Three New Poems Published in Jackdaw Review
Three new poems by Nancy Murphy were published in Jackdaw Review: pages 71, 72 and pgs 74-75. Published Oct 2025.
writings and performances by Nancy Murphy
Three new poems by Nancy Murphy were published in Jackdaw Review: pages 71, 72 and pgs 74-75. Published Oct 2025.
Nancy was one of the three judges for this year’s long-running and popular Poetry Super Highway Contest, run by Rick Lupert.
The Altadena Poetry Review 2025 Anthology includes Nancy’s poem “Nectar,” found on page 73.
They said it was a marriage of color.
They said it was a message of strength & hopefulness.
They said it’s good to push two shades close together.
They didn’t say that illumination makes the gray grayer.
They didn’t say shadows make the sun brighter.
They didn’t say eventually all paint peels.
(They didn’t need to put ultimate in front of gray.)
They never asked what was most valuable to us. They never asked
how much coverage we needed.
I would have said gray dusk is not uplifting.
I would have said sunlight hurts my eyes after tears.
I would have said I lied only when I had to.
To avoid staining my hands, I would have done anything.
I never would have dropped that match so close to him.
Anacapa Review, September 1, 2025
Anacapa’s September 1, 2025 Issue includes Nancy Murphy’s poem, “The 2021 Pantone Color of the Year Was Dual: ULTIMATE GRAY + ILLUMINATING.”
“Perhaps…every song has an unsung third stanza, something brutal
snaking underneath us as we blindly sing.” — from Ada Limon’s “Another Anthem”
Where do secrets lie? Truth hides, sometimes
out in the open, like when I pretend to know how
to eat a mango.
Is the third stanza unsung or do we deny
singing it?
The tea was too strong today, and yet I sipped.
That is how it starts. We sip and say nothing.
We listen to the sound of jets overhead
and fail to think of bombs.
I have never heard a gunshot but I expect to.
I expect everything. I am waiting
for everything.
These days there is a flatness like a Sunday
morning with no Monday in sight.
What if the third stanza of every song is the secret
of the universe, that illusive theory of everything?
Like a final crossword clue that makes the
puzzle pop into place.
But where does completion get us?
I am remembering the taste of that mango, how moist
in my mouth, how wildly sweet, how I tore into it
letting juices run to my elbows while I stood at the sink
not caring if I was viewed. How I held the pit
on my tongue until we were both spent.
Cultural Daily, June 15, 2025
My mother was a woven basket,
carrying warm laundry
from the back hall dryer.
Expanding and narrowing
for whatever we needed—
Towels, oranges, encouragement.
Multicolored stripes crisscrossed
her body like a lifeline that lost
its way home. Sides folding in
on themselves, the ways things fail.
The narrow opening at the top.
Perfect urn for ashes. I didn’t want that
Catholic wake with her cold sleeping
body. But I wasn’t there.
I had my own basket, in it a tiny infant.
When my mother’s basket broke,
I should have gone home, kept her
alive. I’m telling you, I could have.
Her final Instructions—
I should not come back
for the funeral. The funeral.
She knew. What basket holds
that knowing? What a cruel choice
I had: Save mother or daughter.
But my mother decided, fed me
from that last basket of bread.
I only had to swallow
like a baby bird.
Cultural Daily, June 15, 2025
Cultural Daily’s June15, 2025 Issue includes two of Nancy Murphy’s poems, “What is Held,” and “Unsung.”
Not me/Not mine
Not moon water
Not buffalo
Skin
No woman
I know
Bitterroot blood
Hands/Not
Names of twin stars
Of mustangs
Of salt\rivers
No names
I know
Murdered
By everyone
I know
Everyone
We were
We are
Me too
No more\Invisible
Wolf
The Ekphrastic Review, November 19, 2024
Nancy Murphy’s poem “Night Chronicles” ranked in 6th place in the annual Poetry Super Highway Contest out of 1,253 submissions.