I’ve been lost…

I’ve been lost…

among my mood-swings

among my Mania and Depression

I’ve been lost…

among bottles of prescriptions

and the hum-drum drag of stability.

I stopped somewhere and forgot

the pulsing throbbing desire

to write words down

into the slip of a

secret

smile.

I’ve been lost…

among blank empty pages

blank whiten unpainted canvases

and the ever growing lonely mess

of my soul.

I’ve been lost…

will I ever come back?

maybe…

but right now I just don’t know.

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Depression

Deep desert of desolation

Easy to slip into

Pressing downwards…

Restricted access to breathe.

Evenly spaced out.

Seldom talked about.

Sickness deeply felt.

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.

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:

http://www.amazon.com/Emily-Sturgill/e/B00B1GC5LY

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

Just words

Just words

loose lipped tangles of sentences

poetry and prose and stories

just words

tumbling out in a dry spell

words in a spin cycle washing away

confusion and empty pages

just words

pouring down a page

like so much rain

washing away writer’s block

covering an inky stain

writing on repeat

just words

tumble dry low

and add fabric softner.

 

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.

 

Spring brings blooms

Spring brings blooms

tulips opening slowly

into bursts of bubbling colors

Spring brings bold once barren landscapes

into bright beautiful blossoms of color

hues of pastels shades of baby blue and greens

everything unfolds freely into the warm wind.

Spring brings blooms

the flowers they whisper as they peek out

from tightly wrapped buds

even the grass changes from brown back to green.

The change of seasons is dramatic

the rebirth of earth and plants hang upon

a restless daydream.

going gray

go swiftly into

the darkened night

my beautiful gray russian blue

go swiftly into a rainbow bridge

I will stroke your fur one last time

as I cry these horrible teardrops

which feel heavy salty with bitter regrets.

go swiftly into darkened night

go gray beautiful sweet kitty

i will always remember our 16 years

together as owner and friend

go swiftly and silently to sleep

closing those emerald eyes one last time

but before you go always know

I have loved you long and well

I will miss you so.

Rest in peace my gray ghost Godzilla.

2000-2016

 

Empty Spaces

Empty spaces

blank white pages

searching for syntax

seeking sentences

looking under rocks

for pieces of poetry

Empty spaces

grasping at straws

this war of words

writers block

is a hard closed fist

covered by empty spaces.