Red Blood Moon

Red Blood Moon

full until

it becomes

eclipsed into the

Dawn’s morning light.

the light eats away

the darkness of the night.

It ushers in the morning with

secrets beyond our sight.

As the blood red moon

controls the oceans tides

and deep inside our own

liquified minds.

The tug and the pull

until after when

the moon sheds its thick

skin and sneaks

quietly away

vanishes without a whisper

without a word

this theif of our night

is never heard.

Felt yes, but heard never.

She creeps silently away

as her cloak turns the pages

of a beautiful new day.

The Firecracker

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….)

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.

Five hours later…

Five hours later…
and my ugly mood passes
like the breeze
of a windy day
the bad mood simply lifts
then passes away…

five hours later…
and all I can say
is the chirping of birds
does not bother
my annoyance has swayed.

five hours later…
and I decide
not to ruin, the rest of my day.
Days they are
so very short
it seems

so very useless
to waste them away
with headaches and apathy.

five hours later…
my husband/ lover will come
back home to me soon.

bringing me smiles and wearing
my heart as a prize onto his sleeve.

Perfection is Nobody,
and I cannot attain a perfect
happiness everyday
yet I can self-reflect

and appreciate all the gifts,
that I got. And be happy that
I have Love in my Life
because for some that simply
is out of reach.

Why feel misery when there
is a cool thoughtful breeze
passing through the air

and a clearing of consciousness
to the evaporated thoughts
that brought me back
to here.

Moodiness passes…
Five hours later
and I am looking forward
to family time,
cuddling my sweetheart
and watching tv.

Five hours later,
the winds have shifted
I am feeling a bit free.

Words Walk

words walk~
5/17/14
emily sturgill

sidewalks
smacking
sideways
i am shaking

under
smooth, smooth, smooth
stone.

i walk the walk.
i talk the talk.

my lips are on fire
burning from cliches.

sentences, words, tumble
out…

me?
I am tripping, tripping, tripping
in a daze.

sidewalks
smacking
sideways
i am shaking

under
smooth, smooth, smooth
stone.

Help Wanted: Poets please apply…

I am just tumbling the idea of a collection of poetry of some of my own poems, but also publishing some poetry of some of my http://www.wordpress.com friends. I am unsure of how to go about doing such an anthology? Especially as far as earning any profits…To be fair, I am not looking to cash in on anybody elses’s talents. Instead I like the idea of several of us poets coming together and creating a self published anthology of poetry MORE for self-expression and Self-exposure, publicity if you will….It’s just an idea in the rough.

But I am thinking maybe X amount of poets & 3 poems each + a short auto-bio of each poet and links to other published works or links to poets blog or website…

If this idea appeals to anybody please send me a sample poem and an email introduction to:
sexinthekitchensex@hotmail.com

If I edited this type of book for kindle I would probably price it very low like .99 cents for the ebook.
I’m not too sure if this even interests anybody? But I know some of the poets i follow here have yet to be published. Perhaps being included in an anthology would give them the well needed push to self publish their own stuff.

My proposals is simple-email me a single poem and the first 20 poet’s poems I receive will be asked to be part of this collection. Deadline is whenever I receive 20 entry emails or let’s say the Summer Solstice June 21st Midnight EST. If you are selected-via-I receive 20 poems-I will email those poets ASAP and you will need to submit just 2 more poems and a short auto-bio poet statement.

Well then, let see if there are any fishes biting? Let the Games begin!!

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.

Tip-toe through the daisies

It’s cold here.

So then, I close my eyes

and I imagine things.

I imagine that I

can tip-toe through the daisies

which lie buried under deep snow

I imagine them bloom, and-

then I imagine them grow

into a sea

of devastation

a sea of utter raw beauty-

you would agree,

if you could just, only close your eyes

and tip-toe through the daisies-

C’mon old man winter,

I am ready for you to stop following me.

I am ready for a sea full of daisies

and the beauty they may bring

a rarity called

Spring.