The Table top Poem

The Table top poem by Emily Sturgill

2/26/2011

A woman filled with the mourning of

the loss of her husband

put his hunting jacket on the table.

She also placed his fishing gear, hooks and tackle on the table.

She put her memories of him into their children and grandchildren.

The stories he would tell She put the words into her dry mouth telling

them to all who would listen especially on the holidays.

After 40 years of marriage a stranger murdered her husband.

She had never met this stranger before but he was introduced to the couple

three years before her husband’s death as Stomach Cancer.

Unfortunately due to her grief the woman has to be reminded of the happy times She had with her husband by her children and friends. The couple with one half missing now have a great grandchild.

She changes into her nightgown putting her heart on her sleeve and goes to bed into a dreamless sleep.

Written for Gary and Deborah Sturgill in 2011. Gary passed in April 2006.

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Three Free ebooks on kindle

Tomorrow I will be offering three of my poetry and artist chapbooks as free downloads off amazon.com’s kindle platform. The titles of these books are:

  1. Sex in the kitchen sink : poetry and art
  2. Once I was the rain poetry and artwork
  3. Red Bones: poetry and artwork

all can be found on my author’s page. Here is a link:

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The free sale runs for five days starting tomorrow. If you download and enjoy please consider submitting a review on my author’s page.

A Hero like me

I need a Hero somebody like me at my best

I need a Hero somebody with all of my goodness none of my weakness.

I need a Hero somebody who is stable who has their stuff together.

If I could reach inside my inner mind and find

a seed of strength and inner peace I would try to become

my own kind of Hero. I wish I could find this other me

the one who has stability.I lose parts and pieces of myself during

my bipolar episodes. I’m still reeling from last summer’s mania.

Yes I need a Hero somebody like me at my best.

Lost

Lost in stardust, lost in daylight, lost in thoughts.

I even lost an old poem I’d written.

I had posted it prior to this blog in 2011 on yahoo.com’s associated content but

the link no longer works. I cannot find which journal I had written it in.

It was called ” The Table top poem.” by Emily Sturgill.

It figures that I would lose that. I lose everything eventually and especially my mind.

I have not been blogging. My poems do not flow. They are stuck to the roof of my mouth tasting like so much cigarette ash. The words clog up.  Feeling sort of lonely but good to be alive. Lost in stardust, lost in daylight, lost in thoughts.