Flourish- 6/20/2020
Walking tall
these summer wildflowers
sprouting small
yet growing devine
every single day
a new hourglass
of growth
waiting on the wildflowers
to just walk tall and bare their arms and limbs
into pastels of petals
just open their wings
to the butterflies
Walking tall
these summer wildflowers.
As Summer slips away
from frayed sunburned fingers
and children at play-
the weather starts to crumble
and Autumn slides in.
As Summer slips away,
the nights get colder
the wind gets bolder
the light begins to dim at dusk
when suddenly,
Autumn slides in.
As Summer slips away,
swimsuits get traded for sweaters
green leaves begin to spin
into gold, bronze, and red
as Autumn slides in.
As Summer slips away,
the thermostat gets switched from off
to on, blankets cover the bedsheets
and feeling a chill
we watch the sky just as
Autumn slides in.
Autumn slides in
to home plate as spectators all
begin the yearly cheer
Autumn slides in,
bringing us home again.
In May-
5/9/14
The month of
May,
tastes
of merriment
and feels like
clay.
This short spring
month of
wonderment
and lust.
The month of
May,
tastes of blackberries
and feels like
electricity.
This short spring
month,
shatters the tulips
and
rakes the garden into rust.
The month of May,
tastes like
childhood kool-aid
and feels like
bruised up knees.
This short spring
month,
blooms into flowers
and allows
the sunshine
to scoop down,
embracing our touch.
March Madness,
with a whim and a flurry,
Mother Nature
sings her call.
She calls out to the flowers,
to begin to bud.
She echoes out to the plants,
to begin to grow.
under her ever watchful eyes,
the dance of spring begins with a twirl,
a wave, a recollection of
warm and simple wind.
slowly in our daze of
sheer amazement
winter concaves, collapses, makes room,
for Spring to begin.
and flowers, they flourish
despite the rain,
they refuse to fight the water
instead they drink in the tears
of the Earth- they swallow her secrets
her teardrops of rain.
it makes them
the plants bloated and drunken,
as if by the most scared of wine.
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Today my words don’t come out.
Today silence is all I am about.
My thoughts may scream or
sometimes even shout…
but just for Today that’s not what I am about.
Cold and chilled to the bone.
Icy stone reflections upon
a broken ridged frozen ground-
and when the snow comes softly-
when the snow comes softly
when the snow comes slowly
it never makes a sound.
Collecting itself into white velvet icy tapestry,
beneath its dusty fragile-ness that is a strength that lasts.
It tears us through months of Winter
and winds that howl
winds that blast.
But no more words do I have here-
there is nothing left to say
except tread lightly and admire the silence
of fallen snow
which stole my words Today.
An altar by belief,
stands alone in the north west corner,
of my bedroom.
it is the place onto which,
i allow my beliefs to sit.
every once in a while,
i linger there
lighting three candles,
and say my prayers,
with my heart-
not my lips.
my lips do not seem fit.
to express what my heart
longs and shouts out for;
justice, a good life, an omen
or a sign, to allow
me to practice,
the fine art of allowance and
of course self-acceptance.
magical meditations, covered in mystery.
set the stage for most of human
history.
i have an altar of belief which sits,
upon my north-west corner.
Even if my Gods and Goddesses,
are ancient fairy tales to you…
please respect my beliefs,
as I try to respect yours.
if more folks do not try;
to sway and convert the masses,
think of all the less holy wars,
that would be raging
across many a foreign land.
all it takes is a small slit opening,
into your heart,
and some peace and understanding;
for those who see the world much
differently than you do.
blessings-tidings-mote it be,
hence tied by three.
To believe
in somethings in which others,
do not-takes Faith, Courage & Hope.
To believe
in the abstract, in the philosophical notions,
of Truth, Charity, Virtue and pure agape Love-
for man, women, child or beast-
To have this forlorn belief that
your actions really do matter.
To have the certainty,
that above all else
you must honor others
as much as you honor yourself–
in some cases, perhaps, even more.
To live with the knowledge,
that you are more than:
a mere breathing machine,
taking up space & air.
But instead something greater,
a part of the cosmos,
a part of Humanity,
a part of shared History.
That whether you accept it or not,
you are part of the
endless sea from here to eternity.
You are something greater,
someone with a beating heart,
and a wondrous, wandering Soul.
If you trust your instincts, your heartbeats,
your wandering Soul,
it will lead the way-
it will show you the compassion
along a compass-
of the right or wrong way,
in which to go.
Beneath the depths by Emily H. sturgill
written on sunday 11/10/13
Beneath the Depths-
off the deep end, the depth,
of a Dog.
a Jaded wish, golden green
emblazed,
with another:
Detroit Depression.
Staring, down the barrel of
Trust, as a Daydream.
Drawing Pictures of Picasso’s Peace-Motion.
Cover me in Oceans,
as the birds form,
my Sister’s Staircase.
Covered in sea-shells and glistening
in Sands.
She escaped Michigan,
for the Sunrise of Florida,
and the promises of Eternal
Sun-filled Days.
Here in Michigan,
I will stay, staring down,
another Detroit Daydream.
Surrealistic poetry written yesterday Sunday 11/10/13
Nature’s Envy-by emily H. Sturgill
Anxious Hornet,
is a Bear-toned, talent,
of a Dali-colored Moon-Rise.
Anxious Hornet,
dancing into a firelit
campsite.
wrestling with Bears~
causes,
bruises to form-
upon the chapped lips,
which surround
my lovely body-into the form,
of Anxiety.
Into the shape of
a hornet’s nest,
repeatedly & randomly
stinging me.
The brutality of Nature:
the curse of Vengeance lies, behind,
the tides
beneath-
A Dali-colored Moon-rise.
