EA Murphree – Artist – Author
Authors Note: This plain and simple bit of poetry was written when I lost my little dog Mason to illness, he was nine years old.
The picture is at the Vet’s during his last moments. I wanted to go with him. Today I have close to the same problem. My little dog Dixie is only two years old.
She is not only young but very healthy. This time it is not Dixie, but I that will be leaving her. I never thought that I would be leaving her alone, and soon. I make the best of every moment with her before I cross over to be with my Mason and we will wait together on the current love of my life, Miss Dixie. She is my reason for every waking moment. I hope that you all enjoy the poem as much as I enjoyed writing it.
A little dog barked and leaped with his
Master in a quiet little town on a quiet
Little street. He fought with the he-dogs
And sniffed at the she-dogs, life to this little
Was a treat.
Years went by, and the Master walked with
A cane, the little dog limped along silently,
Their lives had changed. The little dog had
Lost his sight, he could no longer fight he
Dogs and the she-dogs, he had just enough
Strength to wag his tail.
The town people watched as the two of them
Aged, the Master never walked again; he had
Become just another tired old man. Within
Time no one saw the Master and his little
Dog, a neighbor knocked at their door, peeked
In the window, and there, they both lay on the
The Master and his little dog had watched the
The morning sky lose its cast of grays; it was to be
A wonderful day. Then they watched the sun.
Go down, and the lamp lights lit in the quite little
They closed their eyes; Master dreamed of
Walking along the quiet little streets, the little
Dog dreamed that he could see once again bark and
Master woke to find the little dog lying at his
Feet, he thought maybe he was just asleep.
Painfully he knelt, knowing neither would ever walk
Again through the quiet little town.
The little dog was dead; Master hugged him
One more time, saying his last goodbye. Then
He, too, lay down beside his little dog and died.
Elizabeth Ann Johnson Murphree | Barnes & Noble® (barnesandnoble.com)
Authors Books at Amazon.com and Barns&Nobel.com
Born in Alabama to a Native American (Chickasaw) father and an emotionally absent mother, raised by a father, a Native American great-grandmother, and an African American woman who were all grand storytellers.
She lives with her Aunt Vina from birth to the age of three, then returned to her father. Summers she lived with her fathers’ sister in Birmingham, Alabama; her Aunt Vina would help her discover a library and mingle with a circle of friends that included local writers, artists, and politicians.
As early as four years old, she was roaming the countryside alone or with her father; in the evenings, she sat at the feet of these strong-minded individuals listening to the stories of their lives. Her aunt encouraged my imagination by introducing me to journaling, which I filled Big Chief Tablets with reports over the summer. Planted was the desire to write, a seedling waiting to spurt from the warm southern heart of a child. A cabin deep within the Black Warrior Forest was on weekends was also my playground. Summer was also spent going on vacations to Florida, where they had a small cabin on the Gulf Coast.
Her poetry is raw, sometimes dark, and may not be understood by all. Yet, it comes from deep within and reads of truth within her soul. The harshness that shrouded her life would cause her to withdraw from most of the world accept immediate family; it fills the pages with heartache, abuse, and the denial of a mother, all frankly portrayed.
Today, she enjoys her children, grandchildren, four-legged companion Dixie, lives in Southern Wisconsin, far from her southern roots, and continues to write and paint almost daily.
Below are the books that have been published in paperbacks at Amazon.com and Barnes&Noble.com, under the name of Elizabeth Ann Johnson-Murphree:
Echoing Images from the Soul
Beyond the Voices
Reflections of Poetry
Sachets of Poetry on Adoration, Anger, Asylums, and Aspirations
My Journey into Art
Fragments of Time
Flying with Broken Wings
Rhythm Rhyme and Thoughts