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The Passing of Time

womanwriterblog

The Passing of Time

My body aches, after years of “beating it up”.  I give in to the grace of gravity.  I do not live these days in wonder or fear.  Yet, a baby’s breath can take mine away and these troublesome times can instill fear in me for the future of this wonderful world.  My spine tingles in the presence of a gentle man both young and old.  I know that the passing of time is like a cool wind on a hot summer’s day, I no longer count the hours or days.  The thought of a new love still makes my heart soar.  It is the precious moments that I allow to linger. 

©2017.annjohnsonmurphree

 

Books by Author at locations below:

https://www.createspace.com/pub/simplesitesearch.search.do?sitesearch_query=ann+johnson-murphree&sitesearch_type=STORE

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/ann+johnson+murphree

https://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=ann+johnson-murphree

[This writing is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.]

Your support of my blog and its contents are appreciated

Elizabeth Ann Johnson-Murphree

 

 

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A Short-Short Story – I was born to mourn…-

womanwriterblog

I was born to mourn…

My world is like a grain of sand upon the shores of time, changing, ever changing, and then washed out into the sea of life.  Infinity is in my soul, eternity floats upon the clouds of heavenly moments.  My hours caged, my spirit angered at the thoughts of those who have walked away from my gate.  My feet have left their mark upon the sands of time, waves of tears have splashed upon the rocky cliff that bares scars of what I have lost, and my mind wanders the caverns of the past.  A mother’s grief screams into the endless nights leaving scars upon a heart that is already torn and ragged. 

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Words of doubt have poisoned my faith, the days are winding down, and I was born to mourn. 

 

 

©2017.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

 

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I dreamed that I was a Sheepherder…

womanwriterblog

I dreamed that I was a Sheepherder…

My dream overflowed with hope, I was tired, the dogs rested; the flock hungry, bleating throats, a fading moon.  I led the sheep through a field of scarlet poppies to green grasslands.  The sheep pull the grass from its roots, the paling tendrils wilted and died, the day moves on, I am high upon a half reaped ground that I knew would soon turn fallow, but the sheep would thrive.  Then sun lowered itself behind the mountain the day is ending.  Before long a small fire will be lit sparks will rise into the night, and I will speak of gypsy lore to my only friends, the dogs.

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Beyond the fire, the poppies meld like a purple maze into a black star scattered night.  A glimpse of the future lies within my dreams, a glimpse of tomorrow.  I am tired, the dogs all resting; the flock all feed, no bleating throats, I am alone under a fading moon and one dog stands silently while the night fades into another day, and I think… happiness is the lost paradise.

 

©2017.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

 

 

Books by Author at locations below:

https://www.createspace.com/pub/simplesitesearch.search.do?sitesearch_query=ann+johnson-murphree&sitesearch_type=STORE

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/ann+johnson+murphree

https://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=ann+johnson-murphree

 

 

[This writing is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.]

Your support of my blog and its contents are appreciated

Elizabeth Ann Johnson-Murphree

 

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Running for Cancer

 THIS IS A DONATION TO FIGHT CANCER IT IS NOT A DONATION TO THE RUNNER…

THEIR MISSION

LIVING JOURNEYS PROVIDES FINANCIAL ASSISTANCE, EMOTIONAL SUPPORT AND ENRICHMENT TO GUNNISON VALLEY RESIDENTS LIVING WITH CANCER.

http://www.livingjourneys.org/#mission

 

CANCER RUN

This post is about helping my son fight for Cancer.

https://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/chuck-murphree/living-journeys-half-marathon

Image may contain: 1 person, sitting, ocean, outdoor and waterChuck Murphree

 

LIVING JOURNEYS

Living Journeys Half Marathon
7/29/2017
Mt. Crested Butte, Colorado

Chuck Murphree’s Page

Thank you for visiting my fundraising page!

Donating through this website is simple, fast and totally secure. It is also the most efficient way to support my fundraising efforts.

 

 
2 Comments

Posted by on February 24, 2017 in Cancer Run

 

CANCER RUN

This post is about helping my son fight for Cancer. Chuck Murphree   LIVING JOURNEYS Living Journeys Half Marathon 7/29/2017 Mt. Crested Butte, Colorado Chuck Murphree’s Page Thank you for vis…

Source: CANCER RUN

 

Thank you…

womanwriterblog

 

Thank you  https://danicapiche.com for the Blogger Recognition Award — Writers’ Edition Nomination.

DANICAPICHE…is all about living a beautiful life.  In eclectic form, a mix of short essays, how-to-list, anecdotes, distant memories and poetic license.

Please check out this blog for an abundance of outstanding post.

Elizabeth Ann Johnson-Murphree

 

 
2 Comments

Posted by on February 23, 2017 in Author's, Awards, Writing

 

OF POVERTY & SCARLET RIBBONS

Outstanding post as always from Mike, please check out his site and follow. Prepare for excellent reads in every post.

mikesteeden

scarlet-ribbons

come fading glow, vampire bats crisscross a ripe moon

silvered chimney smoke outpaces the silly, chilly moths

rushing ever upwards chasing heaven sent white light

a befitting sight worthy of the promise magic bestows

upon an otherworldly place few beings know exists

midsummer day’s spawning of the briefest obscurity

so stingy the gratuity of darkness’s deepest pockets

leaving just wafer-thin messages for the abandoned

subdued tidings of those condemned to life in limbo

no time or place for squirreled away final goodbyes

solemnized in melancholy words begging guidance

a hint of urgency shrouded back-of cautious tongues

a flock of lost sheep favouring tarmac over lush grass

time has no mercy, offers no favours when on the tail

of a sleepy sun, hell-bent on tucking itself safe and warm

beneath horizons snug blanket of guarded hallucination

a stark moorland tumour, a misshapen granite hideaway

bad luck, curiosity or wanton kidnap lead…

View original post 63 more words

 
4 Comments

Posted by on February 21, 2017 in Author's

 
 
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