Back On-Line…#349

Image result for someone typing in a dream

I am back on-line and out of the hospital once again.  I want to let you know about my latest episode with “Multi Myeloma”, bone cancer.  I went into the Oncology center for my “Chemo” treatment Friday, August 20, 2021; the ride was uneventful as was the blood draw.  I was taken to Dr. O, office for a consult before treatment.  It was there that she informed me that my oxygen was low and that she was sending me via ambulance to the ER.  The ride to the ER was the last thing that I rationally remembered.

I remembered one of the ER Doctors saying that I had, a fever, lungs filling up, Pneumonia, for many my age this is a death sentence!  They begin treating the infection immediately, I explained that I needed to go home, that I had been in the hospital for two-half weeks, Rehab for two-weeks, and I had been gone from home for over one-month.  Home only one day and was in Oncology for Chemo, I needed to go home.  I remember IV’s and confusion!   

I opened my eyes and it was still dark outside, a nurse told me it was August 21, 2021, I told her that I thought it was December 21, that my room was decorated for Christmas.  She was very kind explaining that I had entered the hospital on August 20, 2021, it was early morning and there were no decorations in my room.  Thank goodness she stayed with me continuing to explain that I was taking “mega” medications and that may be the reason for the delirium. I “thought” that I got up out of bed making my way outside where there was snow on the ground, a scene out of a movie “Four Season” that I had watched recently.  I tried to remember the names of the other couple go no avail, not even the stage names or the man I was with, Alan Alda.  My thoughts, I was dying and my children had decorated the room making it Christmas for me. 

When morning light began to creep into the room my mind took another turn into the fantasy world of delirium.  Christmas had disappeared, staff came in and out, I believed it was time to “shut up” and take in my surroundings, the only real thing was my son, Chuck.  

With Chuck being there and a telephone call from Carl make me realize that they too had experienced this type of delusion, and Mia a wonderful nurse that stayed with me until he shift had ended.  I continued to weigh in on my surroundings, I was suspicious of many things, and I tried to keep up with the staff, their names, and their positions in the hospital.  I read each IV that hung over my head, the contents and did I know what they were giving me.  My little knowledge of medicine gave me no help, but some of them I understood.  The hospital was not trying to poison me!  Chuck and Mia talk to me, he seem to have a great deal of understanding of what she was telling him, she had hugged me earlier, which was nice.  I did begin to come out of it and by Saturday afternoon, once again had control of my senses.

My delirium is now gone…  I had to spend several days in the hospital.  The combo of medications placed me in that position, which I did not care for and hope to never experience again.  I am back at the computer and tomorrow plan to work on my book.

My plan is to take all of the experiences that I have endured to put in the book that I had started before all of the health problems begin, Severe Anemia, Vitamin D Deficiency, No White Blood Cells, Cancerous Red Blood Cells, Bone Cancer and the latest a Broke Back and a Right Fracture of the Ankle, and on top of all of that Pneumonia.  Yet, here I sit pounding out my latest story for all of you on the old keys.  I and down but do not count me out!

I love each and every one of you and hope to work on a poem to post over the weekend, along with writing as much as possible on the book.  The days are getting shorter and the deadline may be at hand.  I hope that you will find my poetry books interesting and the book about my daughter compelling.

Take care of yourselves and each other.

EAJM

*What are your thoughts on Sirhan Sirhan getting paroled? 

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The Sea…#346

Artwork by Elizabeth Ann Johnson-Murphree
The Sea…
As I lay in pain, the room grew dark,
The mirrors and windows covered
In black. Then came the truth about
Dying and the opening of the grave. 
I was weeping but no one, heard,
The pressing of the brace against my
Skin was gone, yet I felt it still, a ring
Of fire.
A man with an ashen face looked
At me sadly.  I tried to speak, tell
Him not to worry, that I would Soon 

be free, my sufferings were
Soon to be over, and I would have
Freedom and live in grace.  I knew
Waiting for me was meadows, and
Fields of green clover. The corn-
Flowers  would look like tender lace.
We are by the sea, the misty air is
Falling on the sea of people dressed
In black, the sea of people, there
Are no more lies.  No more hatred
You can chose to die in triumph or
Disaster, it is your choice.  The
Tools that you chose to use in life
Are no longer needed.  There will be
New beginning, your heart will no
Longer be in pain.  Now you may

Walk with Kings, the Heavens are

Yours to bring peace until us all

Meet again.


©2021.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

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A Life Unrepressed…#345

Image result for image of typing on my computer

Today, I feel blessed…

I have spent the last three weeks in the hospital and one in a rehab/nursing facility, four weeks..  I fell! I was transported to the hospital.  Within the one week that I was there I was diagnosed with bone cancer, severe anemia and the fall broke my back and right foot.  I am on the mend; cancer will never go away, a rare one with no cure.  The anemia will hopefully at one point change and the broke back will mend.  I have a back brace that has to be ultra tight on me, and I must wear a brace for the rest of my life.  Oh well, I still have my sense of humor!

That’s the bad news; the good is that I have mega writing time. I feel stripped of both worlds.  Only my computer gives light to my days and nights, creating reality and chalets the world of imagination.

I want to share the meaning of creating poetry.  What I see in a poem, it is an image in my mind that must have all the words come together to creates a story.  When creating a poem it becomes the center of my existence.   A writer, actually lives in two worlds, one of reality and one of make believe.  There are times when they meld together; I fear one day the latter will become my only world.  This may come with senility?  At my age, I doubt I will ever see that stage of life.

Currently the world of make believe, fiction, blogging and imagination serves me well.  It masks the pain!  My site, gives me an outlet to create in my poetry how I feel emotionally too.  The realm of imagination is one of quiet periods of reality and fiction join together to give the strength to find a reason for existence.

Peace and Love to each of you.

E.

A Life Unrepressed
Lighting surges through a war of disrespectful words, tears descending, wet.  In times of uncertainty, an unknown sadness is out of control, a smile, a gesture; or fear clings to a receptive body.  Words may not bring rest or smiles, the soul deep within knows.
There is no one that can unlock the heart, nothing that can be said or felt.  Thoughts, do not reveal or conceal, disguise the lack of sympathy, place blame and criticize.  Alienate the voice, if only for one moment feel free.  Fate, possession, strife, and life.
The genuine self, forced to obey, despite and un-regarded life blind to the hurt of others will embed hate eternally.  The knowledge of life fire and force, walking down a rough path; deep pain.  No spirit, hate has the power to control, nameless feelings that have conceded to a life unrepressed.  Speak and act so no one will know hidden damage floating down to the soul.
The hidden self, inward strife and following demands; in return, a thousand nothings, all-miraculously give power.   Hide in the depths of the soul; echo speaks of pain.  Lackluster eyes stare, glare, and the words unspoken deafening creating fear.  A bolt of tones, frightening, is piercing ears.
No feeling stirs, the heart laid plain, unaware of a life winding down, no meadows of flowers, no sun, no breeze, and the madness is elusive to all.  No feeling, no respite.  In quietness, the war of mocking words; the tears, the sadness. The thoughts of the sea, the crashing waves; soul and spirit sinking within its wet madness and always stay, stay, and stay.
Too late, love revealed itself in death, and the heart has nothing to say.  Living and moving in disguises, alien, until the end.  Life had nothing to possess, strife, identity.  Blind, uncertainty, life no fire or restlessness, a thirst for the mystery of it all, nameless feelings lived in vain.  The loss, the heart lay open for all to see, the hurt hidden twisted among the rubble of pain.  Yet, after all that, there is tomorrow.  

©2021.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

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The Whole Day Through…#344

Image result for red poppy's

The Whole Day Through…
I lay down in a field of poppies, red
Dotted among the green, I watched
The clouds moving lazy above me.
They touched the mountain peaks,
They touched my soul, it’s far away,
But someday there I will go.
If I lay long enough it will be night
The stars will come out to greet
Me, among them may be the
Milky Way.  It is then that I shall
Rise, the Poppy field will not want
Me to stay.
As a Poet I live in a meditative mood,
And live in the delight of solitude.  I
Am met in the morning by the dew
Dropped roses through an open window
Their scent last the whole day through.
I live my life to experience these
Pleasures.  There was a time when
I let them pass me by, so many years
I have wasted trying to live with lies.
A human soul lives within me, I fear
 That the years have crushed the flowers
Of my life.  With the time I have left
On earth, I want to spread the love
Within me, remove myself of toxic things
Or people, in my life that bring nothing
But hatred and strife.
This new belief I know was sent from the
Heavens above, a new path for me to
Follow was written in my life’s plan.  I
Have a new lease on life, my goal to live
It the way I have always planed, no stopping
Me now, I have been shown the way, a
Second chance to live in peace and in
Truth.  The guilty I will be free from the
Debris of their truths, they will hurt me
No more.

Flying with Broken Wings
Flying with Broken Wings

©2021.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

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#autobiography #Death of daughter #Poetry

Madness…#343

Cemetery Angels

Madness…#343

Hatred –
An unwanted Soul –
At birth cast away –
Scared and burdened with emotional wounds throughout its journey on earth.  Never knowing the touch of a mother’s hand, no words of I love you, one child was showered with love, the other the mother could not stand. All of the tomorrows’ the path long and steep; it searched a lifetime to asking why did the mothers’ anger run so deep.  A lifetime of sadness, the hate clear; the mother was spiteful. 
 The moment the mother was laid in the ground.  Truth in its abandonment never found, this abused Soul tries to remember that understanding and unhappiness are closely bound.  Band from seeing her mother in those last precious days, lies told many things stole.  The soul now grown did not want her possessions, she hoped to hear her say the words, I love you, but it was too late.  To the end the mother held on to her hate.
When anger and depression fuse together, they give birth to madness.  Loathing emotions born out of the pits of darkness holds an emptiness and void that can never find contentment.  Madness thinks of death, is in harmony with Stillness.  It feels pain, lives in blackness,  hopes for nothing; survives as its opponent living life be aware-its toxic and filled with madness.


©2021.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

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I have waited all of my life, where are you?…#341

Image result for artwork waiting on the shore




I have waited all of my life, where are you?
I have watched many moons go by, seen the
Seasons change outside my window.  I have
seen the Tulips bloom in spring, the wild flowers
scatter themselves among the tall grasses and
the young bushes trying to live. 
I watched the sparkle of campfires and fireplaces,
watched my body go from firm youthful skin to
wrinkles that I do not recognize, still I wait for you. 
Time does exist, lingers in light, darkness, the glow
of a fire in fall, I picture the boats bringing you to
me from the other side of the world, from the island
that is yours alone, I wait for you.
Now, it is time for me to stop my watch and wait,
time for me to turn the page away from dreaming
to reality, you will not come and rescue me from
the life that I have lived.  I have stop searching the
horizon, do not look for me, for I shall already be
dead. 
The winds of time passes through life, my heart has
taken roots on many shores.  It was not destined
for me to have love, it is too late, I have no more
tomorrows.  I am the flower whose petals have
blown away in the winds of spring, but, I do hope
that I am remembered when the snow falls.       



©2021.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

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A Passage into Madness: A State of Frenzied Activity: Johnson-Murphree, Elizabeth Ann: 9781688948990: Amazon.com: Books

A Passage into Madness: A State of Frenzied Activity

Days Gone By…#338

We were poor, but the world of a child knows no rich 
or poor.   My daddy was a Sharecropper, my mother 
worked in the cotton mill making thread, Ma who was
 well into her eighties crochet doilies, my sister was 
going to marry a young soldier, and me…I ran barefoot  
in the cotton fields and roamed the caves in the bluffs
 of Burleson Mountain near our house.

My heart sometimes aches for those times, the tarpaper 
shack, the little white church on the mountain; and the 
innocent days of yesteryear.  They are all gone now, 
only I remain with the memory of those long ago days. 
However, I find that I can return at any time and stay as 
long as I want.  Memories never grow old.

©2021.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

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The Empty Pine Box…#337

[Fighting with Words, Poetry or Prose are My Weapons.]  EAJM

The Empty Pine Box…#337
Horror haunted- trying to lay out one’s days – schedules
Keeping relentless. Isolated yet fearless, in this desert land
Called Cancer -"Oh God!" I say, "Object of evil – the devil!
I tell this soul with sorrow laden if, with the angels of healing
Protect me in this desert land called Cancer –
I walk on the black sands of time, unbroken in mind but sound
 In spirit.  Take this loneliness from my heart, keep evil from my
Soul.  Protect me in this desert land called Cancer –
I dream of demons, shadows surround me, am I protected?
It is in the night that I feel weak and weary.  It is the waking
That I find myself drenched with sweat.  Was there someone
Rhythmically shaking me awake.  Protect me in this desert land
Called Cancer –
The box in the corner, a pine box, empty.  Without fear, I face
My terror; my heart pounds in my chest.  I pray many times a
Day, my soul grows stronger.  The shadows are gone, only the
Drenching of my cloths give way to the nightmare.  I whisper,
“Please, no more”.  Protect me in this desert land
Called Cancer –
I believe that I hear the Black Crows calling outside my window.
It is a myth that they bring death, I close my ears to the sounds
Of the Ravens.  Birds or Beast, they break the confines of my soul
And I know they too will be gone soon.  I have wheeled myself
In front of my terror, depressing, frightening, evil. 
Protect me in this desert land called Cancer –

Author’s Books…

©2021.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

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The Birth of Madness…#333

Cotton, Southern Gold

The oppressed give birth to madness.  Loathing emotions
Born out of the pits of darkness holds an
When anger and depression fuse together,
Emptiness and void that can never find
Contentment.
Madness thinks of death, is in harmony with
Stillness.  It feels pain, lives in blackness,
Hopes for nothing; survives as a opponent
Living life.
Be aware…
Its name is madness; a spawn created of
Anger and depressions fusion.





©2021.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

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Life…#332

Life

With each mornings shaft of light 
I begin my conflict of words, sometimes 
I let the tears fall and sadness engulfs 
me.  Sometimes I smile!  I tell myself to 
“hush”; it is too late my soul dies further 
toward the end as time goes on.
Sometimes I am weak, my heart locked 
away too long?  Thoughts are concealed, 
feared, live and move forward out of blame.  
The heart beats on as the voices in my head 
feed from the heart with each beat.  My words 
continue quarreling with my mind.
Has life been no more that random destiny’s?  
How lighthearted my life has been, lies, 
lies to keep the outside world in dumbness.  
Daily I drink from the cup of dissension, 
and erratic thoughts, words, look into my soul, 
despite pending doom I float thoughtless in 
the river of my life with my words clinging 
to my throat like gnarled fingers.     
Buried in the cesspools gathering on the 
shore the river flows with ambiguity.  Life is 
eternally blind!  My words flow from within, 
buried in knowledge, found by fire.  The 
mystery of my heart beats, words line by line. 
 Am   I  worthless.  Hour after hour the 
words demand power, read what pulses 
through my veins.
Life flows, arrives and moves on, from 
morning glow to evening sunset; it winds 
through the valley’s filling with expression.  
The words, a story from the hours past, they 
rise from within to the page swirling in the 
cesspool at the river’s edge.  They cannot move
 on into the river of life, they must remain as 
the past.  I wait for the morning shaft of light
 and life.      

©2021.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

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