i feel like i really need
I feel like what I really really want
is a new birthday.
A redo-a do-over
A piece of imperfection
a new salvation
a new creation
a new birthday-
i think i want this
THE Most of ALL.
Not enough-
Dec 26th, 2014
Friday Afternoon 2:49 EST
Not enough
Never enough
Not enough
sleep.
Not enough,
to eat.
Not enough,
to touch the sky & kidnap the Sun.
Not enough, to learn how to fly,
just enough to become
untied
undone.
Not enough to reach outwards and find it.
Not enough to reach out, and grab the happy
right off someone else’s face,
because my happy
its become erased
misplaced
lost confusion.
It’s just not enough,
to fix up this place.
It’s not enough to straighten
this room, to clean between the cracks, to sweep
a broom across this dusty room
deep inside my minds eye.
Not enough,
to touch the sky & kidnap the Sun.
Not enough, to learn how to fly,
just enough to become
untied
undone.
It’s not enough to
try to run, to sprint, to finish
the race.
I’m fresh out of lungs
the air is too sharp, cold and dry-
It’s not enough,
to just sit here
waiting for you
to get home.
It’s not enough, to be a failure as a housewife,
to be a successful lunatic
with a Masters Degree
and no job prospects.
It’s not enough
to be a crazy person,
living on SSDI, it’s not enough, to always
live in someone else’s shadow
it’s not enough
to be the ghost
you can come home
and answer too.
Don’t you understand?
My wings may have melted, because I flew
too closely to the Sun
but I have dreams too.
I do not long to be
someone else’s
no one.
The Firecracker-10/02/14
Thursday 1:51pm EST
The clock stands still
at 2 O’Clock.
I feel the crispness of the Fan.
As I silently wait for her.
The one who buys groceries,
in her sixty-ish skin,
fraile yet forever,
frisky.
She’ll carry all of them,
in by herself-
if I don’t wait to greet her.
Her-She-She is,
the One
with Ab-fib,
history of heart attacks, high blood pressure,
diabetes type 2 and even more…
But despite all of that,
She’s a Spitfire.
Do not Ever,
underestimate her.
She’s stubborn,
like a shotgun.
She is solid like granite,
although she bears a few
cracks.
The clock stands still
at 2 O’Clock.
I feel the cool crispness
of the Fan.
And I plan
to remain here,
sitting silently
waiting,
for my husband’s Mother,
to come bursting through
the front door
like a firecracker.
(sidenote: just 2 hrs after I wrote this poem, I caught her outside attempting to mow our lawn. I yelled to her She shouldn’t do that that She knows she is not supposed too. Ignoring me, She did the 1/3 of the backyard she could manage and came inside for a nap. When I complained to my husband he just laughed at me….)
An old proverb
has been circling the
cybersphere lately…
Not my circus, not my monkeys.
I ponder its meaning.
As I re-examine
lost souls in my life.
sometimes the drama
is much too great
much too overwhelming
to engage in.
Not my circus, not my monkeys.
As I imagine cotton candy
high wire acts, a circus of
clowns.
Sometimes you can care
for a person quite
a lot but you do not
wish to go down the dark
hole of a tunnel
within them.
You try to lend
a helping hand
to lead them out of their darkness.
but as you try to grasp
for them their hand
just disappears and vanishes
into deep depression.
and its like a tornado
has a hold of them
and they are trying to
pull you down with their ship
like someone who is
only interested
in drowning.
and then you whisper
shellshocked,
not my circus.
not my monkeys.
a sinking feeling by Emily Sturgill 6/24/14
a sinking feeling
as the ship goes down,
and your leaving for work
as you kiss me goodbye
all I see on your face
is anger and hurt.
a sinking feeling
as the ship goes down,
your disappointed in me
once more again
somehow, some way I
have let you down again.
and there is no time
for words or apologies.
a sinking feeling,
as the ship goes down,
I can see with one look
your angry with me
a sinking feeling
as the ship goes down,
I do not even have or own
the magical words
of saying I’m sorry,
because you do not share
whatever wrong I’ve done.
this day is off to a rocky start.
a sinking feeling
as the ship goes down,
with one angry look
you cracked my heart.
split it halfways
like two sides
of a cracked raw
egg yolk.
a sinking feeling,
as the ship goes down,
as I sit here in a precursor to all my tears,
I know you’d throw me overboard in a second
hoping that this time
I would splash, sink, sputter
and finally
drown.
as the ship goes down.
Cold Coffee-5/23/14
Coffee’s getting cold.
As I sit here,
thinking
Bold…
Color combinations upon
a broken painter’s palette.
Coffee’s getting cold.
As I sit here,
feeling old…
nothing is so fleeting
as Life is Stealing
years and years from Us All,
beginning each and everyday
the thief of time
steals of years away.
but I regress…
Coffee’s getting cold.
Black liquid velvet dripping
into a cup, a cup that holds
love.
This coffee cup
from which I sip
once belong to my long-dead
Mother.
I treasure it because
it was once hers.
But Coffee’s getting cold,
as I just sit here
thinking
drinking black coffee
thinking my life away
piece by piece
word by word
poem by poem
a whisper in
the wind
lies unheard.
but…
Coffee’s getting cold.
My Mama when she was young
Mothers Day-
5/8/14
by Emily Sturgill
I feel
the pressure
of your hand
on
my forehead still…
to see if I was sick with fever.
The pressure
of your fingertips
lingers lightly
on my head.
Oh, what I would give!
Just to wake up one day
and learn your no longer
dead.
The memories,
are merely moments
I shared with you.
Years, Years, and Years
ago-
many many moons ago-
If only I knew,
how quickly
moments, and memories
disappear…
I would have pulled you tighter
and held you near.
really regretting all
the fights we once had.
And,
I wonder if your
in heaven
and
are you still mad?
I do not usually post blog-style confesionals. I’m much more of a poet, than anything else. In fact in addition to my poetry online, I have been keeping multiple journals at home and handwritten. One is more private confessional journal type enteries and the other is mostly poems, ideas, and sometimes tarot readings I give myself or lists of things to do or lists of music playlists.
HERE…is mostly just where I share poems, unless I am all fired up. Today, I am all fired up and I think its vital to share because it might help others to move forward.
I am all fired up about the notion of forgiveness. In theory, I do believe it is better to forgive even if not forget or forgive ANd forget-whatever works best for you. But in practice I find this to be a slippery slope. i struggle very much on how to forgive, when to forgive and how to let go. Honestly, I hold horrible grudges. And they are horrible in truth because mostly they only serve to hurt me-myself-nobody else.
All that angry righteous high horse b.s. I desperately hold onto-a sense of who iswrong and who is right? Honestly, it does not serve me much any longer-in fact it wears me down, makes me feel guilty and mad, like an angry hornet shook lose from its nest.
so today, I was with my hubby and we were at the bookstore out of nowhere i spotted like the ideal book and he bought it for me with a couple other items. This book is called, “The forgiveness formula: how to let go of your pain and move on with Life.” It was on sale at barnes and nobles-only$6.98-hardcover-by author Kathleen Griffin. @2004.
I am only on pg 16 so far but this book is exactly what i needed to hear at this time. i am in fact blown away.I am just writing about this because forgiveness can be ajourney-a pathwy-towards feeling lighter-less burdened. And in my heart, i realize it is not an easy thing to forgive. That more folks than just myself struggle with it. Holding onto the past so tightly it only distorts your vision of the present moment and it poisons the well of your future happiness. This seems true to me.
Someday I really hope I can learn to forgive, hopefully sooner than later because all this angry i hold deep down inside-it only strangles me-making it harder to breathe making it harder to reign into my sanity. I realize i am not the only sufferer out there but by refusing to allow forgiveness its like picking a scab, bruised and bleeding-the wound will not heal. I know I will not heal either. By the way, I highly reccommend her book-so far its very good.
He is sleeping
with him he is carrying
the sounds of Sleep.
There is a song to his
sonorous sonnet of snoring.
It is calming to listen to it.
He is sleeping
deep and wide,
I imagine he is dreaming
but he rarely shares these to me.
Like most my dreamer usually
does not recall his dreams.
I like to hear his snoring
years ago it once bothered me.
But now I find it precious,
that the man I love so much
is peacefully getting his
much needed rest.
It is relaxing to hear,
his breathing reminds me
of oceans breaking upon the shore.
It is a soothing sound, calming and gentle.
The sounds of him sleeping
remind me how lucky I am
to have this man I love
with me still here.
The cycle of Life
is such that we all Live but someday
we all die too.
I am making it sounds so simplistic-
yet nothing could be farther than true.
The cycle of our Lives is in constant motion.
Ever changing, ever growing, nothing in fact
ever stays exactly the same.
Each day we are living, we must strive
to remind ourselves to enjoy
this journey we are on
for time stops for no one.
Sometimes simple truths are the best,
Live each and everyday
to its fullest; ignore the rest.
The cycle of life is a curious thing.
Nobody has a map to bring, nor directions,
if we falter.
Sometimes the hardest thing to do is to live in
the Here and Now, but exactly what is our
choice or option? To dwell in the distortions of our past,
or to linger in the unknown ever unfolding future,
Or merely breathe in
breathe out
and enjoy these moments of Life rooted in the present,
before time runs out and
Regrets loom large?
Nobody knows the pathway of mortality,
we are born, we live and then someday we will die.
I do not have any wisdom, nor answers,
I cannot explain why.
I just accept this to be a universal truth.
Appreciate the moments of Today for tomorrow
is not promised and the past we cannot change
the key is to living Life to the fullest
in each moment that you can claim.
It’s just the Cycle of Life.
