Ingrid Thanks 4/9/17

All the broken hearts in the world still beat.

 

A stunning lyric

In a pop song

For a man

In his fifties

Searching, searching

His whole life

To be home

In the arms of another.

 

Renting, only renting

For a few years

Or less

But not anymore.

Drifting, drifting

Never stopping

No interest,

Either direction on that two-way street

Thinking he’ll never find his picket fence.

 

All the broken hearts in the world still beat.

 

But he still lives

His heart still beats

Sadly beating,

Weakly beating,

But beating still.

 

Shakespeare, Milton, Byron

Not for them.

Their voices silent.

Their poems completed.

Life is too short.

It was for them.

It was for others

Whom I miss so much.

Whom I’ll never see again.

 

But I can smell the coffee.

And it is time to wake up and do so!

I can taste a ripe, ripe summer’s peach,

Juices drip as I break the skin

Feel the sweet liquid run

Down my chin

Until I wipe it

With the back of my hand.

The stickiness remains,

That joyous, beautiful stickiness.

 

 

All the broken hearts in the world still beat.

 

Find Beauty.

Find Peace.

Find Love

And Forgiveness.

Listen to the laughter of children, unspoiled, uncynical.

Rejoice in the stories of the old as they tell of victories and disasters from long ago.

They won’t be able to tell those stories much longer.

Their voices less clear.

And softer as the past rushes from us.

And soon like them,

Our passing fancies will all have passed.

 

All the broken hearts in the world still beat.

 

Even in our darkest times,

We are still alive.

We have only a moment.

This moment.

To live and love.

To be happy.

If Only

09/01/16

 

If only Love had left me

When I asked it to

Instead of lingering

Like a scar

From a past

Forgotten injury.

 

If only Love had left me

When I screamed

For her to go.

 

“I do not want you anymore,

Your companionship is painful to me,

When you are here

When you are gone.

So, go,

And maybe soon

I will forget

That time or this

That smile or kiss.”

 

But she, refused to leave me.

Standing sadly,

In the background

In the shadows,

In the hidden corners

Of my mind.

 

Whispering, whispering

Barely audible words

Above the cars in the street

Or the low hum of the office air vents.

 

“Remember, remember when…”

Replacing remember we

With remember you.

“Remember when you and I laughed over our sorrow?

Remember when I helped you through?

I will not help you anymore.

No not again, no not again.

But I will evermore remind you of days I did.

So down a lonely road, you go alone

Because I fill a space in you,

Which would be filled by another

If I would go.

But I will never go.

No, I will never go.”

 

If only Love had left me

When I asked it to.

I cannot ask again.

I cannot, no, not again.

Strange Coincidence

Today on the news, there was a story about a baby that was found abandoned in a church’s nativity scene.

The exact same thing happened in a book that I finished writing last year.

I was sending it out to publishers.

I was going to self-publish it January 1, 2016 if I had no interest.

But after finding out about this real life event, I hit the publish button.

A Walk in the Valley is now available for sale.

Here is the info:

A Walk in the Valley

Authored by A. F. Winter

List Price: $12.99

6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm) Black & White on White paper 220 pages

ISBN-13: 978-1490902869 (CreateSpace-Assigned) ISBN-10: 1490902864 BISAC: Fiction / Action & Adventure

A Walk in the Valley is one man’s journey to self discovery. John B. has been living on the streets for several years after a personal tragedy destroyed his idyllic life. At first he believes that the visions he sees are hallucinations brought about by alcohol but he soon realizes they are spirits of the dead. They will not give him peace until he helps them. This novel is part horror, part detective, and part spiritual awakening.

CreateSpace eStore: https://www.createspace.com/4347912