The gift

The gift

The gift arrived with little expectations.

it was unwrapped

an open box

it had contained Hope

but like with Pandora’s box the hope

escaped and travelled off with little fanfare.

When I peered inside the box this is when

the hope escaped-it covered my face, it cloaked my outfit, it drizzled me

into rainbows and unicorns.

The gift was unsigned. It was anonymous.

It was not even addressed to me yet i opened it anyways.

It was in a small sparkly white marbled box made

completely of cardboard.

it felt heavy like it weighed a ton this carrying case

of a loaded gun.

This box containing all of the hope required for the entire planet

yet here i had accidently stumbled upon it.

now what?

now what to do with all this foolish hope

laid upon my bare shoulders and entrusted

to me?

Simply believe, is what I find myself whispering to myself.

Simply believe in Hope.

because clearly Hope believes in

me.

And I think that is something scared.

I think that that is something meant to be.

Gimme a taste:

Gimme me a taste of this:

by Emily H. Sturgill 5/6/15

The color of honeydew

plush inside, hard on the outside.

Inside the soft firm pastel of

peach..

I try but its so hard to reach!

Gimme a taste of this:

what is this strange fruit?

What is this strange splice-

this thing called

Happiness…this mysterious?

nice?

Gimme a taste of this

the secret of spice.

the strange sound

of my own voice’s

laughter.

oh dear what is this matter?

this strangely

sweet desire.

Gimme a taste of this

this strange fruit

softly sweet colored peach,

something yummy to eat,

hard as a rock

on its shell.

cracked open the aroma

this sweet smell…

Gimme a taste of this:

the crackling of laughter

the glow inside

of joy

the noise of music

the aroma of something nice

to wear as a cloak

of musty spice.

Gimme a taste of this:

happiness.

it’s been out of reach,

just so long-now finally

i can pull you closer

and welcome you

into somewhere nice.

Spring sneaks softly

Spring sneaks softly in…

like a brown field mouse

hiding from Cats.

likes a warm breeze in between

the gusty cloudy grey sky.

Spring sneaks softly in…

like an afternoon nap

fading slowly pass or

like changing the clocks

forward an hour

spring sneaks softly in…

like a sunrise you almost

missed out on while checking

your cellphone constantly,

or when you realize that sweaters

feel both too tight and too warm.

Spring sneaks softly in…

while we are busy taking

winter for granted and have

completely forgotten what Summer is all about?

Spring sneaks in softly…

with the clearing of blue skies

the beginning of muddy dirt pies

the trading of gray daylight

for ever expanding bright sunlight

Spring sneaks softly in like a thief among

tulips and windy breezes

Spring sneaks in.

Warning: Graphic images illegal street drug useage in house cat.

Autumn slides in

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.

Ode to Red

Ode to Red-

the color of passion
the color of heat
the color of paint on my
bedroom walls.

the color of Apples
the color of lipstick
the color of pain.

the color of new womanhood
the color of nail polish
the color of the fastest car
on the block.

Red is the color
of Anger
of Vanity
of Love
of Lust
of Sex

and all the rest.
love

Red is
the color of a new day
beginning to dawning.

Red is the color
of rubies
of jewels
of revenge
of Power

of kissing

but most of all,
Red is the color of
my beating heart
whenever it is missing
You.

Red is the color of Birth.
and Red is:

the color of passion
the color of heat
the color of paint on my
bedroom walls.

the color of Apples
the color of lipstick
the color of pain.

the color of new womanhood
the color of nail polish
the color of the fastest car
on the block.

but most of all,
Red is the color of
my beating heart
whenever it is missing
You.

Red is the color of Birth.
Each day that we awaken,
we are born anew.
we are struggling
with only
the re-birthing process

like caterpillar to butterfly
Each day we change and become
something re-born, something mighty, something
as large and lonely
as Hope.

Each day we shed our sins
we shed our snakeskins
and begin again with the coming
Dawn

and the color Red.

but most of all,
Red is the color of
my beating heart
whenever it is missing
You.

New Release Finally Available….Artist Chapbook!

My final and second Volume of My Artist Chapbook has just been released on the kindle today.
It is part of the “Art, Art, Art!!! Before Words.” Series, it is the second and final Volume.
To purchase a kindle copy please go here: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00J1QNLYQ

It should also be available as a paperback, soon, I expect in the next few days.

flowers flourish despite the rain…

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.

The journey towards forgiveness

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.

Fools rush pass…

IMAG0689

Fools Rush pass-

by Emily Sturgill 2/10/14

Fools gold

sparkles as the sunlit

window curtains bend,sway and crack-

leaving a frosted glimpse

of a patch of light

so strong and bright

reminding me of

pyrite

commonly called:

Fools Gold.

It seems to be fitting,

as it is cold bare winter, bone-chilling

yet the Huge Sun in the Sky

teases us again with bright shiny light-

with no warmth in sight.

I am singing pyrite, pyrite, pyrite!!!

Shameless the Sun as it pours

Fools Gold down on us again.