Best Murphy Poems
When everything seems peaceful
and all is going well
you'll find out that Murphy's rules
will grab you like a spell
When you build your money up
a bundle in the bank
and trouble strikes at every turn
then you'll know who to thank
The car you just had serviced
is spewing smoke and oil
the fridge just out of warranty
now watch that good food spoil
Just when you least expect it
Old Murphy will appear
He's cruel enough to make you spill
your last mouthful of beer
At every turn he's waiting
until you think you're safe
the shoes that fit well yesterday
today will make you chafe
Your wallet's in your pocket
at least that's what you think
until its time to pay the bill
then feel your light heart sink
You glide along life's easy way
it's such an easy dance
Until old Murphy comes along
and kicks you in the pants
From my PDF book "Bush Ballads and Bulldust"
At Wrigley’s Field in Chicago
He bought two tickets, but struck out.
Barred from the game, with his pet,
“He stinks!”rang J. K.Wrigley’s shout.
At Sianis’ tavern across the way,
his pet, Murphy, was quite a hit.
But at the ball park, life turned sour;
they didn’t favor his goat one whit.
He aimed his pet to bring them luck
to watch World Series pennant wave.
Ejection brought anger, and a curse,
that loss would trail them to the grave.
The Cubs have yet to take the prize;
for seventy years, their losses count,
while Murphy’s name has garnered fame
and Wrigley’s shame they can’t surmount.
Man, that's Aunt Allie Murphy,
Yeah, ironing board surfing.
See the look on her face,
And She's hooked a great wave.
Pearls with curls then a slurpee
Murphy and His Law
Murphy’s Law, one might recall
expressed in simplest form-
states if failure is possible to befall-
it eventually will and that’s the norm.
I have personally tested Murphy’s Law-
so to this much I can stipulate-
it has to be responsible for all,
more so even than simply fate.
For me it seems change is inevitable-
except from a vending machine-
and either/or choices turn out regrettable-
although the odds to be right are even.
As for Murphy’s Law I can see no reason
why it was passed or is even needed-
so I am thinking maybe to start a petition-
demanding the damned thing be repealed.
What a great baseball player was Dale Murphy.
Here was a man endowed with natural ability.
He made so many fellow players green with envy.
Swinging a bat, he could hit the ball a mile.
Dale exhibited fielding prowess all the while.
What an impressive career he has to show.
Dale was Most Valuable Player two years in a row.
However, he has missed election to the Hall of Fame.
To leave mighty Mr. Murphy out seems a shame.
looser than before
we got lost in it.the pain
some rain and dance me
** This poem is in memory of Anne Marie Murphy, one of the teachers who died in the Sandy Hook Shooting. Anne died trying to shield her students from the gunfire. She was found wrapped around 6 year old Dylan Hockley. Anne was said to be a woman who brought light, truth, goodness, and love to the world.
Anne locks away the darkness by using the light from her special angels.
Having them hold hands together to combine their light to shine over the world.
A shield will then cover the world.
Blocking some of the darkness out.
With the powerful light and goodness coming from Anne
And the little angels' hearts.
I dance in through
That colorful confetti
In, out, here, I
Would do anything to get in.
Because here, I am free.
Here, I am me
And I see, I see
I see what I want to see.
Yesterday, I shook your mind
To add some happiness to my life.
Your head is sore,
Your spirit is weak,
And my empty countenance
Makes me complete.
You've never retorted,
You're socially distorted,
But passion and patience
Is being recorded.
You crave that attention,
Those acts of aggression
Are sinking and drowning
With no answered questions.
You'd love to be free
But you can't see the light.
Just throw out your fists
And curse at the sky.
You're too kind.
You're too blind.
You're too kind.
You're too blind.
You see, you see,
You see what I want you to see.
All of the world is an hourglass.
The only way to make it last
Is to take all of the things you love
And store them high up above
The truth where you can't see or hear
Pain that would be growing near.
Denial is an ugly thing,
But it matches your eyes perfectly
As your vision's sedated,
You live in the shade and
You're upset 'cause all the drugs
Are overrated.
You buckle at the knees,
You have sores on your feet,
And your tears are bottomless
Oceans of grief,
But as lost as your mind is,
There will come a time when
You'll throw your hands up -
Become one with the sky and
It's all in your heart.
It's been there from the start,
But your rage and depression will tear you apart.
You'll see
That only you can make use of your time.
Only you drown yourself in the tide.
Only you can lose your own mind,
And only you can veer outside the lines.
You can see, you can see,
You can see what you've wanted to see.
You'll see.
Paddy Murphy Is Fred Astaire
It's six below and so much snow
this January midnight.
Sunday's gone
and Monday's turning.
Yet Paddy Murphy's stepping out,
his crushed fedora all askew.
He's soused again and all aglow,
dancing along Fifth Avenue.
Tonight he thinks he's Fred Astaire
and so he's swirling in the air.
He needs a partner way up there,
someone pretty, someone fair.
If it weren't for the music
that only he can hear,
Paddy would be gone by now.
Tonight he's whistling, though,
delighted that his fingers find
the parking meter posts
are an endless xylophone.
Listen to him play those posts
so all the world can hear
Paddy's favorite tune,
the jig of an ancient tippler
with one last dance to go.
Donal Mahoney
Were at the Vets now,
today is a time I didn't
want to come.
Your in so much pain
and so depressed, it
hurts me to see you suffer.
I love you so Murphy,
I remember so many
things about you.
You really did some
funny things, like
come over to my bed,
I heard this real
quite growl to
let me know,
that you had to
go outside, you
would do that each night,
I remember when
you would go lay
down between the couch,
and the wall,
I could always
find you there resting.
I remember
how you use to
paw me when you
wanted something
or how you set
up on your rump.
Many times while
outside, you would
bark to come in,
I would tell you
shut up, but
the more I did that,
the more you barked
until I said your such
a pushy dog, then I gave in.
For 12 years 8 Months
and 5 days you were
my faithful dog.
Now I must say
good bye, it hurts
me deeply, as
I stand here with
a broken heart,
this is so hard for me.
I don't want to
let you go,
but I must.
Murphy I will
take your love
and memory to my grave.
Good Bye Murphy Written 2 days after I had my dog
put to sleep on March 3,2010
Murphy is his name,
of a corgi mix
is he.
2004 we brought
Brandy home
she is a border-collie-chow mix.
Murphy fell in love
it was love
at first sight.
Brandy acts like
a brand new puppy,
she passed this on to Murphy.
Murphy is ten
had him since 1997
brandy is six
both act much younger.
Watching these two
brings much joy
as it does for them.
They both demand
our attention at same time
it is so hard to do.
Somehow we do it,
Murphy begs,
Brandy lies on her back.
They both do this
to get our attention
the more we laugh the more
they do it.
So much love these
two dogs have for us
and for each other.
We will enjoy every moment
until that dreadful day
but happy is this day
to have them both here.
wrote 12-23-06
I see her walking in front of my shop.
Wears a Miniskirt,
Worried face,
Skin and bones.
Asking for change.
I usually, ignore panhandlers.
That day, while looking for change.
I asked:
What’s your name?
Diana Murphy
Diana Mary?
How you know my middle Name?
Mary? it is a beautiful Name.
Only a few people call me by that name.
Her eyes full of water.
We had a small profound conversation.
then, I tell her that she is not alone.
She thanks me.
As she is leaving
I heard her saying:
“I’m not alone, I’m not alone...”
After, a few weeks.
I see her pass by the shop.
Hi, Diana Mary Murphy!
She looks at me in amazement and said:
How can you remember my name?
Do you know how many people I see daily?
Nobody cares about my name!
"Those are the little things"
I love you!
I love too, I reply.
then she goes away.
The story may continue…
"Those are the little things"
At five feet, five and a hundred and ten
The Marines said, “sorry, too small of a man.”
Yet he became greatest of World War men,
The Army’s David to Goliath stands.
An orphan at the early age of sixteen,
Enlisted at nineteen then off to war.
As part of the 15th infantry team,
Lived four hundred days of front-line gore.
Audie earned honors for courage and bravery,
Every medal of valor, his story.
Through the horrors of war so unsavory;
The most decorated soldier in (U.S.) history.
He embodies the greatest generation,
Yet today, we are so bereft.
Are there any of Audie's persuasion
To redeem what valor is left?
Mrs. Ryan keeps her cat inside at night
but lets it out at dawn to go anywhere it likes
while she's at work. Every day the cat
crosses the road to call on the Widow Murphy.
Mrs. Ryan doesn't know her cat calls on Mrs. Murphy
but she has told the widow twice her cat is on a diet:
a little kibble in the morning and a little water at night.
Nothing else. When the cat arrives at Mrs. Murphy's,
the widow lets him in and gives him warm milk
and a dollop of salmon on a porcelain saucer.
Afterward the cat takes a long nap on a Persian rug till
the widow lets him out in the afternoon
to cross the road and wait for Mrs. Ryan
to pull her Lincoln into the driveway.
Mrs. Ryan's husband, Paddy, now retired,
has never called on the Widow Murphy.
He doesn't know the widow's waiting.
Paddy likes his tea strong, his wife once said.
Donal Mahoney
(Snapping fingers rhythmically) Vocalese with ease... yeah... moments… improv… Off the top, breath bubbling, a spontaneous combustion of sounds, to be boppin' the melody/
Jazz popping vocal notes of wonderment, feeling the rhyme on beat street dancing lyrics, a rhythm so intrinsic… moments... Mark Murphy... strutting... smokin’… in a vocal breeze/
No wordy rhymes here, pre-packed pronouncements, no way man Murphy just cookin'… and burnin' up … a storm of free to be spoken word jazz vocals… word up, man! the beats/
Kerouac, Phil La Mantia, Cassady, Leroi Jones, AKA Amiri Baraka, Ginsberg, howling chanting, where the poetry hip, the truth seekers, and the social consciousness of the beat generation/
Mark Murphy… workin' the groove. got the spirit of it all... a deep, deep feel/ He was in the top lineup of Jazz Singers of his day/
Not just notes, but the nuance of his body movements on stage, spoken loud/
Mark spoke to the modern hipsters of the scat vocalese jazz speak genre… Effortlessly cool, an urban bohemian... that was Mark/
in the wonderland of jazz, Mark Murphy’s Stolen Moments… real moments, always in the swing of the moment… deep in the jazz vocalese pocket... Mark Murphy lives on… in the bright moment… his Moment... are moments with Mark Murphy (Snap fingers again, fading into silence)