There are still 9 more days to enter for your chance to win one of five signed copies of my second Artist chapbook,”Art, Art, Art!!! Before Words.” Volume Two. by Emily Sturgill (2014)
Follow this link below to the http://www.goodreads.com site to enter this giveaway. It ends on Dec 1, 2014.
https://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/show/86026-art-art-art-before-words
My first self-published poetry and artist chapbook was inspired by writing this blog. It was published in Jan 2013. It’s called,”Sex and the Kitchen Sink: poetry and art.” by Emily Sturgill. Starting tomorrow through November 2, 2014 it will be absolutely FREE to download for your kindle reading device. HERE is a link:
If you do not have a kindle reading device you can always just go to google and search this phrase,”Free Kindle app for the PC.” or use this link here: http://www.amazon.com/gp/kindle/pc/download
This is a brief description: This is a e chapbook of poetry and some artwork that I created myself. Some of the artwork listed is under my maiden last name, Cato, because I created it before I was married.This book is roughly 26 pages long and most of the poetry is quite recent.
Here are some of the reviews:
This is the shortest volume of poet/indie-author Emily Sturgll’s artist chapbooks. In the opening part she writes: “Poetry distracts me from going over the edge.” Sturgill holds a MFA in art education and art therapy from Wayne State University, Detroit, MI. The title of this chapbook is also the title of her blog. I’d like to add, that this chapbook isn’t about sex. Sturgill has written quite articulately with powerful emotional clarity about the daily challenges of living with mental illness, namely Bipolar Disorder – known also as manic depressive illness. Sturgill is a mental health advocate, working in her local community and promotes creative artistic expression through social media and public forum.
In Randomness in the AM: Sturgill discusses the “balance beam” and mood swing of her illness, where in the space of just a few minutes she feels as if she has lived a lifetime. Her medications, lithium, being like the finest of dark chocolate. Seroquel and Klonopin are needed for her mental stability. The awareness that people may speak about her in hushed tones. There are more mentally ill people then most know of, they are often homeless, in prison, or living in Adult Foster Care Homes. Cold Chill: is about the Detroit area cold winters, her concern for the homeless/squatters living in abandoned buildings. “from the inside out” features Ravin Starr: A slick plus size, chain smoking, unwelcome house guest, usually up to no good.. and Sturgill’s alter-ego. Holiday blues are covered in the poem: “Dr. Depression” stopped by pulling a hearse instead of reindeer, bringing fear instead of cheer. The short essay immediately following urges those who face suicidal depression to seek the help that is readily available. “Psychiatrist” is about Sturgill’s experience with therapy, and how her psychiatrist at CMH (Community Mental Health) really helped her, earning her trust and respect. Sturgill writes about her sweetest love for her husband, a unique unicorn, with a balding head and many tough guy tattoos in: “If I Say I Love You”.
Favorite art works include:
Fire and Ice: (painting, 1996), The Black Cat: (altered photography, undated), Gather Rose: (collage, undated)
Many thanks and much appreciation for the Kindle promotional copy.
What does lie,
here between
my Easel & I?
apathy
empty
blank white titanium
flat canvas
and I
am ever the Greatest-
procrastinator, it seems
of all time.
What does lie between,
my Easel and I?
a heightened sense of imperfection.
tears of frustration
of hesitation
they run down my face
almost invisible,
as if I am only crying on the inside
for my cheeks lie
both bare & dry.
But the true color of my tears,
are those of unspent, built up:
cadmium yellow hue,
alizarin crimson streaks,
dabs of cobalt blue
puddles of pink & purple
and shades of
burnt sienna.
Acrylic shiny colorful tears
that refuse to budge or give in,
tears that refuse to splatter
shatter the ground
and fall
like broken ideas at my feet.
What stands between my easel & I?
Pented up emotions.
Broken Daydreams.
Unspoken fantasy.
Un-Spilled milk running,
like unspoken poetry
and unpainted starbursts
of foggy, hazy, unspent
lately-
the ghost of my
own creativity.
