Copyright © 1986 by
Shawn Murray

Dreaming

2007-02-13T17:47:00.000-05:00

I lie here watching her sleep
feeling her breath
her closed eyes moving slowly
I wonder if she's dreaming

A slight sigh comes from her,
as she smiles slightly
I smile back
I wonder if she's dreaming about me

I touch her cheek lightly
her eyes open slowly
a smile comes to her face,
I wonder if I'm dreaming

Copyright © 1988 by
Bruce McClure

Baby Boy

2007-02-13T17:42:00.000-05:00

I held this new life in my arms,
a smile came to my face as he smiled too.
It might have been gas,
but I didn't know the difference.
I felt proud that the care takers trusted me
with this new life.

Don't drop him,
don't squeeze him too hard,
keep him warm and fed
they said
before they left.
Anxiety filled their faces
as they departed
for a night alone at last.

He starts to whimper
and cry.
Is he hungry?...no.
Is he cold?...no.
He made a mess.

Where's Mom when you need her?

Copyright © 1988 by
Bruce McClure

untitled

2007-02-13T17:27:00.000-05:00

Do you remember?
Can you forget?
It's always there,
those feelings are rare,
and hard to find.
We're lucky to have them
once in a lifetime.

We were the lucky ones.
Can we ever be that lucky again?
Will we search forever,
or give up in vain
as our hearts break in disappointment
again and again?

Do we hear the cries of the others
late into the night?
Can we hear beyond our own tears?

Is it a blessing or a curse
to have loved as we have loved
and lost,
to wonder if we will ever love that way again?
Do we still harbour hope?
Do our dreams still carry us forward?
Or do we watch as our hearts, our dreams, slowly die
with each passing year?
Is it time to grow up,
to give up,
to become adults,
the adults we're expected to be
instead of who we wanted to be?

Copyright © 1995 by
Shawn Murray

Smile

2007-02-13T17:18:00.001-05:00

dedicated to Cheri & Travis

you're often in my thoughts
your silly antics and
thoughtful gestures
still make me smile
then I remember
the pain
and the loneliness returns
threatening to overtake me
again
and I cling to the hope
that somehow I touched your life
in a good way
and that when you think of me
those thoughts
still make you smile

Copyright © 1995 by
Shawn Murray

untitled

2007-02-13T16:51:00.000-05:00

A little dream comes swirling

along the tongue of the cold winds

A friend's laughter barely heard

muffled slightly from the rustling trees.

Yet many things step into mind

blocking the paths of the dreams so divine.

A touch of sadness for what used to be.

A hint of happiness glistens amongst the frown.

A spirit flows freely yet is not quite found.

Oh how cruel can the night be down the line of time.

Release from the old memories

yet haunted about time to come.

May the world stop for but a second

to give me, just me, another lesson.

Fighting yet set free from the bonds of eternity.

No walls, no regrets,

it's just the person who tries to fly

on the wings of the eagle.

Soaring high above yet resting too,

far below upon the surface.

Yet still no walls, my friend,

there is but many half complete.

You know you won't settle for defeat.

No not yet,

your work will forever need done.

More words need said,

affection and love must be shown.

So must the anger and the pain

but not only with the rain.

Listen carefully to your heart beat,

will both ties ever meet?

You must decide your destiny,

no shell must stop your from being complete.

Positive thinking, believing in oneself

will not lead you to retreat.

What has confused you so today?

Is it the snow, the cold, the rain?

Is it the train that clatters yards away?

Is is the silence that makes you pay?

Maybe the words unspoken,

Maybe life's path left unbroken.

Your feet must travel before they're bound

to the feelings of your heart,

your mind to make them sound.

Lessons learned, not forgotten,

escape to the inside for one moment

you take a look at the combination of the good and the rotten.

Remember the best foresees the shadows,

turns beyond the light to see both sides

and then decides.

Only reality will share the winds breath

and only then will your eyes see all

upon the white cold land

even the grip of the weakest hand

will grasp.

Which beholds the bond of life's forever band.

A band who plays mighty within the soul

and pushes out the darkness, black as coal.

Confusion is but in the mind

the truths sometimes are unkind

but remember all to be beheld of the dream

and soon I may once again awake and scream.

Many thoughts left half measured

yet many are in your heart treasured

a dream is only a dream

until you uncover yourself from the blankets

and awake with boldness,

fear is left behind in the darkness,

while truth is shown in the light,

which the sun has uncovered so bright.

Cheri Campion

Ocean Passion

2007-02-13T16:10:00.000-05:00

The hot sand burns our feet
Sending us to the waters edge

Your touch burns my skin
Sending me to the edge of desire

The strong wind blows through
my hair

Your fingers caress each strand
Arousal awakens within me

The surf hums softly in our ears
The sun gently warms our skin

Your words breathing softly in my ear
Warmly caressing my lobe, my neck
My body trembling with delight

The smell of salt air
The taste of salt water

Upon your lips, your cheek, your eyelids, your neck
Strengthens my taste of desire

The water explores the curves
of our bodies, embracing us
The current, demanding, pulls
us into the waters depths

Your hands exploring the curves of my body
Your arms embracing me, your lips demanding
Pulling me down into the depths of passion

The seagulls soar overhead
Letting out delightful cries

Stars in the Same Sky

2007-01-16T01:41:00.000-05:00

dedicated to Cheri

there are many things I'll always regret
and just as many that I'll never forget
the long talks
the longer walks
the rainy nights
the many fights
the sharing of souls
while we each became whole
only to watch it all crumble
as we stumbled through the rubble
we swore, nevermore
will we allow our hearts to break,
big mistake,
as we built our walls
again
our armour ever tighter
our fortress never higher
until we could no longer
even see the stars
in the same sky

© 2007 by Shawn Ann Murray

Childhood

2007-01-10T03:57:00.000-05:00

dedicated to the child I used to be

my bed is high
off the ground
my feet dangle down
never touching the floor

the sun doesn't shine
through my window
the awning over the porch
puts a stop to that

the squirrels in the tree
next to the porch
run & jump
& play hide & seek
& never see me watching
longing to join in the fun

Raggedy Ann is mad at Andy
and they're both not speaking to me
and even my imaginary friend
doesn't want to play today

© 2003 by Shawn Ann Murray