Always in Search of Words…#58

Holding on to the past when you need to let go – accepting that there are things in life that should not be. Sometimes letting go is what makes us stronger, happier, and more successful in the end. Yet, writing fiction that is based on the past can be funny, sad or just used as a method of putting the past where it should be…in the past.

These books based on my past, good, bad or indifferent…poetry it was a method of letting go, growing, and thriving in acknowledging many thoughts.

Thank you for your support the book sales are great and all because of you my readers and fellow bloggers. Happy holidays and enjoy every moment for all we have is today.

Ann Johnson-Murphree Poetry Books – A Collection of Poetry


http://www.amazon.com/Sachet-Poetry-Adoration-Aspirations-Asylums/dp/1500483354/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1413302456&sr=8-1&keywords=ann+johnson-Murphree

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Finding Greatness…#56

Image result for follow dreams

Where do dreams start, first in your heart (desire), second in your mind (the process), third set them in motion, if you can dream it, you can make it come true.  This I believe, and time or age should not be a factor, think big then appreciate the small blessings.

I have had comments on my blog that are positive when I post poetry or prose, those that indicate that efforts were a waste of time, I trash!  I am doing what I want with my life and I will always run into the naysayers, doubters and those who believe that my butt should be planted in a rocking chair and my hand should be holding knitting needles.  Instead, I sit here with laptop on an  old table pounding out poetry or a short story idea and scoff at those who would try to kill my dream, a dream in the making over a lifetime and the last ten-years spent in learning and creating.  Of this creation, process has been given birth to nine poetry books, one bio book of my daughter’s journey before death, and one of my personal art.

I am not intimidated with rejection slips, I am a member of the rejection slip club and our membership is huge; yet, we refuse to give up our dreams.  In this club, I am in the presence of good writers, and creative excellence that has yet to fulfill their dreams.  We are all on a journey to find ourselves, to meet the excellence of who we were intended to be.  It is a roller coaster ride, for every ten “no’s” there is a “yes”, we dream of one day hearing “YES, YES, YES”!

You must not only follow your dreams, you must fight for them, again age, time, place, and conditions cannot stop our dreams.  If you do not go after your dreams, you will be responsible for them being “crushed”.  At the end of your life, have no regrets.  Look around, dreamers created all of the many things that you love.  Therefore, your dreams may not come as soon as you would like, be patience the side trips toward your dream could inspire you in other ways toward your greatness.  A part of your personal growth in life is because of your dreams, without them would you be who you are today?

Doing what you want in life attracts those who are jealous, ignore them; do not try to justify your dreams with these people; they are not worth your time.  Following your dreams may give them the inspiration to find their own dreams.

Again, age is not a factor in following or finding your dream, stay motivate, look at failures as a learning ground for growth and always remember that there are no rules in life where dreaming is concerned.  Never set boundary around yourself, or let others wall up your dreams.  Take a chance on finding greatness.

Peace and Love

Elizabeth

©2019.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

On Death…#54

The voice on the other end of the line was distraught, yet the sobs were recognizably those of one of my adult children. An individual, a father figure had gone from critical to a “comfort care” situation. When your children’s hearts are breaking, so does yours, helpless to take away the pain that is in the forefront.

The first call was laced with a magnitude of denial; of course, the medical professionals do not “help” the journey to reality with taking extraordinary measures under the conditions and the age of the patient. Ever costly method available to them is considered, having worked in the health care industry at one point in my life, the term “getting another day” became more than familiar.

Although I cannot express enough my belief in a “Living Will”. The end results in many of these situations will be the same, only with the coffers of the industry getting fatter at the expense of a family whose frightened with the prospects of death and they agree beyond their “knowing” and maintain the denial vigil.

I do not “deny” this process to those who need the time, I have always had to deal in reality and I have never had the possibility to go through a systematic dying stage. I have confronted “anger”! No why me, but angry because the time was too short. No one is to blame, we are born dying and that is life, but I become angry at time, wasted time.

I have never tried to “bargain” with God, I tried once but Jesus did not come down and raise from his deathbed the most important person in my life, my father. It will not prolong life, it is a waste of precious time with the person you love, the person that is about to leave from your realm of existence forever.

The demon depression is always there, quickly to pounce on its prey, rob senses and again precious time. I cannot say grief will get better with time; the answer to this question is in the hands of the depressed. Grief itself is an abuser and a killer; it will take you to the depths of hell and back before it will release you from its talons of doubt and angry denial.

Acceptance is an individual choice. You can chose to live life with deep and wonderful memories of life or you can accept weakness and live in a void for which there may be no return. Choices! I believe those who are passing on chose to face reality long before those who love them do.

Today, I waited for the call that would tell me the suffering has ended that of my son and that of the “father” that he chose to accept rather than his own. I pray for a release from life that is no longer sustainable and a quick entry into another realm of existence. I pray for the hurt my child feels today to end, for the grieving process is much harder and lasts much longer.  

There are no words to ease the pain, take away the hurt, but silently being there ready to pick them up when they have fallen, wipe away tears, reinforce God’s plan. This is all we can hope for, that and continued prayer.  The last thing is for me to accept my son’s love of a father-in-law over that of his own father.  Death is hard on everyone.

Peace and Love

Elizabeth

©2019.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree  

Books at Amazon.com

Altered Senses…#49

Existence in a world of encircled souls, scene after scene, day after day, the element of life less valued is the future.   The environment, and promises that reveal nothing, the past descends like toxic rain from the polluted sky, washing away all dreams. 

The ghost of youth would go chanting within the soul, their paths blocked, evil spread across the landscape of the homeland.  Loneliness limits love and happiness; break out of your bondage of lies, always alert, always moving toward the future.  If one stays shrouded by the abundant solitude, then there is no escape. 

Peace and Love

Elizabeth

©elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

https://www.amazon.com/default/e/B00CGBLQZO

If I Cannot Have Her No One Will…#47

Murder – Suicide

(A short-short story)

The mad man looked around the room; the fog holding his mind captive obscured his visions of the scene before him.  He was human, intellectual, yet unable to cope with the naked truth; that he was a monster to his wife and children.  He expected perfection from his wife, tranquility, infinity of pleasure.  His children he ruled with an iron fist. 

He stood in the bedroom where the scent of her lingered in the air, the fight had started when she told him that she was leaving; that mentally she was already gone!  He picked up the phone dialing 911, stared at the gun in his hand and turned to look at the thick red liquid crawling across the floor from his wife’s body.  His children were all at school and would not be home for hours.   He did not care if they were first on the scene. Soon he would be gone too, they would be together forever; or so he thought when the deadly shot slammed into his face.

Days passed when the faceless man woke in ICU, his hands tied to the rails of the bed, life supports pump life saving air into his lungs. His children had been removed from the house of death to their grandparents. Blind, the man eventually was moved to the local mental hospital where he would remain the rest of his life reliving each day knowing that he and his wife were no longer together.

©elizabethannjohnsonmurphree